Affric Kintail Way

by Alan Cole · Published Saturday, April 11th, 2026 · Updated Friday, April 10th, 2026

Vital Stats

Affric Kintail Way Day 2

Distance: 17.44 miles
Elevation Gain Today: 582 m
Highest Elevation: 319 m
Total Time: 6:58:38
Moving Time: 5:18:06
Av. Pace: 24:01 mins/mile
Moving Pace: 18:14 mins/mile

Day 2 – Cannich to Loch Affric

The next day dawned with sunny spells, woodpeckers drumming in the woodlands and plenty of condensation on my tent. I was in no hurry, so I decided to hang around as long as I could to let it dry off.

Over breakfast, I met a girl called Kat—or was it “Cat”? I don’t know. It was pretty good of me to ask and remember her name, but I didn’t ask how she spelt it. I don’t even know if it was her real name, what it was short for, or if it was a made-up trail name. So, I’ll just call her Kat.

She lived and worked as a teacher at a private school in Scotland, but had briefly lived in Wotton-under-Edge (where my parents now live) and had done lots of hiking. As we chatted, it turned out we had loads in common and similar views on most things. She was also hiking and camping the Affric Kintail Way and was interested in my Durston tent, which is how we got chatting in the first place.

After breakfast, my tent was still quite damp, so I opened it up as best I could, wiped it down with my towel, and let it continue drying in the sunshine. Kat had packed up and was on her way, saying I’d probably catch up with her later in the day.

You know me—that was basically a challenge. Now I had to make sure I caught her!

Cannich to Dog Falls

I hung around for another half hour or so, then packed my still slightly soggy tent away and set off. I’m glad I did, as a brief rain shower passed through almost immediately after I’d packed up. I considered putting my pack cover on, but it didn’t come to much so I left it.

The trail out of Cannich followed the road uphill before turning off onto forest tracks. I found Kat at the top of the climb, where she’d stopped to wait. She asked if I minded her walking with me for a while. I said that was fine.

We soon settled into a steady pace, chatting and occasionally stopping to watch birds. Kat had done far more through-hiking than I have, including multi-week trips in various countries—many in Sweden, as she has a Swedish fiancée. My interest in tackling some (or all) of the Kungsleden definitely increased.

She’d also done several hikes I’ve done, had lived on Vancouver Island, explored trails there, and had even been paid to recce routes in vrious countries. I had a few stories of my own too, so the conversation flowed easily. I was also pleased that our pace worked—slightly slower with the chatting, but that was part of the plan.

We stopped for a snack at the benches at Dog Falls. By now it was a glorious day, with blue skies and warm sunshine. The river looked inviting, but we carried on, comparing kit lists, favourite camp meals, and swapping stories ranging from past jobs and questionable landlords to world politics—and bladder capacity!

Along Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin

The surroundings were pleasant and only improved as glimpses of the loch began to appear. We stopped again among the heather overlooking what I had identified as a potential lochside campsite. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to access from where we were, so that idea was quickly abandoned.

Kat was beginning to tire and had a different spot in mind at around the 12-mile mark, which is her usual distance. She was feeling it after a longer 16-mile day yesterday and was keen to stop. She suggested I could camp there too if I wanted.

We were now only about five miles from the end of the loch and a beach I’d seen and hoped to camp on. If I stopped now for a more social evening, I’d miss that spot. Another five miles was too much for Kat, so I said goodbye and continued on alone once more.

The pace with Kat had worked well—perhaps I’d slowed slightly to chat, and she’d maybe pushed a little—but it felt natural. Back on my own, though, I noticed the familiar urgency return to my stride.

Loch Affric

I left Loch Beinn a’ Mheadhoin behind and climbed high above the shores of Loch Affric on what was now a glorious day

Across the water, the impressive Glen Affric Estate buildings stood out, alongside some striking modern architecture—presumably very high-end holiday accommodation. Definitely worth a bit of research; it looked like an incredible place for a more luxurious stay. Very different from the tent I’d be in that night—but the basics of camping and the luxury of a five-star hotel aren’t mutually exclusive. I enjoy both, and it would be a great place to return with Anna.

The snow-capped peaks were doing a lot of the heavy lifting scenery-wise, adding scale and drama to the landscape and bringing out the browns, oranges, and greens of the glen. It really is a beautiful place. With easy access from nearby car parks and a wide, well-made track, it was understandably popular with day walkers and cyclists.

Most were heading back as I continued deeper into the glen, eventually catching sight of the beach at the end of the loch where I planned to camp.

Lochside Camping

As I approached, I spotted a couple in a canoe pulling up onto the shore. Damn it—they were going to beat me to it. Sure enough, as I walked along the track above the beach looking for a way down, they spotted me and hurriedly began unloading their canoe to claim the prime camping spot!

Up to this point, my feet had stayed completely dry, but the descent to the beach was extremely boggy. I arrived slightly annoyed—someone had beaten me to the best pitch, and after keeping my feet dry all day, they were now soaked in the final 100 yards.

There was still plenty of space, so after exchanging pleasantries with the camp-stealing canoeists, I set up a little further along the beach. Dinner was a good one: tomato and basil cup-a-soup with a tortilla wrap, followed by a Real Turmat Pulled Pork and Rice. Mmm mmm.

Afterwards, I pulled my sleeping pad out onto the beach and relaxed in the evening sunshine. I could have gone over and socialised, but I think I’d used up all my people-skills on Kat earlier in the day, so I kept to myself.

All in all, it had been a really good day. Once again, I’d gone a little further than planned—covering over 17 miles. I was now slightly ahead of schedule, which gave me some flexibility for the following day.

I’d also surprised myself by how social I’d been. I’d actually enjoyed having someone to walk with. It helped that we had so much in common and a similar sense of humour. We did, however, disagree on one important issue: camp breakfast. Living in Scotland, Kat opts for porridge with water and salt. I, of course, favour the far superior milk and sugar approach—and the fact that Kat doesn’t like porridge at all probably proves me right!

Whilst at camp on my own, I did briefly wonder whether I should have stopped earlier for a more social evening. I’ve never really camped alongside someone before, and there would no doubt have been tents to compare and plenty of tips to share.

That said, there was also something nice about complete independence and being able to get up when I liked and not feel obliged to coordinate or chat just to be polite. On balance, continuing on my own was probably the right call. Solitude is, after all, part of the experience, and we might well have got on each other’s nerves before long!

I retreated to my tent ass dusk fell. Soon, I heard the distinctive drumming sound of a snipe—created by its tail feathers during a diving courtship display. I didn’t go out to try and spot it, not wanting to disturb it, but it was a great thing to hear. I drifted off to sleep with the quiet roar of a distant waterfall across the loch and the gentle patter of light rain.

One thing that did surprise me was how busy the trail felt—especially for midweek in early April. When I walked the West Highland Way (often considered one of the busiest trails in the UK) in April, I barely saw anyone. Here, I felt like I’d seen more people in a single day. Perhaps it was down to timing, or just luck. Either way, it was far from crowded, there was still plenty of solitude, just more company than expected.

So far, so good. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.