The Great Glen
A deep murky loch, bordered by weary mountains.
In its dark depths, an ancient leviathan lies waiting.
I set off before the break of dawn, as the creature sleeps,
careful not to disturb her. I sail quietly, crouched down in my boat,
scared of what lurks in the black deep.
Day 7: Inverness-Loch Ness Distance: 10NM, Number of Locks: 7
The Caledonian Canal lay ahead of us now as we woke up on a sunny Thursday morning, just after the summer solstice. The canal cuts through the heart of the Scottish Highlands connecting Inverness with Fort William on the west coast, through Loch Ness, Loch Oich and Loch Lochy. 50 nautical miles, 29 locks and 11 swing bridges between us and the start of the West Coast adventure.
Loch Ness. The thought of sailing down the famous loch had been a defining image of this trip for me. During months of long, hard days in the yard I imagined what it would feel like to sail down the immense body of water, a deep valley, nestled in between eroded highland mountains. The last time I’d seen it was half my life ago. A different life, a different me, a person who didn’t know he would one day live in Scotland and be this close to sailing his own boat down the loch. I wouldn’t have had the imagination required to dream up the life I get to live.
As we motored under the fierce tides that run under Inverness’s Kessock bridge, I could see ahead to the Clachnaharry sea lock, the entrance of the canal and my stomach lurched. I was nervous. Entering the lock requires close quarters manoeuvring, managing mooring lines, throttle and tiller in amongst steep walls, and other boats all in a few seconds. It’s like advanced parallel parking. As I navigated into what felt like a large coffin, I cast a last glance out behind the lock and spotted a bright rainbow against the distant hills. A good omen – and my nerves eased a little. I motored slowly forward until we brushed up against the stonewall and the lockkeeper came out and helped us with the lines. Phew.
By the second lock things went even smoother, and we moored up to the marina beyond, finally in Inverness.
We had a busy day ahead. After a week of sailing up the coast we were low on all of our resources, and there wouldn’t be many better places to stock up than Inverness. We’d need lots of diesel for motoring the 50 miles through the canal, and we planned lavish meals for the summery eves that were forecast. We had a BBQ on board and I intended to make good use of it.
Living in a small space, we had quickly learned to manage our resources well, and we stored up on all our favourite foods, topped up fuel and water, and made sure we had what we’d need for a comfortable – even luxurious week on the canal.
In the late afternoon we made our way up five more locks before mooring up on a pontoon less than a mile from the banks of Loch Ness.
Helen and I fell asleep that night dreaming of Nessie and deep ancient lochs carved by ice and time.
Day 8: Loch Ness - Fort Augustus, Distance: 21NM, Number of Locks: 5
The next morning a light mist hovered over the canal, and the morning sun painted the world in rose gold. We set off early to beat strong forecast winds and motored down the twists and turns of the canal. Then suddenly it ended, and the landscape opened up into a vast expanse of water, nestled in between sloping hills and verdant trees. We’d made it to Loch Ness.
We put some appropriate bagpipe music on our speakers and settled in for the five hour sail down the loch. I’m a rational man of science, and obviously do not believe in Nessie, but when we were half way across, at the deepest point, on an overcast grey, misty day, and I peered into the black loch, over 200 metres deep, I couldn’t help but feel a tingle down my spine. Anything could hide down there.
Fort Augustus was crawling with tourists when we moored up at the other end of the loch. It was the middle of summer season, and by the time we were going through the locks after lunch a huge crowd was watching us. Every move of the tiller, every toss of the mooring line, every gesture I made felt scrutinised. I almost drove the boat into the wall, getting distracted. Luckily we made it through without embarrassing ourselves too badly.
Life on the canal was a real shift from life at sea. We were moored up in the middle of a highland town full of tourist buses and Nessie merch. Another world from the remote seaside towns we had spent the last week in. It felt more like driving a campervan through Scotland than it did sailing. I couldn’t help but reflect on time passing, having sailed past crumbling castles, seaside towns of former glory, and the eroding shadows of ancient mountains. We get such a short window in time to see one version of this world, all others lost to history, or existing as shapeless, future potential.
Days 9-10: Fort Augustus - Fort William, Distance: 24NM, Number of Locks: 6
Grassy slopes and small villages were replaced by tall evergreen trees, as we motored on down the canal the next day. The tall trees sheltered us from the world. Soon the canal imperceptibly widened into another loch, meandering and lush. It couldn’t have been more different from Loch Ness. Loch Oich was almost labyrinthine as it disappeared into nooks and shallow forested banks. It seemed as if we had entered a fairy tale as we sailed past moss covered sheds, old boats on the shore with reeds growing out of them, and ancient trees overhanging the shore. It reinforced the sense that this 200-year-old canal had seen so many more ages of the world than us, and there was something bittersweet about seeing old, dilapidated boats and cottages no longer fit for use.
Reaching Loch Oich, we had finally made it to the highest point of the canal. We had climbed through 14 locks to get here, reaching 32 metres above sea level. Kismet had probably never been higher up and further from the sea than this. And as we got to the end of the loch we started feeling the call of the west coast, started feeling excited and impatient to make it to the other end. Perhaps it was Kismet’s impatience I felt. Finally descending locks felt faster somehow, like we were sailing downhill. It felt like we were almost there.
We spent a night on the banks of Loch Lochy, before motoring through into another blustery headwind, and we reached Banavie and the top of Neptune’s staircase by the early afternoon. It’s the UK’s longest staircase lock, 8 locks descending over 20 metres, and the last hurdle before reaching the Corpach sea locks that would take us out into Loch Linnhe, and to the west coast.
That night we celebrated, treating ourselves to a meal in the local pub.
As we walked down the canal we were stopped at the railway by the Jacobite, the old steam train made famous in Harry Potter. A machine of another age, which seemed fitting given our lives on this voyage, in some sense feeling timeless, like we also existed in a different era of slow travel closer to nature.
We were not only celebrating our first two weeks of sailing, and reaching the end of the Caledonian Canal, but also having a last dinner together before Helen would head back to Edinburgh for a while, and I’d be sailing alone.
Day 11: Fort William - Loch Linnhe, Distance: 12NM, Number of Locks: 11
The next morning we woke up early and made it down Neptune’s staircase in record time. Helen caught the train to Edinburgh and I kept sailing, alone in Kismet for the first time on this voyage. It felt quiet and empty, but I was excited to sail single handed in this part of Scotland.
I managed to navigate the last two locks with the help of the lockkeeper. After almost 30 locks I had it down to muscle memory. And as the last gates opened and I motored out of the lock, I could smell the unmistakable scent of the sea again. I had missed it after a week in fresh water. Kismet seemed eager to go.
I motored down Loch Linnhe and dropped anchor in a sheltered bay, in view of Ben Nevis and the peaks and valleys of a different world. It felt like something new was beginning. I couldn’t wait to keep exploring.
The third instalment:
Oak and Salt in Crinan [Week 3]
will be published in two weeks time, on Saturday 31 October. Please subscribe to receive future essays right to your inbox and to support my writing.
Fair winds,
Alex
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Great to read your stories.