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!

Monday 16 June - Kearvaig to Sandwood Bay

Woke early and out of habit, rolled up my sleeping bag and roll mat before going for a wander on the beach.  This burst of efficiency turned out to be a Good Thing.






Crossing a freshwater stream I explored a little cave on the left before going onto the rocks at the other end to see the puffins on the rocks there.

As I left the beach I saw a vehicle drive down the track.  We'd already appreciated that it's unusual to see vehicles here other than the tourist minibuses.  A girl informed me that there was a bombing raid due and we all had to clear out.  She would take us to the lighthouse.  We had ten minutes to pack!

It's amazing what you can do in ten minutes.  We were walking back up the path when she came for us, and it meant we had a lift for the last couple of miles to the lighthouse where we were to kick our heels for an hour or so.

(Lighthouse information here). 

The military takes these things very seriously.  The whole area is completely sealed off; visitors, locals, everyone locked down for the duration.  They bomb a tiny island (Garvie) just off the mainland and it's heavy stuff, involving thousand-pounders sometimes - and apparently, although this has been going on since about 1927, the island remains unchanged.  It says something for the obduracy of Scottish granite.

Looking over at Garvie (small lump of rock on the left)

Well we waited, and we had sandwiches and coffee at the cafe there, and we walked about, but nothing really happened (this may have been held up due to a small sailing boat going round the coast) but even when the bombs did drop I heard and saw nothing other than a small plume of smoke from the lump of rock.

Upon being  allowed to leave we  went south, passing a small group of red deer and leaving the road to cross the trackless bog towards Sandalwood Bay.  This was hard  going in parts.  The bog was dry, which was good but there were some very deep ravines to be got around and at one point we became separated when we went in slightly different directions.  But the scenery was amazing, desolate, wild, and huge on a scale that's difficult to remember afterwards.  At lunchtime the sun came out and I started to regret using dry oil as midge repellent.
 Because of the strong sun, the sea looked very blue and we could have been in the Med with the wild bays and the steep rocky cliffs, the stacks of rock and the pale sand.  At one rest stop we actually saw wild otters playing in the sea, climbing on to a rock and diving back in.  Wonderful.

Looking down to Sandwood Bay 

There was one final river to be crossed (pic left) before reaching the fabled Sandwood Bay and for this my boots came off.  The water was clear, fresh and cold.  We had no concerns about being able to fill our water bottles in this area.




Sandwood Bay is huge.  After Kearvaig, it was just massive.  We pitched up on sand between the freshwater loch and the sea and I took a walk on the beach, but it feels as if you can walk for ages and not get closer to the cliff edge.  Sandwood is famous; let it get the visitors; Kearvaig was more accessible and really the superior beach - and likely to remain reasonably exclusive due to its location.



The midges were bad, so we retired to our tents, trying to sleep against the sun that never seems to set. 

Sunday 15 June - Durness to Kearvaig

Woke early.  The high wind from the previous day had dropped which was good but there were a few midges about.  The local black-headed gulls continued to show great interest in us as a source of food.  They'd cleared the remains of Alfie's dinner and were now after breakfast and I think would be tame enough to take it from our hand.

We left the campsite and walked out of the village down the single track road with the hills on our left and sheep grazing all around.  We got to the kyle and here faced a choice; whether to try to hack around it or to take the ferry across.  The tide was out but the river running into the sea meant that we could not have tried to cross directly on foot.

Having decided on the ferry, we passed by a mound at Keoldale Green said to date from the Iron Age, with a more modern standing stone erected to mark the spot.

We had time for a brew whilst waiting for the first boat of the day and it was a journey of mere minutes before we landed on the coast that would lead to Cape Wrath.

The birdlife was varied.  The gulls yes, but to hear a cuckoo this far north!  We saw a lapwing (just one), oystercatchers, heard a curlew and there was a suspicion of eider ducks at Durness.  Over the moors were skylarks, a nearly constant companion.  The vegetation was small; few or no trees, some shrubs but a lot of tiny alpines and also the insect-eating sundews, which apparently eat midges - live long and prosper, say I.

The loveliest was the pyramidal orchid.  Having read about this since, it seems this flower can be found throughout the UK "but is scarce in Scotland" - though I've never seen one growing anywhere but in Scotland...

We had lunch by a bridge near a stream in the sun and saw a pair of cyclists go past.  I'd have been interested to see how they managed bikes on the little boat as I'd wanted to visit Cape Wrath on my Land's End to John O'Groats cycle ride in 2010.  As circumstances panned out I wouldn't have been able to; occasionally they shut the boat service down for the RAF to practice bombing raids here - more on that later.  

The sea-mist started rolling in and followed us as we walked a gradual uphill on the rough road over the moor.  It's gentle walking, considering, with some vast moors and hills to look at, as well as the useful mile markers - this one was particularly cute.

After several hours, we took a right turn away from the road the minibuses use to take visitors to the lighthouse.

The bothy by the beach 

This went steeply downhill down a very rough stony path towards the most delightful little bothy near a beach.  This is Kearvaig.

As we had tents we didn't need to try to make ourselves comfortable there (which can be difficult) but took the opportunity to sit at a table to cook and eat and enjoy the warmth of a heather fire.  The bothy was in two parts and one half occupied by three men and a dog - another border terrier - also called Alfie!

Sunset - the only one I ever saw

Friday 14th June and Saturday 15th June - Travelling

It's a long way from Kettering to the Cape and a long journey not helped by the seeming lack of connected trains going anywhere but London.  After leaving home at 8:15 pm on Friday, we arrived in Inverness, four trains and twelve hours later and considerably worse off after having to buy a train ticket for the dog ... there's a first time for everything!  We met John and indulged in an early breakfast, watching the town wake up before getting another train northwards to Lairg.  I started reading Jane Austen's 'Emma' on the train, and was not to be allowed to forget it for the rest of the entire fortnight!

Packing Alfie with the luggage

At Lairg we found the minibus service (locally referred to as the post bus) waiting for the train.  What a brilliant joined-up service.  The driver was very friendly and welcoming and chattered to us the whole way northwards to Durness.  Unfortunately I hadn't slept well on the sleeper service and was struggling to keep my eyes open.  I dozed and kept waking up to scenes of misty mountain tops, winding narrow roads and the fish market at Kinlochbervie.  In fact we seemed to be driving the route that we'd be walking - south - which was rather disconcerting.

Smoo Cave

The driver couldn't do enough for us though, and when he'd dropped off his other few passengers he drove us to the John Lennon memorial garden at Durness, then up to Smoo Cave where he waited with our heavy bags, and then took us to the campsite.  What a lovely person.

We set up somewhere sheltered, for the wind was strong, and took a walk on the beach.  This required all my warm clothing, including hat and winter gloves, and full waterproofs; yes it's British Summertime!

Cape Wrath that way ...