THE LAST WILDERNESS OF SCOTLAND || A canoe expedition into a remote corner of the SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS

The original purpose of this journey was to paddle around a remote region and document our adventure, but after watching most of the year go by from my window as a pandemic had the whole nation under lockdown, it needed to be more than that. Now it was about fulfilling a deep and aching desire to live and breathe the great outdoors. During the lockdown I'd been studying maps of locks in the Scottish Highlands with my friend Ian Finch. The year previous we'd undertaken a We were looking for ways to tie a collection of locks together to form a multi-day canoeing expedition that could take us deeper into the wildest corners of Scotland. We discovered a particular route that linked up locks Marie, Fionn and Fada with a series of lengthy portages in between. A 48 kilometre route through a region that is sometimes referred to as Scotland's last wilderness. So with the lockdown eased, in the early hours of a late September morning, we started the 12-hour drive from the borders of London to the distant reaches of the Scottish Highlands. We woke up the next morning on a small outcrop overlooking Lock Marie. We had parked the car in a small lay-by up the hill and had carried all of our kit, including the canoe, down in the dark. We were both super excited to get out onto the lock. This was Ian's first time back in a canoe since our expedition the previous year and I had only been out a handful of times on rivers local to me, which were nothing in comparison. The weather forecast predicted conditions to be calm for the entirety of our journey, but the dark clouds that loomed over the mighty Monroe Sleogh filled us with uncertainty. A few hours later we reached the western end of the lock where we began navigating a network of islands. Each one was littered with Caledonian pines and rich vegetation that served as a fantastic reserve for wildlife. These islands are renowned for being some of the last remaining wild places in Scotland, with habitats that have changed very little in the last few thousand years. As the evening began to draw in we set up camp on an island with a quaint sandy beach. With the tent set up and the canoe overturned protecting our gear, we sat by the fire listening to the calls of stags and the hooting and key wicks of tawny owls, relishing in this brief primitive existence we'd been yearning for all year. After a short paddle from our campsite we reached the northern shore where we finished our stretch of Loch Maree. Strapping wheels to the canoe we began a six mile portage across land to Fee-on-Loch. Arriving at the water's edge of Fee-on-Loch we turned our newly adapted land vehicle back into an aquatic one and pushed out onto the water with anticipation. The winds began to pick up and large boulders started showing beneath the making us feel like we were navigating a minefield. A short while later our attention was quickly drawn to the deep roar of a fighter jet as it came thundering out of the mountains ahead of us. As it crossed the open lock it made a hard left and started coming straight towards us. Terrified that we may hit a boulder or flip the boat in the chaos of our excitement we sat still and calm as the RAF typhoon flew past before disappearing back into the mountains. The weather conditions increasingly became a concern as the wind progressively got worse creating an erratic swell that forced us onto the banks. The forecast was now predicting heavy wind and rain in the coming hours. Looking at our map for options we noticed a remote bovy a few kilometers down on the opposite side of the lock which could provide us with a safe shelter from the coming weather. The only problem was getting there. If we wanted to make a direct crossing of the lock now was our only chance as we had the closest trajectory to the nearest point on the opposite side. This was something we had to consider very carefully. The consequences of flipping a canoe in the cold open water like this could be extremely severe. We were confident we could attempt a crossing but soon after leaving the southern banks the gusts immediately returned making swells so big that the water began breaching the bow of the boat. We turned the canoe around and quickly retreated back to the shore being careful to minimise our exposure to the side on wind. Ian suggested that we leave the canoe and continue to the bovy on foot because our tents would be too exposed in the wind that was on its way. Ian was right, we had no option but to leave it and walk to the bovy. We stashed the canoe by a crag slightly inland and began carrying our heavy dry bags on our backs and paddles in hand, guided by torchlight across the waterlogged heather. After three hours slogging four miles around the lock in the wind and rain we finally bundled in through the door of Cornwall bovy and were immediately surprised to find two beds with mattresses. We deployed both of our jet boils to prepare our meals knowing that we both couldn't wait the extra five minutes for another round of water to boil. As we ate our food we studied our newfound shelter. It wasn't perfect but it was certainly better than being out by the edge of the lock. I mean this is a five-star establishment with air conditioning, comfy beds, a couple of dead animals floating around. With conditions still bad in the morning the chances of completing the full circuit of our journey were starting to look slim. But before we could consider what our options were we still needed to get the canoe. Things brightened up when two ghillies, Joe and Gregor, turned up on a quad bike from the lodge a short walk up the track. After telling them our story of walking around the lock after leaving the canoe they kindly offered us a lift down to the edge of the lock where they could take us to the other side in their boat. This was an offer we could not refuse. Straight to that there. On the other side we parted ways and began scrambling around the crags before quickly finding the canoe. The absence of weight in the boat made us susceptible to the wind so paddling straight back across was not going to be as easy as it was for the ghillie's boat. We had no choice but to spend the afternoon paddling around the entirety of the lock. Upon returning to the bovie a few hours later with the canoe stored safely nearby we studied the map to see what our options were. Joe and Gregor had told us that the weather was not looking good over the next few days with conditions progressively getting worse. The intense winds at higher altitudes made portaging the mountain pass to the next lock a dangerous option as we would face a severe risk of getting trapped on the other side. This was not a time to make brash decisions that would involve us taking unnecessary risks. The safest option for us was to wait for the right opportunity to return the way we had come. The next morning the conditions had calmed just enough for us to make our exit. We packed up our things and made our way back to the canoe. I've always believed that the outdoors can be a great teacher if you listen to the lessons it teaches. Nature always manages to find a balance meaning good things will often come after the bad. With this window of opportunity likely to be short we had to make a paddle straight across the lock as we had no time to go around. Pointing the bow across the lock we paddled as fast as we could to make the most of a sudden lull in the wind that lasted just long enough for us to make the crossing. Relieved to be on the southern side we began dipping in and out of the safety of sheltered bays waiting patiently for the wind to let us hop to the next. After an exhausting few hours we finally made it back to the jetty. We strapped the wheels back to the canoe and began an eight mile portage to the town of Pallew from which we could easily arrange a lift back to the car. The next morning we walked the remaining miles into Pallew where we finally parked the canoe outside of a quaint little cafe. Looking back on our journey we remembered that expeditions are never without their adaptions and challenges. In this journey there was no destination it wasn't about completing the circuit at all it was just about being out here along with all of the things that came with it. Through all of the hardships we came out the other side with a sense of achievement that is difficult to find anywhere else. Perhaps that is what drives us to do these things time and time again.