A walk to The Falls of Kirkaig

The car park for the Falls of Kirkaig is empty when we arrive with two steak pie and mashed potato dinners purchased twenty minutes earlier from Lochinver Larder but still hot. “How many other vans do you think will turn up, three, four?” I muse over our meal. Mish looks out of the window at the April showers and lowering temperature and confidently predicts “none”. Surely not, we’re in beautiful Assynt, surrounded by ancient woodland with the Kirkaig river not twenty feet from us. When I look out the window in the early hours the rain has stopped and we are alone, with just the owls, the roaring river and a billion stars twinkling in the ink black night sky to keep us company. Wives, why are they always right.

Lochinver, in the far north west of Scotland is a small fishing village that has become a popular destination in recent years due to the influx of visitors wanting to ‘do’ the NC500, a driving route around the north coast of Scotland. It’s particularly popular with campervans because off site or ‘wild’ parking is more accepted in Scotland, especially in the remote north where there is limited other accommodation and plenty of places to park discretely.

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There have been benefits in the promotion of the NC500 and an increase in visitors and income to hard pressed local businesses many of them seasonal is certainly one of them.

In recent years however concerns have been raised about over tourism and a lack of respect, understanding and care shown by some visitors to the delicate environment of the north of Scotland and the people who call this place home. Not every visitor unfortunately obeys the ‘leave no trace’ principle, many have probably never heard of it. I spoke to a cafe owner a year ago who had witnessed a campervan emptying their chemical toilet into a loch, which is irresponsible beyond belief and arguably criminal behaviour. Stories like this, regardless of there veracity taints the attitude of locals towards all campervan dwellers, even the responsible ones.

After our quiet night we pull back the curtains and awake to a bright dry morning of blue skies and white clouds. With the cold temperature there has been some fresh snow on the tops which I’m hoping will make for a picturesque walk. The car park is still empty when I set off after breakfast.

The trail starts gently enough and not far from the road I come across a plaque dedicated to Norman McCaig, “Poet, fisherman and lover of the hills, lochs and people of Assynt”, inscribed on the plaque is his poem ‘Climbing Suilven’. I won’t be climbing Suilven today, maybe in the future, but I hope to get some pictures of it.

The trail heads through sparse leafless birch trees following close to the north bank of the Kirkaig river which is flowing full and fast down to Loch Kirkaig a few miles downstream. In the woods there is a sign warning that the path to the falls is steep and rocky with sheer drops. I make a mental note not to do anything stupid and carry on.

The incline increases as the path starts to diverge away from the river, which is narrowing into the gorge and heads up the hillside through silver birches with drops of icy water dripping from their skeletal branches, waiting for the warmth of spring when new life will return to them. 

I continue upwards on a path lined by mossy banks and gorse bushes, the strengthening sunlight casting shadows on the ground and highlighting the green and yellows.

Before long I get the feeling I’m being watched and sure enough when I raise my eyes to the skyline four or five female red deer are keeping their eye on me from the top of a ridge. I think they quickly make the assessment that this particular human is not going to cause them any harm and return to munching away on the heather.

Climbing out of the confines of the river valley the vast expanse of brown heather moorland and wilderness that is part of the Inverpolly Estate opens up to me. The horizon has expanded and ahead of me are the iconic torridon sandstone peaks of Suilven, Cul Mor, Cul Beag and Stac Pollaidh.

These hills, although small by Scottish standards rise up disproportionately from their surroundings, survivors of an ice age that eroded the rocks around them leaving them alone to stand tall, mini giants in their own little kingdom.

Each one has a covering of snow, contrasting nicely with the brown moorland and adding to the sense of remote wildness that is one of the joys of walking in the highlands.

There is a little bog hopping but the ground is still fairly solid after winter and there are little patches of left over snow from last night. Eventually I reach the top of the gorge where the falls are and take note of a final warning sign.

The falls can’t be seen from the top of the gorge but soon come into view as the ground starts to slope away. The best view is lower down so down I go on gradually steeper and more precipitous terrain into the gorge. Eventually, after several questionable drop downs I reach a decision point.

Six feet lower would arguably make a better photo and a slip may be recoverable, six feet lower than that a slip would almost certainly result in a long fall and not particularly sudden death. Remembering the sign and my mental note not to do anything stupid I decide this is the spot to stay alive and get some pictures.

Kirkaig Falls I must say are pretty impressive, perhaps more so because they seem to be in full spate. Tons and tons of water pour over the edge, plummeting down twenty metres in a boiling mass of white watered ferociousness into a plunge pool below.

It’s an awesome power of nature on display and I’m thankful that these islands of ours have so much natural beauty to visit and admire. After watching the falls for a while I make my way carefully back to the top of the gorge and wander back down the trail just in time for lunch in the van.

Route Map, Walk Stats, Geolocated Pictures and 3D Flyover Video Below.

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