Mark Agnew
The Cape Wrath Trail is unofficial, so has no route markers.
Thru-hiking the Cape Wrath Trail, my first Stayventure had me hooked
We huddled behind the Cape Wrath lighthouse, trying desperately to hide from the sideways rain. We'd been dreaming of this view for over a week, expecting a vast expanse of ocean swells crashing off the cliffs. Instead, we could barely see 10 metres.
Despite the conditions, and the fact we couldn't feel our fingers, we were elated.
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We'd just finished the Cape Wrath Trail.
The Cape Wrath Trail is a 230 mile/370km unofficial route from Fort William to Cape Wrath (the UK mainland's most North West Point). As the trail's unofficial, there are no route markers. There are often no paths at all, and it requires hikers to wade through rivers and make camp in random spots.
Battered by wind, but elated to be at the end of the Cape Wrath Trail.
"Cup of tea?"
A voice cut through the wind. It took us both by surprise and we looked at each other, to make sure the other had heard it too.
"I said, cup of tea?!"
We looked around and saw the lighthouse keeper beckoning us into the warmth of his house. I didn't know lighthouses even had keepers anymore. We gladly accepted.
We shuffled in, de-robbed from our sodden waterproofs so we did not drip everywhere. His wife was also there.
A powerful waterfall, swollen by rain, was one of many highlights.
The kind couple made us a cup of tea and a sandwich each. I remember the sandwiches having grapes in them. It is a small detail that has inexplicably stuck with me. We explained we had just finished the trail.
"You're the first we've had this year. People don't usually start this early."
We could see why. It was March, and spring was still fighting to make an impression in Scotland's north. On any given day, we had snow, rain and sun.
This styaventure happened over 10 years ago now. It was my first stayventure and one of the most rewarding of my life.
I was just 19 years old. My friend Sholto mentioned he and another pal were going to hike the Cape Wrath Trail. I had never heard of it, but I said I wanted to come. It sounded awesome.
Sholto did the majority of the planning (and when I say "majority", I mean literally all of it). We bought a vacuum sealer off the internet, froze some chilli con-carne and packed it into individual bags.
The chilli stayed frozen the whole trip - we'd chip at it each day to make the portions fit in our pot. It is a far cry from the modern freeze dried foods that are now a staple on this sort of adventure. Freeze dried food was probably available then, it was 2011. But we were both ignorant of such things.
My parents gave us a lift to the start. I was just following Sholto's lead. In fact, I was so oblivious to the details, I only recently discovered we did just half the trail. I didn't realise the whole thing was from Fort William.
By this point, Sholto's original hiking partner had bailed. We were joined by his cousin Ewan, who hiked with us for the first couple of days and depart, leaving us on our own.
We camp and stayed in bothies.
The views were majestic.
The first day rained a lot. We waded across a fast flowing river. From that moment on, my feet were wet. The skin on my feet turned white.
After the adventure finished, I required anti-biotics to return the soles of my feet to normal. Only bringing two pairs of socks to save weight, but packing many kilograms of chilli con-carne, illustrated my naivety.
For the next week, we saw Scotland in all it's glory. We saw Britain's highest waterfall, huge mountains, lush woods, wide moors. We stayed in bothies some nights and camped on others.
The scenery, and the joy of being out in the nature, far surpassed my expectations. It was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
I was a bit jealous of Sholto's map reading. Planning and executing the entire trip from scratch looked even more satisfying than just turning up and walking like I did.
The scenery blew me away.
The weather cleared as we climbed to the highest point.
As we hiked up to the highest point of the trail, the weather cleared, giving us views of where we'd come from and where we were going. That was a special moment.
One night, it poured with rain and we had to get out our tent and assess if the Loch was rising enough to engulf us.
We had a strange encounter on the way to Sandwood Bay. A man in tracksuits, like he was on his way to football, was dragging his shoulder bag along the ground.
He looked lost and confused.
We stopped to ask if he was OK. He said he was homeless and had travelled from London to Inverness to find a homeless shelter, but instead he had been wondering the moors for 40 days and 40 nights without food or water.
We gave him some food and directed him to a nearby village as it was along a well marked path.
I have often thought about him. I'm now older and far more experienced. I'd be able to do more to help him now. I feel guilty we didn't offer more assistance. I just didn't have the experience to deal with the situation. Fortunately, another hiker passed us and helped him get to safety.
The final approach to Sandwood Bay. The size of the waves put us off swimming.
Sandwood Bay was incredible. Waves crashed onto the sand. We always said we would celebrate arriving here by swimming. But the waves seemed a bit threatening so we contented ourselves with the view instead.
The next day, we made our way to the final destination - Cape Wrath. It sits atop the British Mainland's highest sea cliffs. It is a desolate place. It's beauty is in its sheer isolation.
After the lighthouse keeper warmed us up, we headed back towards Sandwood Bay. We prepared ourselves for a long slog into biting rain. But the rain had ceased. So had the wind. We faced another challenge.
A thick fog, the likes of which I'd never seen, reduced the view to a few metres. It killed any sound. It was utterly disorientating. Sholto and I didn't believe our compass. We were both convinced South was that way, but the compass was pointing this way.
The Cape Wrath Trail!
We dug out our GPS that we had for emergencies. It confirmed the compass was right and we were wrong. If we'd trusted our instincts, we would have marched straight off a cliff.
The streams we'd hopped across on the way to the lighthouse were now swollen and uncrossable. We had to hike far up each one to find a suitable place to ford.
The added miles slowed us. We worried we weren't going to be back until after sunset. The path down to Sandwood Bay was narrow and exposed. We didn't fancy it in the dark.
We decided to run. We launched into a gallop. Across the moors, it felt like we were in Lord of the Rings, hurriedly making our way towards Mordor.
A thick and disorientating fog.
My leg sank into a bog. Sholto stumbled too. We were both completely out of breath. We'd be running for about 30 seconds.
We decided to walk.
We made it to Sandwood Bay in time.
We sat outside our tent. In silence, we both reflected on the journey we'd just completed. Tomorrow was just a short walk back to civilisation, where my dad was kindly meeting us.
As we stared at the view, we both simultaneously noticed a light on the horizon. It looked like someone was shining a huge spot light into the sky, as though they were summoning Batman. Then another appeared, and another.
It was the Northern Lights. We'd both never seen them before. They were very pale, almost white. But the were majestic none-the-less.
We watched for a while and retreated into our tent. Just at the moment, a patter let us know it was raining again.
We made it back to Sandwood Bay before dark. Soaked to the bone, even our camera lens was wet.
Happily, we slept.
Little did I know that wasn't the end. It was the beginning. The adventure was so rewarding. The landscape in my own country had taken my breath away. The feeling of a shared accomplishment was absolute.
It was the start of my Stayventures. The experiences to be had in the UK are endless.