Sunday 29/08/04

Was one of the first to be out and about in the hostel. Made my breakfast but by the time I had finished, the rest of the people had materialised as well. One person was sent across to the dormblock to sound the gong. Left at 9 o'clock, thinking it was going to be a nice day. Nope. The nice weather was fast disappearing east, and a bank of ominously grey cloud swiftly moved up from the west. By the time I reached Durness village, it was raining steadily and getting worse. Went down the lane towards the Balnakiel Craft village, which used to be an RAF radarbase. It was taken over in the 1960s by people engaged in various crafts, such as glazing, repairing musical instruments and collecting gemstones. I cannot reach Keoldale by passing through the craft village, so I rejoin the main road and head off down a farmtrack. By now, it's absolutely sluicing down. I regain the main road south after a mile, after passing some very mournful looking cattle. Trudge down the A838 for just over a mile, with a fair amount of traffic on it. I'm relieved when I can finally branch off. This is at the bottom of the hill, where the road approaches the broad inlet of the Kyle of Durness. Go down the sideroad to the hotel and to the jetty at its end. It's now 10.45, raining like hell and blowing. Find a convenient shelter and await events. A notice proclaims no ferry service for Saturday, but no further info on today. A man in an estate car says that the situation is under review. Other cars turn up whose occupants also want to got to Cape Wrath. Finally, the rain relents and stops at 11.30. A little boat is launched and sailed to a larger vessel. All who want to go across are required to board this vessel, and we make our way across the Kyle. There is a strong current, but no problems. Reach the far side in about 10 minutes. Two minibuses are parked. First of all, they have to be tanked up. Once on board, we all have to remain seated at all times. The reason why becomes clear on departure - this is part of the Queen's Highway, but it's the most atrocious 11 miles of public highway in the country. Two tarmacked rutted tracks. Nobody lives here premanently as the area is a bombing range for the Royal Navy. There is an offshore island which is pounded regularly. First we ascend to about 66 m (220 ft) above sealevel. Then we descend to a river. It's apparently luck of the draw whether the bridge is still there. It is today. There are a handful of holiday homes on the coast of the Kyle, but only one house further up the track. We bounce our way along, splashing through puddles. A hill called Fashven looms up to the south, altitude 460 m (1530 ft). After a very sharp bend, we cross another river by some MOD sentry posts. Out towards the coast, a set of rock stacks stands which look like a cathedral front. At length, 40 minutes after leaving the ferry, we draw up outside Cape Wrath Lighthouse, the end of the road. First port of call is the lighthouse and the foghorn. A ship sails round the cape at that very moment. The actual cape is not at the foghorn, but by the offshore islands. You stand 60 m / 200 ft above the sea. It is possible to walk from here to Sandwood Bay, 6 miles further south, and on to Kinlochbervie. We met two hikers on the way up. Wandered about the area around the lighthouse. This runs on generators, which start automatically. The adjacent buildings are all deserted. Buildings high on the hill to the east are only a shell. After an hour, we all climb on board the bus and head back for the Keoldale ferry. Weather has cleared up nicely. The worst of the water has drained from the road, and we hobble merrily across this desolate landscape. On approach to the pier, we can see seals on the shallows in the Kyle. A few photostops are made. The tide is out, so the boat has a spot of bother at the pier. At the Durness side of the water, I head off on foot along the shore of the Kyle. End up in a landscape ofdunes, and only slowly make progress north. Sun is nice and warm. After a lot of hassle, I finally approach civilisation through the golfcourse. Having wrung myself through a narrow gate, I presently find myself on the road past Balnakiel, the craftvillage. Didn't manage to have a good look this morning on account of the atrocious weather. It's a strange place. I drop into a restaurant for a cuppa and am even allowed Internet access. After that, I return to the hostel at 6 o'clock. The evening was unremarkable, as it's a lot more quiet than last night. Many folks left this morning to return down south.