to bring his killer to justice. The finger was pointed at the Stewarts of Appin, as they had been served eviction notices by none other than Campbell himself. James was the one held accountable and – despite him having an alibi for the time of the murder – that same year he was found guilty for being an accessory and hung in November at a place called Cnap a’Chaolais.
Stories abound that it was actually Allan Stewart who pulled the trigger that fateful night and that James knew nothing about it, but Stewart absconded and the Campbells wanted to see someone hang. And, as the Campbell Clan Chief served as judge at the trial, and 11 of the 15 jury were also Campbells, it was anything but a fair day in court.
Right until the end James protested his innocence. Even as he was hung near the present-day south end of the Ballachulish Bridge he recited a psalm that is now named after him, distraught that history would remember him as a murderer.
In answer to his fears, even as recently as 2008 a movement to get a pardon for James Stewart was put forward to the Scottish Criminal Cases Review Commission. It was thrown out due to the age of the case, but protestors are still trying to make it happen.
So if you go down to the woods today to seek out this tree-lined shelter, remember the man who once called this modest place home and the miscarriage of justice he faced all those years ago.
Look out for...
Wildlife: Keep a lookout in the trees during your walk-in, as you may spot pine marten, owls and red squirrels. Wild cats have been spotted in the area too. Look to the skies and among the sea birds you may – if you’re lucky – see raptors or even golden eagles.
History: After a night in the bothy it’s worth heading to Duror village to see the Achara Stone, an odd standing stone that sits in a field just off the main road. Investigations by the local community suggest that this particular one (there are many throughout Scotland) was erected during the Bronze Age (1800BC). It’s thought to be a ’backsight marker’ or viewing point of the moon.
Did you know?
The village of Duror, from where you reach the bothy, and from where the glen gets its name, is home to the oldest ’Parliamentary’ church built in Scotland – by none other than Thomas Telford.
I’ve never thought of myself as a bad navigator. I like to study a map for hours before I even reach the start of my walk. I stare at the contours and watch as they seem to become 3D in front of me, I picture the ways that the paths will cut into the slopes, imagine the sound of the streams that will appear to my left, visualise the points where confusion is possible and make a mental checklist of the landmarks I should see on my way to ensure I stick to my chosen path.
This usually works well in the mountains, normally ensures that even when weather makes things confusing, I manage to hold my own and get myself in and out of any situation safely. But if there’s one thing that strikes real fear in me when planning my route, it’s those patches of green that denote forestry land.
I grew up with a pretty patch of woodland behind me – a proper old, oak-filled pocket of wizen trees. I’d spent hours climbing them, running under them and making dens among them. But forestry ones are different. Never have I walked through one and not got lost as the path deviates wildly from what is shown on the OS map.
Unfortunately my trip to this historical bothy was no different. I set off late, knowing the walk-in would be short. How wrong I was. It all started badly to be fair. The route I wanted to take from the car park was roped off, a cartoon forestry working telling me that work was in progress and too dangerous for me to traverse. So I went the other way.
It felt right at first – path junction where it was supposed to be, gradient kicking in where it was meant to. But then the next junction never came. The path just seemed to keep heading upwards, then it swung round to the left; the turning I was waiting for – shown on the map to be a blatant T-junction – needed me to turn right. And that wasn’t the only thing that was wrong. I was going higher up too – higher than I felt I should be. Then I reached the age-old dilemma – turn back now and try and search for the missed junction, or continue and hope it would all turn out right. Stupidly I did the latter and soon realised I must have overshot it. Looking at the path I figured out how I should be able to make it right, but then felled trees blocked the path – and I was losing daylight. Refusing at all costs to go back I clambered over the trunks and limbo-ed under others as they creaked, keeping my fingers crossed that they wouldn’t choose that moment to fall. Then all of a sudden – the trees were gone.
I felt annoyed, and pushed on convinced I would never find it. Then I spotted it on the hillside above. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hundred metres away, but between me and it was a thicket of small bushes and chopped trees. I did what anyone else would do. I pushed through it. Eventually finding a path made by so many others like me. Until, at last, I reached the bothy.
Inside it was dark like my mood. I immediately went back outside and sat on the bench, rejecting it for causing me so many problems. Soon, however, in the cooling darkness, I went inside to eat, make a fire, and finally fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning all was forgiven. I loved the surroundings, packed away quickly and wondered what all the fuss had been about the night before. Now, I thought picking up my rucksack, all I needed to do was find my way back to the car...
Entering Taigh Seumas a’ Ghlinne bothy
The bothy is sparsely furnished but full of history
How to get there
Classic: This is very much dependent on the current state of the footpaths. Forestry work can change them significantly, but in theory the shortest way begins at the car park just outside Achadh nan Darach in Duror and sticks to the lower path, nearest the River Duror. Follow this for about 2km (if you reach a turning to the bridge to take you over the river, then you’ve gone too far), where you’ll see a path leading uphill on your left, bearing northeast. Follow it to a path junction and take the path on your right, leading uphill again. At the final path junction turn right. The path begins heading southeast and, 500m later, reaches a clearing and the small bothy.
Time: 1½hrs
Top tip
There’s not only some flat ground outside the bothy, but also two picnic benches, so it’s a great place to camp if you don’t fancy the bothy or if it’s full.
Alternative route
More scenic, fewer trees: It may be a longer route, but to escape the horrors of the forestry tracks you could instead start at Ballachulish to the east. Take the footpath that continues where the road ends after the school and follow it as it takes you above the River Laroch. Where the path forks take the route to the right, going past a cairn. This takes you into the woodland from the east. Keep going straight. Soon you’ll join a forestry track. Continue going straight, ignoring turn-offs, until you come to a fork. Take the left fork, heading downhill. Follow it down and alongside the river. Ignore the left turn off (which goes over the river) and the right one (almost immediately after it) and continue on the track next to the river. You might spot the bothy above you – and if feeling adventurous may decide to cut up alongside the fence (many have). But for ease, continue on the path to the next turning on the right, head uphill, take the next right (you should still be heading uphill), then take the next right again and follow the track to the bothy.
Taigh Seumas a’ Ghlinne essentials
| Maps | OS Explorer 376, 384; OS Landranger 41, 49 |