Wednesday 24th May 2023

It did not take long to set up today’s walk and so we were walking by 8.45. There was a good breeze blowing and it felt chilly though there were virtually no clouds.

The first five miles were on the A836 to John O’ Groats; there is no coast path and those who have tried to get along between field fences and the sea have usually given up and returned to the road. I am happy to draw on the experiences of other walkers.

We looked out to the island of Stroma which is a green hump emerging from the sea. It had over 300 residents in the 19th century and the last residents departed in 1962. Stroma comes from the Norse meaning whirlpool because the island is adjacent to St. John’s Point and there are fierce tides here as the North Atlantic meets the North Sea. There remain a large number of buildings clearly visible from the shore.

We passed Gills which has a ferry to Orkney and then we came to John o’ Groats. It has improved considerably since we cycled here in 2009. There are a couple of cafés, the hotel has been restored and reopened, and it has an air of prosperity. We called in for a coffee and scone at the Stacks Deli.

We asked another couple if one of them would take a photo of us at the finger post sign to brace the one we had taken there with our bikes. After all we have just walked from Land’s End to John o’ Groats albeit by the scenic route. (For the avoidance of doubt, Jill only cycled the Scottish section of Cliff’s LEJOG though we did take a fairly scenic route then as well, cycling up some of the Inner and the Outer Hebrides.)

The odd thing is that, as a location, John o’ Groats has no merit. It is not the most northerly point of the mainland; that is Dunnet Head. It is not the most distant point from Land’s End; that would be Duncansby Head. It is the most distant inhabited place from Land’s End – but Land’s End is uninhabited, the most south westerly, inhabited place is probably Sennen. So John o’ Groats has done well to carve out a big niche in the tourist market by being – well, nothing special at all.

We would now be following a National Trail for a few days. The John o’ Groats Trail starts at Inverness and ends, unsurprisingly, at John o’ Groats. It does not follow the coast the whole way and cuts across the Nigg Peninsula and Black Isle which we will be walking around.

There is a walk of a couple of miles to the Duncansby Head Lighthouse. It is  a really pleasant stroll over cropped grass with views to Orkney and the Pentland Skerries and in the foreground the beautiful Sannick Bay. Just before the lighhouse there is a large blow hole. The OS map calls it a natural arch, I am not sure what differentiates one from the other

Duncansby Head itself appears more like a low grassy hill with a rather short lighthouse on it.

However, if you look around the corner you came face to face with Duncansby Stacks. There are two stacks and third stack in the making which is still attached to the cliff. Around the corner we were walking south and there was a strong wind from the west trying to blow us off the cliff into the sea. It is just as well we took on some ballast in the form of a large cheese scone each with our morning coffee.

We had a distant view of the Pentland Skerries. The twin lighthouses apparently enabled the Pentland Firth to be navigated by general shipping instead of taking the longer route north of Orkney. The twin lights were replaced with a group flashing light in 1895. Do go to the Northern Lighthouse Board website to learn more about the remarkable lighthouse and the bravery of the men who manned it and the local lifeboat crews.

It would be impossible to describe all the geos, rock stacks, natural arches and magnificent cliffs. Suffice to ay it is an exceptional walk. There is a path the whole way and it is easy to follow and predominantly a grassy path. It does go very close to the cliff edge in places. In normal circumstance at would not have troubled us but the strong westerly was buffeting us a round so much that we felt really insecure at times. The wind also meant that no conversation was possible.

We did meet a pair of walkers going in the opposite direction heading for John o Groats  having walked from Land’s End along National Trails. They were the first walkers we have met since Cape Wrath.

We wanted somewhere sheltered from the strong wind for lunch and so we clambered down to this grassy ledge below the cliff top and had a relaxing lunch in the sunshine.

At Freswick Bay we stopped to have the rest of our coffee and enjoyed watching the many birds on the shore.

We walked along the beach to the castle where we crossed the Burn of Freswick by stepping stones close to the beach. There is a bridge close to the castle if the water level is too high.

We passed Bucholly Castle which is a remarkable structure; what remains of it looks so much part of the cliffs. As we walked on and came to the grassy buttress leading to the castle entrance, it looked as if one could walk straight in through the archway. In fact, the castle is built on a stack that is just tenuously attached to the land by a narrow knife edge of rock so, with the wind gusting in excess of 30mph, we made no attempt to cross.

The last 1½ miles was punctuated with yet more arches, stacks and geos. This was undoubtedly the most dramatic stretch of coastline we have walked along, all the more striking in the bright sunshine.

Very near the end of the walk, we were surprised by a pig that came rushing down to the fence we were walking beside. It was soon joined by another, presumably hopeful we had some food for them.

The very last part of the walk was along a narrow, overgrown path between the cliff edge and a fence and, within sight of the car park, we had to climb over a wobbly, wooden fence constructed across the path. We eventually arrived at the Mystery Broch car park around 17.00.

By the end of today’s walk, Jill’s blister was giving her a lot of trouble so she carefully removed the Compeed which hadn’t done much. She drained the fluid and redressed her foot, hoping it would be substantially more comfortable as a result but, at the moment, tomorrow’s walk felt like a daunting prospect.

Tuesday 23rd May 2023

Today we are moving our base to Wick and so we packed up and then headed off to leave a car at East Mey where we will finish. Then we returned to Castletown to resume our walk.

The tide was much further in than last night but it seemed to be going out. We got onto the beach and the walking was very easy on the damp sand which was so smooth it looked as it had been rolled level.

We had planned to turn off into Dunnet village and along the road because there was no path. However, the tide was out far enough that we could just reach the former fishing station by walking over the rocks at the end of the beach.

Here there is a short track up to the top of the low cliffs. We looked at the cliff top and there was space between the wire fence and the cliff edge to walk and there was the hint of a path or possibly animal tracks. We decided to take a chance, accepting that we might need to cross the barbed wire fence if we ran out of space. As it turned out we could walk all the way along the cliff top and just needed to hold on to the fence in a couple of places where the cliff has fallen away.

This brought us to the old harbour, now a picnic area. We could see a clear path heading up the cliffs of Dwarwick Head.

There was full cloud cover and so it felt a little chilly. The path was good and easy to follow. We soon came to Peedie beach (un-named on OS maps) with a steep path by which it could be accessed; we stayed along the cliff top. This part of the walk is dominated by the view of The House of the Northern Gate (or Dwarwick House) perched high up and commanding views over a wide area. Quite what the Northern Gate is I have been unable to find out.

The path faithfully clings to the cliff top. After passing between Loch Bushta and the cliff, it ascends Chapel Hill. The path divides to offer, on the right, a direct climb keeping well away from the cliff edge and on the left side a path that swings around the largely grassy, steep side of Chapel Hill with an inevitable watery grave for anyone who slips. Never one to dodge a challenge we took the seaward path. The path is narrow but walkable, there is one point where an angled  slab of rock will raise a frisson of anxiety and shortly after another slightly less secure section for a few feet. If it all becomes too much, it is possible to scramble up the steep grassy cliff to reach the alternative path.

Thereafter the path provided no more excitement but the cliffs and geos were magnificent and walkers in need of additional adrenaline rushes can crawl to the cliff edge and peer over.

At one point I was taken aback when a deer suddenly appeared from a geo and bounded across the path in front of me. There was obviously enough grass for it be worth grazing there.

There were one or two empty egg shells with remnants of egg yolk running out, likely to have been predated by herring gulls or arctic skuas.

We came to the lighthouse around 12.20. The place was busy with camper vans but sadly there is no café or even a burger van at Dunnet Head.

We had been uncertain whether to follow the east side of Duncansby Head to Brough or take the lighthouse road. Jill thought she would cope better off tarmac and given it was actually more direct along the cliffs, we went for the east side path. Once we got down to the clifftop again, this was quite a good path.

We stopped for a while in the shelter of an old wall and had some of our lunch. As we sat there, we were entertained by the graceful flight of the countless fulmars gliding past on their stiff wings. We could see gannets flying in low formation over the sea and, twice, an arctic skua flew by. We continued on the path pausing to peer over the cliffs and along the geos. The nesting birds looked like people peering out of high rise flats.

It only took an hour to walk from the Head to Brough and to our delight the café there was open and so we went in for a pot of tea and some cake and a general warm up. There was a group of cyclists from Peterborough who were just about to complete their LEJOG and we enjoyed chatting to them while we drank our tea.

When we set off again, we had about seven miles to go. It was nearly all on tarmac; there is no route along the cliff top. From the road we could see the sea quite a lot of the the time but the flat, agricultural land is not very interesting. We had a chat to a man mowing his grass at Ham Farm who told us about the turbulent waters off St John’s Point where the tide from the North Sea meets the tide from the North Atlantic.

Eventually we could see the Castle of Mey which was a favourite resident of the late Queen Mother. We followed a track around the shore at the back of Castle of Mey and took the road to East Mey where we had left the car.

It was a long day but very satisfying in having walked the entire coast of Dunnet Head and topped out. We have now ticked off all the extreme cardinal points on the British mainland.

Monday 22nd May 2023

Unfortunately Jill was going to find today’s walk quite difficult given she now had to walk on quite a large, painful blister. I put a Compeed on it for her last night and she contrived a padded dressing that reduced the friction as she walked. For all the problems Jill has with finding comfortable footwear, this was probably the first significant blister either of us have had during the entire walk. I was happy to rollover the four miles we had in hand from the last 48 hours but I was very doubtful about extending the walk to Castletown as Jill suggested.

We left the car at the Forss Industrial Estate junction and set off. It was quite chilly though the forecast suggested we should get sunshine later.

The Technology Park seemed extremely quiet and what activity there was seemed to belong to “yesterday”. We walked through the wind farm next to the park and along the coast to St Mary’s Chapel.

There was a a slight complicated fence we needed to negotiate but then we were on the path that leads back to the road at Crosskirk from the chapel.

Having crossed the bridge over the River Forss, we headed across to the coast and found a narrow path heading along the low cliffs. We were able to follow this quite readily and had views of the cliffs alongside us.

There was one barbed-wire fence to negotiate. The top strand was quite taught but, putting our piece of pipe insulation over it, we were soon across it.

The walk along the coast was interesting because we were in flagstone country. The cliffs comprise layers of sedimentary rock which splits off into flagstones very readily hence they are used for fences as well as flooring and roofs. The waves crash over the flat ledges leaving a white film as they recede.

Jill was, as usual, taking note of the wild flowers where we were walking. She had paused to take photos of some small purple flowers that she wanted to identify later, and I was too far ahead to realise she had become quite engrossed in the vegetation. She had noticed some tiny primula-like flowers, not much more than 1″ in height and with greyish whorl of leaves at the base of the stem and a cluster of miniature, pink/purple flowers with white and yellow centres. She had never seen them before and they were confined to just a few square yards of the turf. On researching them later, she discovered they were Scottish primrose, a plant that grows only on the coast of Orkney, Sutherland and Caithness. This was something special indeed. If you are interested, follow this link.

At Brims Ness there is another chapel, remains of, but in fact there is little more than a few gravestones. We had a fairly easy walk to Mains of Brims which is a derelict farm.

Here we walked up the road for a 200-300 yards and then took a track back to the cliffs. From here the walking just got better and better. Generally we had turf underfoot which was easier walking for Jill and elsewhere there was a good deal of flagstone which is good to walk on.

We walked past a series of high cliffs, rock stacks and geos and the Atlantic swell  supplied a steady stream of waves, foaming as they broke and smashed against the cliffs.

The cliffs were hosts to fulmars, kittiwakes, razorbills and gulls and the occasional shag.

Near Brims Hill there an impressive quarry from which flagstones were quarried. Indeed the cliffs look exactly like stacks of flagstones. We did encounter one or two fences; generally there was a gate but sometimes inconveniently tied with rope at the top and bottom.

We had coffee, sat on a grassy ledge overlooking a geo and watched the birds.

Continuing along the cliff we came to a fence and walked along the outside of it. We might have been happier if it was not quite so close to the edge at one or two points where slabs have been placed to make it safer. We were glad we were not carrying larger rucksacks which would have risked snagging on the barbed wire.

We came to Holborn Head where the coast turns south to Thurso. Here there is a hole in the ground probably 15′ by 6′ – a narrow blow hole which indeed appears to drop right down to the sea. We really didn’t want to get close enough to the edge to see down but we could hear the sea at the bottom of it. There were no substantial ledges down its almost vertical sides and, with nothing by way of post or fence to mark its presence, it seemed a very real hazard for a distracted walker despite being on part of the path that is well used by people walking from Scrabster a mile away.

We continued along the now well-worn path which the descends to the lighthouse at Scrabster.

We were quite late, having managed to while away a lot of time looking at geos and rock formations and bird-spotting. We called in at the cottage where we are staying since it is on route. We ate our lunch rolls quickly and Jill changed her socks, then did a quick car shuttle to set up the afternoon’s walk. Jill was still determined we should walk all the way to Castletown which would mean we would be a good seven miles ahead of the planned schedule.

Thurso is not a great place these days. The commercial areas are rather rundown, perhaps aggravated by closing down the nuclear facility at Dounreay. The old town is built on a grid structure similar to many Scottish towns built as planned development in the 19th century. The history of Thurso as a settlement goes back about 5000 years but it became a notable trading town under Norse rule in the Middle Ages.

We walked across the pedestrian bridge over the River Thurso and walked along the coast path past the remains of Thurso Castle of which there have been several reincarnations. What remains are the Gothic constructs of the Georgian and Victorian eras.

It was an easy coast walk between fence and the edge of the low cliffs.

We arrived at Murkle Bay and the tide was out and so we walked straight across. It is curious that the there are the remains of WWII tank trap coastal defences because it seems a most unlikely location at which to attempt an invasion .

A path continued but stopped at a small stream and beyond was a fence with plastic piping over a barbed wire strand and electric fence strand which we crossed into a field. We crossed that field of sheep, then there was a double electric fence but electric appeared to be turned off.

We crossed the double electric fence into a field of steers to another fence and dry stone wall which looked difficult to cross. Halfway up the field was a real cat’s cradle of barbed wire metal sheep hurdles and a collapsed wall. We picked our way across this with care.

We crossed the next field but then came to a difficult fence and so we crossed an easier fence to the cliff side and, with some care and a little back-tracking, got down onto the beach.

It was then an easy walk most of the way to Castletown where we passed the harbour to get to a car park close to the beach where we had left a car.

I began to wonder if an individual was just trying to make a few bob out of it. I tried the email contact but got no response. On balance any competent walker should be able to work out their own route but it would still be useful to know about fences and other obstructions on the route.

We walked through the Castletown Heritage Centre where there a stone-built circular tower the purpose of which I have been unable to determine.

Sunday 21st May 2023

Having walked the extra 3 miles yesterday, we start from the junction on the main road by Strathy Inn where we stayed when we cycled to John O’ Groats.

It was a good, clear, sunny morning and no need for waterproofs. We had spent a good deal of time researching the route because there are virtually no marked paths on the OS map. We knew from previous coast walkers that the short section from Strathy to Balligil could be difficult because it is agricultural land divided into small fields which required lots of fence hopping. There is then a short distance of coast before returning almost to the road to cross a gully. We decided to walk the road as far as the difficult gully and then walk the east side of it to bring us to Portskerra.

That all worked well. The road walk did not take long and the walk down the side of the geo was soggy in places but nothing worse and there was occasionally evidence of a path. We just kept outside the fences until we needed to cross them. In one place there was a pedestrian gate tied up in two places and a slightly rickety stile across another fence.

The views of the cliffs were magnificent in the bright sunshine.

We joined the road for few hundred yards then we turned down to the sea shore and then followed an easy path along the grass.

We came to the memorial for men of the village drowned within sight of home. It makes sobering reading.

There was a bench there so we stopped for a coffee. Jill took her right boot and socks off and asked me to check that she did not have a blister behind her middle toe as it felt sore. I told her it was just some hard skin causing friction and she gave it a dusting of foot powder and said she would deal with it this evening.

The path descends to a little quay and then goes along the base of the steep, grassy cliffs to merge with the boulder foreshore. It was walkable but might not be so after heavy rain or at high tide.

We walked around the beach and watched the surfers pursuing waves.

We walked up the bank of the Halladale River to a bridge build by the Royal Engineers in 1987 replacing a suspension bridge, some of the remains of which can still be seen.

Once over the bridge we went past Bighouse and up to the house higher up. Here there is a track through a field but I was worried we might have to negotiate a deer fence to get out again. So we just followed outside the fence up the hill and then turned left to continue following the fence. We found a simple plank bridge over a burn and so it has been used as a path before. I need not have worried about getting out of the field because the fence has all but rusted away.

We walked due north to the cliffs and then turned east and simply followed the coast. In places there was something of a path but I imagine some were just animal trods. Fortunately the ground is covered in grass and heather mainly with occasional wet mossy areas and patches of probable bilberry. 

The effort is well rewarded by excellent views of the cliffs stacks and various geos. The sky was blue, the breeze was very gentle and it was comfortably warm. We could not ask for more.

I was ahead of Jill (as if often the case) and she called me back because I had just walked over an adder without even noticing it. It was lying directly on the narrow trod we were following and Jill had spotted it just in time. I am so glad I did not tread on it.

Near Easter Clett we found a suitable spot for lunch and watched the various birds swooping into their nesting sites. We could have spent a long time there.

After lunch we passed between the sea and Loch na Moine. A herd of deer galloped across the moors and stopped to watch us from just below the crest of a hill.

And then came to Geoodh’ na Moine. We had read reports of a high deer fence and a locked gate, forcing walkers to climb the fence or walk inland. I had tried to get local info from a Caithness walking group and two respondents said that there was no fence now.

I was somewhat dubious about their assertions and with good reason. There very much is a full height deer fence extending as far as the eye can see.

The locked gate has, however, been breached because someone has lifted it off its hinges leaving the rusty padlock and chain still intact. There is still a sheep fence across the gate and various bits of wirework but it was simple enough to walk through.

The walk continued with one or two more geos and then views across to Sandside House, the estate responsible for the land around here.

We crossed a tumbledown wall.

At Geodh Sheumais we dropped down to  cross the geo by a farm bridge made of sleepers. The sleepers very, very rotten but two newer sleepers were safe walk on. 

As we walked along the other side of the geo we spotted a beautiful old stone arch bridge.

For other walkers; just stay outside the collapsed wall and fence line and then walk up the geo until you spot the stone bridge. We continued along the coast eventually dropping down the road at Fresgoe.

As we walked up the road from Fresgoe, a weasel dashed across in front of us then returned across the road and then did so a couple of times more. We were too slow with our cameras to get a photo.

We walked up to the A836 road and stopped at a bench by the golf club so Jill could change out of her boots and into her lighter shoes; we had about five miles of road walking to take us past Dounreay. There is no way along the coast past HMS Vulcan and Dounreay. Attempts are being made to establish a safe walking route around the establishments avoiding the A836. The A836 is a very straight road and vehicles take full advantage of the 60mph speed limit and some. Fortunately on a late Sunday afternoon there was not too much traffic but I imagine the combination of camper-vans, caravans and other road users trying to pass them could be very dangerous. Jill was now struggling with what had become a large blister under her right forefoot and found the last couple of miles very difficult. We ended our walk at Forss where a minor road turns off to the business park there.

Saturday  20th May 2023

Yesterday we drove up from Cumbria for a twelve day, walking session squeezed in before a trip I have to London to see Aida at the Royal Opera House at my son’s invitation and then we have a week of cat-sitting at home in Yorkshire.

After a sunny day yesterday, it was a little overcast this morning but there is a low risk of rain. We had quite a long set up; leaving one car at Strathy Point car park and then driving on to Bettyhill. We have had a fondness for the village since we first came here in 1975. Little has changed over the years except that it has become a a surfing destination. We followed the path from the village to Farr Bay where surfers were already in the water.

There were a few other people walking along the sand; we could see a dog running after a ball that its owner was kicking for it – which was very impressive given its owner was an elderly lady with two prosthetic legs.

We climbed the headland the other side and walked to Clerk Hill then to Farr Village.

Moving on to Swordly, we took a path that connected East and West Swordlys; there was a definite series of pedestrian gates from the road end at West Swordly down a field and across a stream to come to the road on the other side of the valley. This led us to Kirtomy via a shortcut over Druim Mhanais, a small hill.

There is no coast path around the the next peninsula which is nameless on the maps. We decided we would like to do the best we could and visit the Clearance  Village of Poulouriscaig which is quite close to the cliffs. From Kirtomy we took a track up the hillside leading to a radio communications mast of some sort.

Just before the top, a track turns off to the left and heads across country and peters out. We headed in the direction of Poulouriscaig, taking a fairly direct line leading us to Loch Tiormachd which we passed by taking the high ground to the east of the loch. As we descended, we found intermittent evidence of an old path.

This became a definite, if almost lost, path as we reached one of the old boundary walls of the settlement. There are really only the remains of two buildings now but there are a number of old walls forming enclosures for whatever purpose.

From Poulouriscaig there is a decent track all the way to Armadale.

Armadale has a good, sandy beach though nothing as good as Farr Bay or Torrisdale Bay. The beach is between two small rivers which almost guard access to the beach. A path descends from the road to the first river, Allt Beag,  but the footbridge shown on the OS maps is long gone. Fortunately it is easy enough to cross the river where it meets the sea and its flow is divided into several shallow channels.

We crossed the Armadale Burn at the far side in a similar fashion and climbed up to a newly-constructed picnic area for our lunch. By this time we had gone about nine miles of fairly tough walking but only had about three miles to go. I had kept today’s walk on the short side because it was the first day back on the trail after three weeks off, it was  generally over difficult terrain and it was the most distant from our base in Thurso for setting up. Despite the issues we were going well and so we decided that we would include going to the Strathy Point lighthouse and back to the A836 near Stathy Inn; an extra three miles.

After lunch we went through a gate by the new bridge over Armadale Burn (which we could have used had we not already crossed the burn) and climbed the hillside to reach a road at Lednagullin. We following the road northwards almost until its end where we went cross-country to Aultiphurst.

Here there is a steep sided gully but there was a definite series of pedestrian gates and even a wooden bridge over the burn. I crossed very cautiously because, on testing the wood with my walking pole, it went straight through.

From here we made our way to the cliff tops   There is something of a rudimentary path along this section of the coast and a couple of fences to cross though neither posed a problem. The top barbed wire strand had rusted through between a pair of posts making it easy to cross and the other had no barbed wire and so was just a “step over” fence.

We left the “path” to go over to look at the natural arch at Glupie Bhrael.

We continued around the cliff tops following variable paths. We passed the remains of two long-deceased tractors. By the second of these there was a substantial post, like a telegraph pole, supporting a steel cable that disappeared over the cliff edge to a beach below. It was no longer tensioned and so I assume not used. Presumably it had been used for hauling some up from or letting things down to the beach below. Perhaps the remains of the tractor were what had powered this aerial runway. (I have now found in Charles Compton’s blog, a photo taken in 2018 of the post and cable apparently still in working order).

We came to a deep gully going in from the sea and ending at Aultivuilin. This gully is not crossable and so we followed the fence to the settlement to Aultivuillin. It was a bit of a surprise to see a mobile library parked at this remote settlement but since it was loaded with books we assumed that the driver probably lives there and brings his work home.

Here we struck a line for Druim all a’ Mhuilinn which at just 90m is the highest point around and gave us our first glimpse of Strathy Point Lighthouse.

We passed to the west of Totegan where the car was parked and joined the lighthouse road just before the lighthouse.

By now it had started raining. There is a small lochan next to the lighthouse in which someone has placed a miniature lighthouse.

There was little to linger for at the lighthouse and so we walked back to the car. Despite the weather, Jill wanted to add in the three miles back to Strathy Inn and so we did a quick two-car-shuffle and walked the extra miles. This means we have three miles in the bank for tomorrow and will only have to drive along the main road to get to the start.

Wednesday 26th April 2023

This is the twelfth day of this walking session and and we are both beginning to feel like we need a day off. Tomorrow we go home so we will have several days off before we return in not much over two week’s time. I fear that Tongue to Bettyhill sounds no better than yesterday’s walk.

We packed up at the Shepherd’s hut where we have been staying very happily for three nights. We had a long setup for today’s walk. It was a fifty minute drive to Bettyhill and then half an hour back to Tongue. It snowed last night and so we had to scrape the snow off the cars but fortunately the roads were clear. It was  a beautiful morning. Unfortunately not far after Loch Eriboll, the snow started again and it really snowed quite hard so, by the time we had got to Bettyhill, the land was covered in snow and the roads were beginning to get slushy. We had quite a lot of cross-country walking today and these conditions would make route-finding more challenging and certainly slow us down. We were really quite relieved when we got back to Tongue and the snow ceased just as we were about to start walking.

As we were leaving the car, a Dutch couple on laden bikes stopped to say hello. They had passed us heading into Tongue yesterday and so were curious to know about our walk. They were also heading for Bettyhill but taking the minor road around the southern end of the Kyle of Tongue; that was the only option before the causeway was constructed in 1971.

Our walk took us on a minor road to Coldbackie and then along a path to another minor road to Scullomie from where we were going to find our way cross-country to the deserted settlement of Sletell.

As we left Tongue we passed a bakery and café. It was just gone 10 am and the cafe had just opened. It is open the year round. It was too early to stop for coffee but we bought a couple of cinnamon whirls (not cheap) to eat later on. Fresh baking has been very much lacking in our recent experience of the Highlands.

As we passed the last house in Scullomie a man drove up and got out of his car. He informed us that the path continued  to a gate and a bridge across a stream and then there is nothing. That was no worse than we expected.

We found the gate and the bridge and then we found a path that continued in the right direction and we followed it. It was a narrow path but it was unmistakeable. We followed it for half the way to Sletell.

I then lost the path but we could see the remains of the buildings of Sletell and so we just continued in the general direction and picked up the path again. We came to a barbed wire-topped fence with no gate or stile visible. However we noticed someone had been here before and  tied the bottom two strands of wire together using sheep’s wool. This left enough space to crawl under the bottom strand which was easier than trying to get over barbed wire at this height.

Jill shared a photo of me crawling under the fence and Emily very quickly responded: “Yikes – I hope the badger came to return the favour”.

From the fence it was a only a few hundred yards to the buildings of Sletell. This small settlement was initially surveyed on behalf of Lord Reay who proposed four houses a mile from his proposed harbour but the Sutherland Family acquired Lord Reay’s interests  and adjusted the size of the settlements as opposed to a complete clearance. ( I cannot recall where I discovered this reference). There were three crofts here and it was said in 1978 that the last residents departed “about thirty years ago” (From the Historic Environment Record). Certainly one cottage has the rusting remains of a a simple stove and oven which would fit with the early 20th century.

I made a bit of a mess getting to the track that leads from Sletell. Jill complained that I was not giving her clear instructions as to which overall direction and had started tracking up the side of this gully but I knew we had to cross the water course and head up the other side so called her back.

Unfortunately the far side was a steep bank of heather with only a rocky gully to follow up which, I had to agree, was potentially ankle-turning.

Once we got to the top of the ridge, we could see the path we wanted and then followed that to Strathan. We passed another remote craft workshop as we did so – this time one making Scottish jewellery; easier to post than pottery!

(The map shows two settlements called Skerray in any event we went through both.) From the first Skerray we followed a track to Clashvan.

From Clashvan we tried to find the path shown on the map that follows down to a crossing point over the burn just below the trees before going up into Lamigo but either we were too high or the path no longer exists. There was an obvious trod down across the field below the cottage so we back-tracked and cut across to that which took us down to a very rickety wooden bridge close to Lamigo Bay.

We could see the back of a sign on the gate on the far side of the bridge which Jill was convinced would say “Do not cross. Unsafe bridge.” With no real alternative, she gingerly went across testing her weight at each footfall and it was fine. The sign had long-since lost its message to the elements.

We then went through the newish gate on the far side and had an easy walk up to the track.

Lamigo itself doesn’t exist on the 1:50,000 map but there were a couple of occupied properties there. Then there is a good track up the valley to the road which we followed to the second Skerray.

We stopped and sat on a big log and had a late lunch at around 2pm. It was really warm in the sunshine.

There is a a row of old cottages with thatched/turf roofs in Skerray.

A short distance further brought us to Torrisdale where we reached the sea once again.

There are two rivers flowing into Torrisdale Bay. We followed up the River Borgie  a short way where a series of bridges cross the river to the huge, sandy beach of Torrisdale  Bay.

Fortunately the tide had recently turned and was far enough out that we could walk around the headland on the sand. It was absolutely beautiful with white, breaking waves rolling in and we were the only people on the beach. Once around the headland we walked up the second river, the River Naver to Invernaver and from there on to the A836.

Just  a few yards along the road we spotted a sheep in trouble. It looked as if it had got itself cast in a dip in the ground near the fence and was struggling to right itself but was almost fitting, frothing at the mouth and rolling its eyes. Its poor lamb was hovering around utterly bewildered and frightened. Jill helped the sheep up but it soon went down again, legs flailing. Maybe it had metabolic problems or had been cast long enough to get into a state of confusion. We could do no more to help but Jill insisted on taking the next turning that lead up to a farm where she hoped to find someone. She flagged down a truck and the driver seemed to know the local situation and went off to investigate. When we passed the corner of the field in the car a little later, we could see the sheep on her feet and grazing so it would seem all was well.

We walked on up into Bettyhill to our car; a memorable Day 275  was completed.

Tuesday 25th April 2023

It was a very cold morning but the wind had dropped a little. It took over an hour to get one car to Tongue and then back to Laid. I apologise if “Laid to Tongue” sounds like some sexual manoeuvre but they are genuine places and we did go the whole way.

The walk was entirely on road. We had decided a while ago that we were not going to attempt to walk around A’ Mhòine. It is a largely pathless peninsula. We know of only one other coast walker who did this though there may be others. It is clearly possible but there are no paths and so the whole way is yomping over moorland for about 16 miles. There is no habitation until one reaches the Melness road. The walk would be a very full day and so we decided to stick with the road.

Our walk was not difficult. We walked to the southern end of Loch Eriboll where there is a bridge over the river. Loch Eriboll is a very deep loch and for this reason it was used as a safe haven for warships.

As we turned north up the east coast of Loch Eriboll, Jill spotted  a pair of Great Northern Divers. Further on near Ard Neackie we spotted another pair.  Already Loch Eriboll was showing us more interest than yesterday.

Walking up the east shore the road swings away from the shore to skirt around an unexpected area of verdant agricultural land and the village of Eriboll.

There is very little of the village but there is still a white-painted church. This 19th century church was restored in 2019 by the Danish Anders Holch Povlsen. There is a memorial to the crew of HMS Hood within. All but three of the crew of 1418 perished in 1941 when it was sunk by the Bismark. In 1934 HMS Hood had been moored in Loch Eriboll for several months and the crew had picked out the the ship’s name in stones above Laid.

Continuing up the hill past the church, the road then contours round a rocky headland before hugging the shoreline as far as Ard Neackie. We found a suitable rock on the foreshore to perch on to have some coffee and flapjack and spotted the second pair of loons.

Jill decided to use the local “facilities” to have a pee – she crossed the road to a small copse of trees offering some privacy from the road. She is fairly sure that this was when she picked up a hitchhiker – when she had a shower in the evening, she found a recently-attached tick on her tummy and this seemed like the only opportunity for a tick to climb on board. Take care in the undergrowth! Just as we were setting off again, a whole motoring club of classic sports cars sped past us, presumably enjoying the challenge of the NC500 even if they weren’t looking at the scenery.

Ard Neackie is a curious island connected to the mainland by a narrow isthmus or tombola. Limestone was quarried just behind the kilns where a small lake persists. The resulting quick lime was shipped out from the little jetty where a ferry also crossed the loch.

The road then climbs over to the settlement of Hope and crosses the River Hope. The river drains Loch Hope, a freshwater loch almost as long as Loch Eriboll.

There is a large house there which is having a very large extension and there were some other civil engineering projects on the go which seemed like a lot of activity in such a tiny settlement. We also heard a cuckoo calling which makes it two definite and a possible third that we have heard in four days; it is good to know that cuckoos are surviving and possibly thriving in the far north of Scotland. Whilst I was trying to get a recording of the cuckoo on my phone, Jill went on ahead just out of Hope and managed to find a good spot for our lunch in some woodland beside the road where there were a couple of suitable rocks to sit on; we were about to head up a hill out across bleak moorland where we knew there would be nothing to sit on and little shelter from the strong wind. The spot Jill had found was really quite warm in the sunshine. I eventually managed to get a brief recording of the cuckoo. 

We set off after lunch with about seven miles to go.  The road climbs up to the moors of A’ Mhòine which is a desolate area lacking in any features natural or otherwise to distract us. There were excellent distant views of Ben Hope and Ben Loyal to the south with a light covering of fresh snow on them.

The ground looks quite boggy and walking across it in the absence of proper paths would probably be very hard work and so we were quite glad we were not walking the 16 mile loop around its northern perimeter. As we got over the top we could look down onto the Kyle of Tongue with its bridge and causeway, the farthest of which being where we had left the car.                                                                                                    

Monday 24th April 2023

After an exhausting day yesterday, we slept well in the Shepherd’s hut but we had stiffened up a good deal. Jill has developed a sizeable bruise from her fall. We walked an extra couple of miles yesterday and so we have two miles in hand for today. Jill is dead set on rolling them over for tomorrow to reduce what is an even longer day although it is all on the road.

We drove to the car park at Keoldale and started walking around the Balnakeil peninsula. There was a bitterly cold north wind and we had layered up for warmth. Two days ago we were sweltering on 19 degrees today we were barely above freezing with a wind chill making it feel several degrees below zero.

After the short walk as far as the slipway for the ferry, the path follows the coast over a mixture of low cliffs and sand dunes. In places the path is quite narrow and near the edge of the low cliffs but we stopped frequently to admire the scenery. After two miles there is a wire fence which crosses the peninsula from side to side. Jill had been leading and following a sheep track rather than our route, so we had ended up higher and further inland than intended.

I went on down the dunes looking for a suitable crossing point and Jill had stopped higher up by the fence. She noticed what she thought was a dead badger at the base of the fence but then realised it was moving and called me back. The poor animal had been trying to get through the fence but was completely stuck.

The fence was a standard square wire sheep fence which a badger would not normally try to get through. However, at this particular point two pieces of the fence had been joined one above the other with a length of multi-strand twisted high-tensile steel wire. This meant the the gaps were bigger than elsewhere and so the badger had tried to get through. He had got his head, forelegs and abdomen through but the hips were firmly stuck and would not budge.

Jill immediately went to the rescue as I warned her to beware of the badgers’ renowned sharp teeth but the poor animal was obviously exhausted and it looked as if it had probably been stuck there at least overnight. It was pure serendipity that we had found him. We tried to help the badger squeeze its rear end through but it was too tight. It may surprise my readers (at least the ones who know me) that I do not routinely carry a pocket pair of wire cutters. In fact we had considerably less with us than usual ; Jill also carries a Swiss Army knife but we had left our rucksacks at the shepherd’s hut intending to pick them up when we called in for coffee on our way past.

We wiggled and jiggled but to no avail. The badger occasionally made grunting noises and was desperately trying to dig deeper into the sand with its front paws. Fortunately we could see that it was still able to move its hind feet and Jill could not feel any cuts in the skin where it had been pulling against the wire.

I then suggested we find the the end of this twisted cable and undo it until we had enough slack to make space for the badger. We did manage to undo some of this wire and then, using my knife as a lever, fed a couple of inches of slack back to where the badger was caught. We then had the wire that was around the badger’s abdomen free of the fence and Jill had to hang on to the badger very firmly to stop the animal heading off, trailing the length of wire still tight around its middle. The wire cable had an outer multifilament layer of fine but incredibly strong wire wound around a solid central core but the way the cable had been attached had kinked the cable in a permanent fashion making it extremely difficult to feed it through the toggle through which it had been threaded. Our fingers were just not strong enough to unbend these kinks.

I had my Swiss Army knife in my jacket pocket and had already tried using that but all the elements of the fence were much too strong for a penknife to have any impact. Then I hit upon the idea of getting my penknife blade under a single strand of the twisted cable and with considerable force I was able to snap a single strand at a time. The process just needed to be repeated several times over so that the thinned-down wire core would pass through the toggle securing it and give us about two inches of play. Eventually we succeeded in creating just enough slack that, with great effort and one of us to each hind leg, we pushed on the poor animal’s hindquarters and fed the skin through and finally the legs went through and the badger was free. He limped off but he had the use of all four limbs and disappeared too quickly into the dunes for Jill to get her camera out. Cutting through strands of cable had done nothing for my knife but I can sharpen it when we get home. A small price to pay for saving the badger’s life.

That delay put us nearly an hour behind schedule; we continued around the peninsula.

After clambering over a low wall and crossing some fields, we came back into Durness a few yards from where we are staying  and so, as planned, we called in for coffee in comfort and warmth.

We then had to do the two-car-shuffle to put a car at the end of the afternoon’s walk which we extended almost to the head of Loch Eriboll rather than just to Laid as I had planned. As we got back to Durness at lunch time, we again sat in the warm comfort of the shepherd’s hut to eat our sandwiches. This meant we only started walking again at about 2pm with twelve miles to walk, not all of it on the road. Fortunately it remained dry but quite windy.

The walk around Leinbeg was interesting. This was the location of the Leinbeg Sando Radar station which monitored the area from the Butt of Lewis to the Orkneys. Remains of many of the buildings are visible.

From here we dropped down to Smoo cave, crossed the river and climbed up the other side. Smoo cave is unique in Britain having the outer cave formed by action of the sea and the inner chambers formed by the action of freshwater from above.

We walked as much as we could of the Smoo Peninsula but the fences were unhelpful.

Once that was done we were on road for the rest of the day. The A838 is a single track road with passing places. Fortunately it was not too busy but the majority of vehicles were camper-vans. These vehicles are rather wide and the drivers often not that skilled and are poor at assessing the space they need. Once again we very nearly got clipped by one particular camper van.

After the beautiful beach of Traigh Allt Chailgead which has a zip-wire across it, the road turns south to follow the west shore of Loch Eriboll.

The walk was somewhat lacking in interest. The road is relatively straight and, though the loch is long and deep, neither it nor the surrounding hills are that impressive. We did manage a brief stop for some coffee from our flasks near Laid. There is a café in Laid but, of course, it was closed. We also passed a pottery at Laid; I am always curious about these remote potters and wonder about the economics of getting clay and the cost of electricity for firing and then transporting the finished work. After that, we only had a couple of miles to go to where the car was parked near the southern end of the loch. We finished at 6pm.

Sunday 23rd April 2023

The best thing I can say for our stay at the lighthouse it that it was interesting experience and not to be repeated. I am not sure that “interesting” is the adjective Jill would choose.

Presumably Angie decided that a bucket was no longer appropriate with the arrival of another senior happy camper and so, as we bedded down, we had no means of relieving ourselves and we could not readily get outside without disturbing the electricians.

We did not sleep especially well, the bunk room was cold as we couldn’t leave the gas fire alight overnight and the light of the lighthouse flashed across the room in its monotonous routine.  I managed a few hours’ sleep but Jill rather less and we each whiled away some time working out the exact timing of the lighthouse flashes. In addition a storm was raging outside with the wind banging anything that was not secure and forcing its draughts around doors and windows. Intermittently the rain lashed against the windows. Jill, awake anyway and realising she would be better dressed if she needed to go for a pee, put on her clothes at 4am and by 6am we both decided we needed to have a pee. (Our German walker clearly had a bladder the size of a Zeppelin). We found our way through the store room then crept through the café where the electricians were sleeping and wrestled with the outer door and eventually got it open. The door to the owners’ part of the building was indeed locked and so there was no alternative but for Jill to bare her bum to the fury of a Cape Wrath storm. At least there was no one to observe.

Eventually we got our breakfast and departed the lighthouse at about 8.45. Jill left a few minutes before me because our German walker sneaked into the loo whilst I was paying and I had to wait some time for my turn whilst the Zeppelin emptied.

I have gone on about the shortcomings of the lighthouse but we were very grateful to be staying in a solid building and not camping out in this terrible wind. Anyone thinking of staying there should be aware that there is no electricity, no hot water and only a single basin with cold water in the only toilet. Oh, and though bed linen is provided, towels are not – so bring your own. Angie and her father were both kind, courteous and very helpful and do their best in difficult circumstances in a very remote location. For those who have camped their way up the CWT it must seem like luxury. It was £40 per head, though, so it was not especially cheap.

So what about the walk?

The wind was still incredibly strong and rain was at 90% risk throughout the day as I set off to follow Jill. The track from the lighthouse goes almost due south and curves around Dunan Mor, a hill of 167m, and then turns westward when, all of a sudden, there was some respite from the wind. Fortunately for most of the rest of the walk to the jetty we were ½ to 1 mile inland which spared us the full force of the wind.

The track winds around the contours a good deal. About 20 minutes after setting off, I could see Jill well ahead of me; she had just passed the turn off to the jetty at Clais Charnach. Apparently she had seen me too and waved her poles in greeting but I missed that.

A couple of miles further on and Jill seemed more distant than ever – but I suspect she was still burning off a lot of frustration over the lighthouse and had not been stopping to take any photos as she had her camera packed away in her rucksack given the weather.

At the bridge over the Kervaig River there is an MOD check point.

There is a track off to the left that goes to Kervaig Bay where there is a bothy. In these conditions we did not want to walk a mile there and back for sake of viewing the bay. I understand that the bothy is maintained by the MOD and is very good and often used by walkers as an alternative to the lighthouse.

As we walked we were assaulted by intermittent rain and hail showers though none of them persisted for very long.

The old lighthouse road I remember from running the Cape Wrath Marathon here in 2012. The road is an old tarmac track and generally the surface even then was fairly poor though some of the larger potholes had been filled prior to the race. Indeed it is now so degraded and has so much loose stone that it is considered unsafe to use as the route for racing. Sadly, the Cape Wrath Marathon persists in name only and the Cape Wrath Marathon now uses what used to be the bad weather route on “landside” of the Kyle of Durness.

When I ran the marathon, we were ferried across the Kyle and started off in small groups from the jetty, running the 11 miles along the hilly track to run around the lighthouse then back to the jetty where they stopped the clock. You then retrieved the bag of warm clothes you wore before the start and put them on again while waiting for the ferry to return a boatful of runners across the Kyle. On landside, outer clothes were once again left in the minibus, the clock was restarted and you ran the final 4.2 miles (uphill) to the Village Hall. It was a wonderful week-long community event with all manner of running events, including for children, culminating in the marathon itself. In the evening, a fantastic feast of local food with presentation of the beautifully engraved glass trophies followed by a ceilidh. Runners of all types returned year after year not least because the wonderful hospitality made it such an enjoyable event. It was certainly what prompted Jill to subsequently start running at the ripe old age of 56.

The track crosses rather featureless moorland that can become a little monotonous. On the marathon I watched for the milestones and counted them off and I looked out for other runners but there were only 120 of us in all so we were soon well spaced out and generally the only other competitors I saw were those on the return leg from the lighthouse. There were no spectators and I had only my watch to tell me how I was doing – maybe that’s why I ran what was then a PB but the race was certainly a distinct case of the “The Loneliness of the long-distance runner”.

The moorland had no more features now than it had when I ran along the track 11 years ago. We saw no-one and no wildlife.

With the Kyle of Durness at last coming into view, I finally caught up with Jill. She quipped that she thought I might enjoy reliving the experience of overtaking slower folk, anticipating (correctly) that I would find it hard to now moderate my pace and walk with her.

Gradually the track descends towards the Kyle of Durness. I was (obviously) ahead at this point and heard a cry from behind and turned to see Jill flat on the ground. She had fallen, probably from rolling on a loose stone on the track. In any event, she had fallen heavily on her side but fortunately not hit her head. She was in a lot of pain from her left hip and I feared she had a fractured neck of femur. However, her foot was still in-line so, once she had taken a moment to recover from the shock, we took off her rucksack and I helped her to her feet. We were both relieved to find she could weight-bear. I realised she could have an impacted fracture but having left my pocket X-ray machine at home all we could do was to see how she could manage. My wife is a TOB and after a few hundred yards she had proved that she could still manage to walk. She has found countless times on this venture that most issues are best resolved by keeping moving.

We came to the Kyle of Durness at Achiemore and here the track turns south but we were exposed to the wind funnelling down the Kyle. Having walked for over three hours non-stop, we hunkered down behind a bridge parapet, being the only shelter we could find, to have a coffee at midday.  Quite unexpectedly we heard a cuckoo calling from the birch trees just further along the side of the track.

In fact we would not be walking to the jetty today because there was no ferry and so, shortly before the lighthouse track descends to the ferry, we took a rough track winding up into the hills to walk down the side of the Kyle of Durness.

Angie (from the lighthouse) had advised us to stay high as the edge of the loch was very boggy. The route we followed worked quite well.

At times we seemed to be on a used path but other times we lost it. We came to a deep gully that we had been forewarned of from other blogs. The burn, Allt Coire Fresgill, tumbles its way to the sea through this gully. We managed to find a safe route down the side of the gully and then cross the burn and then clambered up the other side.

Here we came to a fence as shown on the map. We followed this uphill a short way and the fence turned southwest to follow, roughly, the contours. We followed this until it dropped down to the footbridge over the Grudie River.

Angie had said that she often didn’t use the bridge because there were easy crossing places further down stream. That was not the impression we got when we arrived at the river considering we had just had a week with almost no rain.

Once across the river, we used a farm track in the direction of Grudie and then a nice, grassy path over the end of Rubh a Griudaidh which eventually brought us to the A838.

Now all we had was a three mile road walk to the car at Keoldale. We would have left the car near the footbridge but when we thought we were going to get a ferry ride across the Kyle we had changed our plans. The “simple” three-mile walk to the car required huge physical effort as as it was straight into the wind which was blowing at around 40mph and even so there were gusts that literally stopped us in our tracks. We reached the car at 4pm extremely tired and very windswept.

We now just had to drive back to retrieve the other car from Blairmore and go to our “Shepherd’s hut” in Durness.

I am writing this in the superb shepherd’s hut having had a hot shower, a good meal, radiators are belting out heat, we have lights and TV, there is a toilet 15 feet away and no German has got their towel down. It is wonderful to be back in the real world; last night now seems but a distant memory.

Saturday 22nd April 2023

We just had an hour’s drive to Blairmore because we left the other car at Keoldale yesterday. 

We are starting on a two day trek across one of the most remote parts of Scotland. I have mentally been planning and looking forward to this section above all others ever since we set off in November 2019. This is also the final part of the Cape Wrath Trail. I had imagined we would have to camp on this stage or possibly make use of the bothy at Kervaig. However, at some point, I discovered that the lighthouse offers bunkhouse accommodation and this seems an ideal way of splitting the walk of about twenty-eight miles to the road near Durness. The other confounding factor is that the area around Cape Wrath is an MOD live firing range. The MOD only publish details of when the range will be open a few days before the following month. We had planned our walk to coincide with the weekend because they never fire on Sundays and infrequently on a Saturday and usually reopen the range by 5pm. That meant that in the worst eventuality we could have walked to the edge of the range on Saturday and wait at the edge of the range until 5pm and then walk the last few miles to the lighthouse in the evening. In fact when the MOD did publish firing times for April they were actually reopening the range to the public at midnight on Friday night which was why there was a group of CWT walkers also heading for Cape Wrath today. We have a walk of about twelve miles which is pathless beyond Sandwood Bay.

This morning we had lost the clear skies and, in the absence of any direct sun, it felt distinctly chilly. The weather forecast was not that good either. There may be showers today but a low is moving in off the North Atlantic bring storm force winds and heavy rain and, although that will probably not arrive until the evening, tomorrow may turn out to be a tough day. I swapped my coat for a warmer one before we left the car.

We had managed to leave Inchnadamph quite early and set off from the car at Blairmore at about 8.30. The first 4.5 miles are on a good track across the moor. The wind was quite cold and there was full cloud cover. 

We arrived at Sandwood bay and any campers on the Cape Wrath Trail had already long departed. The tide was right in and so we could only walk the south part of the beach as far as the river crossing.

After having stepping-stoned the river, with the tide in too far to walk any further along the sand, we had no choice but to climb up the cliffs and over the headland. There were several rudimentary bits of path here created by walkers like us, thwarted by the high tide. This brought us to Strathan Chailleach where the second river discharging into Sandwood Bay flows. This is roughly where we had planned to come up from the beach.

We crossed the second river; Amhain Strath Chailleach.

The route we were taking was roughly what we had learned by reading other people’s accounts and is apparently the route suggested to walkers heading south by the people at the lighthouse. We headed uphill between Cnoc a’ Gheodha Rhuaid and a Loch of the same name.

It was mainly grass and heather and in places there was evidence of a path of sorts. I suspect we could have walked on the seaward side of this hill because the ground is all fairly even and the grass and heather was quite manageable especially at this time of year.

From there we contoured around the hill and descended to the cliff tops above Rubh’ an t-Socaich Ghlais and followed the cliffs round to the Bay of Keisgaig.

Just before Keisaig river there is a wire fence delineating the start of the MOD range. Even though we knew the range had reopened eleven hours ago, it was still a relief to find there was no red flag. Our concern was that they might have forgotten to take the red flag down and we would have to assume we couldn’t enter the range – until someone turned up to remove it.

After crossing the stile we looked to find a suitable crossing point of the R. Keisgaig. There had been some obvious footfall down the bank to where there were some stones that could be used as stepping stones and I decided to go across here. Jill was not happy with having to step across to a narrow, wet angled rock and went upstream a little to where she could safely wade across on the river bed by putting on her Feetz wellies over her walking boots. It meant she crossed to a fairly steep bank but managed to pick her way back down to join me where I was able to help pull her wellies off again.

The next stage was a fairly steep climb to a pass to the east of Sithean Na h-lolaireich between the aforementioned and Cnoc a’ Ghiubhais.  Once again this grass, heather and sandy earth was fairly easy to climb.

At the top of the pass we headed due north to Clais Leobairnich, a deep gully that runs inland from the sea. The descent is very gentle.

We were keen to find somewhere offering a little bit of shelter for our lunch and eventually dropped into a depression at the side of the gully where we hunkered down to eat our sandwiches and have some coffee. The wind had picked up considerably from the morning and it was quite chilly.

At the lip of the gully we turned east and followed it until it petered out and another 400 yards further brought us to the the old road to the lighthouse.

Now we were only 1 ½ miles from the lighthouse; spurred on by the realisation that we were indeed nearly there, we reached the lighthouse at about 3pm.

We paused at the entrance to the lighthouse to take our photos then walked in to meet our hosts and catch up with Rachel and the other walkers we expected to be there.

As we approached the building, a man in overalls greeted us and asked our names. We said we were booked to stay at the lighthouse and he told us that all the other walkers were going to be moving on today, not staying and catching the minibus to the ferry tomorrow as planned; there was a considerable storm moving in with extreme winds so the ferry was cancelled. We would not be getting a ferry ride across the Kyle after all. However, the minibus driver had come across this afternoon in his dinghy (not licensed as a ferry) and will drive the minibus up to the lighthouse to take the others to the jetty. He suggested we might like to go too but we explained we intended to walk from the lighthouse so would have to stay overnight as planned.

We went on inside and the others were there waiting for the minibus. We chatted to Rachel who very kindly used her satellite beacon to send a message to Emily, our daughter, to let her know we were safely at the lighthouse since at first neither of us seemed to have a phone signal. Shortly afterwards, Jill’s older, “hand-me-down” iPhone found a good signal so direct communication with family became possible – but Cliff’s newer phone didn’t wake up until we were nearly at the jetty the next day!

The wind was already picking up quite considerably so, while it was still dry, we walked up to the very tip of Cape Wrath to see the cliffs.

The minibus didn’t leave the lighthouse until gone 5pm and it will take an hour or more for it to drive along the track to get to the jetty. From there the walkers will have a tough cross-country walk to get around the Kyle of Durness to the road and then another few miles up to the village if they wanted to use the campsite and facilities. A couple of lads had already walked the last two days of the CWT today to avoid camping at Sandwood Bay and walking to the lighthouse in the storm; they were going to be exhausted by the time they got to the road this evening. Tomorrow we do the same route as far as the car at Keoldale – but without the minibus.

I suggested I took a better photo of Cliff at the lighthouse and then we asked Angela, who runs the lighthouse café and bunkhouse, if she could take a photo of us together. I managed to send this to the family to reassure them we were OK.

Angela showed us the bunkroom which was through the door at the back of the café. The bunk room was a room within a room.   It was a partitioned-off area of the old lighthouse workshops. This has been done to provide a cosier room for sleeping in but it was not warm and we would need to use the Calor gas stove later. The bunkhouse has been brightly decorated and sleeps six in beds, four of which were bunks. There are a few additional mattresses for times when larger groups arrive.

The rest of the public rooms comprises only the Ozone Café with its metal chairs and that is chilly.

We chose the two single beds, glad that at least we would have the room to ourselves and unpacked what we needed for the night.

To get to the only loo, we had to retrace our steps back through the “store” and the café, go outside and in through another door further down which seemed to be where Angela and her father actually lived. That lead into this hallway – the green door of the loo had a notice asking that it only be flushed “if necessary” as there was a water shortage. A grubby towel hung on the back of the door and there was a basin with cold water. We had not brought a towel so would not be having a wash tonight.

Angela told us that, due to the weather, she would have to lock the door to the part of the building with the toilet from the inside, to keep the cats in. However, she could provide us with a bucket. (Oh, joy!). Then she announced that there were two electricians who had come in with the minibus to start installing solar panels and they would be sleeping on the floor of the café which was the only way out from the bunk room. This seemed to mean we were effectively going to be locked in with nothing more than a bucket. This was becoming the stuff of nightmares.

All of a sudden we were alone in the Ozone Café. It was cold; there is no electricity at the lighthouse other than provided by a generator which they use in the winter and Angela offered to charge Cliff’s phone for him from a car battery. We had brought a camping lantern with us that doubled as a phone-charger and Cliff had a battery pack which I used to charge my phone.

We had a bowl of soup to warm us up and then ordered a macaroni cheese and chips each for supper for about 7pm. Fortunately I had my Kindle with me and so I sat reading and Jill had some word puzzles from yesterday’s Times. The weather was deteriorating now with the wind whipping around the lighthouse buildings.

By the time supper arrived we were ravenous and tucked in heartily, sitting as close to the Calor gas stove as we could get and eating by candlelight. During supper there was an urgent rattling and knocking on the café door. The door is a very sticky affair and I went to give it a good welt and welcomed in another walker out of the raging storm.

This was the same woman that Jill had encountered at the loo at Rhiconich but we had not guessed she was heading to Cape Wrath; she had a very small rucksack, smaller than our daypacks and was wearing a rather flimsy-looking, waterproof and mesh-topped trainer like shoes. She was obviously chilled through and I suggested she should warm herself in front of the gas fire. She ordered a supper and, as I tried to start some conversation, it transpired that she too had been on the Cape Wrath Trail and within her pack she had a tiny tent which was supported by her walking poles. Despite this, she seemed to us to be lamentably poorly prepared for adverse conditions. However she did have a satellite beacon which she shortly used to check-in with her husband. It would seem it had taken her some ten hours to do the walk we had done in six.

Soon after 9pm we were chilling off and and so I said it was time to go to bed. Back in the bunk room, our German walker warned us that she was a snorer.

So we were not alone in the bunk room tonight after all. Was this the start of some grim gothic novel? What has become of the rest of the Famous Five? Will Timmy the dog come to their rescue? Is the late arrival from the storm really a German spy and will there still be lashings of lemonade and cake for tea? Read tomorrow’s exciting instalment of “Lighthouse of Horrors”.