© 2010 Halifax Canoe Club Ltd, Greenups Mill, Wharf Street, Sowerby Bridge

Registered Company No 2612775

Trip 1 – Loch Glencoul and Beinn Leoid (792m)

The first trip was to be the most northerly. We didn’t quite get there on the Saturday, but that was OK because we were to catch the incoming tide to help us up Loch Glencoul and low tide was not till 11am.

Day 1 Kitted out the boat and had interesting time getting fully laden boat off the end of the slipway at Kylesku without it spilling as by this time the sea level was a couple of feet below the end. We made it surprisingly quickly and easily to the head of the Loch Glencoul and beached by a hunters track we were to take up the valley. Swapping Canadian Canoe for Yorkshire legs we headed up hill to pass the impressive Stack of Glencoul en route to the top of Beinn Leoid where there were clear views to the islands in the west and almost down to the Cairngorms in the south. To the north were the beautiful quartz covered peaks of Arkle and Foinaven. A pleasant evening was spent sat outside the Glencoul bothy watching the sunset over the sea loch. It’s weird watching the sun go down only for it to still stay light Nice little bothy - and judging by the limited number of entries in the logbook, not used a right lot.

Day 2 - returned up the loch, after paddling up to have a closer look at the Eas a Chual Aluinn (it might well be the longest waterfall in the land, it is not necessarily the most impressive, and proves the maxim that is not the size that counts). With the tide on our side, but the wind against us, the sea was pretty choppy and journey took somewhat longer. There were times when you had to paddle like mad just to stay in the same spot. However, the grey seals added to the magic of the day.

Trip 2 – Loch Maree, Beinn Airigh Charr (791m) and Ben Lair (859m)

Day 3 was wet and misty - but mysterious and beautiful in that grey way when mountains and water combine. We paddled across Loch Maree and beached near the Letterewe lodge. We navigated in the mist to the top of the first Corbett of the day - Beinn Airigh Charr - and then blundered our way through bog and crags to the second of the day, Beinn Lair. Abiding memories of the day- the greyness, the sheer number of frogs, wild orchids, primroses and butterwort, searching for the cairns at the peaks in the mist, and the eerie stillness of the Loch as we paddled back in the twilight.

It was a long day and by the time we got back to the car, in midge city, we were exhausted and the only thing to do was get a tent up and get in it before the midges did. My £18 tent from Homebase has lasted me well but after a night of pouring rain it had given up the ghost and everything inside was soaked.

Day 4 it rained - there was a period of persistent rain, followed by long and frequent showers and then more rain. Did I mention it rained? And the midges came out to play again.

Trip 3 – Loch Quoich, Sgurr An Fharain (901m) and Ben Aden (887m)

Day 5 - turned out to be a warm and sunny day. We paddled across Loch Quoich and made quick work of Sgurr An Fhuarain, after being warned by the local killer to keep to the path as he was out shooting foxes. Despite being the highest peak of the week it was easy to ascend because of the very well constructed but obviously little used stalker's path. At the top, what a panorama - it felt like we could see the whole of Scotland - Ben Nevis clearly in the south-east and the Cuillins on Skye to the west.

Then we paddled to the far west end of Loch Quoich and camped in splendid isolation at the water's edge.

Day 6 - the sky was blue, the grass green, the flowers were blooming and we were ready to tackle the great and rocky complex Ben Aden - a dream of a mountain to explore and scramble up and down with great views into the Knoydart and over to Rum and Skye.

That left the longest stretch of the week back along Loch Quoich. As we paddled the weather changed and rain clouds came in from the east. With the rain came the most spectacular and perfect rainbow we’d ever seen - it formed an arch across the loch with its foot resting in the corrie on Gairich on one side. It was like a gateway inviting us into another land. As we gawped in wonder we knew that within a few minutes we were going to get very wet - but who cares? And then the wind changed direction and the storm turned away and bypassed us - we caught nothing more than a few giant drops of rain. A fitting end to a magical and wonderfully varied few days.

Reflecting back on the trip the Canadian was the best choice – I don’t think a pair of touring boats would have been able to carry the gear, and an inflatable would have been too slow. It may be heavy and awkward to carry but it made short work of the crossings and saved a great deal of time. The weather had been kind to us too – if you conveniently forget about the rain. I certainly would not have liked to have been up Ben Aden in the mist – instead I got a sunburn.

Would I do it again? – Yes but I need a new tent first!

Three mini-expeditions in the North West Highlands by Martin and Cliff over the Spring Bank week.

Regrettably we had to delay the start of the visit by two days so Martin could attend a very sad and touching woodland funeral of a 21 year old son of a long-term friend. You should not have to bury your own children.

Anyway, it all started about 18 months ago shortly after Martin had been introduced to the pleasures of canoeing. He had spent a good part of a day walking round a loch to get to the next Munroe on the list when he spotted a touring canoe – flash of inspiration – why not combine canoeing and mountain bagging! For the record a Munroe is a mountain over 3000ft (914m) and they are mostly in Scotland. Going down the scale, Corbetts are over 2500ft (762m) but with at least 500ft of drop between one and the next just to make it interesting. This trip was to tackle some of the most inaccessible Corbetts in three areas North West of the Great Glen.

As there was the two of us with all camping and walking gear to transport the natural choice was Canadian Canoe. A couple of days before setting off I gave the club’s trusty Old Town a once over a condemned the air bags as useless – despite liberal patches of gaffer tape they did not stay inflated and were obviously perished. That meant a stop off at Brookbank Carlisle on the way up to get some replacements. We also needed to buy a paddle as all the club paddles had been spirited away for the Bala weekend.