‘I miss my camels. I miss the sun. I miss the vast emptiness of the desert plains …” These are my thoughts as I trudge through thick conifer plantations and my fifth consecutive hour of rain at the start of the Affric Kintail Way in the Scottish Highlands.
My last big adventure was a world first. I became the first recorded person to walk the full length of Saudi Arabia, north to south, from Jordan to Yemen. It took three years to organise, then 112 days of walking half a marathon a day, and I had a backup team plus Juicy and Lulu, my naughty but nice camels.
It was a fantastic, life-enhancing, often brutal, endeavour but it is over. Adventurers have got to adventure though, and I was looking for something cheap in my own country that needed little organisation or backup. I am a proud Scot and, even though I spend so much time away, I feel a strong emotional pull to my homeland, an almost physical attachment to the landscape and the thousands of ancestors who have walked it before me.
There are an abundance of long-distance walking trails in Scotland, and after many happy hours checking out the options on Walk Highlands, I settle on the Affric Kintail Way. It’s a doable distance – 44 miles (71km) in four days; easy to get to and from by bus from Edinburgh; and according to my brother, Robbie, Glen Affric is one of the most beautiful areas of the country.
Preparations are simple. I buy a map, read all the information on the dedicated website, download the route on the AllTrails app and pack my rucksack. I’m doing it solo, self-supported and wild camping, so need to take everything with me but also keep my pack as light as possible. In the end it weighs around 12kg, which is not bad. My luxury is four Ferrero Rocher chocolates given to me by my mum – one for each evening.
The bus drops me off at Drumnadrochit and I walk straight up into the forests. The rain is constant, but I enjoy the sharp smell of the conifers and the sound of the cuckoos. There’s plenty of up, but the way is easy to follow along the Forestry Commission tracks. I keep checking my weather app, which promises a half-hour break in the rain, as it is so much better to pitch a tent in the dry. It comes to 6pm and I get my tent up just before the rain starts again. I’ve done a respectable 5 miles or so since the bus dropped me off, in about four hours.
The next morning, I drop down into Cannich and history is waiting for me after a long pull up out of the village. My plan is to walk about 11 miles today. Comar Wood Dun is about 250m off the path. It is a jumble of stones perched at a lookout point over the strath. Once, it was a drystone fortified house and home to a family and their animals between 400BCE and 200AD. Life must have been so hard. It is cold and wet even in June. Barley was the main crop, grown in small clearances in the wood, augmented with meat and milk from the livestock.
One of the great pleasures for me of walking in these wild places, whether it is the Highlands of Scotland or the deserts of the Arabian peninsula, is finding these echoes from the past and wondering what life was like then. Were the people happy? Were there compensations for this hard life? How did they deal with all the extremes of nature that we have managed to smooth out with our air conditioning and heating? By hiking and camping, I am trying to get closer to them in some way.
I spend the night beside Dog Falls and the morning is another haul through the forests. Sitting in my midge net at the Glen Affric car park overlooking the inlet to Loch Beinn a’Mheadhoin, hunger kicks in and I wolf down a roll, a big bag of Revels and my emergency veggie sausage rolls – a large chunk of my provisions.
I’ve been walking steadily up and down through woodlands, interspersed with farmland. This area is one of the UK’s most ancient natural woodlands – more than 10,000 years old – and is dominated by gnarly Scots pines and silvery birch.
My heart yearns for the open spaces, though, and I’m glad when it starts to open up and I see the hills rise on either side of Loch Affric. I’m alone almost all of the time: in four days, I meet just eight people. It’s just me and the green of the hills and the deep black of the loch between them. My heavy pack hurts my shoulders, and my feet are sore from the hard tracks, but I feel so alive. I relish the adventure of being on my own, self-reliant and with no one to worry about or answer to.
When the rain stops and the sun comes out, the grassy uplands glow almost neon-bright. I stop to drink peaty water from a burn and fantasise about living in the tiny wooden hut on the sandy shores of the loch. It’s my third night of camping and the best so far, just me and the geese, but I feel completely safe and relaxed within nature.
The next day, my fourth on the trail, I’m on a mission. I need to get some provisions from the Glen Affric hostel and do a solid 10 miles so that I only have a shortish walk the day after to catch the bus. I hike as fast as I can until I finally see the hostel ahead – this tiny outpost is among Scotland’s most remote hostels. I put out my tent to dry on their fence and get to the door. “Shut between 10.00 and 17.00”.
Disconsolate, I sit at the side and contemplate my life choices. Then, a woman shrieks as she sees me unexpectedly – Chrissie, who runs the hostel and kindly lets me in to buy chocolate, crisps and a fizzy drink. Sugar and fat consumed, I feel whole again and happily share a story of camels and Saudi hospitality for the sound art project she is doing. She is recording poems, stories and songs from people who stay in the hostel for an exhibition.
I continue onwards, struggling on the ups. With a couple of miles to go, my pack feels as if it’s full of rocks. I try to focus on the waterfalls all around me, dashing loudly down the rocks to meet the rivers Affric and Croe.
I walk down to a small, flat clearing beside one of them. It’s the perfect camp spot, but if I stop now I’ve failed to reach my 10-mile goal. The sun comes out and I see there’s even a flat rock to sit on. I throw my manufactured goals and failure guilt to the wind and pitch my tent.
No billionaire is richer than I am that night in that place. I sit on my rock looking out over the peaks and listening to the music of the water. Tomorrow, I will eat my porridge and walk out by the river to the bus and everyday life. But for tonight I am queen of the world.
For more information visit: Walk Highlands, the Affric Kintail Way website and alltrails.com. The bus from Inverness goes to Drumnadrochit and picks up at The Pit Stop cafe at Kintail (citylink.co.uk)
Alice’s website is alicemorrison.co.uk; she is also on Instagram