Tuesday 31/08/04

On a bright and sunny morning, I went to the ferry terminal at 9.30. People were boarding a pleasure boat for a trip to the Summer Isles off Achiltibuie. The Stornoway ferry also came in to dock, and the Citylink / Rapsons coaches pulled in for Inverness passengers. I elected to go on the bus, but only as far as Dingwall. Once the ferry passengers are on, we set off towards Braemore junction. The driver was a bit surprised that I wanted off in Dingwall, but that's my business. On arrival there, the driver very kindly directed me to the railway station, as I had decided to head north. Arrived at 11.25, which left me about 50 minutes until the northbound train was due to leave. Walked down the town's high street to the railway station, where I had a coffee in an old-fashioned waiting room. The Kyle train came in first, followed some 20 minutes later by the Thurso train. It's fairly warm today. We pulled away - only to stop 50 m down the platform. Due to a technical fault we had to wait 45 minutes for the thing to get fixed. Finally, amidst a sarcastical cheer, we headed off at 1 o'clock. Along the Beauly Firth up to Tain, then west to Ardgay and the forested slopes along the Kyle of Sutherland. A few folk got off at Culrain, for Carbisdale Castle YH. Proceeded on to Larig and back to the coast past Rogart and Dunrobin Castle. We pulled into Helmsdale at around 2 pm. As the YH does not open until 5, I have a little while. Spend some time at the harbour, using the Internet facilities in a craftshop. Go out to the pier above the harbour. By 5 o'clock, I went for my shopping in the local Spar. Can't really find what I want, but that cannot be helped. Finally report to the YH, where a pleasant young lady books me in and shows me the ropes and something more interesting besides. Have a natter with other hostellers through the evening before going out for an evening amble. Later on, everybody joins in the convo. Jess, the warden, does this for a year before moving on elsewhere.

Monday 30/08/04

The hostel was virtually empty last night. Left at 9 to explore the peninsula of Faraid Head, 2 miles north of Durness. Went down the road towards Balnakiel for a little way, then turned off north. Not a terribly nice day, it's very windy. Make my way through a campsite and through a landscape of dunes. End up at Seanachaisteal Cape, from where I headed west along the clifftops. These veer north after a litttle while, and in due course I was reunited with the road. This winds its way through the dunes and the sand towards an MOD monitoring station on Faraid Head. This is off-limits. The road at times disappears under sand, but is intensively used. Have a break on the hills just south of the fence, and look west towards Garbh Eilean, the bombing target for the navy. I make my way south again and when the road peters out in the sands of Balnakiel Bay, I go down to the shoreline. I return to the road at Balnakiel village. Half a mile further down I have another look at the craft village. Have a cup of soup in the bookshop and look round the gemstone shop. The proprietrix is a large elderly lady who told me how to kill a dog.She complained about the neighbours whose dog was forever p'ing in her flowerbeds, and about all and everything. I returned to the hostel to collect my things and have lunch. The bus back to Ullapool starts at 2.45. It was strange to alone in the hostel after the convivial buzz of the weekend. Left at 2.15 to walk up the road to the starting point at the Smoo Caves. The journey back down to Ullapool took 3 hours and was the same as on the way up, albeit a little sunnier. The Youth Hostel in Ullapool still had vacancies. One of the wardens was a young Dutch lady. Nipped out to Safeways for food, then proceeded to eat it. Internet access in the village was extortionately priced, so I left that. Nice natter with some hostellers.

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.

Saturday 28/08/04

As I dislike large towns, I make a beeline for the busstation to head out of Inverness at a quarter to nine. The bus I'm on will take me all the way to Durness, near the northwestern extremity of the Scottish mainland, 10 miles east of Cape Wrath. It's not a big bus. I start off by having a coffee in the busstation cafeteria, then I board the vehicle in question. One couple already there is mixed British / Belgian. We head off down the A9 across the Kessock bridge, through Dingwall and out up the A835 to Ullapool. We go through Strathpeffer. It's a cool and cloudy day. Just after the Braemore junction, we're allowed to stretch our legs at the Corrieshalloch gorge. The bridge spans a gorde and offers quite a spectacular view. After a sanitary stop, everybody stuffs their face and rejoins the bus. Next stop Ullapool, some 11 miles up the road. We arrive in the village at 1030, on time to watch the Stornoway ferry depart. I hop into the Woollen Mill shop to buy a fleece. It's turning gradually colder. I also need plasters for a problematic toe. Bus leaves shortly before 11. We head north through a stunning landscape of maountains, whose names I can only copy off the maps. Beinn Mor Coigach, then the sideroad to Achiltibuie, through Elphin and on to the Ledmore junction. We join the A837 north, past Canisp and Suilven. It's raining, with low clouds over the mountains. Suilven is only just recognisable. At Inchnadamph we reach Loch Assynt. The A837 heads north over the mountains, from Skiag Bridge. This bus diverts a mere 11 miles to the coast to reach Lochinver. To the right, the convoluted mass of the Quinag rears up, not very far to the north. A fairly steep descent takes us into the fishing port of Lochinver. It's dry now, but still not terribly warm. We're allowed off again, to look round the visitor centre. WQuite nicely laid out. We depart at 12, retracing our steps to Skiag Bridge, then rise from 71 m to 238 m in 1½ miles to crest the pass between Quinag and Glas Bheinn. As stated before, Quinag is a massive mountain with 3 large spurs. The road veers downhill and presently Loch Glencoul and the bridge at Kylesku loom up ahead. We pass through Unapool and finally cross the bridge. We quickly rise up again, but the views from the bridge were very good. Next village is Scourie, which is a bit of a one-horse town. Six miles further up the ocast, we change from A894 (as of Skiag Bridge) to the A838, which will take us to Rhiconich, at the head of Loch Inchard. The narrow B801 road leads to another fishing port, Kinlochbervie. We turn round at the fishmart and drop the Belgian / British couple off at their accommodation. I stay on right through to Durness. This is actually the next village beyond Rhiconich, if 11 miles distant. Pass through a bleak and desolate landscape, where you can see for miles. To the left lie the derelict lands of An Parph, the district surrounding Cape Wrath. The A838 passes along the eastern shore of the Kyle of Durness to Keoldale, where the ferry sails to An Parph. We arrive into Durness village just before two. The driver very kindly drops me off at the youth hostel, which is located at the eastern end of Durness, near the Smoo Caves. The hostel is as yet closed, so I walk back to the TIC on Sango Bay. This is very scenic, it's an official swimming beach with stunning coastal scenery. The main road loops inland for half a mile, but there is a very steep short cut. Go for a walk out towards Loch Meadaidh, south of the village. A vehicle trail leads there, Find a man mending a gate. I head northwest towards Loch Calladail. Bit breezy this afternoon, but now pleasantly sunny. Return into Durness from there, and do some shopping for the weekend. Nothing opens here on Sunday, so I've got to be prepared. The only thing is that the local convenience store doesn't have a large variety of foods. Return to the hostel at 5, and am being welcomed by the warden. He has got Tibetan prayerflags up, windchimes and the lot. The hostel consists of two buildings, separated by a stretch of lawn. One building is the dormitory, the other the main hostel building with kitchen and common room. Hostel is fairly lively at the moment, with a German family out of Hamburg and a British family. It's the weekend. I cook my food, then go out for a walk to the Smoo Caves at 8 o'clock. These are just a few hundred yards up the road. I could not go in far on account of high water. The water from the Smoo river plunges into a sinkhole, down into the cave. You do get wet in there. Hobble back to the hostel. Conduct a phone conversation at 10 o'clock, when it's nearly fully dark outside. It's not very cold.

Friday 27/08/04

Spent the morning sorting things out. I'm sending excess stuff off by mail, then board the ferry at 12.40 to return to the mainland. It's a bright day. The crew use the time until arrival at Ullapool cleaning and painting the ship. On arrival at Ullapool, a bus stands ready to take footpassengers on to Inverness. It's green until Braemore Junction, where the road rises to go up onto the moors. Past Loch Glascarnoch, where a webcam is located for the Met Office. At Garve, we cross the railway to Kyle and head further east. Bus branches off to go through Strathpeffer before rejoining the main road towards Inverness. At Dingwall, we go down the A9 dual carriageway towards Kessock. The bridge matrix signs warn of high winds. We arrive at Inverness at 5 o'clock, in the middle of the evening rush hour. Walk from Farraline Park busstation to the railway station and into the Eastgate Shopping Centre. Notice the Safeway supermarket, handy for supply. Cross that awful pedestrian crossing, where each crossing has a 1½ minute wait. You have to cross each lane of traffic separately - and there are 4 of them. The youth hostel still has vacancies, so I book in there for the night. It's the usual mix of hostellers. After doing the laundry, nothing much happens, apart from making and eating dinner.

Thursday 26/08/04

My luck finally seems to have run out on the weatherfront: it's raining today. Head down to the Callanish Stones at lunchtime. On arrival there, I first of all make for the restaurant for a sandwich and soup. Then I browse through an exhibition about the stones, after I finally locate somebody to pay my entrance fee to. Interesting. After that, I step outside to brave the elements. This is my second visit to Callanish, and like 10 years ago, it's grey and wet. Before the bus comes just after 3, I have time to hobble down the road towards Garynahine to view two smaller stone circles, Callanish II and III. Nearly needed a boat, it was very soggy. The ruined houses nearby did little to lift the mood. I was glad when the bus came to take me back to Stornoway. It went the long way round, through Carloway and Barvas. Not many on board, until we pulled up outside the primary school in Carloway. We waited for about 10 minutes, then the little darlings came out. Some were collected by parents, but a lot came on board. We first of all went up to a small housing estate on the Pentland Road to drop some kiddies off. Others were deposited around Garenin and Upper Carloway. Continued through the rain to Shawbost School, where a similar exercise was conducted. Here were both primary and lower secondary pupils, boarding a few minutes apart. The driver barked at the kids to keep quiet, sit still, stop faffing about with the seatbelts. He even stopped the bus for that. After an excursion up a sidestreet and all the way into Barvas, we finally returned to Stornoway at 4.50. Went for supper in the Crown, then reported to the Town Hall at 8 o'clock for a concert by the Blazing Fiddles. It took me a little while to work out which door would give access to the hall. Concert was a rousing success, and the usual informal atmosphere prevailed. Kids running about, people popping to the loo and being invited to join in if they knew the tune. Concert finished at 10.15, and I returned to the B&B. Mrs Burns invited me to share a dram with herself and two of her sons. Things got very convivial, and I was even invited to play the keyboard. Bedtime at 1 o'clock.

Wednesday 25/08/04

It's a sunny morning, and I head out after breakfast on the bus to Tarbert to do some walking in Harris. I'm in Tarbert at 11, and set off down the road towards Scalpay. It's getting warm, and I'm steadily getting fed up with the traffic that roars past me on the single-track road. Just past Urgha, I find a marker pointing to the path which used to be used by mailrunners between Tarbert and Stornoway. It strikes out towards the Laxadale Lochs, which are set amongst stark mountain scenery. Beyond the hills to the east lies Rhenigadale. The trail has a tendency to be boggy. Decided on this route on the way in, when I saw it snaking across the mountains. Am overtaken by mountain bikers, and meet others going in the opposite direction. At the head of the loch, a green valley opens up to the west, rising up steeply - Glen Dibidale. My trail veers to the right to gain the height of the pass, then descend towards Maraig. Have a full-on view of Clisham. I finally arrive at the bottom of Maraig hill, and am now faced with a stiff climb up to the main road, an ascent of 100m over a horizontal distance of 800m. A little way up, someone has set fire to some old pallets. A helicopter flies overhead to a point on the hillside above, beyond my view. Puffing and panting, I reach the main road and I head north. To my surprise, the old post road continues at the access road to telephony relay transmitters. As I think that my return bus is due at 2.30, I carry on through the valley, running a little way west of the main road. The view at the far end is stunning. I've come out above Loch Seaforth, but the array of mountains in front of me is breathtaking. Clisham to the left, Stulabhal ahead. I wait and wait at the road, but then find out that the bus is not due till 4.30. So I continue down the main road to Scaladale, Ardvourlie Castle and finally Bogha Glas. A track marches into the hills from here, and I join it for a little way. It's a tad boggy, and the streams that cross it are awkward. I lounge in the heather, face in the sun, until the clock tells me to rejoin the bus. I stop it in a passing place, and it duly runs me back through Lewis to Stornoway, arriving there at 5 pm. Go for supper to the Crown, where I overhear several people discussing community buy-outs and agricultural reform. The former hold my interest, so I join the convo. One lady is from HIE, Highlands & Islands Enterprise, based at Kyleakin, Skye. She will be assisting two proposed community buy-outs in Lewis. The gentleman is an agricultural consultant. Have a very animated discussion before we go our separate ways.