Update 4: Inverness to Pitlochry

Spoiler: you know what they say about women with big feet... Rubbish at fording rivers

We started the next leg of our journey joining the General Wade’s military road from Inverness, with Anna already in need of a nap.

We walked 7 1/2 miles, through the forest and along a quiet single track road until we reached the beautifully sited Dunlichity Church.

We explored the graveyard and scoped out a spot to pitch our tent, taking care not to camp on any marked graves (although of course, in an old graveyard, every patch of earth probably contains bones).

Although the church had recently been sold to a local heritage group, we had permission to stay on the grounds for the night. The local minister had let members of the congregation who had worshipped there before it's closure know that we would be there for the night, and before long two ladies arrived to show us the church. One had even brought a flask for hot drinks and a selection of sweet snacks.

Though the history of the site dates back many centuries, the current church is no older than 500 years and has been much renovated internally and externally. Jay was particularly taken by the remnants of a blocked arch to the east which suggested some form of chancel or other. The ladies also pointed out a small house in the graveyard, from which a guard would keep watch for grave robbers. There was even a bullet mark in one of the graves that aligns with the line of sight from this house to the church.

Internally, plasterboard walls had been erected and the space was clean, white and light, with a beautiful blue concave space framing the central pulpit. Local legend has it that some can see an image of Christ with a crown of thorns in this concave, and a number of locals that we met recalled to us the first time that they saw this for themselves.

After the ladies were leaving, an ominous sound shattered the peaceful silence. We both jumped, but one of our hosts explained that it was the sound of a cow distorted by the shape of the valley into (what we could only logically assume was) the sounds of the restless Jacobite dead who haunted the graveyard. The cow explanation sounds plausible, unless you were to actually hear the sound we heard, and so we weren't convinced. Nonetheless, we set up our tent for the night and then wandered down to the stream where Anna soaked her ankle in the icy water.

Throughout the night, the haunting noise returned repeatedly, but we eventually drifted off to sleep, and despite Morag's fears we slept very well.

The next morning, we ate breakfast in the sunshine outside the church, but soon realized that our fixation on the Jacobite ghosts meant that we had failed to notice the enormous bull that was creeping closer to the broken kissing gate into the graveyard. Luckily, we clearly weren't interesting enough and it soon wandered off.

While Anna made us our porridge Jay packed down the tent. There had clearly been a number of creatures that had made their home under our tent that night, and Jay let out a surprised shriek when a big toad hopped out from under the ground sheet and plopped onto it. Less charming was the slug which had been squashed onto the bottom of the sheet, which Jay accidentally got all over his finger. This incident has hitherto been referred to as “slug finger”, which works best if you sing it to the tune of Gold Finger (ba-ba-baaa). Thus safe from bulls, squashed slugs and ghosts, we packed up and began our day’s walking.

We had initially planned to go up and over the summits of some hills towards Strathdearn, but we had been advised that the road we were avoiding was only wind farm access, and we wouldn't meet any of the traffic we were concerned about. Taking that road over the hills would cut a couple of miles off of our route and remove a huge amount of incline, so it was a no-brainer.

The ‘hills’ were technically part of the Monadhliath mountains, and were absolutely beautiful. It was our first glimpse of the mountainous landscapes that would feature heavily in the next phase of our journey, and we were genuinely excited to be exploring it.

As city people, we're not used to spending time in what seems to us such a wild and awe-inspiring environment.

However, it was important to note that we were also walking along a surfaced road that existed to provide access to logging operations and wind farms. This landscape is indeed beautiful, but also wears the marks of human industry and exploitation - a strange thing to think about.

It was also interesting to be as close to wind farms as we were, having heard people's opinions further up on the east coast on the impact of the wind farms and their associated battery sites on local landscapes and communities. We noted that we have always found wind turbines and their gentle movements on the horizon to be strangely beautiful, but also recognise that where we live we don't see wind turbines on nearly the same scale.

We came down the other side of the hills into Strathdearn and joined a slightly busier (but still single track) road along the Findhorn river to Dalarossie church.

There was an old gate at the top of the track to the church, and the sun began to become covered by cloud as we walked down the drive towards the enclosed graveyard nestled on the bend of the river.

Anna had been in touch with the minister of the church, Robert, who had arranged a picnic for us with the church community. There was already a car parked outside as we approached, so Jay went in to say hello while Anna discreetly took herself off (to the woods just outside of the graveyard) to relieve herself after a long and exposed walk. When Anna walked in, happily relieved, the lovely Sandra offered to unlock the church composting toilet. Jay stared pointedly at Anna and said ‘thank you very much, I’d love to use a real toilet.’

Robert had mobilized what seemed to be all the ladies of the parish to provide us with a Classic Church Picnic of pork pies, sandwiches, sausage rolls, and enough cake to kill a man - but notably (and perhaps because this is the Church of Scotland and not the Church of England), there was none of the usually ubiquitous quiche.

Over food we told tales of our travels so far, and heard stories of the church and it's community throughout its very long history. As we talked, rain began pouring down outside, and hearing that we planned to camp just outside the graveyard, the lovely, lovely Sandra leaned over to Anna and asked, “you are planning on sleeping in the church, aren't you?”. When Anna said that she wasn't sure if we were allowed, Sandra winked and said she would talk to the minister.

That night, tucked up safe in our sleeping bags either side of the altar, we talked about how lovely it was to be greeted by the community. The sanctuary made a very cosy sleeping spot for the night, and noticing Jay was reading Acts, Anna asked him to read out loud, and gently drifted off to sleep. Jay wasn't long to follow.

The next day was another long day of road walking to Aviemore. We’d planned to go over the mountains again, but decided it was a bad idea to tackle steep up and downhill walks when we were about to hit the Cairngorms, so took the old A9 road around instead. Some of it was really quite nice, but there was always the traffic right by us, and at times we had to dip onto some reasonably busy roads (although not anywhere near as busy as the A9).

Arriving in Aviemore, we met the local minister, Charles, outside of the Church of Scotland church. He gave us tips on where to stock up on provisions for the mountains and, more importantly, where to get fish and chips that evening. He also offered to bring Anna ‘real’ coffee in the morning before we set off. This was the most wonderful thing he could have offered, as far as Anna was concerned.

That evening, after our fish and chips, we went to Aldi where we bought provisions for lunch for our three days in the Cairngorms. We bought a decent amount of food, including a pack of six pitta breads, because that meant we could each have two pitta breads each day for three days of lunches (can you see the problem with this maths? Because we didn't until it was too late). Thus supplied, we exited the Aldi to see the most beautiful view we have ever seen from an Aldi carpark. Straight ahead of us was the Lairig Ghru pass which we were to enter the next day.

Amazed, and a little terrified, we headed back to the church where we set up our sleeping mats and settled down for another cosy night.

After agreeing that Charles would come back to the church (with coffee for Anna) at 8.30am the next day, we actually had to get out of bed and be ready on time. Incredibly, if it weren't for Anna accidentally throwing half her bag of trail mix across the church hall floor moments before we were about to leave, we would have actually left on time. We did not leave on time, but were soon walking down the main road of Aviemore before turning south out of the village, and into the Rothiemurchus forest.

The forest was a nice, gentle uphill through the cool forest with the sun streaming in between the trees. At various points we would turn a corner, the pine trees would open up, and we would glimpse the mountains rising around us.

We paused for lunch at one of these vantage points, staring out over a deep valley towards the scree-covered mountain opposite. It was at this point that we realized that six pitta breads did indeed mean two pitta breads per meal for three meals… if there was only one of us. Luckily we had also brought an ungodly amount of nuts and other snacks, so we wouldn’t starve in the mountains.

After lunch, the gradient began to level off, the trees disappeared, and the terrain became rocky scrubland littered with small rocks and large boulders. As we walked the many waterfalls and streams that flowed into the river beside us occasionally turned the path into a river itself.

The mountains either side of us grew taller and taller, until their tops disappeared into clouds. At one point, a damp mist came over us and we realized for a few minutes that we were, momentarily, inside a cloud ourselves.

As we reached the highest point of the pass (a little over 2700ft) the trail we were following disappeared for about a kilometer and we found ourselves clambering over bounders and endless rockfalls, with only cairns built by other walkers to mark our way.

We could hear the water flowing beneath the boulders, the echo of which created a deep eeriness in the quiet pass. After the high piles of rocks that surrounded the Pools of Dee the trail began moving downhill, and we soon spotted our camp for the night - Corrour Bothy, nestled beneath the sheer cliffs of the Devil’s Point. By this point, the small stone hut was a welcome sight, as we were beginning to tire after a fun but long walk.

The bothy itself was already occupied by a few walkers, so we decided to pitch our tent a little distance outside of it, which would still give us access to the bothy toilet - a luxury in the mountains! As we settled down for the night, we found ourselves totally relaxed and held by the nature around us.

In the morning, the midges arrived. We took down the tent as quickly as we could, but Anna still got bitten a lot. We packed our bags, filled up our water in the river, and headed off. The rocky ground of the previous day started to turn marshy and heathery as we reached a confluence of mountain passes.

The great slopes around us grew shorter and shorter, the mountain tops no longer wreathed in cloud. We soon spotted “white bridge” where we would leave the valley of Dee and begin to follow the river Tilt. Here we had lunch, kicking ourselves about our failure to do pitta bread-based maths, and then headed off again along a surprisingly clear and wide track.

For the next few miles we crossed a series of fords. Jay, deeply paranoid about damp feet and slippery rocks, made the decision to leave his boots on and cross the deep waters by balancing daintily on even the smallest of rocks with his tiny, hoof-like feet. This meant he danced across like a mountain goat.

Anna, however, took a different tack, and removed her shoes and socks to wade her way across the river, because you know what they say about women with big feet… they can’t balance on tiny slippery rocks.

After crossing the first ford, Anna put her shoes and socks back on while Jay checked how many more fords there were. Once Anna had her shoes on, we turned around to see that not only was there another ford right there, but we were, in fact, on an island surrounded by water, which we had failed to see before. How had we failed to notice that? Well, we had just been through some very long days.

After a number of bare-footed fords, Anna decided that the sharp rocks were too much for her feet, and decided to continue with her shoes on, which was even less graceful than before, but really limited Jay's ability to laugh and take bad photos of her.

Soon we were walking beside a forest, and though still surrounded by high hills, and technically still in the Cairngorms, it felt much more like the hilly farmland we had been walking in previously.

The steep hillside slanting down towards the rushing river on our left was reminiscent of the first part of our journey, along the vast and similarly slanting cliffs.

We followed the bends of the river and scrambled across and around a number of very small waterfalls which fed the waters below. Soon we came to a large bridge that spanned the Falls of Tarf: a waterfall proper.

The sun came out then, and cast golden light on the hill tops and we were, once again, stunned by the beauty that surrounded us.

We reached a bend in the river where the land was flat and grassy, and set up camp. Just below our campsite the river bend had lead to a collection of large rocks which stemmed the flow of the river and caused a still, deep pool in the midst of the otherwise fast flowing waters.

Anna took the opportunity to have a swim in the crystal clear water - an experience she, an avid wild swimmer, deeply enjoyed, but which was a brave choice considering we'd just crossed a bridge erected in memory of a boy who'd drowned in those same waters in the 1800’s.

We had been concerned that the area could have a lot of midges, but the swift breeze that prevailed for much of the early evening lulled us into a false sense of security. Then, as we played cards into the evening (current win tally: Jay: 13, Anna: 4), we looked at the exterior of the tent through the mesh of the inner and saw that it was black and crawling with midges. They had found us, and there was no way we were leaving the safety of the tent inner that night.

This, however, presented a problem, because we had not yet brushed our teeth or had our nighttime wees. After much discussion, Jay produced a small disposable cup. What happened between us, the cup, and the tent that night is not suitable for publication. Suffice to say, pilgrimage is more than pretty pictures of mountains, and the cup was thrown away as soon as we reached civilization.

The next morning there was, thankfully, a good breeze which banished the midges. Jay went down to the river to filter some water for the day’s walk while Anna packed down the tent. Then, as a light smattering of rain began to fall around us, we made our way along the easy gravel path out of the Cairngorms, soon passing fancy lodges rented out to the ultra rich. We began to encounter cars, too, making their way to and from the lodges, and it felt strange to have to dodge out of their way.

After a few miles of walking alongside what was now a rushing river, we were out of the Cairngorms, and after making our way through a forest, found ourselves on a series of roads as we made our way to Pitlochry. It was there that we were discovered by our next host, sitting on our backpacks in the blazing sun, on a small patch of mowed grass outside a fancy hotel.

When we started our pilgrimage, there were a few places where we hadn't managed to organize somewhere to stay before we left. Pitlochry was one of them, but the Blessèd Marjory Maclean struck once again as Anna contacted her when we were in Helmsdale to see whether she knew anyone in that area who could help us. Sure enough, she put us in contact with Neil in Aberfeldy who was happy to help two pilgrims out!

As we loaded our bags into Neil's car, we apologized for the smell, as it had been far too many days since our last shower. Neil did not mind at all, and whisked us off to have a much needed dinner at his house.