Despite it being extremely cold during the night I was quite cozy led by the roaring fire. In the morning it was lightly raining but myself and my kit were nice and dry. After breakfast I packed up the bivibag and sleeping bag all nice and dry. I put my nice new boots on, breaking one of the eyelets on my right boot as I did. Not a good start to the day but at least my feet would be dry, I wasn't going to let it get to me. Packing away the tarp was nice and easy but no matter how I folded it I still couldn't get it back into the bag it came in. Doing my best I attached it to my pack.
It took a couple of swings but I managed to get my pack on and set off along the road towards the small cottage at the end. The cottage had a great view of the Castle opposite and its own small harbour. Beyond the cottage the road ended and a path lead me up to a small trail. It was still raining and the trail was wet and muddy. Away from the cottage I began a long and slow hike up into the hills passing the remains of an ancient building known as a broch. The word broch derives from the nordic for fort. Extremely wealthy land owners occupied the buildings that would have had several floors and subterranean rooms and corridors. There wasn't much left of this broch but an information board showing what it would have looked like showed quite an impressive structure.
I continued to climb the hills, the grass was wet but my feet still dry. It was tough going but I was determined to keep going and figured that my pack would eventually get lighter the more I ate. Now back at the coast I was tempted to leave the path to get closer to the coast line but decided against it due to the weight I was carrying and the poor weather I was experiencing. It would have been too wet and slippery. It would have been too dangerous.
Ahead of me now the path entered into a thick pine forest. It was quite easy to begin with, the ground firm beneath me but it quickly turned bad. The ground was mulching up and turning incredibly boggy. Walking through the forest was becoming increasingly difficult, my boots getting sucked down and requiring quite an effort to pull out. The path also became more and more difficult to see, thankfully an annual event called "the dirty thirty" that required walkers to pass through the forest meant that occasionally I'd spot white markers among the trees.
I then started to think that my left foot was feeling colder than my right. Usually that meant my boots were leaking but surely not, not my new boots. I discarded it and continued my way. Winding my through the trees a misplaced foot ended with me flat on my side in the muck. I struggled to get back up to my feet but somehow managed it. Deciding not to get down to the coast line was obviously the right decision, if I had I'd probably have had a serious injury or possibly even found myself in a situation I wouldn't have been able to get myself out of. Further along through the trees it became apparent that the recent poor weather had taken its toll on the Scottish landscape. Landslides began blocking my progress and I had to start taking care where I went, sometimes heading up into the trees to get round an impassable obstruction or to miss particularly boggy areas.
It was a tough hike but leaving the forest at the far side I headed down from the hills towards a gravel track that took me to a large stony bay. I checked Google earth to see how far I'd managed to hike but couldn't pinpoint my position. I carried on down to the bay, there were several houses but none looked occupied. From the bay the track lead alongside the waters edge to a field where I picked up a well trodden trail which followed the shoreline.
My boot was definitely leaking, I could now feel my foot squelching. An all time record, I thought to myself, they lasted all of one day. I then reminded myself that if you start thinking you've failed then eventually you will. I couldn't allow myself to be beaten by the recent events and doubting myself was simply not helping. I needed to remain focussed and despite what happens I needed to feel confident I'd overcome any situations or problems, such as kit failing. I continued along the trail though and passing a sheep lying dead in a stream reminded myself why all water taken from streams should be boiled. A little further and the trail joined a path that lead up a steep climb into another forest. The light was fading now, and fading quickly. I needed to find somewhere to camp. Without my head torch I'd have to rely on my pocket torch which to be honest isn't very good.
Finding a place to camp for the night let alone a good place was near impossible. I was on a path high up a cliff with steep tree covered slopes to my left. I kept walking hoping that I would eventually find somewhere. Passing under an enormous pilon I suddenly realised I'd not seen obe for quite some time. This particular pilon fed the isle of skye with mains electricity and was probably the tallest one I'd ever seen. I was used to seeing them back home but since hiking the northern parts of Scotland I'd only seen the old wooden ones which in Bournemouth had long since been replaced by an underground network of cabling.
It was now completely pitch black, my poxy excuse for a torch barely lighting the ground at my feet. I continued though through the forest passing through a couple of gates until I reached the far edge. The track I'd followed had brought me out to a car park. I didn't know where I was, not in the slightest but there was a small piece of grass under what appeared to be an oak tree. It was good enough. I pitched up, climbed in and heated up another of rotos rations.
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