Friday - nr Nedd to nr Lochinver

It rained in the night and we woke to a misty day; not exactly wet but certainly not dry.  The midge situation was just as bad and John, being the first to pack, escaped the attack with a promise to meet us at Drumbeg.  We were looking forward to Drumbeg as there was a shop there, and we needed to restock, especially dog-food.


 

 I was the next to go and waited on the road, walking Alfie about (midges attack when you stand still) until Andy was ready and we could head up the mountain road into the mist.  There was no view as such as to distance, but the low cloud lent an air of brooding atmosphere over the lochans and the moors and sometimes broke to give a longer view beyond.  After a mile or so we came to Nedd, a little crofting village with a warning sign about lambs and piglets on the road.  There was also a decorated gypsy caravan.  There are many artists resident here, I think.


We were early into Drumbeg which has two shops, and John met us with the bad news that the one we particularly wanted -and needed - was shut.  Of all the days to take a day off, they'd chosen this one. The other shop sold candles and soap and though it had a tea-room, we didn't bother waiting an hour for it to open but made some coffee near the public loos.  Scotland does some things really very well; cycle lanes deserve a mention but especially their public loos.  For a start, they're open, they are well supplied and they they work and having hot water and hot air hand dryers was a blessing on a cold wet day such as this ... especially for a certain small wet dog...



Shaking the proverbial dust of Drumbeg off our feet we carried on.  What else could we do?  We had a spare meal each and some snacks.  Alfie would have to make do with whatever meat and cheese we had.  But there was a bonus; some smallholdings sold eggs from honesty boxes on the road, and we bought a dozen between us to do for lunch.



Passing the time in good conversation we came into Clashnessie where the road seems to have been cut through the rock before coming out to the beach - another unspoilt sandy beach with nearly no-one on it but us.  We walked over the sand letting Alfie go mad off the lead before settling down to a lunch of boiled eggs and the rest of our bread.




 Looking at the picture on the left you wouldn't think Alfie ever wanted to move again - the one on the right was just ten minutes later.

After lunch we went out of the village and instantly noticed a change.  The morning's landscape had been bleak, desolate, almost deserted but there was a sudden change in the afternoon as we went around the very pretty Stour Point area.  This is Assynt crofting country and we entered a fairly well populated area. There was a nice-looking campsite by a beach with a sign to a memorial for Norman McCloud, which I wondered at as a link to the founder of the Iona Community.  Something to go back and visit.

Stour

Interesting sculpture in the garden ...

Some of the crofts - Stour

I had to change my socks.  Even waterproof socks have their limits and mine had met theirs.  With more comfortable feet we proceeded along a footpath to the ruins of an old mill and over the hill to the campsite by the beach at Achmelvie.

The Mill 

Achmelvie Beach and campsite

 But here our hopes were ruined again; the campsite would not allow dogs.  They did have an on-site chippy though, so we had tea just outside their boundary fence before continuing up the road to the higher country away from the crofting areas.  Although Scottish law allows free access and so camping pretty much anywhere is permitted, it seems the rules are different here. We needed to get away and out of sight.

Alfie gets a lift (he's in red)

Poor Alfie was struggling and needed to be carried over the rougher paths, but soon we found our way to a high point - again, finding somewhere flat was a challenge - and set up with a very good view to some great mountains, possibly Munroes.  The midges didn't make us inclined to hang around again, but unfortunately this was just what Andy and I had to do as I broke a tent pole again (the second time this trip) and that required a bit of Andy's ingenuity to fix it as it was on a bend.

When it was dark (it must have been after midnight) I heard a brown owl, very close.  Looking out of my tent door, I saw the owl perched on a cairn of rocks, very close to our tents, looking over the valley.  It called again - and then was gone.

Thursday 20 June - Scourie - nr Nedd

Left Scourie and took the main road uphill out of town.  It was a grey day but not actually raining.  We saw some more Highland cattle with calves, which look like little teddy bears and are most endearing.  The cows too seem quite small - underneath that great mass of orange hair.





Most of the traffic we met seemed to be foreign tourists, with Dutch, French, German and Belgian numberplates on the campervans and motorbikes that passed us (there were a lot of motorcyclists, usually in small groups and usually German).

We had some good rests stops but I was most disconcerted to find at one that all my water had run out; where to, I had no idea.  I can only assume I had pressed the valve of my platypus, as there was no leak in my rucksack. But it made it lighter to carry.  Always look on the bright side.  My rucksack was further lightened by Andy filching my cooking gear when I wasn't looking!

Rest stop ... 

... with a view

There were some really fantastic mountain ranges now and the names a curious mixture of Norse and Gallic (Viking and Celt) - Kylestrome, Kylesku, Unapool.

This cairn was erected to commemorate the XIIth Submarine Flotilla, comprising the experimental X-craft or human torpedoes which trained here; the cairn commemorates the 39 men who died and also the local people "who knew so much and talked so little".

(See a BBC site for the history here and other pictures and a list of names here.)

Kylesku Bridge

We crossed the award-winning Kylesku bridge about which John rhapsodised enough to generate a genuine interest in shuttered concrete, and a great appreciation of the sheer difficulty of such an achievement and of its graceful curves before we came to the place itself.  (For some great pictures of the bridge including one in snow click here).

You have to turn off the road to come to the collection of houses that probably isn't enough to be classed as a village.  The hotel is at the end and well worth a mention, because they welcomed Alfie with open arms and really looked after us.  It was expensive to be sure, but go there if you can.  I had mussels - moules marinieres - a great bucket of the things, everyone of which had to be opened and scraped out and got with a bit of the liquid garlicy sauce.  I'd never had it before but everything is so local it seems rude not to - and it was so worth it.   We had some cake to go and staggered out of the place, encouraging Alfie whose feet bothered him after a rest stop.

The scenery just got better, if that was at all possible; majestic, awesome, grand.  We went from an A to a B road and it was a good road over the moor.  But when we stepped aside to let a large truck pass, we felt the whole surface sink under its weight, which may be why they don't allow coaches up here.

Water refill

The only downside was that the midges were busy; the humidity and the boggy ground obviously suiting them very well here.  Keeping moving we were fine, but at every rest stop we were attacked and the midge nets came out into nearly constant use.  I had been bitten so badly about the face it couldn't make much difference but was sore enough not to wish to add to the collection.  It was coming on to rain, but not enough to keep the insects away.







We went several more miles and seemed to be miles away from anywhere before finding a place to camp.  This was tricky.  The ground was steep, lumpy, rocky, undulating.  Finding a flat patch that was not absolute bog and which could accommodate three tents was more of a tall order than you might think.  We found a field of rough pasture which we very quickly dubbed Midgehaven, got the tents up and got in as fast as possible.  Dinner was a cold snack with water as none of us wished to open a tent door to light a stove but after such a grand lunch as I'd had, that wasn't an issue.

Wednesday 19th June - Laxton to Scourie

The midges had been very bad last night; worse than I'd realised; and were still bad in the morning.  I react badly to bites so today my face and hands were covered in raised reddish bumps.  When you factor in sunburn and  lack of sleep, let's just say that it's not a very good look :-)   They also went for the feet and ankles, and John had his own collection.  Even Alfie got bitten and only Andy was immune.  Let's just say that Avon skin-so-soft may be recommended but it doesn't work for me, and antihistamines do little to help.  All I could do was try not to scratch.

Topped up my water from the river by the bridge and saw fish jumping; trout or salmon I couldn't say.  They fish for both round here.  It's a lovely spot though.

Pursued by midges, we made an early start and took the road out of Laxton towards Tarbet, which was very steep in places with more dramatic scenery all around.  One plan was to go off-road but we couldn't find the path; though there was one 'no entry' path which allowed access to walkers - we saw what would have been our exit back to the main road.   But despite this being an 'A' road, traffic was light.  It's not high holiday season yet.

The old road 

The quiet road

The steep road 

Tarbet

 Tarbet is a pretty, tiny little place, no more than a jumping-off place to visit Handa Island with all its varied sealife and birds.  Perhaps another time we'll visit - and without Alfie too, as dogs aren't allowed on the ferry.

After a lunch and coffee settled against the wind, we took the steep and rough footpath over the hills towards  Scourie.  Warning notices indicated it was rough, trackless and boggy and they were right.  I was tired enough to trip over my own shadow and found this very tough going.  There were enough pink granite cliffs and black lochans for anyone to admire and I was glad to get to the end of it and a downhill through hedges of flowering gorse into the village.


An amazing sight was a large walled garden, beautifully laid out (left).  Who says you can't have a garden this far north?









We did a shop and headed for the campsite although it was early for a stop.  I got the tent up and instantly slept.  Dinner at the hotel later was wonderful.

Alfie surveys his estate

Tuesday 18 June - Sandwood to Laxton Bridge

In the morning, we set off over the beach to the far end and over the dunes to head away from the sea.  Here we became separated again.  Andy followed some tracks and John and I took the easier route, waiting at the other end for him to pass us.  But he went by on a lower path and we missed him.  After casting about the dunes for any sighting, John said a cyclist had told him Andy was ahead thinking that we were ahead of him.  So all we could do was follow.

There's a good path out of Sandwood; a hard track which seems to have actually been made into a proper tamped-down path.  It wound round a string of little lochs (lochans - I got told off for calling them tarns!) one of which had a group of Highland cattle resting nearby, which were too photogenic to pass by.  On the left, there was a series of great blue hills rolling into the distance, impossible to photograph the way the eye can see it.


It was a long path but there were walkers coming the other way - heading to the beach no doubt - and soon enough I was astonished to see traffic ahead, and then the white buildings of a little village (Blairmore).  It was a tiny place but the first village since Durness.  And there Team Alfie regrouped and had a cuppa before heading down the road towards Kinlochbervie, just as the rain set in.

 We had a good lunch at the Kinlochbervie Hotel and this was the first time I'd got a phone signal too - a chance to wish a friend happy birthday.

Out of Kinlochbervie

There's a Spar down the hill, so we restocked before heading back uphill and following the road high above the great sea-loch with its long lines of buoys where mussels are farmed by being grown on ropes.  The rain had stopped and soon the sun came out.  It wasn't to last; the wind picked up and then the rain set in again, but it was good while it lasted.  But the road walking was getting tiring and I was getting footsore - and so was Alfie.

Alfie drinks!  (Rare occasion)

Some of the views along the road; the sea-loch (left) the mountains, and red deer (below).

Stags in velvet

At Laxton Bridge, just past a new road-building scheme we found a lovely place to camp, by the river, under silver birches.  It had dried up again and was a lovely evening, but this meant the midges had come out to join us!