30th November (day 269)

I woke just as the sun was coming up,  gradually as I regained consciousness the sky turned salmon pink. After having breakfast and packing away I set off still following the same road I'd been on for days. It felt like it would never end. As I hiked I kept looking across the loch, it was getting narrower which meant I would soon be at the top, or bottom depending on how you looked at it. I'd hiked about two miles when I felt a twinge in my right leg. I kept going for a bit, limping a little but eventually decided to take a break to rest up.

During the 3000 odd miles I've hiked since starting the expedition my body has had to put up with alot of poundings, falls, sprains, cuts and bruises. I've been really quite lucky that nothing serious has happened,  there have been several occasions where an injury could have ended my journey. With another 3000 miles or so to go I can only hope that my luck continues.

After taking the short break it was time to sling the pack back on and continue hiking. Passing Strontian I ceased the opportunity to grab a few packets of boiled sweets and 20 bags of green lemon tea. I'm not a big fan of green tea or any herbal teas for that matter but with only £4 in my pocket it was all I could afford.

The day was turning out lovely, the skies were still clear and the water was calm. I'd considered paddling hoolley across but I could now see the end of the loch and figured it would be just as quick for me to continue hiking round. Reaching the other side I decided to check how many meals I still had left in my pack. 4 breakfasts,  6 mains and a custard and apple desert. Not a bad tally. I was feeling hungry, I think the colder air takes it out of you a bit, so I pulled out  a packet of chicken with noodles in a black bean sauce and stopped for a lunch break. This was a rare treat but one that I felt my body needed.

Whilst chomping away on my lunch I gazed out over the loch the view was supurb. Looking along it I noticed a mist had begun to roll in changing the view quite dramatically. By the time I'd finished my chicken and noodles the mist had engulfed the entire loch and the temperature dropped significantly. I packed my saucepan, which was no longer round but more egg shaped, and stove away and begun the long hike back to the coast.  I was expecting it to take at least three maybe four days.

A good few miles later,  Finding a junction,  I left the main road.  When I say main road I mean single  tarmac lane. It was now heading on for 3pm which meant that the light would soon fade away into darkness. Not wanting to end up, as I did the night before, fumbling around in the dark looking for a place to camp I began keeping an eye out. Passing a river I stopped to fill up my empty water bottles not knowing where I'd next get the opportunity, which as it turns out was pretty much every couple of hundred yards.

About an hour later I found myself next to a woodland, it wasn't level by any stretch of the imagination but looking ahead was considerably more inviting than what was coming up. The slopes of the hills stretching far off into the distance were fairly steep and it looked like the woods were thinning out down near the waters edge. I made a judgement call to stop there thinking it would probably be the best I could hope to find whilst I still had light. The short days during these winter months are really quite a pain in the arse. I knew that given more daylight hours I'd be able to cover considerably more ground and maybe with a decent torch I'd have better luck in the night finding places to stop but unfortunately that wasn't a luxury I had. Choosing the levelist part of the slope next to the remains of an old tree I pitched up the coffin, which was now in quite a sorry state with small rips and holes and the poles slowly beginning to split. It wouldn't be long before the coffin would no longer be useful which on the positive side would mean less weight to carry but at the same time would mean I'd have to find more places to string up the tarp or forgo shelter altogether.

With camp made and the cold beginning to chill the sweat soaked into my tshirts I climbed into the coffin and rehydrated some chilli con carne and made a mug of hot chocolate. Then I could do very little else but wait till morning before I could continue my efforts to hike back to the coast.

29th November (day 268)

It was a cloudy overcast morning. I'd had trouble getting to sleep the night before, the silence was deafening. There wasn't a sound, no wind, the wildlife was silent, I couldn't even hear the water against the shore. It was dead silent.  It was 8:30am when I woke suddenly. A car passed by on the nearby road.

As I sat eating my smooth oats and raspberries I gazed across at the other side of the loch. I'd thought that I'd broken the camels back on the trek and that things were going to get easier. Alas it appeared I was wrong,  the far shore looked pretty wild and would surely be a challenge just getting back to the coast.

After breakfast I packed up and hit the road again on my way to Salen where I hoped I would find a shop to get some more coffee or hot chocolate,  black tea is ok but it's better taste is a little unpalatable first thing in the morning.
I wasn't convinced by the weather report I'd received on Facebook from Diane the night before that I would be in for clear skies and sun. Maybe it would clear up later,  I thought as I headed away from my temporary home back to follow the loch along the road.

I'd only walked a mile or so when I arrived at salen. Passing a small wooden sign declaring "pop up gallery" I pondered what it could possibly be.  Was it a gallery of pop up art similar to that of children's books where you pulled a flap and a man appeared from behind a door, maybe it was a collection of pictures, the type that appear 3d but are in fact prints cut and layered to give the effect. Maybe the whole gallery itself popped up. I was still none the wiser several hundred yards along the road but found myself strangely amused anyway.

A little further along the road I came across the village shop which was of some relief as I really didn't know when I would next  come across one. I went in with the sole mission of either buying coffee or a tub of hot chocolate. There wasn't a vast selection of coffees to choose from and they didn't stock the 3 in 1 sachets I preferred to carry so I opted for a plastic jar of hot chocolate which although was light and surprisingly low in calories tasted good and always lifted the spirits.

Whilst paying for the hot chocolate I chatted with the young lady who'd taken the shop over and discovered that jacob from Glenuig had told her about my challenge.  I was offered a lovely hot mug of coffee and continued chatting away. At that in walked an elderly gentleman, it was his 74th birthday. I didn't quite catch his name and his strong Scottish accent coupled with the fact he had no teeth and mumbled was a little hard for me to understand. He instantly knew about the challenge,  he'd read about it in the news paper, and wished me luck telling me how I was in for a treat and that he knew every inch of the forrests and tracks around the loch. He also mentioned something about the old days when you could go out for the night with 10 shillings and have a good time but I wasn't sure entirely what he was talking about.

Once I'd finished with my coffee I said goodbye and set off through the village,  apparently the next village at the end of the loch was a place called Strontian some 11 miles away. A distance I'd hoped to easily make before sunset. Walking passed the salen hotel i saw a ucalyptus tree, which wasn't something I'd expected to see in the Highlands especially considering eucalyptus trees are native to Australia and you really couldn't get much further from there if you tried. Attached to the tree and sat on one of the branches were two fluffy koalas. I had to stop to take a couple of photos. As I did Jonathan, the hotel owner, popped his head out of the front door "you look like you could do with a coffee" he called across. Not one to turn down a caffeine boost I agreed and followed him inside.

In the lounge area on the bar stood an old 1930s tin rnli collection box, well boat. It was ancient and the oldest I had seen so far on my journey. It was looking tattered and quite antique. Jonathan explained, as he handed me the mug of coffee,  that he'd inherited when he took the hotel on and that a tradition had started long before he'd moved to the village that if anyone dropped any coins on the floor they'd have to go in the boat. On one occasion a regular had a pocket full of coins and when he'd gone to pay for a drink he'd accidentally emptied his pocket onto the floor,  there was almost a hundred pounds in coins,  a good day for the lifeboat. The gentleman honoured the tradition without a quiver.

Sat at the bar sipping on the coffee I spotted a news paper and decided to take a look and catch up on recent events.  One story in particular caught my eye, black Friday. Black Friday is an American tradition where stores slash the prices on goods they can't usually get rid of, old stock. In recent years British stores have adopted this tradition which turns normal well behaved customers into savage beasts. Reading the article I found myself looking forward to the day of reckoning,  armageddon. I was appalled at the pictures depicting peoples inability to restrain themselves and act in a civilised manner. I then remembered a fact I'd seen displayed on an animated information screen back at the Nadurra visitors centre. "Where is the nearest shopping mall? " it said "130 miles" came the answer a couple of seconds later with a smiley face graphic appearing shortly after. I could understand why the locals loved the isolation away from the rat race, the bad behaviour and general lack of compassion for fellow human beings.

Before I left the hotel to continue on with the days hike I asked if I'd be able to use the bathroom to have a quick shave, my beard had begun to irritate me and I'd had enough of the itchy chin fluff, beards are not my thing.  Jonathan was more than happy to let me use the facilities and even handed me a clean towel. Feeling more like myself and I must say looking at least ten years younger I set off from the hotel to try and clear the ten or so miles to Strontian before nightfall.

The hike from salen to Strontian takes you through the oldest oak woods in Europe, the road followed the loch and wound its way between the trees up and down hill after hill. It was a pleasant walk but hard going at the same time. I'd walked for several hours straight but could see no sign of the village. The weather hadn't cleared up either in fact it began to drizzle for a while. The light was soon beginning to fade aided by the cloud cover and I knew that dusk would come sooner than I'd wanted.

Coming across a small river I stopped to fill up my empty water bottles,  I tended to leave them empty during the day to save weight, 1 ltr is about 1 kg in weight. I was really beginning to feel knackered now and for some reason it felt like day had dragged on a bit since leaving the hotel. It was about 3:30pm when I decided it was time to start looking for a place to camp, any later and I figured I'd probably have trouble finding a suitable spot especially using the rubbish head torch with its pitiful beam of dimmed light.

The road had gradually gotten higher and higher above the loch with steep slopes either side. It was going to be tough just finding somewhere level let alone suitable for erecting a temporary shelter. I was beginning to feel a little frustrated and my pace had begun to slow, it felt like the ten miles from salen to Strontian was the longest ten miles I had ever walked, which just goes to show how much difference a good nights sleep can make.

Stopping briefly to adjust my pack and stretch my aching joints I stepped off the road to allow a car to pass on the narrow single lane road. Instead of passing though it pulled up alongside me and stopped,  the drivers window wound down. The driver leant over to offer me a lift. Naturally I declined. "You training for something" he said "we don't usually see anyone training on this side of the peninsula, I'm in the service too". Seeing me dressed in camouflage I am assuming the gentleman had thought I was military,  I explained that I was hiking the coast and had been going non stop for nine months raising funds for the two charities but I didn't go into the story about how I'd met roto and that he'd given me the gear to help me manage through the winter months. As the serviceman pulled away he wished me luck and congratulated me on my endeavours, with that a bat swooped down and circled me twice. I'd seen alot of wildlife since the trek had begun and hadn't expected to see any bats. I stood and watched it for a while as it kept swooping towards me and circling around before it headed off down the road and disappeared.

It was now 4:30pm and it was getting dark, too dark to find somewhere to camp. The trees were blending into the darkness and I was beginning to think I'd be sleeping in just the bivibag somewhere alongside the road.

Finding an old bridge just off to the side of the road I decided to take a closer look. My back, shoulders and legs were aching and I was feeling decidedly hungry and the lack of sleep taking its toll. Once again I hadn't stopped for a lunch break relying on the sugar rush from boiled sweets to keep me going.

At first it looked like I would have to forgo pitching the tent or tarp but on the far side I found a small clump of trees which with a little imagination I was able to string up some rope and build a bivi using the tarp sheet. It was too dark to look for wood so I had to go without the luxury of a nice warm fire and the light it would have emitted. Immediately I boiled the water I'd collected and made myself a hot chocolate and rehydrated a chicken tikka curry.

As I lay in my sleeping bag, feeling exhausted trying to keep warm I could hear the patter of rain gently tapping on the tarp sheet.

27th November (day 266)

It was a fairly chilly night but as with most nights recently cocooned up in my goose down sleeping bag I found myself slowly removing layers for fear of boiling in my own sweat.

It was quite mild the following morning, I made breakfast and packed up ready to take on Ben hiant - the blessed mountain. I wasn't able to go around the front of the mountain because it was simply an impossible task which meant the only way I could stick close to the coast was to go over it. I had been told of a footpath leading around the back but looking at it from my campsite it didn't appear too difficult to simply make my way up one side and down the other. Ok so it was steep but by zigzagging and through shear determination I slowly hauled myself and my pack to the top. The almost panoramic views over the loch and Kilchoan were amazing. It was a good day for hiking too with a slight breeze and almost clear skies.

Naturally coming down from the top was considerably quicker than the mornings ascent. Making it to the bottom I came across the ruins of a village,  there wasn't much left except the outlines of what was left of the cottage walls. A stream ran alongside the village and towards the coast.  I decided I would follow the stream down to the coastal shores hoping it wouldn't lead me to a cliff and waterfall.  Thankfully it didn't, it ran down a reasonably easy slope to the shores.  The waters were calm and there was a tranquil peace, not even the ripples lapping at the shore made a sound.

The beach I had arrived at was stony with a grass verge. To help my progress I hiked along the short grass up above the stones. Coming across another stream I decided to stop and treat myself to some rehydrated custard with berries. The custard in these packs often end up a little lumpy and don't resemble the smooth creamy custard you would make at home or order in a restaurant but they taste like custard and always lift the spirits.

Continuing along the beach I had to make my way over a small ridge and down to the next stony beach, it looked thr same as the one before with a stony shore and grass verge. At the far end I made my way through a gap in the rocks and found myself on yet another stony beach. At the far end this time was a small sandy bay. To my left were the ruins of a small stone village and across a small river behind the sandy shore was a field of lush green grass. In the centre of the field was what looked like a tall gravestone. I couldn't see any discernable markings on it but at the far side of the field I could see a track leading up a slope to a road above.

My pack was beginning to feel heavy, I was probably hungry and tired but unable to continue along the shore I headed across the field and made it up the slope to join the road which began to follow the coast line anyway.

A little way down the road as it began to descend towards the water I passed a spring so I decided to fill up my bottles in case I didn't find any more fresh running water later. The day was nearly over, the sun was slowly sinking and was out of view. Without knowing what lay ahead I began looking for a place to camp.

It didn't take long to find a reasonable spot amongst the trees in a small woodland near to the road opposite a small bay. It was a perfect place to get the tarp strung up, gather firewood and settle in.

With the fire burning nicely and my belly full I lay back on my sleeping bag and relaxed. It was, as winter nights go, reasonably warm and calm.

28th November (day 267)

It was still dark the skies were clear i could see the stars clearly only I wasn't really able to fully appreciate the wonders of the cosmos,  I had a banging headache. Rooting around in my pack looking for some ibuprofen I remembered the package had been damaged a few days earlier and I'd had to dispose of them. I did however find the cocodamol roto had given me on skye. Checking the instructions attached by an elastic band and knowing they were painkillers I was relieved to see they contained paracetamol. Dropping two tablets it wasn't long before they began to take effect, a happy relief. 

It was around 8am when I finally woke to a clear sky, the sun was just beginning to rise. It was a chilly morning but with a fresh dry bite. The stream trickling passed the tarp was surprisingly calming. I boiled some water for breakfast, smooth oats with raspberries.  I'd run out of both coffee and hot chocolate but luckily still had a few tea bags. No milk though but at least it was some flavour.

I was just beginning to pack my kit away and collapse camp when a car pulled up and an elderly gentleman approached. He'd stopped off to see if I was ok. The hospitality of highlanders never ceases to amaze me. When I explained that I was on the challenge and that I'd stopped off the night before because it was getting dark he complimented me on my camp and was impressed by the use of the tarp. After he had left I continued to get myself ready for the days hike.

Rejoining the road, which was as close to the water as I could reasonably get without getting my feet wet, I continued on. It felt a little odd I'll admit after spending so much time traipsing across marshes and bogs, over hills and mountains but I wasn't going to complain.  It was nice to have a break from the adventure and I was looking forward to a few uneventful days, especially with the short days of winter.

The skies were completely clear, the sun was out but it wasn't too hot,  in fact the slight chill in the air was perfect and helped cool me as I lugged my pack along the road. I hadn't walked far when I was stopped at the driveway to a small house. Geoff  and his wife had read about the challenge in the northern times and had spotted me coming up the road. Geoff had come out to say hi and have a chat about what I was doing,  interested in where him and his wife could follow my progress. It was lovely gassing about some of my adventures and joking about the weather in Scotland.

I then continued on following the road until I came across the Nadurra visitors centre. I'd been messaged on Facebook and told that the centre did an amazing hot chocolate and was fortunate that the centre hadn't yet closed for the winter. I had to pop in and couldn't possibly pass by without trying one. The centre is part of a wildlife reserve and all manner of birds and wildlife often visited for the varied free food that had been put out for them. I  had hot chocolate with cream which I must admit was delicious, I'd highly recommend a visit to anyone who happened to be passing. Before I left I was given an oat and fruit slice to take with me which I later had for lunch.  Again it was delicious.

The road continued to follow the lochs shore over several hills. At times I wondered if it would ever end. As I hiked I began to think about what I would do once I got back to Southampton. Firstly I knew I'd need to get a job but didn't feel like I would necessarily go back to web design, well not full time anyway. I still wanted to promote the sites tony and I had developed and obviously keep the radio station broadcasting but I thought that maybe I should also learn a few things about sailing and maybe do some work with kids. I also felt that I'd have to start planning another challenge, but what.

I'd had several ideas since starting the trek. One thing I'd wanted to do was hike the Appalaichion Trail in America,  2600 miles across 14 states. This I'd wanted to do since completing the camino de santiago two years before. Another idea I'd had was to paddle board the length of the nile from source to sea. A real challenge,  a challenge that as far as I was aware nobody had ever even attempted. It sure was appealing.  Granted I'd have to look further into it and I'd have to get the planning right this time. It was certainly food for thought.

It was now getting late in the day and I only had a few more hours of light left. As I was quietly making my way still along the road a maroon van pulled up. It was the doctor I'd seen in Kilchoan. I thanked him again and confirmed that it appeared to have been my belt pressing on my pelvis that had caused me such discomfort for so many months. A mystery solved and well diagnosed by the doctor. We only had time for a brief chat as a camper van pulled up behind him on the narrow single road causing a bit of a traffic jam.

I was quite enjoying my day, an easy and relaxing day. The sun began to set so seeing a small waterfall I stopped to fill up my water bottles and a few miles later found a small clearing in a woodland by the lochs edge. After setting up the tarp and gathering firewood I settled in. The wood was slightly damp, which is to be expected at this time of year so I used the opportunity to use my new knife the voice of Scotland had sponsored to split the branches and reveal the dry cores. The knife made short work of the wood and it didn't take long to get the fire started and the water boiling so I could rehydrate a packet of chicken with noodles in a black bean sauce. As I sat warming myself by the fire I listened to the silence,  the crackle of the burning wood and the sound of an owl somewhere in the darkness.

26th November (day 265)

It was a lovely fresh cold winters morning. The skies were clearish and there was hardly a breeze. Although I felt like I wanted to lay in for another hour or so I dragged myself out of the coffin and packed up. I'd been thinking about what I could possibly get rid of to try and lighten the load but nothing sprung to mind.

I waited in the community centre, sipping a coffee and nibbling at some millionaire shortbread. 11:30 came and went, it wasn't until half an hour later I finally got to see the visiting doctor. After explaining what I was doing we got down to the business of checking me over. First we focussed on my feet, they were indeed rotting but the good news was that applying some cream, which I was given,  would help and the doc also prescribed a dose of tablets which I'd be able to collect from the next pharmacy when I passed one. I'd have to take the pills for four months to ensure no infection returned but I was happy with that. Next was the hip. Thankfully I know very little about human anatomy and as it turns out my hip is lower than I'd thought.  The problem lay in my pelvis,  after a good prodding the doctor told me that there didn't seem to be any physical problem and that it was most likely the waist belt on my heavy rucksack trapping a nerve. He suggested maybe adding extra padding,  such as a wooly sock in the area where I was feeling discomfort to ease the pressure.  I'll be honest I was dreading my appointment and had worried that I would have to turn a deaf ear to any advice the doctor could have given if it he'd suggested I couldn't go on. This was all good news and I felt quite relieved. To celebrate I thought I'd get another coffee before heading off to tackle the coast.

The coffee was hot and I'd got comfortable in Kilchoan but it was soon time to make a move, every hour that passed meant less light to hike with. Leaving the centre I had to follow the road away from Kilchoan,  whilst chatting to other patients while I waited I discovered that the section of coast from the village to ben hiant was currently closed to the public.  The land owner was renovating a castle that sat on the coastline and due to health and safety no unauthorised persons could pass through.  Fences had been erected to prevent any wanderers from accessing the land. I was a little disappointed however I had been told it was possible to get to the base of the mountain and make my way over to rejoin the coast on the far side.

It was a lovely day for walking, a gentle breeze and fairly clear skies all day. The hike away from the village was easy and a few miles along the road and passed the Castle I was able to leave the tarmac behind and head over the wild landscape towards the base of ben hiant. The sun was already beginning to set by the time I arrived and knowing that I would probably not find a good site to camp on the mountain I looked around for a spot sheltered between the undulating mounds near to a stream. I'd be slightly sheltered from the wind and have drinking water near by. With nowhere to tie the tarp to I opted for erecting the coffin and finished setting up camp just as the sky turned orange and pink. It was getting much colder in the evening now but I sat outside the tent with some rehydrated spagbol and watched the sun go down. Climbing into the coffin I felt excited once again,  a feeling that had faded during the past few weeks. Tomorrow I would start tge adventure once again, tomorrow I will climb a mountain and start a new chapter in the story.

25th November (day 264)

It had rained during the night but it was reasonably dry in the morning but crawling out from the warmth of my sleeping bag I immediately felt the chill. After I had packed everything away I left my back pack by the community centre and headed to the village shop to get a few extra supplies, such as gas and wet wipes. By the time I'd got back to my pack the irene had opened the cafe in the community centre. Today, I thought, is a rest day and time to catch up with my blogs, which by now I was about 10 days behind. I'd been finding it difficult to keep them up to date often finding my fingers so cold I couldn't tap away at the screen of my smart phone. I went in and ordered beans on toast and a coffee. As I was tucking in to my breakfast the visiting nurse walked passed. Just off the cuff I asked where the nearest medical centre was. 28 miles she replied. After a short chat she suggested that if I were around the following day that maybe I should get an appointment to see the doctor who would be holding surgery at the community centre. It seemed like a reasonable idea so I gave her my details and settled in for the day busy tapping away at the phone gradually catching up.

That night I once again pitched up the tent behind the centre and settled in hoping that the doctor would give me the all clear about my hip and foot problems.

24th November (day 263)

Although it rained a little during the night it was a calm dry morning.  Looking out from the coffin the skies were overcast but it didn't feel particularly cold.

My shoulder was still quite painful as I wrestled with the sleeping bag and made breakfast. I slowly packed up which was unusual as normally I tried to get ready as quickly as possible. Taking time to briefly check my gear and to see how much food I had left I was surprised to find I still had four main meals left. All the breakfasts had been consumed but having the equivalent of two days rations left and picking up more later on left me with a slight problem,  a nice problem but a problem none the less - where will I stow it all.

I left my pitch and headed along the road. Along the way I met an elderly gentleman off on a brisk morning romp through the hills. He was intending to hike to portuairk the opposite way I did the day before. When I asked him about the short stretch of coast I had decided to avoid he agreed I'd probably made the right decision, explaining the volcanic rock formations along there were steep and could easily crumble away. I felt a little happier knowing that maybe I had made the right choice in not attempting it injured with the excessive weight I was carrying.

Carrying on along the road was particularly easy although I felt cheated that after all I'd been through to get this far I was now having to miss small parts of the coast which I knew could probably be tackled but due to either carrying too much gear, loosing faith in my boots or personal injury or health issues I'd decided to not even attempt them. I needed time out. I needed space to sort through my kit and throw stuff away. I needed to make the decision as to how far I was willing to go to complete the challenge.

Kilchoan was the name of the village where I was to collect the last of my rations. It had been lovely receiving the support of those following and supporting my efforts but alas obce again the cupboard would be bare and I wouldn't know if or when I could expect anymore.

Ironically as I was thinking about the food situation I came upon the first 24 hour shop I'd seen since leaving Inverness.  Granted this was a garden shed selling local produce and it was unmanned but all the same the large painted sign on the outside stated it was 24hrs. Meaning it was left unlocked and it was up to you to serve yourself and act as a checkout chick adding up the amount you were buying and then putting the money into the honesty box inside.  I loved it. I went in and for some reason hoped there would be some fruit. Unfortunately it was really the wrong time of year for fruit in the Highlands and all that was available were jams, vegetables and strawberry vinegar. Still it was an amusing stop off and it lifted my spirits and took my mind if my worries for a short while.

Across from the shop was the most westerly hotel in Britain. I started to walk on but then it dawned on me that destiny had brought me to this place so that I could enjoy the most westerly coffee in Scotland, the cafe at the lighthouse at the point was closed and this was the next closest place. I went over, the door was open and the lights were on. There was however nobody there to serve me. I waited for a bit but still nobody came. Destiny it seems was taunting me.

I carried on to the village and headed straight for the post office to get my supplies.  Chatting with the post master I discovered that there was a community hall located at the other end of the village.  It was right by the coast and boasted having not only showers but also a small cafe which was open till 4pm. This, I thought, had to be a good place to stop and recover. The post master offered me a lift to the hall during his lunch break as he was going that way anyway but I obviously declined it however I did suggest that he could drop my bag off for me and I'd follow up on foot.

The community centre was about a mile from the post office and it didn't take me long to get there.  It was quite nice walking without the weight of the pack bareing down on my shoulders or digging into my hips. Eileen was working there covering for the lady who usually served in the cafe and after I'd had a couple of coffees and chatted she brought over a bowl of cauliflower soup and a roll. It was delicious and was a pleasant change to freeze dried rehydrated high calorie rations. At 4pm sharp  Eileen closed and locked up the centre and I headed off to find somewhere to camp. Passing the back of the centre I noticed a small grassy area just big enough to pitch the coffin on and decided that it would be the perfect place to stay the night. I'd just finished setting up camp when it began to rain.  I climbed in and made myself at home and rehydrated one of the four spare rations I had left over from the week before.

23rd November

It was a calm and dry night although a bit colder. I woke just as the sun was coming up,  not that I could see it. Whilst boiling some water, which is taking much longer now, it showered a little but I was still hopeful for a dry day.

As I'd hoped the river was much lower and crossing using large boulders was easy. On the far side I picked up a track which soon narrowed down to a trail. Further along I spotted a post randomly proped up by some rocks. Further ahead I could see another,  and so this continued.  They were obviously way markers showing an old footpath, if you could call it that. Sticking as close to the rocky hills as possible but also having to cross open marshes I hiked my way between the hills.  I could still heat the sea in the still air of the morning and often spotted herds of deer grazing, sometimes oblivious to my presence. It was looking to be a lovely day. There were large patches of blue sky with white fluffy clouds, none of which looked threatening.

I continued to follow the track which improved for a bit but then doubled back on itself around a hill into a ravine. Wanting to stick close to the coast even if it meant walking behind the hills I left the track to make up my own. As I hiked across the baron hills it got marshy, really marshy, I noticed a change in the rocks, they were now volcanic and very different to what I'd seen before.

After negotiating the sodden grounds with hidden bogs across the marshes I came upon a large stream. I couldn't cross it and had to resort to following it back till it shallowed and I could cross balancing on the semi submerged rocks and boulders. I was feeling marginally better than I had the day before and was eager to get a good few miles clocked up before I stopped.

A short way from the stream, across more marshes,  I found a road leading back to coast passing rocks with names painted in white on the surface,  obviously visitors to the peninsula and dating back to 1977. I was quite impressed the writing was still readable after so many years of weathering.

The road ended up at small a community with pro palestineon propaganda painted on boards and anti us war involvement although I wasn't sure who'd see it. The community was pretty remote and I didn't think they'd have too many visitors especially at this time of year.

Now back at the coast, somewhere near the top of the peninsula I headed up through some dunes and into the hills and back down to the small village of portuairk. At portuairk I headed back up into the hills again and over to come out at a caravan park, it was a little boggy in places but I was feeling very pleased with my progress and felt I'd travelled further than I'd expected that morning.

From the static caravan park I had to follow the road round to the point of ardnamurchan, Scotlands most westerly point. I arrived just in time to see one of the most spectacular sunsets I think I have ever seen. The sky turned orange as the clouds obscured the sun and a wide golden beam emanated up towards the heavens. It was emotional and spectacular. It was just what I needed to see especially at the most westerly point of Scotland,  a pinnacle moment to cherish.

The sunset didn't last long and in the remaining light I looked along the coast. It was plain to see I wouldn't be heading that way. It was too steep and rocky and with a bad shoulder which I must have pulled a muscle in at some point I had to make a judgement call. Had I felt stronger I believe my decision would have been different and I would have jumped at the chance but under the circumstances I felt I needed to take it easy until I was back to full health.

I now had the problem of finding somewhere to stop the night. As I'd passed the caravan park I'd noticed a reasonably sheltered grassy area in a small secluded bay. It seemed like a good spot to pitch, with nowhere to tie my tarp to I decided to take the coffin out and pitch that. By the time I'd finished the light had gone completely. I was also out of water. Thankfully there was a small stream running nearby so using the pitiful glow of my head torch I went over, stumbled around on the rocks submerged by the bank and filled my bottles. I will not be recommending "summit" products no matter how much they pay! It was even tough trying to locate the coffin again after. But find it I did, and after crawling in I had dinner and quite quickly fell asleep.

22nd November

Again I had a restless night, the wind blew hard all night and that morning it was still raining. I struggled under the low tarp to gather myself together and pack my gear away, feeling tired I found myself a little disoriented and had to organise the thoughts in my head to simply stow everything in the right order.

From the farm at Ockle I followed the road,  I was still feeling under the weather and the damp in the air was beginning to get on my chest. I was stiff and my muscles ached with every step. If ever I'd wanted to go home and crawl into a bed now was the time. I felt like crap and I certainly didn't feel adventurous. As I continued to follow the road the sun began to shine allbeit only briefly for a couple of hours.

As I was hiking I began feeling like I needed time out my arms particularly hurting from constantly picking up my pack every day and swinging it onto my back. My pace began to slow and I my moral dropped but I was determined to keep going,  I'd come so far and as long as I kept walking I knew each step would take me closer to the finish line. The thick rubber join that held the two parts of the Itchen bridge together in Southampton. Looking ahead I could see the road would soon end. There were three expensive looking houses at the end and beyond them a river running into a stony bay.

It then began to rain again, much heavier than in the morning, the wind was picking up speed too. I approached the river I needed to cross in order to continue along this stretch of coastline but it was too deep and fast running. I looked around for any sign of a bridge or stepping stones but alas I was stranded. Feeling the bite of the cold I turned back towards a small wooded area I'd passed just before. It was grassy and seemed like a reasonable place to set up the tarp and begrudgingly wait till the morning. I was hoping that the weather would improve or at the very least stop raining to let the river levels subside allowing me to pass.

21st November

It was a chilly night and I did feel slightly exposed but had a reasonable nights rest undisturbed. I woke at sunrise,  the light reflecting off the calm waters of the loch. It was cold but it was also winter. With no need to rush I made breakfast and packed my gear away.

Remembering the hand drawn map I headed back out of the village and took the junction next to the church towards a sandy bay. It was only a couple of miles before I found myself back in trek and hiking alongside the water of the loch hoolley and I had paddled across.

The tarmac road was soon replaced by a gravel,  pot holed track. Ahead of me was a large forest of fir trees which reminded me that Christmas was fast approaching. I didn't even know if I'd be over the boarder or not on 25th December,  I had no plans for Christmas.  All I knew was that I would definitely be sleeping rough and most likely hiking that day probably somewhere in Scotland. Before I entered into the forest I had to pass through a gate.  On the gate was a sign. The sign said "singing sands, beware of unexploded bombs" or something like that. I'd seen a documentary about singing sands a few years earlier, as you walked over the beach the sand squeaks. It was something to do with the perfect shape of the grains. I'd already crossed several beaches during the trek which also squeaked, which kind of diluted the special significance of this particular beach.

I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get much closer to the waters edge from here and decided to take heed of the warning on the sign. Sticking to the track I headed off into the forest and hiked the track. It was a nice easy and pleasant change to skipping across boulders and rocks. Nearing the other side of the forest a small track branched off taking me to the beach. The sand was damp and the singing fairly unimpressive. I was a little disappointed but figured that during the summer months when the sand was dry it would probably entertain children and families day after day during their holidays.

I left the beach and continued to follow the track up to the baron hills beyond the forest. There was a cold, chilly wind blowing across my neck and I began to feel a little under the weather.  I hoped I wasn't getting pneumonia or the flu, I was also hoping I hadn't contracted lime disease from a tick which also produces similar symptoms. My head was aching, my muscles were aching and my bones felt brittle. There was nothing I could do about it though so I simply tried to ignore it and carried on.

Gradually the track lead me further away from the coastline between a valley of small hills. It was reasonably easy going, a little boggy in places but I'd had to deal with considerably worse conditions and felt quite happy continuing along it. After a few miles the track began to fork right and I noticed a hand painted sign, much like a typical motorway sign. A thick black pointed road marking showing the track forking right with a narrower black pointed road marking forking right. I looked ahead, I couldn't see any fork in the road. I looked back at the sign and noticed a faint narrow trail leading up the bank at the side of the track. On the sign above the right forked track were the words "no through road" and above the left fork was a small, faded arrow. It was obvious I was being directed left onto the narrow trail. I guessed the track ended up at the coast and you wouldn't be able to go any further so I followed the directions and took the narrow trail.

It was a simple enough trail to follow along the bank, boggy in places and narrowing even more further on. The trail gradually climbed higher and took me over the hills, around streams and passed small waterfalls. It was approaching 3pm now and getting colder. I hadn't seen much of the sun all day and now the light was beginning to fade. It was time for me to start looking for somewhere to sleep.

I carried on following the trail which gradually improved and eventually joined up with a gravel track that wound its way around the hills eventually ending up at a small farm and holiday cottages at a place called Ockle. I was now really feeling the cold and was eager to set up camp and climb into my cozy sleeping bag to warm up. My head was still aching , my shoulders were feeling the strain of the backpack and my neck was stiffening up as well.

Just passed the farm was a river and on the other side a bumpy grassed slope. It looked reasonably sheltered there and I decided to use a wire fence to fix the tarp to. It wasn't perfect but it was suffice for a temporary shelter. Thankfully I managed to get myself organised before it began to rain and the wind began to blow.

As the night progressed the wind got stronger and the rain fell harder. Feeling uneasy I found it hard to get to sleep. I hoped that the pegs holding the tarp down would hold in place.

20th November

It was awkward getting comfortable on the slope but I did eventually manage to get to sleep although I was restless and found myself tossing and turning throughout the night. When the sun finally rose I was eager to get packed up and set off. I made myself breakfast and coffee, collapsed the coffin and made my way down from my perch to the stony bay. The tide was out which was good as it meant I'd be paddling while the tide was coming back in.

The island wasn't very far to paddle at all and the waters were calm and still. Perfect conditions for hoolley and I. Pushing off from the bay it didn't take me long to get across and begin paddling close to the shore towards a bay near the bottom of the island. I knew from looking at Google earth that this was the narrowest part of the Island and the best place for me to cross over to a bay on the far side where I could paddle once again over and back to the mainland.

It was a pleasant little trip with no incidents.  Pulling up in the small bay I dragged hoolley up on to the stones over the kelp and quickly packed her away. The hike from one side of the Island to the other only took 10 minutes or so and was very easy going. The bay there was much larger than the one I'd landed on and the sun, unobscured, shone brightly.  The waters were calm and there didn't appear to be any currents to worry about. Across from me there was another small, tree covered, island that I'd need to paddle round before I could set my eyes on the shores and determine a place for hoolley and I to land.

With hoolley back out my pack and setup for the second time that day I got myself ready and set off. Every time we go for a paddle I am always very aware that something could go wrong, my senses highten and I become very aware of my surroundings. With every stroke my eyes scan the waters ahead for potential hazards and my mind constantly prepares itself by running disaster scenarios over and over adjusting the parameters depending on where I am, how far across I am and the conditions of the water. At the same time I also try to enjoy myself taking in my scenic surroundings and watching the wildlife.

Approaching the island at a steady pace I adjusted my course to circumnavigate the tip, hugging its shore. Hugging shorelines is a safety exercise,  should I need to bail I know I'd theoretically be able to drag myself to shore and potentially save my kit too. What I would do on the shore is anyones guess but something I'd have to deal with if or when the time came.

Thankfully this trip was also uneventful and as I cleared the island I was presented with the view of an excellent example of an ancient castle looming over the loch stood high on a rocky spit. To the right of tioram Castle i could see a small sandy beach, perfect to land hoolley and make my from. It would also provide me with the ideal opportunity to take a little time out to explore the ruins.

The castle was a traditional castle shape, just what you'd expect to see during medieval times. It sat proud on top of a solid rock base and was surrounded on most sides by water making it a formidable fort to challenge. A small sandy spit, which I would imagine was submerged during a high tide linked it to the mainland.

I decided to take my pack across the spit to the grassy banks where I would continue my trek from before heading back and climbing the slope up to the castle entrance. The entrance had a large metal gate across and a warning sign indicating that the building was unsafe. The gate was open though so I went in through the stone arch into the main courtyard. The courtyard was overgrown by ivy and wild plants, ahead and to my left stood two tall stobe buildings that also formed part of the defensive walls of the courtyard. I headed off first to my left and began to explore the various rooms. Looking up it was easy to make out where rafters had been placed to provide platforms for the flooring of the numerous levels. The old stone spiral staircases were completely ruined and none of them went up more than a few steps. The other building was much the same although the rooms were much bigger. Although the Castle was a ruin it didn't take much to picture what it would have looked like in its prime. I felt it was almost a shame that it had been left in such a derelict state.

Happy that I had satisfied the indiana jones in me I left the Castle and crossed the spit to collect my pack and set off following the shore. Eventually I found myself confronted with a fast flowing river,  too fast to paddle across. A road ran alongside though and I figured that eventually I'd find a bridge of some description to cross. Sure enough the road did eventually cross the river, I was a couple of miles inland now though and struggled to see a way back to the coast. It was also getting late in the day now so I switched my priorities to seeking shelter for the night.

Seeing a sign pointing to a small village a little further along I decided that I would carry on following the road to the village,  I was sure there would be a shop or an inn I could stop at to get a few things or charge my batteries.

Well I was in luck,  there were both. An inn and a shop. Stopping at the shop first I bought a couple of packets of sweets and headed over to the inn for a couple of cups of coffee.

Whilst sat charging my battery packs I noticed a hand drawn map of the peninsula indicating old footpaths linking the hamlets and villages along the coast together. The map also gave me the start I needed to get me back to the coast, a junction I'd passed entering into the village. All I needed now was somewhere to stop the night.

Chatting to one of the bar maids I found out there was an old boat shed down by the freshwater loch next to the village. It was getting dark but it wasn't hard to find as there was only one road leading down to it and the road ran right next to the inn. It was pitch black outside by the time I left the inn and using my rubbish head torch, which barely lit the tarmac at my feet, I walked to the boat shed.

I'd seen ruined castles and derelict buildings in better condition but there was a roof and the concrete floor was dry. I lay my tarp down and got my air mattress out to partially insulate me from the cold, rehydrated a meal and settled in for the night.

19th November

The following morning was still, not even a breeze. It was quite lovely. I lay in the tent listening to the silence and enjoying the soft sound of waves lapping at the shore. My tranquility was soon disturbed by a voice outside "hello" it sounded foreign so I poked my head out "Hello" I replied.  "Sorry, I thought you were my friend. We are here winkle counting" he said. He sounded polish and I think he meant "winkle picking". He turned away  and headed off to the beach below and disappeared.

After hydrating a breakfast meal and drinking my morning coffee I packed up, the plan was to get around the end of the peninsula and make my way along it to a point I could use hoolley to cross over to the island in the middle of loch moidart. If that plan failed then I had decided to traverse the coast as far as a causeway that led to the island although it was only accessible at low tide.

The day ahead was going to be considerably more challenging than the day before and considerably harder than I'd anticipated. At the far end of the beach was a high rocky outcrop.  I had the choice to climb a slope and try to get over it or hop over the  large rocks along the shoreline to go around it. Not knowing if I would be able to go round I opted for going up and over. The climb was relatively easy but when I got to the top I found myself peering over a sheer drop. It did however give me the opportunity to see what lay ahead. It was obvious the only way to get to the bay on the other side was to turn around and go back down to the beach and hop over the large rocks to get around. I still had no idea what I would find or even how I would get out of the next bay but at least it was a little progress.

At the end of the next bay again I appeared to be cut off, this time though there was no way to climb up and the only option I had was to scramble over the rocks and make my way round the headland. The terrain was now getting more and more challenging and it became apparent that in order to continue I would have to climb up onto the slopes of the hills and make my way along that way.

To start with the way was surprisingly easy but the further I went the harder it became. The ledges I was usibg to traverse the slopes narrowed and rock falls, giant boulders, began to obstruct my progress. I'd only managed to cover a few miles and it had taken hours, the sun was already beginning to disappear behind the hills across from me and it became apparent that I wouldn't make it to the causeway that day. I was in a bad situation, being up on the steep slopes meant I had no where to camp.

Below me there was a very small bay but no sign of any where remotely level to pitch the coffin and certainly no trees suitable to erect the tarp. I continued going hoping for better luck a little further along. I carried on and the landscape got tougher still. I eventually,  and not much further along I found myself stuck. I couldn't go any further, I would have to go back and either head up the slope higher or head down to the bay I'd passed and paddle across to the island the following morning. That would mean having to spend the night there.

Scrambling back along the slopes and very aware that I was running out of time I climbed down to the small bay I'd passed hoping that I'd come up with some kind of plan to facilitate accommodation for the night. Thankfully there was a stream running off the hill which meant I had fresh drinking water and if absolutely necessary I figured I could sleep in the bivibag wedged behind a rock or tree to stop me rolling down to the stony shore below. A plan was slowly hatching and falling into place.

The sun had now almost completely set and I still had nowhere to sleep. Scouting every inch of the slope leading down to the bay I found a very small, not perfectly level by any stretch of a wild imagination, ledge like shelf just wide enough and long enough for me to lay across. Using the tarp was out of the question as I was sure I would end up rolling down the slope eventually at some point during the night. The tent however, if pitched right, is substantial enough to hold me in place.

With camp setup I sat on my pack and had my evening meal planning the crossing I'd have to make the following morning, watching the water looking out for any disturbances caused by underwater obstructions and checking the flow to ascertain the strength of the currents.

It soon got dark but it was a mild evening. Across the loch I could hear a quad bike.  With not much else to do I looked over and watched as the headlights followed a track running along the loch side. That was my entertainment for the evening,  a kind of eye spy. Then a voice called across "are you ok? Do you need to be rescued? I can see your torch!". At first I wondered who he was calling too then realising that the calls were directed at me I stood and went closer to the shore to reply.  "I'm fine thank you, plan to paddle out of here in the morning" I replied. "Ok, no bother" came the reply.

With the tent pitched on a healthy angle It wasn't the best camp site I'd had but for just the one night I figured it would do and having running water near by was a bit of a bonus.

18th November

Once again I woke nice and early feeling refreshed and ready for a good hike. The weather seemed to be holding out too, with reasonably clear skies and the sun shining as best it could being so close to the horizon. I packed up my gear and tidied up the caravan before knocking on the cottage door to say goodbye to ann and rab. Before I set off though I was invited in for a quick breakfast,  the perfect way to start the day.

I guess it was about 10am by the time I left.  I passed the inn whichwas still closed and continued to follow the coast round. On the way I passed steve out walking his dog on a nearby beach which gave me the opportunity to say goodbye and thank him for his hospitality. Steve was quite forthcoming with a little advice and gave me directions to help me get a good start on the day.

From steve I headed up the hill ahead of us and peeled off once I spotted a faint trail steve had instructed me to look out for. I then was able to follow the trail for a few miles before it simply vanished. I was back to improvising again. It was simply a case of picking up sheep trails and dancing across rocks along by the water, nothing really that spectacular and no real adventure - well it was a bit. Thinking back and recalling the day it was quite uneventful,  sure my body was in pain, yes I was hungry but those were simply day to day feelings. As for the terrain it again was like most days hiking the coast. Hilly, rocky and stony. Finding myself traversing a rock face I did however stop to shoot a bit of video,  although quite high it was non technical and there were good solid hand and foot holds and even somewhere to place the camera. I guess I must have been getting a little bored bearing in mind that I had to traverse across to set up the camera, then traverse back to take my place before traversing again for the actual shot which on film lasts only a few seconds.

Eventually though I found myself near to a lovely beach, mostly stony, near to a small community of cottages dotted about. There didn't seem to be anyone living there and I would guess they were probably holiday homes only used during the summer.

The problem I had now though was quite simply a lack of time. With only a few hours of daylight and having to stop early meant I was climbing into my sleeping bag long before I was ready to stop for the day. Around 3pm I began looking for somewhere to stop,  there were no trees out on the peninsula which meant I wouldn't be sleeping under the tarp so I found a reasonable spot to pitch my coffin and hoped the weather would be kind to me in the morning when it came to packing up again. I must admit I had hoped to get further that day but hanging around chatting, like I do when I have the privilege and good fortune to meet nice people, had cost me several hours of light.

As the sun went down I was blessed with a beautiful sunset, I crawled into the tent and made myself dinner.

16 - 17 November

16th November

Although it was a chilly night the morning was quite mild. I woke up with the urgency to dig a pit. Making haste leaving my sleeping bag I headed over to the woods but the urgency increased. Staying healthy on a trip like the one I had embarked on was paramount. Without going into too much detail I found myself a little concerned when it shot out like a muck spreader with the consistency of an unsavoury liquid. Maybe it was something I'd eaten or possibly the water I'd consumed was tainted. Either way it was a little concerning.

After I'd packed away,slung the backpack over my shoulder I headed off along the loch side road towards Glenuig. Looking across the water I could easily see the terrain I had wanted to conquer. It was rocky and almost vertical almost all the way. Attempting to successfully negotiate it would have required specialist gear, more importantly it would have required climbing gear, something I wasn't carrying. All in all it would have been a formidable challenge that I would have had no chance in completing. It seemed that although the mountains were smaller the further south I went the coastline was invariably getting harder, more challenging. I thought to myself that surely things must start to get easier soon.

Arriving at Glenuig I could see the inn, steve was stood outside. The sun was shining and the beauty of the village blossomed in the autumn light. I crossed the Saltmarsh, a minor shortcut, and headed over to say hi. He seemed surprised to see me which I found odd seeing as the inn was so close to the loch. I was feeling quite parched heading on for roasting or possibly well done. Removing the various layers of jackets steve, quite amused by the episode,  offered to get me a pint. "That'll be grand, a pint of orange juice and lemonade please". I'm sure that wasn't quite what he was expecting but when I explained that I preferred to stay hydrated during the challenge he nodded and agreed. Along with the orange juice and lemonade steve gave me some of his homemade soup which by all accounts was delicious and judging by the specials boards his entire menu sounded equally as gratifying.

It was lovely inside the bar and quite relaxing. Hung on the walls around the lounge, dining and bar areas were framed photos of kayaking adventures steve had been on with his guests, they were really very good. We began chatting away and I was offered the use of the shower facilities and wash rooms and given a quick tour of the inn. It was all very interesting, the Glenuig inn has an extremely low carbon footprint. They recycle everything and use solar power for electricity. Steve has plans to go even further though and is investing alot in a smoke house and other reusable energy technologies.

I was then told that ann, whom I'd met at the post office, was offering me the use of an old caravan parked behind her cottage. It was now just passed 2pm and the local community shop had opened.  The shop was essentially a small tin hut but it stocked everything you would need on a daily basis. It wasn't far from the inn and steve let me leave my kit with him and allowed me to charge my batteries while I was gone.

Outside the shop, located just to the side of the single lane road, Jacob was measuring up. Jacob was a local lad and one of the shop volunteers, the community had drawn up plans to rebuild the shop to provide an information centre and coffee shop. The plans had been in place for 15 years and the community representatives were still trying to get approval and the funds together. I offered to help but Jacob had finished collecting the data he needed to build a model on his laptop. Offering me a complimentary coffee I milled around the store deciding what I needed to take for the next part of my trip and chatting at the same time. It must have been gone 3pm by the time I'd picked up a few bits n pieces and finished my coffee but it was interesting hearing about the plans for development and finding out the gossip about the locals.

I then headed off to find ann and to accept her kind offer of shelter. I'd been feeling weary over the past few days and thought that a good nights rest would do me the world of good. Glenuig isn't a very large community at all and it wasn't difficult finding the cottage.

Ann lived with rab, prior to renting the cottage they'd spent 8 years living in a static caravan on the shores of the loch without electricity or running water. The cottage was a huge change for them, "its like living in a cave" said ann, they'd been so used to hearing and feeling the weather as it pounded on the caravan season after season that being in a stone cottage felt odd to them. That got me thinking, I wondered how I'd feel going back to live under a fixed roof between solid walls. It would be some time before I'd find out.

We sat and chatted and the usual stories, highlights of the trip were told and discussed in detail and for the second time that day I was given a bowl of soup, homemade of course.  Ann had been given a slow cooker and had been experimenting with it. Once again it was delicious.

It was now getting dark outside so rab showed me to the caravan, a small tourer that had been stood for many years judging by the mould clinging on to the outside.  Inside it was clean and tidy and perfect and it had electricity.  Rab turned in the heating tube and we went over to the inn so that I could collect my things and join rab for a pint. Ann had said I was welcome to stay longer if I wanted so I'd decided to take the following day off and instead of having the usual pint of orange juice and lemonade I let steve suggest a good local ale for me to try. What ever it was, it was nice.

We didn't stop for long, just long enough to enjoy the drink and I grabbed my kit along with my pocket torch and we headed back to the cottage so that I could settle in for the night.

17th November

I woke before 7am, it was still dark outside so I turned over in my sleeping bag on the sofa in the caravan and went back to sleep.

Rest day. Being offered the use of the caravan for a second night I decided to take a rest day before heading off to attack the next difficult part of the trek. From what I'd been told I would have two water crossings and a small island to cross. It sounded like I'd have quite the adventure over the next few days.

It was Monday, the weather had been predicted as being wet. Sure enough peering out of the windows I could see it had been raining. The rest of the week though was supposed to be good, taking a today off seemed like a reasonable tactic and would give me body a chance to fully rest.

I don't know what it is about rest days but I seem to spend most of the day laid out stretched in my sleeping bag, I certainly don't ever feel like exploring or being adventurous. My muscles  and joints relax as I attempt to do as little as possible for as long as possible. Generally the process of making the coffees is the most energetic part of my day.

Although I'd planned to catch up on my blogs I actually ended up spending most of my day asleep,  I guess my body needed it. Later that evening when I'd properly got myself together I was invited to dinner by ann, tatties and sausages. It was lovely simply chilling with both ann and rab and not having to survive the weather or squirm around in the confines of either the coffin or under the tarp.

15th November

Just before 4am I heard what sounded like footsteps on a rocky shore, heavy footsteps evenly spaced out, about 7 or 8 then a small pebble being thrown. I heard it hit the concrete floor just across the room. I didn't move, I just lay there with my eyes open. I was definitely awake as I felt like the  garden needed watering. Putting my head torch on I looked around for source of sound. Nothing. I couldn't work out what would make such a sound.  "Not another haunted bothy!" I thought. I Lay there for a minute or so listening to sound of bothy creeking as the wind blew outside and then climbed out of my sleeping bag and went for a pee outside.  Once back inside and out of curiosity started my phone to see time.  It was 4:03 am. I was curious about what I heard so stayed awake and wrote these words in my blog. As I was just finishing up I heard another noise behind me. I turned using the feeble beam from my head torch to light the far side of the room. Trying to focus my eyes to locate the source of this sound I saw a little mouse scurry across the wooden bench that was fixed to the wall. I had to have a little chuckle with my self.  Satisfied the mystery was solved I  made sure my food was safely stowed away and tried to get a little more sleep.

That morning I woke early, I had my next ration pack waiting for me at a nearby village. The skies looked fine, no dark clouds, but the wind was still very strong meaning an attempt at the coastline away from the bothy was out of the question. With only one way in there was only one way back. The same way I'd arrived. at least it wasn't raining though, I thanked my lucky star for that (yes I did put a wish in when I saw the shooting star the night before, I should have added "and no wind either").

Leaving the bothy I took one last look around the ruins and out at the lovely view of the beach I'd shared with the deer and headed back across the marshes, through the woods,  across the stream missing the boggy puddle I'd found on my way down and up to the ridge I was almost blown off. The wind was slowly easing off now,  almost to the point where a traverse around the rocky coastline could have been possible.  It was too late though,  I'd already set off away from it and was nearly half way back to the road. I did consider turning back to make the attempt but common sense prevailed and I kept to the plan I'd favoured back at the bothy.

Making my way down from the ridge and leaving the peaks behind was considerably easier than the climb up the day before and I made short work of it. All that was left to do was climb up the hill the other side and hike through the woods and I'd be back on the road heading to the next village and more importantly its post office.

I was beginning to feel the weight of my gear now and had been thinking about all the additional stuff I'd been given to help me tackle the remainder of the trek during the winter months. When I'd set off from Southampton I made sure I packed reasonably light and ensured everything fitted snuggly inside the pack. I now had three extra jackets, two extra pairs of trousers, a bivi bag and a new sleeping bag weighing an extra 700 grams. I also had a tarp, extra pegs and cord, some rope and a small daysack full with god only knows what. It must be easily getting close to 30kg and considering I'd only left with 24kg I was beginning to wonder if I would be able to continue to carry the load all the way. I had also been eating considerably less food in recent months as I was often able to buy snacks or eat extra meals coming up the east coast but along the north and down the west I'd passed fewer and fewer cafes and shops. I stopped half way up the hill to catch my breath and began thinking about my calorie intake. I was easily burning more calories than an average man. When I went through the planning process before I left I calculated I'd probably burn between 4000 - 4500 calories a day. In the morning I often had a rehydrated cereal which was 600 calories unless I'd run out in which case I relied on breakfast bars which were about 200 calories each. I would often scoff a packet of sweet a day which I would guess was about 500 calories and then I'd have a meal in the evening, thats another between 600 - 800 calories. Now I'm no mathematician but I knew I was way off the 4000 calorie target even including the two mugs of coffee I tended to have with my meals.

My concentration was then disrupted by a loud bark. I looked up along the track leading up the hill and bounding towards me, wagging its tail, was a german shepherd, and I'm not talking about a small man holding a crook wearing ladenhausen (I'm not sure how its spelt but you know what I mean,  traditional german clothing made from leather), I mean a dog closely followed by Steve. Steve owned the inn in Glenuig and was out for the day on a little adventure of his own. At the inn steve organized sea kayaking trips for his guests and visitors to the village and was no stranger to outdoor pursuits. We began to chat about what I was doing and where I intended to head next, I mentioned that I tried to explore derelict buildings, ruins and caves along the way.  Steve was fascinated,  he was going to explore some caves I'd missed on the peninsula that day and explained to me about two other villages that had been abandoned along with peanmeanach. Steve then asked me if I had map, eager to share his knowledge of the area with me. When I explained that I wasn't carrying any maps and that my plan was simple, just follow the coast until I bumped into Southampton again, steve got rather excited. His eyes widened and a huge grin ran from one side of his face to the other. "Now thats interesting" he said "your strap line should be 'without a map'". He had a point,  I certainly hadn't thought about it that way. During his time at the Glenuig inn he'd met a few walkers walking great Britain but they all carried maps,  I was the first he'd met who was up for the challenge of not knowing what to expect or what was around the corner or in fact where I was at any particular time.

Pulling out a map of the area from his daysack,  but without opening it up, he showed me where we were and where the inn was. He then pointed out that I'd be going pretty wild passed there abd suggested I used hoolley to cross to a small island on the far side of the peninsula Glenuig was situated on. Having paddled it himself he knew the tides and currents well and thought it wouldn't be too difficult for me to handle.

Time was slowly passing by and being a Saturday I was conscious of the fact the post office I was to be calling at closed at 2pm. Deep down I wanted to drop my pack and join steve on his little exploration but I knew also I still had a fair few miles to hike before getting to the post office. "Oh you'll like barbaras post office, its very unique" he said. "it would have to be something else to beat the one oin corran" I said "it was a shed, an ordinary wooden garden shed". "Well, when you're passing Glenuig pop in and let me know what you think" he said. At that I agreed, we shook hands and I set off with haste. I wanted to arrive early at the post office and certainly didn't want to arrive late.

As I left steve I began to wonder what I would find,  what would make a post office more unique or unusual than a garden shed. I hadn't got far when I met a couple coming towards me,  they were heading down to the bothy for lunch, a simple day trip. They were quite chatty and again I explained the challenge and a few if my more recent adventures including the bog I'd discovered the day before warning them to watch out for it or they'd end up knee deep in bog mud. I would have loved to have spent more time chatting to them but had to explain that I was on a dead line to pick up supplies and wishing them a good lunch said goodbye.

The day was turning quite sociable.  I carried on up the hill and began making my way through the birch woods. I wasn't far from the road now. On the way to the bothy the day before I'd crossed the railway over an old and particularly unstable looking bridge. A sign nailed both sides saying it wasn't suitable for vehicular traffic,  although how anyone could get any kind of vehicle there in the first place was beyond me. On the way back I met two lads stood on the bridge. They were heading out to the bothy too for a short day hike. They weren't sure if they'd left enough time though now that the daylight hours were much shorter. I explained that it would be quite an easy hike and assured them they would have ample time to get there, look around and get back before nightfall. Again we began chatting about the trek and the challenges I'd faced, but once again I explained I couldn't stop too long to chat as I needed to get to the post office before it closed for the weekend. It was again a shame as I quite liked chatting,  I'm generally a people person and spending so much time alone I found I missed the company of others and making new friends.

Once back at the road it was quite literally downhill to inverailort where I'd find the post office. Also being on tarmac made it an easy walk. I was sweating quite a lot by the time I approached the village and coming down the hill I kept an eye out for the post office.  I'm sure it would stand out based on how steve had reacted. I could see a small group of houses next to a large mansion. Surely it couldn't be the mansion I thought, although I wouldn't have been surprised.

Nearing the bottom of the hill I could see a pub come restaurant. Maybe it was in there. I headed over and found somebody to ask. With a big grin the lady replied "ah well go back to the junction, follow the road round and you'll see two large steel gates. Go through the gates along the track and the post office is opposite the post box. You can't miss it". "It might be closed though" she added. I asked what the time was, it was quarter past one. Normally the post office closed at 1pm on Saturday but it turns out barbara whom I was about to meet had on this day stayed open longer to allow me just enough time to hike from the bothy.

Without further ado I thanked the lady and hastily set off to find the post office. Back at the junction I turned left and followed the road as it snaked alongside the loch towards the group of houses and the mansion I'd seen from the hill. I could see two large steel, although I thought they were iron, gates. Beyond the gates I found a track just as I'd been told.  The track was heading straight to the mansion.  Its the mansion,  I thought to myself, this is going to be interesting.

At the end of the track and sat opposite the mansion I found a small red post box. Opposite the post box was a wooden door with "post office" painted in black. Outside were several chickens and a cockerell (I would have put cock but well you know what people are like). Through the door I found myself in a corridor,  to the right were stacks of cages with all manner of small animals in such as guinea pigs and hamsters. It kind of resembled a pet shop or animal rescue centre.  The walls were lined with wood panelling, the posh type, and I would imagine in its day would have looked fantastic but time hadn't been too kind. Hung on the walls were small plaques each with an individual crest and the name of a commando outfit. I walked along the hallway looking at the plaques and the decor when I came across a door,  again it had the words post office painted in black . There was no red neon sign as you would normally find,  I mean even the shed in Corran had a neon sign.

I pushed the door open and was greeted by a small dog, wagging it's tail. Again the walls had wood panelling but painted white and many were bowed or warped through age. There was a small gas fire burning on the inside next to a stack of old postcode books,  magazines and stacks of old promotional material. There were two chairs opposite the old wooden counter not that you could sit on them for more piles of promotional material and old scraps of paper. Behind the counter was something else though, I'd describe it as organised chaos but I'm not sure any of it was remotely organised.

"Don't worry,  your parcel has arrived" came a small voice from somewhere behind the clutter and stacks of shelving and piles of more paper and more promotional material. It really was something else. I set my bag down and began to remove a few layers of jackets, the room/post office was swelteringly hot. From nowhere the parcel appeared. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee and some sandwiches" the voice called out. The whole situation was becoming extremely surreal.

Barbara was an elderly lady and as I later found out was nearing 80, not that she would let on or you could even tell. She was employed by the mansions previous owners as the house keeper and was promised a place to live for the rest of her life. When the owners eventually passed on she was left to look after the mansion which included the village post office.

"There you go, ham and chutney" she said handing me a bread board with two sandwiches on. I was busy attempting to stuff my supplies into my pack. The door opened and in walked ann with a mug of coffee. At this point I didn't know who ann was or in fact that she was even in the mansion.

"Are you a commando" barbara asked. I looked down at what I was wearing,  I certainly looked like one. I explained that I'd been given it by a kindly gentleman in cove a month or so before to help me get through the winter months.  "You know the commandos were invented here" she said, which explained the plaques on the wall in the corridor.  Barbara then went on to give me a very brief history of the mansion and said how there had been many documentary films made about the place.

It was gone 3pm by the time I'd had my second round of sandwiches and coffee. I'd just about managed to squeeze everything into my pack. Ann had offered to take my bag on to Glenuig but when I asked how far it was and was told along the road it was 8 miles,  which in my mind would equate to almost a days hike, decided that it would be best if I kept hold of it not knowing when I'd arrive there. Barbara then showed me to the back gate and said goodbye. The post office really had been unique,  I don't think I will ever come across one quite like it ever again.

Fully loaded and weighing in at a ridiculous weight I set off along the road following the edge of the loch. I only had about an hour before the sun would begin to set. Along the way I kept an eye out for water and a food place to camp up for the night. While packing my supplies into my bag I noticed that Joanne hadn't put in the usual jamaican ginger cake, which I must admit I was quite looking forward to,  instead there was something much better, less calories but certainly much better. It was a bag of Barratts milk bottles, my absolute favourite sweets ever. They weren't the fake ones you often find in sweet shops that quite frankly taste rank, no these were the real mckoy. Coated in a fine sugary layer of dust with that distinctive milk bottle taste you only got from barratts or maynards milk bottles. The taste that took me back to my childhood. The packet was destined for my belly and it wasn't going to last very long at all. A couple of miles from the post office I spotted a small wood,  there was a stream and flatish ground.  It would do for the night. I set about getting the tarp erected and filled my bottles with water. That night was a special night so I treated myself to a main meal and a desert, custard with Apple all washed down with a lovely mug of hot chocolate.

13 - 14 November

13th November

Around 4am, although I'm not entirely sure of the actual time, I was woken suddenly as the world crashed down on top of me. The wind hadn't let up for one moment and my shelter simply couldn't cope any longer. The guys holding the corners of the tarp and the cord strung between the two rocks simply snapped. I was pinned to the ground like a shrink wrapped turkey. Unable to move and feeling particularly fatigued I decided to stay wrapped up in my cozy sleeping bag inside the bivi under the tarp. The pegs were still holding the tarp in place and the wind blew right over the top. At least I was out of the rain and with such strong winds I didn't think I'd be able to do that much with the shelter anyway.

The following morning after just a couple more hours sleep I decided to crawl out from my little shrink wrapped cocoon. I knew it was morning only because I could see light through the tarp. The wind was still blowing hard but had lifted a little from earlier.

Remaining under the tarp I did my best to pack my gear away, wrestling the new sleeping bag into its stuff sack and gathering up my stove. With my boots on and dressed in my wet weather gear I eventually crawled out from under the tarp to inspect the damage. As I had suspected the cord and guy ropes had frayed on the rocks and eventually snapped. It was not the best start to the day.

With everything packed I turned to head towards the beach,  my plan was to traverse the rocks along the shoreline. Stood on the stones looking left I began to plan a route in my head to get me started. The wind was howling though and the more I plotted the stronger it seemed to get. Nearly being blown to the ground I decided not to make the attempt. It was too dangerous and one lucky gust could end the trek there and then. I had to make another plan. Taking out my phone and studying the satellite images of the area I noticed there was a track that ran parallel to the coast, all I needed to do was get back to the road I'd followed the day before and about halfway along take a right that would bring me back on track albeit a quarter of a mile inland. It wasn't ideal but it was the best I could come up with and certainly safer than the original plan.

Once back at the road I backtracked until I found some water. I'd run out the night before and due to my hasty retreat that morning I hadn't stopped for breakfast. I didn't have any dehydrated breakfasts left so settled for a couple of biscuits and a coffee. Even just having a meager breakfast like this makes a huge difference.  It seems that at the moment all I seem to want to do is eat.

It wasn't long after my break when I came across the junction I was looking for. A sign said "farm track only" but the images showed me a continuous track from where I stood  to the main road at the bottom of the peninsula. It had to be the right way so I set off.

The track did indeed pass through a small farm but then it continued. As I progressed the track became less easy to spot, the gravel grown over by grass, but once I'd passed the farm it became more obvious again. The track wound its way through a forest alongside a river and between solid rock walls. At the far end and after several miles hiking I went through some green painted gates and found myself near to the main road. The wind was still howling though and although it wasn't raining I found the hiking hard work.

Once up on the main road I began to feel disappointed that once again the weather had prevented me from trekking where no one else had. It couldn't be helped though, safety must always come first. Not dwelling on what can't be controlled I followed the road,  keeping my head down. With my shoulders and back aching and I needed to pause occasionally to adjust straps or shift the weight of the pack. On one such occasion I noticed a perfectly good blue nylon rope thrown against a tree next to the road. It was quite a narrow gauge and perfect for tying the tarp up. I measured out a good length and cut it to size before winding it up and taking it with me. The cord I had been using for the tarp was, no longer fit for purpose.

Feeling quite happy with my salvage I carried on. Time was slipping by now and I'd hoped to make it to peanmeanach bothy that night.  As the sun began to set though I realised that I probably wouldn't make it to the bothy before nightfall so I began looking for somewhere to stop the night.

I was now getting close to where I'd need to head off road. Spotting a small clearing with small waterfall and plenty of wood laying around I decided to call it a day and stop. It was only 3:30pm but the light was already quite dim. I set up the tarp among the trees using my newly found rope and gathered branches and twigs for a fire.

I'd literally just got camp ready and was just about to light the fire when the rain started. I put my saucepan outside while I got the fire going just under the tarp. I didn't want to waste the heat the fire was going to produce but I also had to watch I didn't melt my shelter at the same time. By the time the fire was well and truly lit I'd collected enough water in my saucepan to make a good  mug of coffee. The weather that night didn't bother me one bit. The trees were sheltering me and the tarp from the wind and the rain was running off the tarp at the back. Warm and dry I quite happily snuggled into my sleeping bag and had an early night.

14th November

The following morning the wind was still howling and my shelter, thankfully, was still serving as a shelter. Without having to rush around whilst under the tarp I boiled up some water for a coffee and grabbed three breakfast bars from my pack.

I only needed to follow the road around the bend for a couple of miles before I arrived at an off road parking space which signified the point I would have to head across country to the bothy located on the tip of the peninsula overlooking a beach. I wonder how many beaches I've crossed since starting off over so many months.

Beside the parking was an all too familiar green sign shaped to a point on one side. Ceum, path. It indicated that a footpath leading to peanmeanach began there. In some cases this was a good thing because it meant it was regularly used and potentially maintained. In other cases it was only a mere indicator and you had to use your imagination.

The footpath began quite reasonably, nice and wide, easy to follow and a good hardcore surface. Gradually the path began to narrow, but that was ok the hardcore surface continued. As I continued to follow the path down a slope and into a small birch woods the hardcore surface abruptly stopped and in front of me was a big muddy puddle and beyond that rocks and more mud.

The wind was still blowing strongly as I continued to follow the path up the side of a huge hill and towards the small mountain range I'd have to cross to get to the bothy. It got better in places but mostly it was rocks and mud. It was a steep climb to the top of the hill and although it was overcast above me across the loch the sun was shining uninterrupted over the autumn landscape.

Nearing the top I began to feel the wind whipping round through the peaks, I'd been sheltered coming up the path but now exposed I could really feel the full force. My pack was acting like a huge sail on my back and with each gust I could feel my body twisting and contorting, every step I took I had to watch my balance. The path ahead was now pretty exposed and ran alarmingly close to the edge with a very steep drop off down to the loch several hundred meters below.

Hesitantly I started walking the narrow trail, I felt particularly vulnerable. One slip and it could possibly mean a one way ticket for a close up of the shoreline. Making haste I focussed on way points along the trail, places I could take shelter from the wind if it was necessary. Each way point was approximately 20 meters apart. I reached the first without any problems but as I reached the second an extremely strong gust took me by surprise. My pack was pushed quite hard and felt my knees buckling,  instantly I reached out my left arm for balance and grabbed the corner of the boulder I was heading for, my second way point. My legs gave way as I lurched towards the trail to take cover. Now crouched leant up against the boulder I looked down.  It was a close call, taking a deep breath it occurred to me how lucky I was. My quick reactions meant I was still safely on the ridge but if I'd have delayed or done nothing then I would surely have slipped. The weight of my pack would have been too much for me, I wouldn't have been able to stop my descent, I would have kept sliding and falling until I either hit a tree or ground at the bottom.

Unable to safely move forward I waited until there was a break and the wind died down a little. The gusts come in waves, between each sunami it was calmer. Still blowing but calmer. Sure enough a few very long minutes later I seized my chance to get off the ridge. With a sense of urgency in my stride whilst at the same time showing caution I quickly made my way to my final way point. Without looking back I followed the trail down behind one of the peaks. As i descended I could see the bothy in the distance. It looked like it was in pretty good shape with a new roof. As I passed a small mountain loch on my left I lost sight of the beach and bothy but noticed how rough the waters were. Fresh water lochs, inland, are generally calm but this one was ferocious. Waves came barrelling across its surface as the winds picked up one after the other.

Now heading down the trail and leaving the peaks above me I found myself partially protected and the going was easier. Reaching the bottom took no time at all where I found a stream struggling to fulfil its role of providing a channel within which the water could escape to the sea down by the beach. The stream was too wide to jump but there were some stepping stones all though they were submerged and acting like a dam against the torrent. Picking my route carefully and hoping not to slip I began to cross. The wind was still blowing and a sudden gust, this time from behind, pushed me forward.  I lost my grip and balance on the stones and stumbled forward. My legs tried to keep up as I found myself falling forwards. I wasn't too far from the other side and could see a flat muddy puddle directly ahead. It wasn't an ideal choice but felt it was preferential than falling in to the cold waters of the stream. With a fumbling effort to get to land I lurched forward to place my left leg into the puddle. Only it wasn't a puddle,  oh no. This particular two meter round muddy puddle was concealing a bottomless abyss. Sinking instantly to just above my knee my right leg followed. I'd managed to avoid such incidents until now, well mostly. My first instinct was to grab something solid,  a couple of blades of grass, and leaning forward I managed to pull my left leg up and out of the boggy trap, although I must admit I did wonder if I'd still have a boot attached to my foot. Whilst freeing myself I could feel the bog sucking at my boot, it didn't seem to want to let go.

Once back on terrafirma I looked down at my legs, the waterproof trousers were covered in mud. It then occurred to me that scott would have wanted me to film the incident.  I pondered about that for a moment wondering if I would have been able to pull the camera out from my pocket afterall it would have made interesting footage. Deciding that the process of filming whilst rescuing myself would have probably ended with the phone getting damaged. Pulling up the trouser legs of my waterproofs I was surprised to find my trousers beneath were still dry and mud free. Something so trivial brought a little happiness to me as I chuckled to myself about what had just happened.  I then relocated the footpath and continued on to the bothy. It was still a mile away and to reach it I had to pass through another woodland and then cross a marsh.

The wind still hadn't let off and it began to rain heavily as I approached the ruins of peanmeanach village. The bothy was positioned fairly central to the beach and during the summer months I'm sure it would have been a lovely place to spend a long weekend.  For me, in this instance, it was shelter, it was my refuge from the elements. A place I could relax and dry out. Maybe I would spend more than one night there, I still had plenty of food and the post office where my supplies were waiting for me was only a days hike, if that.

From the outside the bothy looked much like may other single storey cottages. The roof had obviously been replaced in recent years. I opened the front door and was surprised to see stairs leading to two sleeping spaces in the loft, one of which had a dayglo pink lilo. The door to my left took me into the main living room with fireplace, two benches and work surfaces. There was a pile of dry wood in the corner with fire lighters on a shelf. I dropped my bag down and went to see what was behind the door to my right as I entered the bothy. It was another sleeping room complete with wooden bunks and its own fireplace. Compared to the bothy at craig or friesgill it was quite plain you could say it was functional. I think the things I liked most about the other two bothys was the fact they both had arm chairs and both felt comfortable and homely.

Hung on the wall next to the bunks was a small bag. I took the bag down and took it into the living room. Placing the bag on the side I began to empty it looking for things I could use. I found a tin of rice pudding, a couple of tea lights and pasta sauce perfect for use with tortellini and chorizo darryl had sent with the sleeping bag. My next task was to go to the stream, which had been joined by several other streams to form  a small river, and collect some water to make myself a coffee. It wasn't far and finding a 5 litre bottle on the work surfaces I decided to fill it up as well as the two 2 litre bottles I was carrying.

Once back in the bothy and out of the elements I set about getting the fire going and making myself a coffee. My feet were soaking wet so it was of some relief to take my socks and boots off and warm myself by the fire.

The pace of my life now is considerably slower than it used to be. Often I have to build my home before I settle in, often I have to gather wood to keep myself warm, often I have to find water to boil before I can have a drink. It seems like an age away that I used to stay sat at a desk for hours a day, every day. Fresh drinking water was available literally on tap. To keep warm it was simply a case of turning a dial.

The light had now begun to fade so I lit some candles and noticed a wonderful sunset through the window. I hadn't seen a calm sunset for a while so I grabbed my phone to take a photo. I opened the front door and leapt out of my skin as I was confronted by a hurd of deer, grazing. I hadn't expected to see them and I'm pretty sure they hadn't expected to see me. They bolted briefly but when they realised I was of no threat calmly went back to grazing. The wind had finally died off and the rain had stopped, I felt particularly calm and a small feeling of content warmed me.

After standing in the doorway admiring the sunset and watching the deer munching quite happily on the grass outside I decided I too was hungry. Going back in to the bothy I prepared the tortellini,  the instructions on the packet had worn off so I had to guess. While the tortellini was boiling away I cut up the chorizo sausage and added it to the saucepan. Finally I took the jar of pasta sauce and added that. It was delicious. A nice change to the freeze dried meals I was used to and it almost felt like I was cooking again. Completely stuffed I had to wait a while before heating up the rice pudding.  I had demerara sugar with me that I'd acquired from a café somewhere. Remembering my childhood I sprinkled the packets of sugar on top and stirred it in slightly. I'd found a new appreciation for food, once the challenge was finished things would never be the same for me again.

Feeling quite content I unpacked my sleeping bag and lay it over the benches in front of the fire. I popped out briefly to water the garden and found myself stood beneath an amazingly lit ceiling of stars. For some reason they looked particularly bright that night and peering up I could see the milkyway in all its splendor. A shooting star streaking across the horizon completed my picture of a perfect night.