Around Britain

This was the hottest day of the year so far. Any slight activity raises a sweat. I'd hoped to use my small rucksack for the trip but I couldn't make it work. My spare shoes had to be tied to straps at the back where they bounced about. I'd also have to carry extra gear in a carrier bag. One needs to be comfortable on long walks. I turned to the larger pack I'd used for the Marathon des Sables. It was heavier but I wasn't prepared to dispense with enough items to avoid using it. I'd already photocopied extracts from the maps and I'm not even taking a book.

The Caledonian Sleeper started half an hour late at 9.45p.m. There have been changes since last time. A bag containing ear plugs, a blind fold, socks, hair and body wash, hand and body lotion and pillow spray lay on the bunk. The attendant offered me smoked salmon and scrambled egg for breakfast but I opted for granola. He'd wake me up at about 7.30 next morning. We were due to arrive in Inverness just after 8.30.

The attendant brought my breakfast at 7.45. He told me that the delay last night was caused by the driver being held up for some heat related reason. The train had made up time so well that it was 20 minutes early at Perth. The breakfast was so much better than the tea and shortcake experienced on previous sleepers. Served with my granola were yogurt, orange juice, tea and a muffin.

Arrival at Inverness was prompt so I picked up the papers at W.H.Smith and took them to Costas to enjoy a latte as I read them. The 10.38 train from Inverness dropped me at Lairg. The Durness bus was waiting there to meet the train as I'd been assured by email it would be. There were just two other passengers but the driver did deliver a couple of packages to shops on the Kinlochbervie road. I'd asked him to drop me off before Durness where a minor road branched off to the ferry over the Kyle of Durness. He asked whether I knew where to go to catch the ferry. I replied, “Don't laugh but I'm walking all the way back to the Rhiconich Hotel.” Where he'd dropped me was the point I'd reached last September when I reached Cape Wrath. “You like to make it difficult for yourself,” was his comment.

It took me 4 hours on the A838 to get back to the Hotel which I'd already passed on the bus. About half way my right foot started to get uncomfortable as if it might become sore. Eventually I realised the insole was twisted. I adjusted it and that seemed to solve the problem. Just afterwards I reached a plaque at the side of the road which said:-

“1883. As a mark of gratitude and respect to the inhabitants of Durness and Erbachillis for their hospitality while projecting this road this inscription on this well from your humble servant Peter Lawson Surveyor.”

The wording is slightly odd but I believe I've remembered it correctly.

I arrived at the Rhiconich at 6.40. The meal was basic. The owner was not prepared to serve breakfast before 8 o'clock “as it was a long day.”

Mileage 12; total 1947.08

After an adequate breakfast I started at 8.45. There were quite a lot of insects about so I applied some Smidge – the new anti-midge application that I'd seen advertised on the internet. I reached Laxford Bridge by 10.15, not bad for 5 miles. By 12.30 I reached Scourie (another 6 miles). It was a fine day, verging on too hot. Scourie was an oasis in this empty landscape of stone and water. It had a stores where I bought an apple juice. I drank this outside and thought about what else to buy. I bought the Guardian and a biro, one of my two biros having expired. I passed the hotel and stopped at the Anchorage where I had a pot of tea, lentil soup and a prawn sandwich. Above all I enjoyed a rest and caught up with the news of Wimbledon and other sport, postponing general news and business until later.

The delights of Scourie could not be spun out forever so I set out again at 2 pm. After a while a Private Hire Vehicle stopped on the road ahead of me and an elderly couple got out to stretch their legs or admire the view. As I passed the driver was standing by the vehicle and I asked him whether he'd take me from Ullapool to Inverness on Monday if I missed the bus and, if so, at what cost. We exchanged cards and he said he'd ring me with a quote. As he's based in Grantown-on-Spey I don't think it's feasible. I'll only know that I've missed the bus well into the day and he'll then not have enough time to travel over from Grantown to Ullapool.

The road to Kylescu ended with a spectacular bridge just after Kylestrom. It appeared to separate Loch a Chairn Bhain (a sea loch) from two inland lochs (Gleann Dubh and Glencoul). Almost immediately after crossing the bridge, I took a side road down to the Kylescu Hotel where the standards turned out to be dramatically higher than those set by the Rhiconich.

Distance today 21 miles; total 1956.08.

Out of nowhere a large crowd of people had assembled to sample the delights of its bar and restaurant. I ordered Thai fish cakes, grilled fish, sautéed potatoes and salad accompanied by a beer from Skye. It was all excellent and served by staff who clearly enjoyed working for such a successful enterprise.

By contrast at the Rhiconich, in a restaurant occupied by four people including myself, I had been presented with a square pastry fortress described on the menu as a beef, stout and mushroom pie (one of the specials of the day). After an incursion had been made, lumpy gravy dribbled from the interior. I was able to mitigate this by applying a combination of Dijon and English mustard. This was produced at table at my request with a flourish as if the cosmopolitan standing of the establishment was now beyond doubt. The sachets left on my table also covered a wide spectrum of ketchups and mayonnaises.

I had been unable to report my arrival to Polly due to lack of coverage. The proprietor had fielded Polly's anxious call on the land line. Later she provided me with a print out from a Norwegian website giving me very detailed predictions of tomorrow's weather including the time and volume of each period of precipitation.

Due to my need for an early start, I elected to have some food in my room as breakfast was not served until 8 o'clock. I rose at 6 am. and collected a cheese and tomato sandwich and some fruit from the reception desk. I was away at 7.25 somewhat anxious about the storms predicted by the weather forecasts. These storms seemed to have largely exhausted themselves down south as I experienced none of the thunder and lightning that I feared. The wind was intermittent but quite strong at times. At its height it was if it was trying to tear my clothes off. But the rain was never too heavy and I made steady progress. About a mile and a half from the hotel, I had a decision to make at a junction. Either I took the main road (A894) and walked another 17 miles or I took the coastal road and walked another 23 miles. The coastal road was a bit shorter than I'd expected so I chose that route.

Initially it was so quiet that only two vehicles went past me in well over half an hour. So deserted was it that I couldn't even see ruins of buildings abandoned by earlier inhabitants. This is understandable in high moorland but occasionally the road descended into pleasant wooded valleys. Eventually I saw my first house since the junction on the main road. It was a substantial property called Rientraid and stood far below the level of the road, completely isolated and close to Loch a Chairn Bhain. I saw no roads or paths leading to it but the map did show a couple of paths off the road that provided access. Who could possibly live in such a place so remote from any services? Perhaps it serves as an occasional holiday residence for a wealthy family.

I descended into the valley of the Gleann Ardbhair only to be confronted by a steep climb out again. I faced lengthy stretches over high undulating moorland populated only by a few sheep. When I reached Glenleraig the traffic became more frequent, no doubt much of it local, as the villages of Nedd and Drumbeg followed soon after. There was a building plot and a couple of houses for sale in Nedd.

I'd set my hopes on a Tea Shop on the road ahead. Three notices told me how close I was getting. Then I arrived to find a more detailed notice saying that it was open every day of the week except Saturday. My hopes were now pinned on the Drumbeg Hotel and it didn't let me down. Despite the early hour (11.25) I was greeted by a woman who asked me to go to another room where I'd be served. A couple had arrived before me and I had a pleasant conversation with them. They'd seen me on the road. The woman served me a pot of tea with a large reserve supply of hot water. To eat I chose a scone with cream and jam and a piece of cake. I took my ease for 35 minutes, phoned Polly and resumed my journey at noon.

Another section of high moorland followed. I diverted myself by guessing the route of the road through the landscape ahead of me. I often found it quite impossible as rocky protruberances usually concealed the route beyond the nearest stretch. Judging by the lie of the land I guessed the road went one way but I was often wrong. Sometimes the road seemed headed for a wall of rock with no apparent opening. At the last moment the way forward would become apparent.

I descended into Clashnessie and this was followed by Stoer and Clachtool. Between the first two was a road off to the right to numerous villages and a lighthouse. Opposite the turn there was a shop which looked as if had closed for good.

At Clachtool I was surprised to see a small shop selling Costa coffee. This I couldn't resist. The shop was about to close at 3 pm and it had a few last minute customers.

My impression is that houses in remote areas like this in Scotland are scattered about without the discipline of an overriding plan. The positioning of dwellings seems almost random. Very little attempt is made at horticulture which may be due to the climate. An air of untidiness and neglect prevails.

On the next high section I saw a property called Pollan, set well back from the road just this side of a ridge. There was a lengthy approach track. Why should anyone build up there with so much inconvenience and expense unless their priority is escape from human contact? I'm sure they had a marvellous view but that's not uncommon in these parts.

Later I made a final descent to the main road (A837) and soon after I reached my accommodation for the night – Bonnie Haven. This is a smallish property in Baddidarach, just north of Lochinver, with a view out over Loch Inver. I was greeted by Willie and later his wife Joan introduced herself. I have a large room with my own bathroom plus use of the sitting room and its giant T.V. There's a caravan at the back to which my hosts can retreat if necessary. After discussion I decided to eat at Peet's Restaurant but they were fully booked unless I was willing to eat straight away (at 6.30). I was willing to do that and Willie volunteered to drive me down as the centre of Loch Inver was about a mile from their house. Willie insisted that I ask the proprietor to ring him when I was ready to be collected. I agreed as he said he'd take me to the local Costcutter before it closed at 8 pm to buy items for my breakfast. It had been clear when I booked that there was “no meal option” although Willie had said I was welcome to help myself to Rice Krispies and frozen bread for toast.

After my meal Willie was summoned and I stepped outside into heavy rain. I was glad to see him drive up almost immediately. He took me to the Costcutter but it had closed early. This didn't really matter now that I knew some provision would be made for breakfast.

Distance today: 24.5 miles. Total: 1980.58

Joan cooked me an excellent breakfast of bacon and scrambled egg at 7.30. Afterwards I expressed my doubts as whether or not I would continue as my left foot was beginning to be uncomfortable. I thought that a blister might be forming underneath the foot at the front. Willie at once offered to drive me to Achiltibuie, my next destination. I said that I felt I should make the attempt as otherwise I'd be disappointed in myself. He gave me his card and told me I should phone if I needed rescuing on route. When I settled up I gave Willie £80 in £20 notes and said that I didn't want any change (the cost was £75) as they had done so much for me. Apparently they had just two guest rooms which they had only been offering since June. Already they were completely booked up through Booking.com. The local tourist office was hopeless, Willie said, as they had not adopted modern technology. Whilst I was there he spent much of his time on the computer. His age, I'd say, was not much different from mine.

At the sign that announced Inverkirkaig a notice indicated that there was a book shop a mile ahead. That was remarkable out here. Loch Kirkaig was quite beautiful – a sea lock with clear water lapping on a pebbly beach. I sat on a bench looking out at this scene. The bench was “In loving memory of Timothy Watson 1981-2012. He was a fine sportsman of great kindness who loved life and the countryside.” What terrible accident or disease had shortened his life? I caught sight of a woman near the house before which the bench stood. Might she have been his mother? The book shop offered coffee but it was on a path away from the road out of sight. Tempted though I was, it was too early to take refreshment.

Just past Polly More and Rubha a Brochaire, there was a path away from the road, indicated on the map representing a significant short cut. I had to cross a small river on a rough barrier, constructed of stones and earth, with gaps to let the water through. Once over this I could find no trace whatsoever of the path so had to retreat back to the road. The path had led to Inverpolly Lodge. When I reached the road leading to Inverpolly Lodge on the far side, it was described as a private road. Perhaps it was just as well the connecting path had disappeared.

My feet survived the extra mileage and I reached Achiltibuie. The village store was closed for Sunday. There was a Post Office and a B & B where bikers were welcome. My destination, the Summer Islands Hotel, looked smart which the price of £130 for a single room had indicated. The woman in charge welcomed me pleasantly but gave me the bad news that that the path beside the loch wasn't walkable. It didn't look as if she spoke from experience but I haven't the time tomorrow to put this to the test. However, there is a bus at 7.30 am. to Ullapool. It leaves the Post Office at 7.37 but stops at the hotel on the way. I must catch it.

I arrived at the hotel at 4.20 pm. Distance today: 19 miles. Total: 1999.58.

There was no T.V. in the room. The woman in charge explained that it was the same in all rooms so that their guests could enjoy nature. When she'd showed me the bar I said there was only one thing I wanted and it was something they probably couldn't provide. That was flavoured cold milk – preferably banana. She said she'd ask the chef to make this up and soon brought a jug to my room. It contained enough for three glasses which satisfied my craving.

Later a young man knocked on my door. He was carrying a basket full of unidentifiable objects. He offered me two cookies which I declined as I was due to eat soon afterwards. I wondered whether he was a freelance but the hotel staff told me later he was an employee who was meant to fill up the tray of tea bags and other such items in the room. It's a pity that he wasn't able to explain that to me.

I enjoyed an excellent meal but I formed the impression that the staff were not entirely relaxed in their roles and felt under pressure. The owner told me that the path I'd wanted to walk had been the postal path. I wondered whether I might be able to get through even if the path was no longer used. She said she'd enquire. I told her that I'd return to the hotel if I was able to reach the main road.

Breakfast was served by special arrangement at 6.45. I enjoyed the kipper that I'd requested by email before undertaking my journey. The bus was meant to go to the end of the village, turn round and come back. I became very anxious when there was no sign of it by 7.30 so I hurried to the Post Office where the internet said it stopped. I was almost in despair, wondering whether the bus had been one of the unmarked vans I'd seen go by. Then, several minutes late, the Highland Bus appeared on its way to the far end of the village. It picked me up on its return and then a girl on the edge of the village. Another girl joined us at Rieff and a young man, possibly a school master, at the road junction, 3 miles from Achiltibuie. He alighted outside the school in Ullapool. The bus also collected a parcel for delivery.

At Ullapool the Stagecoach bus to Inverness was waiting to leave. I asked the driver whether I could catch the bus later that morning to give me a chance of looking round the town. He said the later bus was Citylink and might be fully booked on a Monday. Not wishing to risk that I elected to travel at once and arrived at Inverness at 10.40 where I spent a relaxing day waiting for the Sleeper.

I stayed in Inverness last night and caught the bus to Ullapool this morning. The bus was a people carrier travelling all the way to Durness. Only myself and one other boarded the bus and we both disembarked at Ullapool. I spent a few hours in the town, mostly in the museum. There I learnt that the town was established in the late 18th century to serve the fishing industry. There's a ferry terminal from which one can take trips to Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides. It's a town of modest size but it has plenty of pubs, hotels and restaurants for the many tourists that visit. The view of the mountains over Loch Broom is magnificent.

At 3.30 pm I boarded the School Bus for Achiltibuie and the Summer Isles Hotel. There were several school children on the bus and they were strangely silent. One spent almost the entire journey with his coat over his head. Two had no word for the driver when he dropped them off at their home even though the driver spoke pleasantly to them. I thought of the chattering youngsters on Suffolk buses and found the contrast almost unnerving. Perhaps they were overawed by the extraordinary landscape they passed through every morning and afternoon.

I was given a good welcome at the hotel and the manageress agreed to provide me with a packed lunch in lieu of breakfast in order to give me an early start.

When I phoned the Ullapool Tourist Information Office last year, the person who answered said he only knew of one attempt to walk alongside Loch Broom from Achiltibuie to Ullapool. That had ended badly. The person making the attempt had missed the path and fallen into the loch from which he was rescued by the Coast Guard. My informant spoke of a break in the path. The hotel staff didn't know of anyone who'd completed the walk. When I set out just after 7 am I was not entirely confident that I'd be able to get through.

The clouds still covered the tops at this early hour but it promised to be a fine day. There was a surprising amount of traffic for a dead-end road in a remote location. Remote though it was, I saw a school, a café, a restaurant, B&Bs and holiday cottages with saunas and hot tubs. There's a Youth Hostel marked on the map at Acheninver but I saw no sign to it. I believe it has no warden so it must be very basic. There was a works site at Achvraie but no inkling as to what the nature of the project might be. I didn't get close enough to any of the workmen to ask.

Beyond the works site no more houses were visible and moorland stretched from the road on both sides. A man drove by and then stopped to ask if I wanted a lift. He was planning to climb Sgurr an Fhidhleir but thought he might have come out too early as the clouds were still quite low. Later I saw him sitting in his parked car and we had another chat. He said that Fhidhleir looked dull on its southern aspect but there was a sudden drop on the far side and a spectacular rock formation. I said that I'd seen this from the bus when I came up yesterday.

At Culnacraig I made my first mistake. The road ended and the way ahead split into a track and a path. The track entered a field beyond a closed gate. The field was full of sheep and they ran as soon as they saw me – but towards me not away from me. Maybe they expected me to feed them. I decided to take the path but this soon petered out. I proceeded in what seemed to be the right direction. It seemed hard to become completely lost when one could usually see the Loch over to one's right. I approached what appeared from the map to be a small stream (Allt nan Coisiche). It was indeed small but flowed at the bottom of a deep gorge. The far side was a rock face that I couldn't even think of climbing. I worked my way along the stream towards Loch Broom hoping to find a way across. Soon I was able to descend to the stream by a steep slope, holding on to stunted trees as I did so. The far side was still impassable. Then I saw rough-hewn steps leading up from the opposite bank a bit further downstream so I was able to continue. I suspect that, if I'd taken the track, I'd have gone directly to the crossing point.

As I reached the top of the steps, I saw a small pillar marked with a directional arrow. This was the first of several such pillars but they were so intermittent I couldn't rely on them. The path was rough but still better than the untamed hillside. As I approached the pebbly beach where the Garbh Allt flowed into the loch, I lost the path again. I clambered over a boulder field which slowed my progress to a crawl. I saw one of the pillars ahead but had to get over the boulders to reach it. The path then took me inland to cross over the top of a gorge and then back again towards the loch.

I could now see Isle Martin, one of the bigger islands in Loch Broom. The way ahead was unclear as crags seemed to block the route. I lost the path for the third time and didn't re-join it for a couple of hours or so. Thinking that I was below the path, I laboriously followed a stream uphill, swinging this way and that to avoid rocky outcrops. I expected to reach the path but I must have walked over it without even noticing; it was that sort of path.

At last I reached a crest and looked downhill over a gentle descent between cliffs on either side. This looked like easier walking whatever the direction might be so I started down. I encountered marshy ground which I avoided as best I could. At one point I started to sink but leapt back quickly to find a firmer route. Suddenly a most welcome vista appeared below me of fields and one or two houses. I celebrated by eating the rest of my packed lunch. The descent was steep with crags that were hard to spot from above. The land below was the Keanchulish Estate. The map showed paths across the estate so I planned to use these and join the A835 close to Ardmair.

When I reached the bottom of the slope, a notice informed me that Achiltibuie was 9.5 miles away over rough, mountain terrain only to be attempted by experienced walkers with the right equipment. It had taken me over 6.5 hours to cover a greater distance given that I'd lost the path three times. I was now confronted by a high wire fence which barred access to the Keanchulish Estate. This forced me towards the A835 which I reached by a bridge over the River Canaird. I started walking towards Ullapool at 2.30 pm and reached the Tourist Information Office on the far side of the town just after 4.30. I wanted to arrange transport from Dundonnell Hotel back to Ullapool on Thursday in time to catch the 9 am Inverness bus at the Ferry Terminal. The bus I'd hoped to catch didn't run on Thursdays and regulations barred me from the School Bus. The Tourist office gave me the number of a taxi firm. They declined the job as they had early morning contracts they had to honour. Fortunately they gave me the number of another firm that agreed to pick me up at 8am on Thursday.

My mileage today was 18.5 (ignoring unmeasurable deviations). Total: 2018.08.