The perfect point to point hike in Scotland

First published in the Sunday Telegraph. 

I do like an elegant walk. Meaning a hike with a bit of structure to it, rather than a stroll with silver-topped cane and poodle. 

So out-and-back, if a round trip is possible, is always out; point-to-point is always preferred. Ideally each end of the walk should be interesting, getting from one to the other should present a bit of a challenge and overall the walk should have, well, a point.

Taking the Fort William railway line up the west side of Scotland, walking across some of the most remote and majestic mountains in Britain then coming back on the eastern Inverness line already has an obvious structural elegance. Add to that departing from Corrour (the UK’s highest railway station, so remote it doesn’t even have a road, as featured in the film Trainspotting) and arriving at Dalwhinnie (the UK’s highest whisky distillery, with its own obvious attractions) and you have a very classy route indeed. For a final baroque touch, I decided to take Otto, the mountain-hardened miniature poodle.

If there’s one thing our group of walkers has discovered over a decade of these little expeditions it’s that an elegant plan doesn’t always count for much. Altitude sickness and howling furies had prevented us from putting theory into practice on our last two walks in the Moroccan High Atlas and the supposedly gentle uplands of the Italian Monte Sibellini. Would we achieve our objective this time? One of the beauties of a point to point route is that it’s about completing the walk rather than the attainment of, say, a given summit. And it would be hard to imagine Fat Bill, who is not only our mountain chef but something of an authority on whisky (and most kinds of intoxicating liquor) failing to reach Dalwhinnie.

Everything began remarkably well. Compared to the purgatorial suspension of civilisation that moderately-priced air travel often entails, Euston station is a delight. No security, queuing or passports and our two dogs – a highly-trained spaniel called Flash and the much-ridiculed Otto - positively welcomed. Not being in a rush, we were even able to enjoy a gin and tonic in the agreeable first class lounge. We’d expected the train itself to be just about tolerable, but it’s much better than that – the beds are comfortable and big enough, the cabins clean and the service excellent. We fell asleep near Crewe, soothed by a glass or two of anticipatory Scotch and the gentle motion of the sleeping car which soon brought manly dreams of Buchan and Bond.

John the Glaswegian steward woke us with a cup of tea around seven and the train felt and sounded as though it had gone back in time; an old-fashioned clackety-clack, lots more pitching and rolling and the smell of heather through the open windows. We were now on the single-track Fort William line through a sunlit landscape of moors and woods, rivers and sheep. The train followed the contour as much as it could, with cuttings and long viaducts filling in the gaps; more Thomas the Tank Engine than Eurostar.

Corrour appeared along the line as a platform, a semaphore signal, a low station building and that’s it. A request stop with no real reason to request a stop, unless you own the nearby lodge or really want to get away from it all. Which we did, of course – so with dogs and rucksacks on the platform we watched civilisation trundle away towards Fort William. Then Fat Bill pointed out that the station café was open and offering breakfast, so our departure was delayed by a very generous full Scottish.

After Eddie the Fiddle, our violin-playing lawyer, had spent his usual forty minutes rearranging the contents of his pack we set off along the side of Loch Ossian as far as Corrour itself, a shooting lodge once owned by the railway proprietor who had the station built for his guests. Then along the north bank of the Uisge Labhair before striking uphill for the first of our five Munro targets. (As any seasoned walker knows, Sir Hugh Munro first catalogued the hills of Scotland and a Munro is any notable summit over 3000 feet.) The weather was good, the walking fine, the dogs happy … then we discovered that not one of us had brought a compass, apart from something that came out of Fat Bill’s Christmas cracker. Might this mean an inelegant end to the walk, or indeed to us?

Fortunately the weather continued to smile as we took one, two, three Munros in quick succession (Beinn Eibhinn, Aonach Beag and Geal-Charn for the purists). Navigating was by eye, and by the end of a superb day’s walking we found a perfect campsite by a waterfall under Ben Alder, the biggest mountain in the central Cairngorms and our target for the next day. The weather started closing in, and we were lulled asleep by a gentle Scottish drizzle falling on the tents. The following morning it was raining properly and for a while it looked like the lack of a decent compass would mean another missed objective. But this being Scotland the weather changed in minutes and by the time we reached Ben Alder’s summit cairns we were rewarded with spectacular views as the clouds rolled away. Over the edge (with perilous-looking snow cornices even in late May) Loch Ericht stretched away as far as we could see through endless mountain ranges. This is reputed to be one of the most remote spots in the British Isles - we met very few other walkers save a trio of hardy-looking women who looked dubiously at Otto the poodle then at us, no doubt wondering where we’d left our silver-topped canes.

With Ben Bheoil, our final Munro, in the bag we dropped down to Loch Ericht and reached the lake shore in the last sunshine of what had become a beautiful day. The temptation to throw off rucksacks and by now sticky hiking clothes and dive in was irresistible, although the water was skull-crackingly cold. Warming up around the fire we discovered the second major oversight of the trip; the whisky had run out the night before. So it was with clear heads and an even more determined step that we set off the following morning to reach Dalwhinnie by lunchtime.

The walk in along Loch Ericht is easy but a bit dull; Tim the Editor and I had just passed Ben Alder lodge (recently refurbished Tracy Island style by a Swiss financier, with helipad and allegedly a secret railway) when a pickup truck passed us. Jeers from the windows revealed the passengers to be Fat Bill and Eddie the Fiddle, urging the driver to carry on. Truly, in the mountains real character is revealed.

By the time we arrived at the distillery the others had already met Ewan the whisky expert who had lined up malts from the coal tar of Caol Isla to the cut grass tang of Dalwhinnie itself, with a couple of detours via Pedro Ximinez and Kentucky (to illustrate cask flavouring). From the limited amount anyone can recall, the distillery is a fascinating place; part industrial archaeology, part social history, part chemistry lesson and several parts delicious whisky. After Ewan went home we followed the steps of Queen Victoria along to the Dalwhinnie Inn (now taken over by surfers, oddly) for a quick supper before the train. She complained about her dinner being ‘two starved Highland chickens and no pudding’ but ours was much better.

With stiff legs we waited on the platform until the train arrived, then sank gratefully into our beds. Waking on a Tuesday morning in Euston and joining the commuters heading in to the office felt like we were still dreaming in our cabins, while our unshaven appearance and slight hangovers among the suits could not really be called elegant. But against that we had actually achieved our objective for a change; a perfect point to point walk, through some of the most stunning scenery Britain has to offer.

ESSENTIALS

Getting there

·      Caledonian Sleeper Advanced Single fares between London and Inverness/Fort William start from £60.  

·      Berths must be booked no later than two days in advance of travel either online at www.scotrail.co.uk, via ScotRail Telesales on 08457 55 00 33 or at any major staffed station.

The inside track

·      A limited number of Bargain Berths are available on the sleeper every month from £19 one-way and can only be booked online. Dogs can be taken, but there’s a small extra cleaning charge.

·      A Corrour-Dalwhinnie walk can be done more straightforwardly by following a well-marked trail through the pass, but that doesn’t get you any Munros.

·      For more complicated route planning we went to Stanfords for the ever-reliable Cicerone walking guide (Munros Volume 1) and OS Explorer 1:25000 map 393 (the waterproof version is probably a good investment).

·      There are a number of excellent walks in the Cicerone guide from Corrour, Dalwhinnie and other stations on both east and west coast lines for those who prefer out and back to point to point

·      Tours of the Dalwhinnie distillery can be arranged by calling 01540 672219

What to avoid

·      You can go any time of year providing you have proper equipment, but beware of extreme weather in winter and midges in late summer. Snow cornices on steep edges are a trap for the unwary

·      Don’t underestimate how fast conditions can change or the remoteness of the area.

·      Even if you’re just going on a day hike take a map, compass and mobile phone (though don’t depend on it working everywhere) and make sure you’ve got good boots (we like Scarpa) and decent clothing (such as Rab)

·      Always leave word of your route – either at home or with the mountain rescue service (the staff at Corrour will help with this)

·      The right amount of whisky to take is still under discussion

Where to stay

Choices are fairly limited in the mountains themselves, but we favour the Vaude Taurus Ultralight tent and Ajungilak Mammut sleeping bag.

Dalwhinnie Inn £

In Dalwhinnie, the  Dalwhinnie Inn has come a long way since Queen Victoria’s visit and is now run by surfer dudes – their unusual website is at www.theinndalwhinnie.com.