There is a certain allure to a big and arbitrary adventure, especially one achievable close to home. Of the big rivers in Scotland, the River Spey, Tay and Dee are three of the longer and more iconic catchments considered in the “Scottish Classics.” To paddle all three of them in as short a time as possible came about in part just for fun of the challenge and from a childish sense of humour around the acronym for Spey, Tay, Dee making ‘S.T.D’. Between a number of guides and coaches this has become a bit of a game over the last few years so in March 2024 Ben Squires and I (Will) set out to give it a go.
Although no particular order is required, the rainfall of our week lent to keeping in line line with the amusing acronym so we would first go for the Spey, followed by the Tay and then the Dee.
The River Spey: 110km
We started at Loch Inch, which not the true source of the Spey is typically conventional starting point for most commercial Spey descents, and thus the start of our game. We had approximately 110km from here to the sea. The river levels were on the low end of average for March, leaving us a little extra work to make a good pace along our way. As traffic during the shuttle had slowed our start we would be pushing daylight at both ends so we packed and loaded our canoe with overnight gear and slipped onto the loch prepared to camp. We were off.
The Spey begins relatively slowly as it winds a gentle meander between forest and farmland. The water was calm with the dawn chorus of birdsong bringing life to the bushes at the waters edge as we found our rhythm. We paddled with a reasonable pace as we weaved our way toward Aviemore. A few trees felled by winter storms across the river took a little attention, but on the whole we moved swiftly past the gravel banks. Occasional faster sections gave a welcome sense of speed between the wider sections.
It took around 45 minutes to reach Aviemore and the start of the infamously slow section down to Grantown on Spey. Our hope had been to enjoy a tailwind but alas a stiff easterly headwind pushed against us throughout the majority of this section. Long straights, which felt at times almost stagnant, went painfully slow but the reward of open vistas to a still snowy Cairngorm plateau to our south at least gave entertainment to look at.
A brief relief pause and a snack on the Grantown sandy beach was our first landing of the day. We had arrived in good time and looked forward to a little more excitement as we wound our way into the more dynamic section of the Spey, down to Knockandoo. Here the river picks up pace with occasional class II rapids to navigate and entertain us as we went.
Ben and I were working well as a team, communicating to steer when needed and generally enjoying casual chatting as we put miles under the paddles. The first bigger wave train, known somewhat appropriately as “The Washing Machine”, we resisted the temptations to hit it hard on the fun lines in favour of backing down speed to keep our boat dry and reduce bailing/sponging. A small part of this was also down to the spring snowmelt temperatures, which was certainly cold on the fingertips.
Beyond Knockandoo, we put our heads down and started to really make miles on the water. A quick bite to eat after the rapids gave good energy a long section between the meanders through farmland as we worked into the lower Spey valley. Occasionally we would meet guided canoe trips, which we waved at in passing, but at this time of year the river was relatively quiet. Although it was a Monday it was surprisingly quiet for fishermen, those we did see were well used to canoeists and shared the river well.
Partly due to a delayed start (traffic works) and the low level of the river, we knew by mid afternoon that we were likely to be pushing daylight fine before the last section of the river to Spey Bay. This final section of the river is notoriously full of trees as the river widens and braids and certainly not something either of us wanted to conclude in the dark, especially when feeling tired mentally and physically. As we passed Rothes we knew we would be in the dark before the sea, so set our sights on finding a campsite. While I had hoped to hit the Spey in a day, external factors meant today was not that day, safety as always came first.
As we landed just before Orton the light had all but gone and head-torches came out before the tent. We had managed 95km downstream leaving a quick 15km warm up in the morning before heading on to do the long shuttle return and onward to our next river.
Although weary, once ashore we gained a little energy to play with “tarpology” setting up a fine campsite with the canoe poles as rigging for the tarp over our tent.
Day 2: We woke before first light to pack the tent and load the canoe. As soon as the light was clear enough to see ahead we slipped into the river and onward on our journey. A slate grey sky gave a cold flat light to the river. We chased occasional Dippers down the rocks, which flittered along the river bank ahead of us. It wasn’t long before we arrived at the familiar line of Red conglomorate cliffs which are a notable landmark of the Spey. From here it wasn’t long before we were crossing beneath the A96 road bridge.
Beyond here the river spans into wide braids with numerous larger and smaller channels. Route choice was key to navigate a plethora of trees which had arrived here, like us, from the upper catchment. Sure enough, I was happy to be here in the daylight hours. By 9.30am, we had arrived to the Spey Bay centre. Our first river complete with a celebratory cheer. But the day wasn’t over, a long shuttle and the River Tay awaited.
The River Tay: 85km
It was fast becoming apparent that the most challenging aspect of this game would be the logistics around the vehicle shuttles. Returning to collect my car from Loch Inch, we then headed south along the A9 to leave Bens car at Willowgate Adventure Centre, just south of Perth. From here we then took my vehicle and the canoe to the top of the Tay. This took a lot of time out of our day. Leaving us in the mid-afternoon by the time we had re-loaded and launched from the beach at Kenmore. Our hope was to reach the vicinity of the Grantully Rapids before dark giving us a good shot at passing them the following morning.
Straight out of Kenmore the Tay picks up pace with welcome speed. A short series of gentle rapids which shot us past the heavily overgrown Rhodedendron bushes either side of the grand estate grounds to our side. A quick pause was taken to recover a throw line from a tree, which we later successfully returned to the local guiding outfit after our journey, but otherwise we were all effort forward to cover as much ground as possible.
The Tay is a beautiful river, winding through affluent gardens and lush Beech woods on its way east to Aberfeldy. Castles and stately homes made for interesting noseying as we passed by unseen from the waters edge. Our first Kingfisher flitted ahead downstream with an electric blue flash of feathers.
We arrived to Grandtully rapids well into the last hour of daylight. The famous slalom gates were stowed but the rapid remained. The ominously named “Boat Breaker” a large rock mid-rapid where the water pushed hard upon foretold warning to take this seriously. As the levels were low and the light fading Ben and I opted to carefully line the canoe downstream at the bank to pass the lead in rapid before hopping aboard to tackle the bulk of it. On the count of three we eddied out hard into the flow and a swift exersise in good communication and well placed strokes saw us fly past the rocks with a good line. It was a fun burst of excitement to finish the day as we passed the rapids and then the following rocky step, which we shot river right with relative ease. The light was on its last legs, fading into a magenta sky above us. We paddled on in search of a good camp.
At the edge of dark while we were scouting for a campsite along a small side channel, a loud “whump” was followed by a ripple which shot across the water. I’d heard that sound before in the Beagle channel, it was the unmistakable sound of a Beaver’s tail thumping the water. It was quite a thrill to almost see one as so far we’d only seen the signs of their re-introduction by the numerous gnawed tree trunks lining the banks.
Not far from this we found an excellent hollow beneath the flood dyke of the river and out of sight at the bottom of a grassy field. We set camp in the set-aside land under a large tree and rigged our tarp for the night. It felt like today had been more shuttle than paddle, but also surreal to think that morning we had woken up on the Spey, now transported to a whole new adventure. We had managed 25km downstream, with approximately 60km left to the sea.
Day Three: Another dawn raid saw us up and on the water for first light. The river was glass calm on the almost still flow of the first few meanders. It created wonderful reflections of the trees and rolling hills, our bow broke the surface with a smooth ripple. Soon after starting we joined the confluence with the river Tummel and our speed picked up significantly. The sound of the awakening rush hour traffic of the A9 could be heard across the floodplain before we were swallowed into forest on the approach to Dunkeld.
The Tay was comparatively high flow compared to the Spey and was moving at a good pace. We were making fantastic progress and were feeling in great spirits despite slightly aching arms and knees. I found some amusement to note the more wealthy estates had encased their trees in metal to combat the Beaver, where others had let them fell at their whim. Most effective is to plant Alder and Hazel, the species that when cut coppice into more trunks, these species Beaver preference which is perhaps out of hereditary knowledge that chopping these ultimately produces more wood than less. I digress.
Much discussion was had between us upon finding the mangled remains of an old whitewater kayak in a tree, we summised it must have come from someones bad time at the Hermitage Falls on the upstream river Braan. Any discussion like this took attention away from the near constant headwinds which we had been fighting on both rivers, unfortunate timing to have strong east winds!
A little after lunch at the end of the open straights the river turned and narrowed into steeper terrain. We were on the approach to a little excitement at the Stanley rapids. Short and sweet weirs and wave trains made for some excitement and speed. Like we had before, to keep our boat dry and focus on pace we opted for the river right ‘chicken shoot’ at the main drop.
Passing the Stanley Textile factory on the swift flowing river, we felt happy we would be in Perth by early afternoon, giving plenty of space for the next shuttle. The river channel passed some impressive cliffs before opening out toward houses as we closed toward town. Regular flits of kingfisher kept wildlife amusement high as we went too. Passing Perth we chose a more exciting channel with a small, rocky weir before the river calmed and slowed into a mirror like surface.
Under the M90 motorway we celebrated our second river complete, 2/3rd of the way through our trip. A quick and social coffee with Ben’s friends at the Willowgate Outdoor Centre saw us re-energised to return back to Kenmore to collect my car. From here we needed to head back east to Aberdeen where we would find a place to leave it and return back inland to the Linn of Dee ready for our third river the following morning. We opted to enjoy a Domino’s pizza in Aberdeen which we ate with guilt free gluttony in our cars. As it was dark already we parked up and slept the night in the backs of our cars before a pre-dawn blast inland to start the next day. Unable to find any parking outside of the Aberdeen Boatclub we left my car at Footdee lighthouse, missing completely the sign saying ‘no boat access’ at the slipway in the dark.
The River Dee: 123km
Day 4: Both Ben and I wanted to start at the Linn of Dee, which felt like the appropriate start for a ‘proper’ Dee descent. Unlike the Spey and the Tay, both of which Ben and I had paddled before, the Dee was new territory for the pair of us. I was excited to cover new ground on another Scottish classic canoe river. Winter had returned briefly overnight, which gave the upside of snowy scenery and the downside of next to no water over the riverbed. For the first 10km down to Braemar would be slow and scrapey. With these levels it was a surety that we would take more than a day to reach Aberdeen so once again packed for a camp.
Sledging the canoe down from the Linn carpark on snow, we paused to take some snaps of the iconic canyon before heading downstream. Short shingle rapids were interspersed with technical rock slabs, which were amusing to bounce down as best we could. Tall pine forest lined the river bank giving an overall scandinavian vibe to the start of our day.
As we passed Mar lodge, the river opened into a wide floodplain, braiding into several channels and dropping the water levels further. On more than one occasion we found ourselves dragging and wading between shingle beds which felt painfully slow. As was now becoming somewhat of a tradition, a strong headwind numbed our fingers.
Joining the confluence of the river Clunie water at Braemar after a particularly long slog against the wind came as a relief. To even greater luck as we arrived at a well known deer fence across the river we were met by the local keeper who had towed it open with a rowing boat to service it. Perfect timing!
Dropping out of Braemar the river kept constant and continual grade 1-2 rapids which built with speed. So far the river was far more dynamic than the previous two and came as a welcome surprise. Our thoughts turned toward the first of a few larger graded rapids at Invercauld bridge. Scouting a zig-zag line between rocks we came to a commitment on a line to avoid either a pin or a tumbling in a hydraulic at the bottom set of rapids. The rapid went with quick co-ordinated teamwork and a few cheers.
Our journey continued onward at good pace. The low cloud topping the pine trees was wonderfully scenic and truly beautiful from our perspective. The river kept its excitement too with continual amusement over its many gentle rapids and fast flowing bends. The accumulating flow of many tributaries meant we were finally floating well clear of the shingle and could enjoy the paddling at full pace.
After a quick pause for lunch on the Royal doorstep of Balmoral castle, we continued onward into Ballater by early afternoon. Both Ben and I had expected the river to slow significantly, yet it continued with speed throughout the bulk of the day. So far I was finding this by far the most interesting of the three rivers we had done and certainly the more technically interesting. We seldom stopped, with exception to occasionally eat, relieve ourselves or investigate interesting river flotsam, notably we passed one section which seemed to collect party balloons, perhaps downwind of a popular venue? Don’t buy helium balloons!
Passing Aboyne we started to search for a suitable camp for the night. We had travelled alomst 70km downstream despite being significantly slower on the start section. By this stage we were definitely starting to feel three days of hard paddling behind us. We had about 50km left to reach the sea the next morning, which felt somewhat relaxed. It took a few attempts to find a good camp, many of the spots we had thought would be good had been heavily washed out and rutted by severe floods back in 2015 during Storm Frank. This had been evident throughout the river for a large part of the catchment, a thick band of debris and wood lined the forest unimaginably high over the waterline. We found a good eddy and a quiet looking embankment that made for an excellent sheltered camp. The woods behind shielding us from a still stiff headwind. One upside of a late March adventure was plenty of time to spend at camp, enjoying socialising and tinkering with the tarp set ups.
Day 5: The river level had risen slightly overnight, no doubt from the melting snow higher up the catchment. Straight from the start we were on fast flowing water again and before long we were arriving at the Invercannie rapids, one of the Dee’s bigger wave trains. We had been taking turns at the helm of the canoe and this one was on Ben to steer and communicate us through. A quick scout showed a good line. Following tongues of flow between the standing waves we weaved a relatively dry path between the race. A paddle high five was celebrated and we were onto the next bend.
Onward to the next rapid, the river just kept on delivering fun wave train after the other. The low grade and open sightlines meant read and run style paddling with little need to scout or pause. All went smoothly with exception to one sharp bend which we took a rock hard just off the side of our bow, leaving a good dent and a fair bit of bailing out from the subsequent splash as we boofed over the top of the offending rock. Laughter was had and after a quick pause to empty out the splash we were on our way.
As we approached Cults, the home of my partners parents, the sun came out in full Aberdonian glory. The river started to feel more meandery and gentle, we were nearing the sea. To some surprise the familiar pip of a seal scarer was sounding from beneath a hotel, presumably on a fishing beat to deter seals coming up river, it felt a little surreal as this is the first Ive ever heard on a river. I was quite enjoying being a little nosey at the large houses lining the river banks, which I’d only seen from the roadside during family wanders around Cults.
Our next big recognisable landmark was “The Shakkin’ Briggie’ which is a well known local landmark to Cults, a dissused suspension bridge which looked much the worse for wear. We weren’t far from the sea now! A little around the corner I knew of a nice shingle beach, which Jen had taken me to in the past. We aimed for there for a last snack before pushing on to the finish.
A brief pause with our charcuterie board ‘river pizzas’ (oatcakes/tomato puree & cheese) served on a paddle, made for a good final snack. Before long we were winding past the parks of Aberdeen as the scenery suddenly felt quite urban in comparisson to what we’d been seeing. Of course, as per seeming tradition, the wind was strongly in our face throughout the final stretches.
As we passed the Aberdeen boathouse, where we had orginally intended to finish, the river widened and passed beneath several bridges. The Dee river opens its mouth directly through a commercial dockland and we quickly found ourselves in the shadow of harbour buildings and piers. More imporantly there were several large oil service boats tied up with their thrusters on. While I am well used to safely navigating large ships in small boats through my work on cruise ships, I was painfully aware that up on the bridges the crew would have clocked us and were no doubt animatedly ‘discussing’ our presense on the radios. I was now regretting not having a VHF handy, as our trip was by its nature inland we had not taken one. We were less than a kilometre to our car and returning upstream wasn’t a particularly viable option so we commited to putting our heads down and paddling as hard as we could to get through as fast as possible.
Unsurprisingly, at the end of the docks we were met by the Pilot boat.
It is about at this point I should confess that neither I nor Ben had any idea that the River Dee is one of very few rivers in Scotland to have a local bylaw surrounding the river mouth. It is prohibited to enter to small vessels without prior permission. As there hadn’t been any signage saying so on our approach we had entered quite oblivious to this fact. Of course in hindsight a little more prior research might have revealed this, but lesson learned. For anyone wishing to repeat the finish should be at the boat-house or upstream.
Thankfully, the pilot was quite amicable and understanding and as we apologised profusely he agreed to let us pass the last few hundred metres to our car on the other side of the bay. Of course neither Ben nor I had considered it but the assumption had been we were members of ‘just stop oil’ coming to protest the ships. Although we were quite embrassaed, in hindsight it makes amusing punchline to what had been an epic trip based around an immature acronym.
It is a bit of an unoffical Copestake family tradition that a good adventure should finish by exiting unintentionally through a ‘no entry’ sign. Sure enough, on the back of the gate as we lifted up the slipway a bold “No Access Beyond this Point” sign was pinned. We’d simply missed it in the dark during the shuttle process.
We posed for a celebratory picture at the docks and started to unpack into the car, the final shuttle back to the Linn of Dee left to do. In four and a half days we had covered a total approximate of 320km through three of Scotland’s best and longest rivers. I have to admit I could feel it in my shoulders and knees and I’m sure so could Ben. Of the three, I think personally the Dee was the highlight of the trip, not just because it was new, but for its continual interest and dynamic nature from start to finish. The scenery was world class and the sense of isolation at times quite spectacular. Of course the Spey and Tay were also fantastic.
Reflecting on the idea of tackling three in three days we concluded that to do so would need a number of factors to line up. April to October daylight hours would be beneficial. The Spey and the Tay felt very achievable to tackle in a single day but the Dee was certainly subject to having good rainfall and high levels in the upper catchment, this would be the key to success here. Notably to do so safely, a dedicated “shuttler” between rivers would make a world of difference, in the four and a half days we had spent over twelve hours of them shuttling from starts and finishes, often loosing significant daylight hours in the process. Better still would be to take a week, enjoy the slower pace and really relish the spectacular scenery and spectacle of three totally unique Scottish rivers.
