Exploring Whiten Head on a perfect escape a stone's throw from home
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OUT AND ABOUT WITH RALPH: Sunshine and sublime views on a sunny kayak along the coast
The glen was white with frost but it was to be another March day of unbroken sunshine. I packed up and set off on the two-mile walk through the bogs from the bothy to the end of the loch where I’d left the car the previous evening.
It was just a short drive down to the promontory of Ard Neackie, the stony beaches here are by far the best spot for launching a boat into Loch Eriboll.
A couple of tourists on the North Coast 500 could hardly take in the beauty of the snow-streaked peaks and sea-loch on such a perfect day, they were heading west and did not believe me when I told them there was even better to come!
The forecast was for settled weather with light winds for several days, rare indeed. I phoned the coastguard to say I’d be leaving the car for a couple of nights, then loaded up the kayak and paddled off into the rippling sea.
You could have gone almost anywhere, even perhaps round Cape Wrath, but I’d hardly been out in the open sea for six months and so had a less ambitious plan, just out to the bothy near Whiten Head and a bit of exploration.
I’ve done this trip on foot or by boat countless times. Out past the little lighthouse where the rock below is also painted white. Past an unfriendly bit of cliff with north-facing caves then round the point to find a little beach of pristine sand gleaming in the sun, an ideal lunch stop.
Across the bay and round under the craggy slopes of Goat Hill, on foot you wend your way along narrow sheep paths high above the sea.
Next is a big stony bay, a beachcomber’s dream as over-zealous beach cleaners never get here. Just beyond, a burn pours over the lip of a cave, a stony beach behind the falls was covered in grey seals so I kept my distance. A rocky coast under broken cliffs heads on north, there are boulders and little skerries as well as bits of an old fish-farm.
A quarter of a mile over the moor from the bothy is a steep beach of rounded boulders and pebbles. Unfortunately I’d timed it for a low spring tide when broken rocks covered in seaweed made for a difficult landing with the need to get the boat and all the gear across to the beach and then hauled up well above the high-tide mark. Mid-tide is the ideal time to land here!
Now I could simply spend the rest of the afternoon pottering about, taking my gear up to the bothy, collecting driftwood for the fire and just enjoying the location with its view up the loch to the mountains of Spionnaidh, Cranstackie and Foinaven. You can see these hills, 50 miles away, from home and I’m often reminded of this favourite spot.
The coast along to Whiten Head is possibly the finest in the north, and the next day I set off to explore the caves, natural arches and inaccessible bays. Uamh Freisgill is a huge, cathedral-like cave with seals mooing on a stony beach a long, long way in.
There are narrow slots and huge arches but the swell was picking up towards the Head so I turned back. Water was surging through an underwater passage, I watched a seal dive and disappear through, under the cliff towards the next bay.
The afternoon gave sunbathing conditions, I pottered on foot around a surprisingly intimate landscape of lochans and deep burn valleys behind the bothy, then watched the sun set beyond the hills.
Another fine, warm day followed for an easy paddle back up the loch, stopping at the lovely little bay of Port an Alltain where the burn tumbles down through stunted trees past the remains of an old mill.
In the fine weather I carried on up the loch for a mile or two to land on a stony beach at the north end of Eilean Choraidh. An uninhabited island I’d never visited! It proved though a little disappointing, covered in deep tussocky grass with just a couple of wild, unclipped sheep.
There’s an old lime-kiln and remains of a wall and perhaps an old dwelling, but surprisingly little of interest other than the fine views of the mountains around the head of the loch.
The wind had picked up from the south-west, it hurried me back through small breaking waves to Ard Neackie. The March sun had shone for five days.
