7th November

Once again I'd fallen asleep tucked up inside my sleeping bag upon the small two seater couch beside the wood burner, its door opened warming the cold night air. I had become accustomed to such luxurious accommodation and was beginning to dread the thought of spending future winter nights sleeping in the cold beneath a thin plastic sheet.

Regardless of the weather I would have to leave the hut, I couldn't stay there indefinitely even though not knowing what to expect from Scotlands weather left me at a disadvantage. It was always unpredictable, one day would be howling gales and heavy rain the next day could be glorious sunshine and a gentle breeze. There didn't seem to be a pattern.

That morning though it was lovely. The sun was shining breaking through the gaps between the clouds and there was a slight breeze. I cleared up behind me, packed my gear away and headed off away from the hut following a slight trail through the long grass and dead ferns. The ground was sodden and boggy and it wasn't long before I could feel the coldness of the water penetrating through my boots, soaking into my socks.

Passing a small isolated cottage, and when I say isolated I mean the only access is by boat, I could see a fast flowing river ahead.  I went over with the initial thought "I'm going to get wet". Looking around I began to wonder how I was going to get across. Using stepping stones was out of the question near the shore and I began to wonder if there was a bridge,  allbeit possibly just a plank, further up where the river narrowed. I began walking along the banks, it was frighteningly apparent the recent rain now leaving the mountains was flooding into this narrow channel. Ahead I could just make out a blue rope strung between two trees spanning the torrent of water that was bowling over the rocks and boulders making a loud roaring sound and frothing up like bubbles in a spa. As I got closer it became increasingly apparent that this was the bridge I was looking for.

The "bridge" consisted of a single length of blue nylon rope tied in such a way as to provide a tight rope to shuffle across and two lengths about shoulder height to hold onto with dear life. I looked further along the river banks thinking that this must have been made for kids to play on hoping for a plank or something more sturdy. There was nothing else, this was it. The thought "I'm going to get wet" returned.

I stood for a moment examining the bridge. It appeared to have been tied well and the trees the rope was strung between seemed to form sturdy anchors. "This is going to be fun" I said, although there was still nobody there to agree with me. I put my phone into a dry bag and stepped out with my left foot and holding the top rope on one side with both hands. Immediately the rope sagged towards the gushing waters below. I stepped off again to reevaluate. There was no other way across,  this was my only option. Taking a deep breath and wishing my pack wasn't so heavy I gripped my hands firmly back on the top rope unable to reach across to the other rope and stepped down. The rope I was clutching with my hands was no longer shoulder height it was above me. I'd have to take it slow and steady if I was to get across and rely on the strength of my arms to support the weight of the pack and balance myself.

I stepped onto the rope with my right foot. "I don't like this" I thought "its not fun anymore". I slid my left foot across along with my left hand, then brought my right foot and right hand along. The rope sagged further. The water was cascading with a strong force. I repeated the action until I was half way across and stopped. Breathing heavily I was surprised how well I had done.  I looked down at my feet hovering above the river.  "I wish I could film this" I thought. In my mind I began to conjure up ways of attaching my phone to my head using my head torch and some cord. I then continued as I had at the beginning sliding my left foot and hand along the rope followed by my right. A few more shuffles and I had reached the other side. Now all I had to do was climb up the bank between the two trees and I'd be home and dry. Easier said than done. There was much to hold on to after I let go of the rope and even less to step on to. My pack got caught on the ropes throwing me slightly off balance but somehow between leaving the bridge and getting wedged between the trees with my pack I managed to clamber up the bank to stand on the grass looking back.  What a rush. "That was fun!" I said, again nobody around to share my thrill.

I turned away to look at what lie ahead.  It seemed easy enough if not a bit boggy so I set off following the shore again. I hadn't walked far when I was confronted with a small horse. I think it thought I was going to feed it. I put out my hand as a friendly gesture which the horse sniffed. I then patted and stroke it on the nose before carrying on.

Beyond the horse I could see another small cottage, from behind it bounded a black dog followed by a small lady carrying a bucket, obviously horse feed. I made friends with the dog which was bouncing around me and jumping up for attention and approached they lady.

Hilda was a permanent resident of the cottage,  completely cut off from the civilised world. Her husband peter was a fisherman, who today was collecting supplies on the main land. We began to chat about how lucky she was looking at such awesome views each day commenting that they surely couldn't ever get boring and must constantly change. Hilda did admit though that from now until February 14th she would miss seeing the sun as the sun, getting lower in the sky would get blocked by the mountains behind the cottage. She asked where I had stayed the night before so I explained that I'd stopped at the hut on the shore that was now out of sight. "Oh! Bens hut" she exclaimed "he won't mind that". Bens hut, I thought it was johns hut, I began to feel a little confused. Had I miss heard billy or was my short term memory failing in favour of my long term memory which was now getting filled with daily adventures. Hilda then asked if I'd like a cup of tea, which is always welcomed, and asked if there was anything she could do to help.

As we made our way to the cottage I tried to think of something that I might need but came up blank. We went in and through to the kitchen. At that the electricity cut out in the cottage. "We are supplied by hydro power" hilda explained "when there's a spate in the burn like today the generator gets blocked up by loose stones and boulders which then have to be dug out" I offered to lend a hand and climb up the mountain to the generator to dig out the debris but hilda insisted that with the amount of water flowing down it wouldn't be possible adding that they had a backup diesel generator for just such an occasion. She disappeared to start up the generator while I began sipping my tea.

Sitting down at the kitchen table I asked if there was a shop in Inverie as I knew I would need to get a few supplies as I passed through. Hilda immediately grabbed her laptop and phone and began dialing a number she had searched for online. She got hold of the shop keeper to confirm the opening hours which were Monday to Friday 9 till 5:30, winter hours.

Hilda then called her husband who knew knoydart well to explain my plans of navigating as close to the coast line as possible. Handing the handset to me I chatted with peter and picked his brains about the challenges I'd be facing. At first he wasn't too sure but as we discussed the terrain I'd already successfully tackled he gradually began to provide a few pointers and warned me of a couple of potential problem areas. One of which would be a river around the headland about halfway along.

Whilst I was chatting hilda was toasting some pitta bread fir me and placed a jar of honey and two small packets of oat biscuits in front of me. Gratefully I spread the honey on to the pitta bread and began eating. Hilda then made another pot of tea and placed three apples in front of me to take on my journey.

I'd been there for over an hour now and had managed to get a good charge on my backup battery which had been plugged into the mains. Time was getting on and I knew that I would only have a few hours of light left and I wanted to get as far along the coast as I could that day. Before I left hilda said that they didn't see many round Britain walkers along this stretch of the coast, most either taking the road and missing knoydart completely or they followed the path over the mountains to Inverie. "You're inspirational" she said. I still find it hard to know what to say when receiving a compliment like that so I simply smiled, possibly even blushed a little. Leaving the cottage hilda decided to join me until I reached the base of the hill where I would leave their land and disappear towards the top of the peninsula.

I climbed the steep slope,with water trickling down eager to see what was on the other side.  Reaching the top I noticed something didn't feel right. My paddle shafts were loose and clanging against each other. I took my pack off and realised I'd left my charger still plugged in to the socket in the kitchen.

Not wanting to lug the pack down and then back up I left it at the top of the hill and raced back to the cottage. We both laughed as I approached, hilda realising what I'd done. "Thank goodness you remembered" she said "I would never have been able to catch up with you through the woods".

With charger in hand I went back up the hill to my pack and safely stowed it in the side pocket and strapped the paddle shafts back as they should be. Feeling happy that I'd remembered everything and not left anything behind I set off over the hilltop and began to descend towards the shore on the other side.

As I made my way down I slipped, my pack shifting its weight and throwing me off balance.  I landed heavily on my left knee. I picked myself up and continued.  It was tricky the ground was wet and muddy with moss covering boulders and rocky surfaces. Using my hands to steady my descent I gradually made my way towards the stony shore.

The way along the top of the peninsula was relatively easy going, the land was fairly flat with the odd rocky section. The ground beneath my feet was solid and not boggy in the slightest. I passed a couple of caves but because it was getting late in the day and my new head torch was rubbish, hardly casting any light even in pitch darkness, I resisted the temptation to explore.

By the time I arrived at the next cottage, on a small farm next to the river Peter had mentioned the sun was nearing the horizon. I walked over to the river to take a look and see if I would be able to cross. Immediately I noticed a few things.  Firstly it was extremely wide, secondly it was tidal and the tide was coming in and finally it was running particularly quickly. This meant that using hoolley to cross was out of the question,  if I attempted to paddle across I'd most likely end up on the shores of skye. I couldn't wade across either it was simply too deep.

Spotting a fallen tree near the river bank and close to where I was hoping to cross I decided to make camp and unrolled my tarp fixing it using cord tied round branches and a near by tree that had appeared to have been struck by lightening. Once my shelter was erected I grabbed my empty bottles to backtrack my steps in search of some water. I didn't have to go too far when I heard a trickle. It probably wasn't the cleanest water I'd drunk but it certainly wasn't the dirtiest.

On my back to camp darkness fell. It doesn't take long at this time of year in the evening from sunset to nightfall,  less than an hour. I climbed under the tarp and began to make my evening meal and make myself a black tea when the wind picked up and it began to rain once again. it was going to be a nasty night.

I took my boots off and noticed a sore on the top of my right foot. It was bright red. Deciding to check my feet thoroughly I then noticed the skin had come away from between my little toe and the one next to it. It was a little concerning. I had noticed sores on my feet before but they had soon healed but now it was possible I could get an infection. Turning my right foot over it was clear for me to see the skin was beginning to peel from between my other toes and the distinctive smell of rotting flesh.

From here on i could expect that blisters would begin to form then burst, dry out and peel off. It would spread from between the toes to the rest of the foot before infecting the toe nails. I'd suffered something similar before and knew the signs. I would have to keep an eye on it and possibly find a doctor for medication to help prevent further damage or spread.

The temperature began to drop quickly and my toes felt the bite of the chill.  I put on a dry pair of socks conscious that in these conditions it would be possible to get frostbite, something I really didn't want. I then climbed into my sleeping bag and bivi fully dressed wearing not only my waterproof trousers but also all three jackets. It was a clumbsy affair,  my arms where still aching from the paddle a couple of days earlier and the sleeping bag didn't give me much room to manoeuvre. I felt like the mitchelin man.

As I lay there in my cocoon I hoped the wind would die off and that the tarp would still be there the following morning. Deciding to get some rest I buried my head under the sleeping bag hopeful for better weather In the morning and a better chance of crossing the river.