A summer day saw the Aberdeen Hillwalkers coach slip from under the coastal veil of grey into the scorching Angus glens. The trip was for the 2 Glen Doll munros, but having done them a few times and again earlier in the year thought to diverge and explore new terrain.

I decided that the dry spell invited some gorge action and would be useful in taming some boggy ground where there might be a bit more cave/howff discovery. Many times heading up Jock’s Road I’ve looked over to where the White Water tumbles out of a dark gorge below towering crags, and wondered whether it might provide exciting passage to the plateau.

I steamed through a breathless forest, already warm as the sun lifted, and then out onto the bright wildflower speckled lower corrie, not crossing the footbridge instead following the west side of the river. Occasionally the gravity of large tumbled rocks drew me uphill to poke for howffs – finding one nook with a jumble of short rope and climbing shoes stashed, and for sure one could spend hours ferreting around the huge boulders here, but as the terrain steepened I returned to the river channel and started clambering over the rocks progressing upstream.

Steep sides with deep water below already seemed difficult to pass, and discouraged I followed an overgrown scrap of a trail towards a climbing crag, it soon climbed high and precarious and if heading through the gorge was only going to do so at some hazard. The viewpoint did reveal possibilities below and I headed back down for take 2.

To make progress I was going to have to think a bit more about the puzzles of water, crag and rocks and look ahead to decide on which bank, when to cross, and be bolder in jumping or edging around things while hanging over deep pools.

Two steps forward one back, trying one then the other side, but I was making my way up the gorge and passed a few waterfalls carefully – the rock was more grippy and solid than the crumbling slipperiness of the recent Allt Dearg sortie. A couple critical steps and boulders needed to leap water were at first too slippery due to algae or slime, but gained sufficient grip by the application of scraping a shard of rock to “de-ice” them. Certainly this was no place for a damp day – plenty off-camber rock that would be perilous if not bone dry.

Gaining in confidence I had a few spots where the sneaking, scuffing, stretching and crawling past a couple waterfalls had me in doubts about reversibility, thinking the small holds would be difficult to place not being faced heading down, but I hoped I was going to make it all the way through. I could see past the towering side where the waterfall of the Burn of Fialzoch tumbled in from the side was going to be more vertical, and arriving under it was quickly deflated.

A huge chockstone blocked the way the other side of a deep pool – through a dark tunnel hole I could see the main waterfall beyond splashing down, to the left a slippery smaller fall, to the right a vertical crack led to a desperate chossy ledge. A climber would might make short work, but as far as I could go. I didn’t fancy swimming the pool and heading through the tunnel to the foot of the big fall, into some slippery dank pot. Ach, damnit – now for a tricky reversal out.

Beginning the descent I wished I’d marked some of the progress points with pebbles, to sse where I chose left or right, but the different viewpoint also provided some new options I’d not spotted from below. Nonetheless, I was glad to complete the careful descent without a dunk into a pool or any scrapes or knocks, although it had ate up a good chunk of time.

Time to head over to Jock’s road – I thrashed across steep heather and worked past some rocky nooks to not lose too much well earned height, and was glad of brief relief from the blaze in Davy’s Bourache.

Onward to Loch Esk, I stopped briefly to hammer a collapsed post back into the ground which marks the faint path, and headed lumpily and squishily down dodging caochans and bright mosses towards the reedy loch.

To the west, rock outcrops intruded into the barren slopes, and recalling a tale of the Caterans Cave near the loch (which seems unlikely as the loch is surrounded by peat hags) decided I may as well head across – optical scouting with the monocular revealed no obvious clefts, but the undulating hillocks near the outcrops could hide something.

Below a small crag at 233 793, a cluster of mossy bus-boulders could hide a space, but a quick ferret amongst the mossy debris initially revealed nothing. I was away to leave but headed underneath a tree growing above in a nook, turned around and spotted a dark hole under a fractured dome of rock. Closer inspection revealed a boulder cave below – enough for a few folk to shelter but not many to lie down.

Was this the Cateran Cave of old? There were a few rock fall fragments lying around so may have been a more comfortable space hundreds of years ago. I have found no other modern-day reports of the cave; it’s something that was consigned to history a very long time ago. There are more rocky outcrops heading further away from the loch; some day I’ll return to explore further to see if there are more suitable candidates for the legend.

Next stop was the loch itself – surrounded by hags and bogs, nonetheless a human footprint or two were noted. At the outflow there appears to be what may be the remnants of a old wall, perhaps a stone-built dock or dam. There is info about the Cateran’s Cave being right beside the loch but with the flat surroundings and boggy ground anything subterranean directly beside it would surely flood.

I headed for a large boulder slightly distant but overlooking the loch, with it’s own small pool. I’d heard there was a howff here and finding it proved slightly disappointing – a small overhang with a bit of a wall, but a grassy flat there enough for 1 person to lie down, albeit not very sheltered from a westerly.

Rejoining the trail and behind schedule I got a jog going passing above the glittering skellies, the path crosses at points slabbed rock and I guess viewed from afar when damp these rocky patches would likely shine. The view here down Glen Clova is pleasant and the shade in the clump of trees welcome.

I made it back to the bus at the ranger station with a bit of time left, but not quite enough to head the short distance to explore the Hole O’Weems, a substantial boulder cave, but I’d had a good outing of exploration, that one could wait for some other day.