The night brings wind and rain. You can hear the waves on the hull, the pattering of the drops and the creaking of the lines. It calms down towards the morning. But the higher altitudes remain cloudy. Even the thousand metre high peaks of Creag Meagaidh and Ben Tee are shrouded in nothing. The water is standing on the seat cushions of the flybridge. I walk the few steps to the Laggan lock and register us with the attendant. All we have to do is wait for another charter boat that is already in sight, he says. Then our journey begins: We round the stone pier and enter the chamber. The walls of large blocks have no facilities for mooring, but the lock keeper takes the lines, places them over iron hooks at the top and then hands them back to us. Then the black caulking gates close and the boat gently descends.
Yesterday we arrived here for our charter trip on the Caledonian Canal, which crosses the Scottish Highlands for over one hundred kilometres and connects the North Atlantic with the North Sea. A waterway that is unrivalled in Europe, that much is certain.
A turn-off from the main road took us down to Laggan Lock and the Le Boat base. It is located on Ceann Loch, at the north-east end of Loch Lochy. We checked in quickly and our houseboat, a modern Horizon, was already waiting at the floating jetty. We were almost the only guests, as the season doesn't really start until the end of May, so in a fortnight' time. After we had brought our luggage and provisions on board, John told us during the briefing what we had to watch out for on the trip: Always stay in the fairway, don't fall into the water and always wear a lifejacket in the lock. And that there had already been three sightings of Nessie this year. A joke? No way: "If you get something in front of the camera, send me the photo!"
Although the A82 motorway, which carries all the traffic through the Great Glen, runs parallel to it, it can neither be heard nor seen from the water. Dense woodland borders the banks on both sides, rain-heavy foliage leans over the water. The fresh green of the young shoots and leaves forms a dramatic contrast to the grey sky. Chirping fills the silence. Old Men's Beard hangs from the branches in long, grey tufts.
Loch Oich: the smallest and shallowest loch
We reach Loch Oich, the smallest and shallowest of the three lakes along the canal, but first we pass the Laggan Swing Bridge, on which the road crosses the canal and then runs along the north bank. The immaculate white paintwork cannot hide the fact that the riveted engineering is at least a hundred years old. The trees on the bank remain, but there are now gaps that open up views of pastures and meadows. Wooden single-roofed huts, white cottages and the ruins of Invergarry Castle, whose crumbling walls rise up out of the dense greenery.
A wreck the size of a cutter, probably a former houseboat, lies half-sunk and completely forgotten off the shore. The mountains rise behind it, higher up in the north, on the side of the Highlands. Lots of brown and grey, but also sparse areas of deciduous and coniferous forest. Dense rhododendron. And again and again bright yellow patches of flowering broom. We follow the buoyed fairway before the lake ends and the next section of the canal begins with the Aberchalder swing bridge. With stone embankments, it is no longer quite as natural, but still beautiful. The locks at Cullochy and Kytra are both in idyllic locations.
We reach the Kytra lock during the lunch break, which is supposed to last until 2.00 pm. But a quarter of an hour before that, the friendly lock keeper comes to the boat and tells us that we can continue.
The lock stairs of Fort Augustus, which now follow, also await us with open gates. John has told us how the lock works, but we are now instructed once again: Switch off the engine and get out of the boat in order to tow our Horizon with the lines from chamber to chamber. There are five in total and we descend step by step, level by level, watched, photographed and filmed by day trippers to the right and left. Before the fifth chamber is emptied, we climb back on board, the gates open and after less than an hour we have reached the level of Loch Ness. Bells rattle, barriers close and the bridge at the bottom of the stairs swings aside, clearing the way for us. Behind the "Asante", a snow-white sailing yacht from Cowes, we go alongside the long wooden jetty.
Fort Augustus in holiday mode
Fort Augustus belongs to the holidaymakers, but without being overcrowded. The footwear reveals a lot about the type of leisure activity: sandals for the bus tourists, hiking boots for the backpackers. But for everyone, the sun is now shining from the sky. In the souvenir shops, the sheep that used to be synonymous with Scotland seems to be a thing of the past; the cuddly Highland cow has taken its place. You hear a lot of German, both on board the boats and ashore. The terrace in front of the Lock Inn is full of cheerful bikers and best agers, some of whom are both. Inside, there is exactly one table free for us, a rustic wooden table top, directly under a framed 30-pound salmon.
High time for the first whisky of the trip! We ask for the single malt of the day. The man behind the bar presents a sparkling bottle: Glenlivet Tropical Reserve. "Goes well with the heat outside," he promises as he pours.
Sun and rain in the morning, but the wind is still blowing weakly from the south-west - and therefore from the best direction. Over the next few hours, it will gently push us across Loch Ness. And the loch is long, very long: 36 kilometres lie between the pier at Fort Augustus and the Lochend beacon at its northern end. This makes it a third of the total distance of the Caledonian Canal, and even half on our trip from Laggan.
If the wave comes from the front here, it can be a very long ride on a very rough washboard. Luckily for us, the weather gods are in such a favourable mood today.
In the morning, I go to the street in search of fresh bread, but the Spar at the petrol station is already sold out just before nine. Instead, I stop in front of the newspapers: The royals have published their official portraits from the coronation ceremony, which now adorn every front page. Charles gives thanks, the ermine-trimmed crown weighs heavily. The only disturbing noise in this litany of adoration: The National - "The Newspaper that supports an independent Scotland". This is where the planned re-run of the independence referendum and nasty Brexit consequences make the splash. His Majesty only makes it to the bottom right of page three in postage stamp size. The accompanying text: "More Brits watched football than the coronation".
While the two sailors at the jetty start the first upland lock at ten o'clock, we cast off in the opposite direction, round the jetty and head out onto Loch Ness.
- You can find part 2 of our report here.
