406 (part 2) Inverie to Barrisdale

[This walk was completed on the 21st June, 2019]

In the morning, I spread my belongings across the bunkhouse bed and begin to pack my rucksack.

Waterproof trousers, my Garmin, a compass, a whistle, emergency bivvy bag, my personal locator beacon, sun block, midge spray, blister plasters, and enough water and snacks to see me through a day and a night. (Although, I sincerely hope the ‘night’ bit won’t be necessary!)

Oh dear. My little rucksack is bulging and feels very heavy. But, at least I’m as prepared as I can be for the day ahead. I heave my pack onto my back, and head out along the road until I reach the fork with the footpath signs.

11 track to Kinlochhourn, Ruth hiking over the Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

There is no obvious footpath around the coast of Knoydart, so my plan is to follow the path that goes over a pass between the mountains, dropping down on the other side to Barrisdale Bay. I’m not sure how clear the path will be, or how tough. The Knoydart Peninsula is supposed to be one of the few remaining wilderness areas on mainland Britain, and I’m feeling slightly nervous.

My nervousness isn’t helped when I spot a man ahead of me with his dog. The man is dressed in full waterproof gear and carrying a machete. A machete!

12 man with machete, Ruth hiking over the Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

He goes through a gate, but then he turns off the track and begins to slash his way up a slope, hacking away at the bushes and bracken to clear a trail. I recognise him from the ferry and I guess he is a local. I wonder where he is going and what he is up to?

I go through the same gate, but continue along the track as it winds up a hill through woodlands. At the top of a slope is a ‘Welcome’ sign, with information about the Knoydart Foundation.

13 information about the Knoydart Foundation, Ruth hiking in Scotland

I knew the Foundation runs the bunkhouse, and the village shop, but I didn’t realise they owned over 17,000 acres of land as well.

Below me lies a flat area of valley floor that slopes gently down to a marshy bay. Among the green fields are scattered buildings and a small walled cemetery, while a great herd of deer are grazing on the grass.

14 view down to the Inverie river, Ruth hiking over the Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

It looks very pastoral down there, but that’s not the way I’m going. My track runs along the side of valley and heads up into misty, mountainous countryside.

15 mist covered hills, Ruth hiking over the Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

It begins to drizzle, and I stop to pull on my waterproof trousers. Last summer was very beautiful in Scotland, but this summer has been pretty wet and dismal.

Around a bend, and I catch a glimpse of something perched on a hillock ahead of me. Looks like a war memorial of some sort. Meanwhile, next to the track, is evidence of logging activity.

16 logging and monument ahead, Ruth hiking over the Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

In fact, a little swathe of hillside seems to have been cleared of trees. What a pity! [Later, I learn this isn’t commercial logging, but part of a long term plan to reduce the number of non-native trees on Knoydart and to improve the biodiversity of the area.]

I draw closer to the memorial. The track curves around the base of the hillock and I contemplate climbing up to look at the monument. But I have a long way to walk today, and don’t feel I should be wasting time or energy, so I stick to the track.

17 Brocket Monument, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

Nearby, on top of a small rock, someone has placed another memorial. This is to Joseph John Kilmurray who died in 2015. I wonder who he was?

18 memorial to Joseph John Kilmurray, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

I needn’t have worried about the state of the path, because the track is perfectly clear and easy to follow. Up the valley I go, making rapid progress – I just hope the mist clears before I reach the mountains at the top of the pass.

19 Inverie River valley, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

This is wild and empty landscape. It’s almost a shock to come across a building. Looks like an animal shed. Maybe a cow shed?

20 cattle barn, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

Cows? Uh, oh. And now I begin to come across the odd piece of evidence on the track – cow dung!

21 cowpat on the path, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

The track climbs gently. To my right is the Inverie River, running between banks lined with bushes and stumpy trees, while around me the slopes are covered in grasses and dotted with rocky outcrops.

The mist is beginning to lift and sunlight sweeps across sections of the landscape. Oh, look – another building in the distance… maybe a farm house?

22 view up the valley and old cottage, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

The farm house turns out to be a ruin. I perch my camera on a nearby rock and take advantage of the good light to snap a self-portrait. It’s time to take off my waterproof trousers.

23 self-portrait in Knoydart, Ruth Livingstone hiking to Barrisdale, Scotland

Onwards. I’ve reached the shore of a little loch. Loch an Dubh-Lochain, according to my map. The waters look dark under the low-hanging cloud that seems to have settled over the mountains ahead.

24 Loch an Dubh-Lochain, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

I work out that the name Loch an Dubh-Lochain actually means the Loch of the Black Pond – a very fitting name for this stretch of dark water. In fact, this long valley is named after the loch. Gleann an Dubh-Lochan.

Along here I meet a couple of backpackers, a young man and an older man, maybe father and son. We exchange brief greetings, but they look tired and seem in no mood for a chat. I wonder if they spent the night camping in Barrisdale? And are they heading for my bunkhouse? I take a photograph of their backs as they head off down the valley.

25 two hikers, Loch an Dubh-Lochain, Ruth trekking across Knoydart, Scotland

Further along, near the end of Loch an Dubh-Lochain, I see another group of  four male walkers coming towards me. They are marching vigorously along, but stop for a brief chat. It’s very muddy up there, they tell me, pointing to their splattered boots and trousers.

26 more hikers, Ruth walking across the Knoydart peninsula, Scotland

The track has dwindled to a path, and now begins to climb the slope at the top of the valley. It’s a gentle slope but, yes, the men are right – it is VERY muddy.

I pick my way carefully, not wanting to get muddy water flooding over the top of my boots. Stop for a breather, take a photo looking back at the loch, and can see the men are making rapid progress down the valley. Are they staying in my bunkhouse too?

27 goodbye to Loch an Dubh-Lochain, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

Meeting those speedy hikers, I’m reminded that I’m such a slooow walker. Normally, I would be worrying about being caught in the dark, but this is the 21st June – longest day of the year – and it won’t get dark until well after 10pm. It’s only 10:30am now, and I have plenty of time.

On the other side of the valley I can see some moving shapes grazing on the grass. Deer? No, cows! Glad they’re over there.

The hills are alive with water, with multiple silver trails falling down the slopes on either side of the valley. My path takes me over several small streams, and at some points turns into a minor river itself. Despite my efforts to keep dry, my feet, of course, do manage to get rather wet.

28 climbing to the top of the valley, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

Climbing higher, and the path becomes drier, the landscape rockier. There are great views looking back down the valley.

29 looking down Loch an Dubh-Lochain, Ruth walking across Knoydart Peninsula, Scotland

Such a beautiful place, and not a building or soul in sight. I pass waterfalls, and cross over streams. Some are easier to cross than others…

30 waterfalls and bridges, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

… this one has a bridge but – uh, oh – some of the planks are missing. It may be a small step for a tall man, but it seems a giant leap for me.

31 broken bridge, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

I use my pole to test the planks before I trust them with my weight. And I make it across unscathed. Funny what a difference a pole makes. I only carry one, but it helps with balance and gives me confidence when crossing difficult surfaces.

Onwards, the path gets steeper. I’m approaching the highest point of Gleann an Dubh-Lochain, and I’m glad the mist has lifted. In fact, up here the wind has picked up and is blowing into my face.

Ah, this must be the top, because here is the obligatory cairn.

32 cairn at the top of the pass to Barrisdale, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

I stop at the top for a rest. Oh, my goodness, the other side looks very black and is that rain down there? Luckily, with the fierce wind, the clouds seem to be moving very quickly. Maybe they’ll blow away soon?

33 steep descent towards Barrisdale, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

As I begin my climb down the other side, the clouds do indeed scurry away and the sun lights up the view. There’s no sign of Barrisdale Bay yet, and the slopes on the other side still look dark and forbidding, but at least I’m walking in intermittent sunshine.

34 path down from Mam Barrisdale, Ruth hiking across Knoydart, Scotland

It’s a steep track to start with, with slippery stones in places, but there is very little mud. I round a series of gentle curves and… oh, now there’s the water ahead. Beautiful.

35 view of Barrisdale Bay, coming down from Mam Barrisdale, Ruth hiking in Scotland

As I get lower, the wind drops. Little streams have carved out shallow valleys in the hillside, and I walk through small groves of silver birches. These hardy little trees are such a delight – with their beautiful silver trunks and their ability to cling to even the most inhospitable slopes.

36 descent into Barridale, Ruth hiking from Inverie, Knoydart Peninsula

I’m hungry, but have decided to reach my turning-back point before I eat my lunch. So, I’m looking for the place where I ended my previous walk. It was near a little grove of trees – but I don’t see anything I recognise yet.

(Because I messed up my planning for this trek, I’d already walked to Barrisdale from the other side. But, since I meant to do this walk first, I have posted it first. Sorry for the minor deception!)

Oh, what a beautiful view. Down there are a few farm houses and the Barrisdale bothy and campsite. The sunlight is constantly changing, and I keep stopping to take photographs, so this section of the walk seems to last for ever!

37 beautiful Barrisdale Bay, Ruth walking across from Inverie, Knoydart Peninsula

Finally, I reach a little bridge and a familiar collection of trees. Yes, this is the point I reached before. I can even sit on the same rock and let my feet dry out. It’s 1:30 and time for lunch.

38 lunchtime view, Ruth hiking from Inverie, Knoydart Peninsula

Unfortunately, at this point the sun disappears and the midges come out. I cover myself in Smidge, which means I don’t get bitten, but the wee pests are a nuisance as they hang around my face and try to get into my mouth. After a rather hurried lunch, it’s time to turn round and head back.

I puff up the steep hill and over the pass under the shadow of Mam Barrisdale. The muddy slope is still muddy and my feet get wet again.

By the broken bridge, I meet a couple climbing up the hill – a young man and young woman. He helps her over the broken part. They’re the third group of walkers I’ve met so far in this ‘wilderness’.

Near the top of Loch an Dubh-Lochain, the sun comes out and I grow warm. Time to stop, take off my winter jacket, and have another picnic under a little holly tree.

picnic spot

Funny how the return walk, through now familiar landscape, always seems shorter than the outward walk. I soon reach the bottom of the valley, and begin to meet other people. A couple of joggers and a couple of walkers.

39 a crowded wilderness, Ruth hiking across the Knoydart Peninsula

Later, I walk along the road to the pub – The Old Forge, the remotest pub on mainland Britain. It’s nearly 7pm but the place is empty inside, as before. I buy a pint of cider and sit outside on a bench in the sunshine.

I’m the only person sitting in the pub garden, but an old shed and a nearby patch of grass are heaving with people. They are buying alcohol and snacks from the community shop across the road, and seem to be having a private party.

The Table - pub alternative in Inverie

It’s a good end to a good day. Knoydart is a wonderful place, with an ‘island’ feel. I’ve very much enjoyed my time here, even if it isn’t quite the deserted wilderness that I was expecting.


Memorials and Monuments:

  1. The large monument on the hillock wasn’t a war memorial after all. It was erected by a Conservative MP and Nazi sympathiser called Ronald Nall-Cain, also known as Baron Brocket. The Baron was an absentee landlord and, by all accounts, a rather nasty man. He built the memorial for… well, for himself.
  2. I looked up Joseph John Kilmurray on the internet, and it appears he owned a London based company and died of a heart attack while walking in Scotland, aged only 50. I wonder if he died in Knoydart?

Pub wars:

Later, in the bunkhouse, I get into conversation with a Munro-bagger, and discover why the pub is empty and the nearby shed is full of people. The Old Forge is run by a Belgium man who bought the place in 2012. After one of the locals was banned from the pub, the locals have boycotted the place and have set up their own impromptu bar next door. If only I’d known, I would have joined them!

You can read about the dispute in The Press and Journal and the story has even made its way into The Times.

More about Knoydart:

You can find out more about Knoydart and its colourful, and controversial, history from the following sites:

Visit Knoydart – a short history
Simon Varwell’s blog – Mary and the nazi sympathiser
Knoydart Foundation – Knoydart Past

Miles walked today = 15 miles
Total around coast of Britain = 4,230.5 miles



About Ruth Livingstone

Walker, writer, photographer, blogger, doctor, woman, etc.
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21 Responses to 406 (part 2) Inverie to Barrisdale

  1. Chris Elliott says:

    Glad you enjoyed Knoydart – it’s a wonderful place. Sorry to hear about the pub though.

  2. JYH says:

    Really enjoying your walks around the UK, particularly places I haven’t been to yet. I like the way you write in the present tense, which makes it somehow more real. I admire your stamina. Thank you.

  3. Russell White says:

    Hi Ruth – I’m glad to see you’re still going strong and what fantastic views. Your information on the then Lord Brocket – Nazi sympathiser has a strange resonance. I now live in St Albans after moving from Stamford way back in 1981 and regularly walk through Brocket Hall as part of a local route. It seems this family continued to make negative headlines – at least until 1995 – see the link
    Anyway so much for that – I’m finally due to get back down to the SWCP in 10 days and will finally get some good walking in – I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you well.
    Cheers Russ

    • Hi Russ, and very interesting to hear of the continuing misadventures of the Brocket family. The Knoydart foundation are still repairing the damage the 2nd Baron did to the area here. Hope you have a great time on the SWCP and get some good walking done.

  4. Philip Simpson says:

    Blister Plasters! Ruth packs Blister Plasters for her walks! Well, so do I! I put them on before I start a walk, but last week I walked from Zennor Church to St Ives and suffered a bit on sharp stones towards the end. You were right about not seeing many walkers to begin with, then seeing loads as you got nearer to St Ives!

    • Hi Philip. I have some plasters permanently resident in my rucksack, but confess I haven’t had to use one for some years now. Either my feet have got tougher, or I’m better at choosing boots! Sharp stones at the end of a walk can be real killers, can’t they. Ow!

  5. Pingback: 407am Barrisdale | Ruth's Coastal Walk (UK)

  6. Karen White says:

    What an incredibly beautiful place. Those views are spectacular.

  7. jcombe says:

    The landlord of that pub certainly sounds a “character”. He has also been found guilty of possessing two unlicensed guns, which were confiscated by the police and was summoned to court earlier this year due to an alleged unpaid electricity bill owed to the Knoydart foundation and is also in trouble with the court because he didn’t turn up for it!

    • Ooooh. Interesting. The best thing that could happen to Knoydart is that he loses the pub or decides to leave. It then has a chance to become a local pub again, which is what the place really needs.

      • jcombe says:

        I was back on Knoydart today and the good news is that it sounds like the locals will get their pub back after all. Apparently the much hated Jean Pierre (JP), owner of the pub has left and put the Old Forge pub on the market citing “Brexit and Covid 19” as the reason (and nothing to do with his management, obviously). The locals are trying to buy it themselves and raising funds to do so, so they can run it themselves. See https://www.theoldforgecbs.org. You can read about it here https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/19114690.old-forge-remotest-pub-scotland-sale—community-want-buy/

        • jcombe says:

          It certainly doesn’t seem geared up to visitors. I am not sure it’s opening at all at the moment but the opening hours were 12-3pm and 6:30pm to 11:00pm. With the last ferry departing at 6:30pm it seems odd to not open the pub until then. I’m sure those waiting for the ferry would welcome the pub being open and having somewhere to have a drink and wait rather than having to stand in the ferry shelter instead. The locals “table” pub is still there!

          The ferry back was interesting. The usual boat, the one you photographed and the one that I travelled over there on had broken down. Since I was the only passenger booked on the return crossing they picked me up using an ex Mersey class lifeboat that they also own. It was fun to ride back in a lifeboat, it felt like my own private water taxi!

        • Oh, I really hope the locals manage to buy it. Fingers crossed. It should be such a wonderful centre for the area.

  8. jcombe says:

    Sadly I had rain or drizzle pretty much whole way walking there and back but on the way back finally there was some sunshine, which was very welcome.

    On the way back I went up to that ruined farm house. It was odd, inside the “side extension” were a number of large, open circular water tanks and a pipe running on the back wall. Water was pouring from this pipe into the tanks, which were overflowing and the water from the overflowing tanks was flowing out of the door and into the now very sodden grass. Inside the house itself were more water tanks, but the roof had since caved in on top of some of them and the pipe was broken. I couldn’t see the other end of the pipe where water got in or where it came from. It was all a bit odd. Not sure if it’s used to collect water for the cattle (not present today) or something to do with the drinking water supply to Inverie? Strange, anyway.

    The bridge was the broken planks is still broken the same way, though it doesn’t look any worse now than from what I can see in your photo.

    Unlike you both there and back I didn’t meet a single person other than in Inverie. Inverie was very quiet. The shop (well both shops) were closed, as was the pottery, tea room and cafe whilst the notorious landlord of the Old Forge has already given up for the year and closed the pub until 2021. I certainly felt that Inverie has closed for the year, at least for visitors.

    • Weird about those water tanks. There seems plenty of water for the cows in the loch. Maybe they collect drinking water, or maybe water for when cows were confined to barns. Shame you had bad weather when you walked across Knoydart, but I guess that was typical weather for the area. I wonder why the shops were shut, because I thought people lived there all year rounds, but perhaps not enough to keep the shops open.

      • jcombe says:

        Just written this up for my own blog (but it will be a while before it gets published!). Interesting to compare notes and photographs. Your pictures are all green. Mine are all brown! It’s surprising what a difference a few weeks make since I also did the first part of this walk in mid September when it was green. 3 weeks later and it’s all brown as the bracken, trees and bushes die back for the winter.

        My photos are here if of interest : https://www.flickr.com/photos/joncombe/albums/72157716584853918

        That ruined building beside the loch was an old farm and later became a bothy, but clearly not been maintained for some time, except perhaps for those weird water tanks inside I mentioned (you can see inside on my photos, though the roof has since collapsed on top of some of the tanks). The draughts set in the woods at Inverie also seems to have lost it’s pieces (or they take them in for the winter).

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