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.