Scotland's Forgotten Coast: Loch Hourn

In the depths of a dense forest, which clothes the autumnal landscape in myriad dazzling hues, from the pale yellow of birch, to the larch's golden glow, to the emerald tints of ancient pines, the road from Invergarry to Lochalsh and Skye twists and turns on its tenuous course, climbing above the great Highland lochs and into the mountains, to emerge by the dramatic west coast. In the shadow of the tall fir trees, a sign is reached, which marks the beginning of the most remarkable road in all Scotland. Its humble, laconic words- Kinloch Hourn, 22 miles- give no clue to the wonders that await any traveller who follows it. A forest track like no other, this is the road which takes you back in time, to a wild western corner of Lochaber that time, and throngs of tourists, truly forgot. The track wends its narrow way through the woods as if in a fairytale, leading to the Highlands of an age long past. As foresters' cottages sit dwarfed by brooding larch glades, looking over the still waters of Loch Garry, a journey back in time begins. As raindrops glisten amid the radiant autumnal glow of the forest, the only sound to be heard is the rushing of a distant waterfall, filled by countless showers of West Highland rain, and the deep-throbbing roar of a stag in the distant hills. The road is sprinkled with the needles of autumnal larch, which glitters in the rain, producing a landscape which Midas touched, turning even the road to gold.

Road of gold, Tomdoun

Amid a copse of fir trees stands the abandoned shell of a shooting lodge at Tomdoun, a truly haunted spot, adding to the sense of mystery. Here the road begins to climb above the tree-line into a wild Highland glen, climbing onto the hillside in a hairpin course, crossing precipitous waterfalls in full spate on precarious bridges, which are almost overwhelmed by the force of the torrent, the road soaked with spray. Now the deep green of the firs gives way to the warm gold glow of the open hillsides, and the landscape takes on a bleak, barren, but truly beautiful character. The rich satin carpet of peat bogs, the haunt of wild deer, is dotted with gnarled rowan trees and the occasional whitewashed croft cottage, as the shining river meanders into peaceful Loch Poll-airidh, and the brooding outlines of distant peaks loom out of the mist.

Hinds in Upper Glen Garry

Ever climbing into the mountains, the road reaches the sparse community of Coille Mhorgil, a scattering of whitewashed steadings and farmhouses which stand as if in a timewarp, retaining their ancient Gaelic name. Leaving the idyllic shepherds' community far behind, the road climbs steeply into the vee of the hills through a rugged, boulder-strewn valley, soaked by streams in spate, until, at its summit, the tranquil waters of Loch Cuaich are reached, valiantly held back by a stone dam. This tranquil loch is hemmed in by steep mountainsides on all sides, the unrelenting flanks of bold peak, swhich brood over its mirror-like surface like pyramids, grand sentinels which guard the still waters of this loch, keeping it in splendid isolation far from the prying eyes of tourists. One such peak is the massive, but shapely, Gairich, rising to three thousand and thirty feet.

Gairich dominating tranquil Loch Hourn

The shores of this peaceful loch are the domain of the proud stags, the monarchs of the glen, who wield their majestic antlers above the peaty knolls of their moorland kingdom, below the towering summit of Sgurr Mor, a deterrent to any traveller who should dare invade this pristine, timeless world. The size and power of these beasts is only truly appreciated from close up.

A stag  his antlers by Loch Cuaich

Stags camouflaged by the autumn colours, by the shores of Loch Cuaich, with Sgurr Mor in the distance.

The loch deep into the wilderness of West Lochaber, while the road turns north, into a glen watched over by the sheer, rugged flanks of Sgurr nan Eugallt, one of a chain of isolated mountains known as na Gairbh Criochan, Gaelic for the Rough Bounds. Here, Highland cattle roam nonchalantly along the little-used track, while high in the hills, waterfalls cascade down precipices hundreds of feet high towards the glen floor.

It's rush hour in Lochaber

Cascading waterfall below Buidhe Bheinn in the heart of the Rough Boun

The road becomes ever narrower as the mountains close in, until it vies with a cascading torrent for steepness, descending to sea level through an improbable course of hairpin turns, like a sinuous serpent coiled around a tree. As the west coast is reached, the salt waters of Loch Hourn come into view below the peak of Buidhe Bheinn, and the skies break, with pale shafts of sunlight 

illuminating the loch.

The first sight of the West Coast

It is by this tranquil inlet of Scotland's turbulent western seas that the road reaches its destination, the forgotten village of Kinloch Hourn, a cluster of cottages dotted around the loch's shore. 

From here, a rocky path climbs along the lochside, opening an undiscovered world, a side of Scotland which neither roads nor cars ever conquered, a world which the twenty-first century never reached. As the shapely, jagged peaks of Lochalsh provide a formidable backdrop, the idyllic house at Skiary sits perched on a headland beside a radiant larch glade, looking very much as it did the day its last inhabitants set out on the weary path to Inverness and the more prosperous east coast. The MacDonald family's creels still sit on the shore, disturbed only by the seabirds and the occasional otter. It is on a hilltop overlooking this timeless scene that our journey ends, in this sea of tranquility, with the precipitous peak of Sgurr na Sgine, and its granite-girt neighbours Sgurr na Forcan and Creag nan Damh, towering over the deep bay, and the lochsides clothed in the rich satin of autumn. It is, of course, only right to sit awhile, and admire the timelessness of this secret, forgotten world, a side of Lochaber which time, and the road builders, truly forgot. 

Looking over Loch Hourn from the headland above Skiary, with the abandoned house sheltered by the larch glade below. Sgurr na Forcan (left), Sgurr na Sgine (centre) and Creag nan Damh (right) look over this tranquil Highland scene.

No adventure in the wilds of West Lochaber could be complete without viewing the magnificent sunset over the western ranges. The warm, radiant glow of the sun over the precipitous mountains, the edifices of eternity, provides an awe-inspiring sight. It is as the sun sets over this timeless landscape that our journey concludes. 

The warm red glow of sunset over Sgurr na Ciche and Beinn Aodainn in the Rough Bounds of Knoydart.