A Fine Horse in New Country

My friends gave me much good advice regarding the next stage through Glen Banchor. There was some doubt about a possible locked gate on the route, and in the morning they went on to see what the story was – I think they were looking forward to ripping it off its hinges - and probably ritually burnt - as a blow for freedom for stravaigers everywhere. I’m sure they were deeply disappointed to find it unlocked.
Glen Banchor is enchanting: this grassy track leading out of Newtonmore led to a private road up the glen. For the first time I could see the mountains of the Monadhliath before us. Glen Banchor is named after the long bend in the river at the Luib. ( Beannachar - a horn-shaped reach of a river bank.) It was one of the earliest glens to be cleared for sheep, beginning in Baillidbeg as early as 1760.

The road became a grassy track, then a landrover track, and finally a boggy footpath. Both my friends and a mountain biker I met on the way told me to ‘stick close to the river until I could see the bothy’ as the ground was firmer there – which I did.

Then we ran into a little problem – I could see the bothy less than a kilometre away, but suddenly there was another river which looked awkward to get across. The ground was getting softer, and the ponies were having to hop over deep hidden streams. When you are low down, even with the aid of a map, it can be difficult to see the lie of unfamiliar ground. I adopted Plan ‘B’ – turn Doogs loose, point him in the desired direction of travel, then follow faithfully in his hoofprints – more reliable than a GPS!

He found a place to cross, but then we almost immediately came to another river which had a very steep drop into it. Doogs unerringly turned north up Glen Lochain and picked up a footpath heading up the east bank. A quick map check confirmed that there was a path marked going up one side and down the other – I had wondered why it should go so high, but one look at the bog gave me a clue!

Doogs continued to plod up the glen with Yeoman and me puffing along behind until we came to the first feasible crossing point: the river was easy to ford but immediately we had to scramble up a steep and bouldery scree slope on the other side. Yeoman and I went first and clattered up it (just): I turned round to whistle Doogs who clearly said “no thanks!!”

Eventually he was encouraged over and together we found the path which led down the other side of the glen, back to the bothy which we had spotted (about an hour before.) This path has been extensively used by estate Argocats, which makes it a hundred times worse for ponies as the surface has disintegrated and they can just sink straight in to the hags beneath – and Yeoman did, more than once! Although it was only about a kilometre back to the bothy, it was a rather anxious time and we were relieved to reach proper terra firma once more. My friend had told me in the morning when I was getting ready that he didn’t think I would need my waterproof gaiters on – hmm, we obviously went a bit wrong somewhere!

It was then a straightforward jog down a good track to the policies of Cluny Castle: I had been told to be sure to exit through the West gate (to avoid a bad bit of public road) but in spite of some time lurking suspiciously in the castle undergrowth like Al Qaeda terrorists, we couldn’t see how to get to the west gate without going across the front lawn, right in front of the gardener who was cutting the grass at the time! So we funked that and took our chances with the traffic after all.

From Laggan Bridge a single track tarmac road leads west past the Spey Dam, following much of General Wade’s original eighteenth century military road, although the creation of the reservoir has changed the line slightly and left the odd strange relic, like a bridge which stands in the middle of a field. To read more, click here!