21st-23rd December

21st December day 291

I was now officially on a break until after Christmas, and as with everything on the trek, completely unplanned. I was also feeling under the weather with suspected man flu.  With the rain continuing to fall in a constant downpour we decided to stay in to allow me to catch up with my blogs. The weather was most definitely determined to keep me from continuing, thankfully I was in good hands and after a nine month hike the break was to do me good, not only physically but also mentally. The strain of constantly moving and surviving the challenges presented to me day after day had affected me in more ways than I could have ever imagined.

22nd December day 292

Over the previous weeks under iains care I'd begun to regain weight and relax, his generous and caring nature knew no bounds and when iain asked if I could accompany him to Inverness for the day while he took care of a personal matter, I felt honoured that he felt confident enough to ask.

On the way to Inverness we had to pass loch ness, a place I'd visited when I was about 14 with my parents,  eager to spot the monster I fell asleep in the car. On long car journeys this was quite common for me. As iain pulled into the car park of the "official" loch ness monster exhibition I came too, a little disoriented. Unfortunately the exhibition was closed which was a shame as iain had suggested that for my next little adventure I should paddle board the loch in search of the elusive beast and it would have been interesting to find out a little information while we were passing. Thankfully the cafe was open though so we stopped for a coffee and bacon sandwich before continuing on to inverness.

The rest of the afternoon I waited for iain while he took care of his personal matters giving me the opportunity to catch up on the latest tabloid news. Taking an alternative route around loch ness, this time I managed to stay awake,  I was able to see the extent of the challenge I would undertake next time I visited Scotland.

23rd December day 293

I'd not been feeling too well during the coming days and it had finally caught up with me. After having a lovely breakfast I climbed into a hot bath, my head was numb and sinuses felt clogged. After taking some pain killers I went back to rest not waking until later that evening.

17th - 20th December

17th December day 287

That morning I woke quite late, I was feeling tired but that wasn't going to prevent me from clearing a few more miles off the trek. This time I would leave the daysack behind and empty out any unnecessary gear from my backpack leaving only the pack raft for the corran ferry crossing later that day. Before setting off I checked the tide times on my phone and arranged with iain to meet him by the narrows so that we could get a couple of photos of me paddling the open waters.

The drive from Lochaline was now taking longer and by the time we arrived at the place I'd been picked up the evening before I was left with two hours to walk to the shore before high tide and the best time to attempt to cross the tidal race from the loch to the open seas.

Immediately we arrived I slung my pack on and headed for the coastline along the beach a mere 50 feet from the road. I was able to continue along the beach for at least a mile before I was forced up onto the road. 

Making my way along the tarmac road was easy going compared to the stony beach and considerably simpler than the wild excursion the day before. Using my ipod to drown out the sound of cars passing me and loosing myself in the ambient tones of the music I followed the road stopping at a small cave I could see to my left.

The cave was barely large enough to sleep two in and a small stone wall had been constructed as a wind break across the entrance. I was later told that tramps had occupied the cave dwelling several years previous.

As I left the cave the weather slowly began to deteriorate. According to the weather forecast we could expect snowfall and possibly storms over the following days. I just hoped the weather for that afternoon would hold back, I needed calm winds and preferably no rain or I'd have to reconsider the crossing in hoolley. 

As I approached the beach that lead to the slipway at corran ferry, about half a mile away, a heavy mist began to obscure the far side of the loch and the wind began to pick up. It wasn't looking good. Thankfully the closer I got the better the weather improved. The water was looking choppy with a small swell and a few breakers approaching the narrows. The far side a mere quarter of a mile away. 

Iain was down on the shore when I finally arrived, looking across the unsettled waters. "I can't watch this" he said as I lay my pack down on a tuft of grass and began to inflate hoolley. All set and ready to go I made my way towards the narrowest part and gazed out out watching intently at the way the waters moved. It wasn't to be the roughest crossing I'd made on the trip but like always I had to retain respect for the unseen forces that lurked beneath the waves.

The mist had now cleared up and thankfully the winds had dropped once more. Seizing the opportunity I placed hoolley down on the shore, the water was fairly calm there, I climbed in, pushed off and began to paddle away from the shallows to into the main channel. The swell was increasingly dominating the way across and to avoid an accidental capsize I turned hoolley against the flow to ride safely over the crests occasionally turning about so as not to get caught in the tidal surge and strong currents that could, if not paddled correctly, drag me out into the Atlantic ocean. It was a tough paddle I'll admit, often it didn't feel like I was making much progress but gradually and after reassuring hoolley we were nearly there I managed to ferry glide against the drag and into the shallower shores on the far side.

While planning my crossing I'd decided on three possible places to land. The first a little way down the loch and onto a small beach and the other two places almost directly opposite. Not feeling all that confident I decided not to head along the loch but instead to aim for the slipway used by the cars crossing on the ferry which was considerably closer and safer. Pushing my paddle blades into the shingle I pushed myself and hoolley ashore. Another successful paddle.

Iain was waiting back on the other side so after deflating hoolley we both boarded the ferry to rejoin him and head back to my temporary base. While driving back, hoolley now stowed back in my pack iain suggested I stopped for xmas. A lovely gesture and an offer I couldn't refuse. With Christmas a week away and no sign that the weather would improve it seemed like a good plan, the days would also be getting longer by then and hopefully the weather would improve too.

18th December day 288

Over the previous weeks I'd not managed to get far along the coast but was satisfied that I'd at least made a little progress. I was now about seven days hiking from oban but without knowing when I would set off again I couldn't be sure when I would be passing through. Steven rae, a reporter for the oban times, had contacted me about popping by for and interview and photo opportunity and having a day free I figured it would be an ideal opportunity to visit their offices and make use of the free promotion. The trip would also give me the advantage of being able to recce the route that lay ahead. Driving along the road I'd be hiking after Christmas was insightful. On the whole it was relatively flat and for the most part the road and cycle paths followed the coastline closely. 

Arriving in the large town, similar in size to my home town of Bournemouth, I immediately noticed a difference in my surroundings. I'd been so used to being in the wild or passing through small villages that the hustle and bustle of oban was quite contrasting. The single track lanes had been replaced with two lanes and a series of traffic lights, the calm rustling of leaves in the trees had been replaced by the droning sound of a procession of motor vehicles and the uninterrupted views of the hills obscured by a concrete jungle. Although I had been used to town life before the trek I found the experience to be quite unsettling. It felt like the first time I'd been to a metropolis. It was something I knew I would experience more and more in the coming months as I would gradually make my way back into England and further south. 

With the car parked up iain and I walked through the streets of the town, our first stop, oban fm, the local radio station to see if we could get an interview live on air organised for the next day followed by an interview and photo opportunity with Steven the oban times reporter. After the interview I also enquired about the story I'd been told about the way the oban times had covered the sinking of the titanic in 1912. Apparently the headline "argyll man drowns at sea" had been a local myth although we were unable to confirm this as the papers archives didn't start until 1934, several decades after the incident. 

Before heading back to Lochaline though we paid a visit to the oban lifeboat station, gwen and ian from the quarry had organised a pickup from the pharmacist of the prescription I'd been given in Kilchoan. The pills had been waiting at the station for several days now. There was also a package from Andrew carter, another of the trek supporters. Andrew had sent a durable heavy duty head torch, a couple of packets of sweets and a chocolate bar which was a pleasant surprise and a gift most welcomed.

19th December day 289

The next day the weather, once again was miserable and once again we jumped in the car to head back to oban for a 3pm interview with ian the presenter of the afternoon show. We arrived early so while iain disappeared to do some shopping I stopped at Carolyns cafe for a coffee, mince pie and friendly chat with the natives. The time flew by and before I knew it I was sat in the warmth of the studio at oban fm and chatting away with the presenter about the challenge. I think it went well but as per usual the ten minutes of fame came and went all too quickly and iain and I were soon headed back to Lochaline. 

On our way back iain asked why I hadn't worked in radio professionally to which I had to remind him that I had and owned the worlds first and largest global community radio station wwsn radio. I did admit though I would enjoy producing shows on other more localised stations should the opportunity arise.

20th December day 290

The weather had still not improved by the morning, in fact it appeared to be getting worse. Scotlands west coast was certainly living up to its reputation of being wet n windy. Not wanting to waste the day though we iain and I went out to finish a couple of chores around the cottage that needed finishing. Firstly we leveled and repositioned the winter fuel tank and then we knocked down and removed a small vegetable patch that hadn't been too successful. I, quite selfishly, took great pleasure in being able to help out and return some of the favours gracefully handed out to me by iain during my short stay.

That evening I was also able to treat iain to a taste of my signature dish, pepperoni lasagne. A recipe I'd fine tuned over the past nine years and gradually perfected. I think it went down well, noticing iain helping himself to seconds.

10th - 16th December

10th December

As the weather Continued to deteriorate and whilst checking the forecasts for the following days it was decided that continuing the trek  immediately would be potentially dangerous. Reluctantly I had to make the decision to hold up once again. During the following days the met office issued warnings as a horrendous storm engulfed the north of Britain with 40 ft waves and torrential rainf among heavy snowfall and sub zero temperatures.

It was several days before I was able to take a stab at the next section of the coastline.  While I waited patiently I helped iain feed the deer on the hills and made myself useful. We were also able to work on extracting the blog posts from Facebook to be used in the book. I'd often wondered if Facebook kept all your posts and had hoped it had as I had not kept a record of the trek anywhere else.

Copying the text from the website into a word document I slowly but surely managed to retrieve all the blogs although I was only able to find a few tip entries. On the whole though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

With the days continuing to shorten and snow lay on the ground it was decided that my retreat should be extended until the weather improved. Taking heed of iains advice, local knowledge being priceless, opened up new opportunities I'd not expected. Over the next few days I became a tourist. On the 13th we jumped in the car and drove along the route I would be picking up and headed to glen nevis near fort William at the bottom of britains highest mountain ben nevis. Passing through fort William I seized the chance to visit the barbers. The following day we went further along the coast to see the mountain ranges of glencoe and passed a couple of locations that were used in the liam neeson movie, rob roy.

After the two days of excursions we were treated by Cameron and morag who handed iain some homemade sausage rolls,  a cooked lobster and a ham bone for nipper. That afternoon using one of off road vehicles on the estate we headed up into the hills to feed the deer. The continually changing views of the Scottish hills never ceases to amaze. Each time its different and in the varying light cast across the vast countryside something new always presents itself.

16th December day 286

Checking the weather forecasts the night before indicated a couple of days where the weather would prove suitable for hiking. It was an opportunity not to be missed. Rising early and fuelling myself with another of iains superb cooked breakfasts I got my gear ready. Today I was to be taking only the daysack with a few items of kit for emergency purposes and a pouch of food for lunch. I was also to be taking with me a new addition to my gear, a gopro video camera santa had delivered early.

Still dark nearing nine o'clock I looked up at the skies attempting to judge the state of the weather. The skies appeared to be fairly clear, it wasn't cold and whats more it was dry. Bats were circling around the cottage as I headed in to grab my lightweight pack and iain took me back to the farm he'd collected me from.

Arriving at kingairloch we pulled the car over into a passing bay and I climbed out. Feeling excited and eager to cover more of the coast line I set off away from the car and followed the loch side road back to the coast along the way passing several grazing stags unperturbed by my presence.

Reaching the head of the loch i continued to follow the road passing an old school house featured by robert Louis Stevenson in his novel "kidnapped".

"Kidnapped", by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson (published in 1886) is one of the best known historical adventure novels ever written. Henderlands manse, as seen in the photograph, is one of the places Stevenson stayed whilst following the the Stevenson way a unique walk which has now been established.

It would be a shame to lose such an important part of Scottish history but a planning application has been lodged with the Highland council to demolish the building and replace it with a modern cottage. Should the application be granted a slice of Scotlands cultural heritage will be lost.

Without the weight of my enormous pack I was able to make good time following the stony shore and looking ahead with the perfect clear skies I was able to make out a snow covered ben nevis on the horizon. I Reached my first way point earlier than expected so I contacted iain to let him know I would be attempting to make it to my second way point across a small section of wilderness. 

Leaving the road and civilisation behind me I crossed a small beach, passing a large steel submarine bouy marooned on the sand, and up into the hills. Almost immediately I found myself having to climb small rocky ledges and follow wild goat trails to avoid soft marshes. The further around the headland I went the higher and more technical the climbs became. Descending from one of the peaks I stumbled on a small bothy hidden away from view close to the hills and to one side of a large secluded and extremely isolated beach. I'd come up to it from behind and above.

The roof,  which was pretty much all I could see from the hill, looked reasonably new and the building judging by what little I could see appeared to be well maintained. Once down from my birds eye position I walked round to the door, "pirates stores" read a sign painted on. I moved the large stone away from the door and went in to investigate further.

Behind the door was a single room, bunks to the left and woodburner and table to the right. As bothys go this was quite adequate and felt reasonably comfortable. If I'd been carrying my entire kit I would most likely have stopped there. I didn't have my kit though and I still had several hours before nightfall which was plenty of time to clear this wilderness section and make it back to the coastal road.

Leaving the bothy I closed the door and returned the large stone to its resting place and headed back down to the shore. I followed the beach as far as I could before having to cross a wide burn using three large boulders as stepping stones and heading back up into the hills once more. The slopes down to the coastline had now become extremely steep. I wasn't exactly walking along the waters edge but I was as close as I could get. Occasionally picking up trails worn into the hillsides I gradually made my way through the dead ferns and along the coast. The light was beginning to fade and the temperature was dropping quickly. With only a mile or so to go and the terrain becoming less wild I quickly made my way to the beach I'd agreed with iain would be a good place to meet at the end of the day. As I hiked along the shoreline I could see iains headlights waiting. This would be where I would set off from the following morning. I'd covered a good stretch of the coast and was feeling quite good about the accomplishment,  not having to carry my full pack had made a huge difference.

That evening,  back at iains cottage I was able to bathe my aching muscles before tucking into a lovely home made meal. Climbing in to bed I reviewed the gopro footage and edited a short film of the day which took considerably longer than I'd expected finally finishing up just after 3am. It had been a long day and although I was tired I was also excited about the trek I would undertake the following day, a short hike followed by a quick paddle in hoolley as long as the weather stayed in my favour.

9th December ( day 278 )

It waa still dark as I joined the employees of the quarry for breakfast. Without light to walk by I had no choice but to wait so I stopped for a natter.

It wasn't until about 9am that there was enough light to even begin to contemplate the journey ahead of me that day. Before setting off though I popped into the site office to say  goodbye to gwen and ian who'd put me up for the night. Fascinated by my attemp we discussed the route I was to follow from the quarry and what I could expect further along. I told them of the problems I was having with my boots and was immediately offered a new pair courtesy of the onsite stores. Gwen and I took a land rover and head over to collect them. As we drove round I was given an impromptu tour of the works. The quarry is the largest in Europe and not just Britain as I'd previously thought,  with over 9 million tones leaving the site every year. Arriving back at the office with a nice new pair of leather waterproof steel toe capped boots and a dayglo orange vest to help me stabd out better whilst hiking the works track out from the quarry and to bring attention to me on the roads ahead for safety reasons gwen kindly offered to collect my prescription I'd been given in Kilchoan and leave it at the rnli boathouse in oban. An extremely kind gesture I thought.

With the wind behind me I set off making sure I didn't cause any trouble for the works traffic, especially the enormous diggers. Reaching the far end of the quarry, which took about half an hour I met with the first obstacle of the day, a burn in spate. The water was thundering down from the hillside towards the sea with great force. It was deep with an unstable rocky bed. Looking around I found myself having trouble finding a way to cross and almost decided to turn back. Testing different locations along the gravel banks I did however eventually find a narrow section where I could make a leap to the otherside. It was a little risky but I felt I could just about manage it. With a strong push off I went for it, my right boot getting slightly submerged beneath the cold water. I could feel the tingle through my waterproof socks, the water had breached the top of the boot and a little had seeped in. It doesn't matter how waterproof your boots are if it goes over the top your feet are going to get wet.

There was a light drizzle in the air and even with four tshirts, two jumpers and three jackets on I could feel the bite of the cold air. On the other side of the stream I was able to pick up a reasonable trail which took me to the shores. I began to soon realise that the day was going to be a tough one when every few hundred yards I found myself stood on the banks of more burns in spate,  each one wider than the last. On most of the occasions I headed towards the rough seas where the burns fanned out and the water levels reduced. Not all to a trickle though and quite often still several inches deep.

The tide was now very obviously coming in which pushed me up onto the higher ground and I found myself having to follow deer trails over large rocks and small cliffs. The wind was gradually increasing and on a couple of occasions I had to be extra vigilant with my footing as my pack got short and sharp gusts blowing me forward and off balance. This was the reason I'd hoped I would be further south and beyond the complexity of the Scottish west coast and its infamous weather fronts.

The weather was beginning to deteriorate rapidly and the temperature dropping to uncomfortable levels. Even with all the layers I was dressed in I could feel the cold water against my skin. After a mile or so crossing over the rocks exposed to the elements I was able to get back down to the shore but still I had to cross the powerful forces of the water descending from the hills. It was a tough day.

Passing some ruins of an old house, which I later discovered had been used as target practice for the midget subs used during the war, I felt the need to investigate up close. Beginning to turn to head over and after a few steps I decided to carry on. There was very little shelter and with my time running out I knew I had to get to the top of the loch before the light was too dim to locate suitable shelter for the night.

A little further on I picked up what was quite obviously a man made track on the shore, large boulders lining the way. I followed the track as best as I could but in places and where the track was located so close to the water the tide engulfed it submerging it below the angry waves being blown up onto the beach. Crossing another spating stream and although I headed towards the shoreline and the shallowest part it was still deep enough to seep into my boots. There was no escaping it my feet were getting wet. Reaching the far side I headed back up and away from the water and onto the track once more.

A heavy mist had now completely engulfed the mull making it almost impossible to work out where exactly I was and how much further I had sstill to go before I reached the mouth of the loch, my destination for the day. As I continued to follow the track the mist thinned and I could see the faint outline of hills ahead. It was still raining although not hard its persistence was such that it had penetrated my gortex and I could feel the dampness through both pairs of trousers I was wearing underneath.

Reaching the mouth of the loch I was able to finally turn inland and begin the hike towards a small collection of cottages and houses. The days hike was almost complete, the light was fading and I turned my attention to seeking out somewhere to stay for the night. Now able to see the far side of the loch I could make out a small woodland,  it was growing on a slight slope and I hoped I'd be able to set up the tarp.

Reaching the first cottage on this side I noticed that a wooden hut to its side. The door was held closed with a large stone. Beginning to feel the cold and damp I decided to see if anyone was home.  Looking through the windows of the cottage it was apparent the cottage was used as a holiday retreat. The bed was unmade and the cottage uninhabited. I went back to the hut and let myself in eager to make a mug of hot chocolate and reheat a ration meal to warm me up.

As I sat waiting for the water to boil the wind began to thunder around the hut and I could hear the rain beating against the roof and sides. Conscious I'd arranged to call iain once I'd reached the head of the loch I switched on my phone and looked for a mobile signal. No matter which way I turned though the only message my phone would give was "no service", I had always thought I'd have problems getting a signal along the north coast but hadn't anticipated not being able to connect along the west coast.

Pulling up a garden chair that was stored in the hut I removed my jackets and hung them up to drip dry before sipping on my hot chocolate and ration. Immediately I began to feel warmer sitting in the dark shed with only my head torch to see around me.

Listening to the sound of the wind battering the wooden panels outside I began to realise that to attempt to continue with the harsh weather pending and due to get worse would be crazy if not extremely dangerous.

Tempted to call it a day and remain in the hut for the night to dry out I grabbed my wet jackets and slung my pack on. Pushing back the door the bite of the cold air hit me and I stepped out. Looking up at the sky I tried to estimate the time and more importantly how long I had left before it would get dark once more. Guessing the time was gone 3pm I knew I could possibly get a couple of miles if I put my head down and stomped.

I left the hut and began the hike to get me to the other side of the loch. The gravel lane was a pleasant change to the rocky shores and boggy track I'd had to negotiate earlier that day. It didn't take me long before I was stood at a ford looking at another river in spate. It was deep and the water was running fast. If I waded across I knew I'd get wet, it was at least waist deep. Looking around I couldn't see a footbridge so I went towards the loch hoping it would get shallower but still too deep I decided to turn back and head for the hut where I'd at least be sheltered from the cold. I had to make plans and not risk my health and avoid hypothermia. Figuring my best hope would be to wait it out over night and hope the water levels would drop enough to allow a safer crossing the following day. Now concerned I was out of contact with anyone and I was unable to contact iain as I had arranged the day before I hoped he wouldn't be worried and contact emergency services.

I was about half way along the lane and nearing the cottage when I heard a car horn. I stopped and turned my head to look across the loch to see a car flashing its lights. When I hadn't called iain had indeed begun to worry and had driven to the location we'd agreed to meet for a coffee. I waved to acknowledge I'd seen him, thankfully I was wearing the dayglo vest I'd been given at the quarry or he would never have seen me. At least now there was a shimmer of hope. I headed back to the river and waited as I saw his car drive along the loch and towards me. The wind was picking up once more and the rain began to fall heavily. I waited at the ford hoping iain could bring the car closer, unfortunately the lane was cut off further back by another spating river, too deep for him to drive through. Luckily a footbridge allowed iain to walk over from his car and didn't take him long before he was stood across from me.

Iain had brought with him a walking stick,  using the stick to help him balance he was able to cross safely and meet me. It was great seeing him stood infront of me. We then crossed back, iain first followed by myself both of us using his stick to assist the crossing. My feet were now soaking and the cold sent shivers through my bones.

Arriving at iains car I was able to remove my boots and climb into the warmth of the passenger seat and tell my story. Deciding that continuing on that evening was probably a bad idea iain offered to drive me back to his cottage where I could get a hot bath and take shelter until the weather passed.

8th December ( day 277 )

Monday and back to the trek. It was lovely spending time relaxing with iain and nipper his over excitable puppy. After a good fried breakfast I got my kit together and we headed to the top of the loch. Agreeing to meet up again after I'd navigated the next wild section of the journey for a coffee I headed along a gravel track following the instructions iain had given me. The bad weather had added to the difficulty of making my way around the coastline which meant I always needed to plan several routes so I always had options. One thing I've found invaluable on the challenge is listening to the locals. Listening to iain and taking the winter weather into account it became apparent there was really only one plausible route to follow.

The gravel track lead into the hills, it was cold and snow was laying on the ground and among the grasses. It was an easy hike although after a couple of miles I found my pack beginning to weigh down on my shoulders. About half a mile later I came to a mountain bothy iain had told me about. I couldn't pass it without at least taking a peak but I certainly wouldn't be staying the night,  it was far too early. The bothy was very similar to ones I'd seen before. An old single floor cottage restored.  Inside two rooms, a living space and a bunk room. There were two tables and a couple of benches with a book shelf. It was dimly lit so I picked up a pocket torch someone had left and scanned the titles. One book stood out from all the others, bram stokers dracula, not because it was one of the greatest novels ever written but because it took me back to Whitby and Slains castle in Cruden bay. It was like I'd only been there days before.

After the short break I left the bothy and immediately picked up a trail I'd been told to follow in search of a loch iain described as the narrow loch. The trail soon vanished though and I was on my own with only my intuition to guide me. I knew a stream would run from the loch I just needed to identify it amongst the hundreds of watery veins running across the marshes from the hills surrounding me.

The temperature was now dropping and it began to hail heavily followed by a brief moment of snow fall as the skies turned dark. The ground beneath my feet was marshy with deep potholes and extremely hard going.  My pack was feeling heavier with every step. There was no way I'd be able to cover the milage I needed to with the time available to me during the day. I'd weighed myself at iains cottage and then put my kit on and weighed myself again. My gear including the wet weather gear was now weighing 8kg more than when I'd left Southampton. At 30kg it was too heavy. I needed to get the weight down some how. I needed to leave something behind. After thinking about it I decided I couldn't do with out food and I needed to keep hoolley which meant I had to choose between either the tent or the tarp. Looking at the potential risks of this decision especially during the winter months I decided to loose the tent and air mattress. For me it was a logical decision the tent and matress weighing around 2kg considerably more than the tarp and bivibag. The tarp was also quicker to setup with more room to move about under.

Stopping on the marshes I took off my pack and removed the coffin and matress and laid them side by side on the snow. It was a hard decision, what if I needed them, what if I couldn't find somewhere to set up the tarp. I'd have to improvise. Slinging my pack back on I immediately noticed the difference.  I headed off, my pace considerably quicker.

Now not so worried about the weight of the pack and the weight quite literally lifted from my shoulders I covered the marshy ground heading the way I felt was right. Coming across a large loch I knew I'd gone off trail. Looking about me I knew I needed to head closer to the snow capped hills nearer the coast. Trampling over the marsh and over a small hill I found the narrow loch. I knew where I was and where to go next. Following the loch keeping it to my right I headed between the hills towards glensada quarry.

It was getting dark by the time I'd started walking down off the hills.  Iain had told me to pop in as I was passing to say hi to ian Henry. As it turns out ian wasn't working but I was expected. Unbeknown to me dinner and breakfast had been organised and a room for the night in the employees accommodation. I had to accept, I mean afterall how many people, other than the 200 employees there,  could say they'd stayed in a quarry. I invoked the"random act of kindness" clause.

4th - 7th December (day 273)

I was extremely hot in the sleeping bag during the night finding it surprisingly uncomfortable. After leaving the dive centre the night before I set off to look for somewhere sheltered or flat to set up camp and had decided to pitch near the shore.  The following morning it was considerably cooler. Turning my phone on to check the time I received a message from Paul alerting me to the highly likely chance that snow was on its way to the west coast and judging by the drops in recent temperature I truly believed that he was right and that it was a real possibility. The skies were covered with a thick cloud lining some white others black. I was taking the day off anyway but as I looked across the loch I couldn't help but wonder how the extreme change in the weather would affect my crossing in hoolley and the subsequent hike along the coastline ahead of me.

Having drunk the two ltrs of milk I'd taken from the shop the evening before I'd left none to have with my breakfast in the morning.  Leaving the tent pitched I set off back to the shop to get some more. As I was walking along the road towards the store a car pulled up alongside me the passenger window wound down. It was the columnist who'd written the piece in the oban times that had gotten me recognised throughout the local area,  he'd seen me on the road between Lochailort and Glenuig and as he'd passed I'd waved which he thought was odd but something I always do to thank drivers for pulling over as they passed to give me room on the narrow lanes. After a long chat, me leaning in to the passenger window, iain offered me the use of his bathroom to freshen up and join him for breakfast.

The following couple of days were to turn out to become a welcome break from the normal trudging through bogs and marshes. Iain, keen to shiw me the area and share his knowledge of local history extended his invitation of breakfast by offering me the use of the couch in his front room.

On the Thursday I was taken to the local estate iain helped manage and maintain to put out some salt blocks for the deer. Using an eight wheeled cat, which looked very much like a moon buggy we headed up into the hills over the marshes. The cat was unstoppable and a vehicle I'd never driven before. Picking it up quite quickly steering with motorcycle handle bars and controlling the throttle on the right grip we toured the boundaries coming across thick herds of deer grazing and seeking shelter from the winter winds. Heading up to the highest point, beinn itherlainn, I was able to view the loch and route I'd hiked from Strontian with a birds eye. It was quite surprising just how far I could see but what was more surprising was how cold it was up there.

On the Friday we headed back to the wishing stone where I was told the whole story of the tradition and how the unusual formation had been created and in fact stretched across the sound of mull to the shores opposite. A little further up from the wishing stone was a fresh water well, the tradition was to take a mouth full of water back to the stone before climbing through without touching the sides and how he'd often attempted it.

After a quick photo shoot at the stone which was too slippery for me to safely climb without using my hands we headed for the Silica mines Lochaline. Its fine white powdered sand is used in kitchenware, laboratory glassware and the protective glass covering solar panels. With over 60 miles of tunnels stretching beneath the village makes this mine the largest in Europe and the only one in Britain.

With the weather deteriorating it was decided that it would be best to wait it out and hope it would improve, which it didn't.

Iain very kindly let me stay longer and we planned to meet again at a small remote cottage he ownes on the shore of the next remote section of the trek.

The following day we went to Strontian, the small village I had passed through a few days earlier. Again I was enlightened by iains knowledge of the local area as he informed me that the village was where the element Strontian was discovered. After stopping at a small cafe in the hills above we went on to the lead mines where 800 locals had been employed and where iain had been brought up as a child, his parents house located in the glen not far from the site. As we drove passed iain pointed out the location of one of the mine shafts that he'd taken an aqualung into, as parts of the mine were submerged under water, to try and locate one of the veins.

My stay in Lochaline was turning into a welcome break and I was able to relax although all the time I was conscious that I would have to eventually leave and brave the weather no matter what was thrown at me. Making the decision to stay sunday and leave the following Monday seemed to make sense.

Being well fed with roast dinner chicken and custard. Venison with all the trimmings the following night and chicken pie followed by cheesecake on Saturday I was ready to tackle the terrain that lay ahead and the challenges I'd soon be facing.

3rd December (day 272)

It was a mild morning, I went outside the coziness of the bothy and collected some water for a lemon tea and to my surprise came across another ration pack, chicken korma and rice. Curry for breakfast, what a result. The pack was one left over from the last supply dropand because it hadn't fitted in with the other packs I'd wedged it into the daysack and forgotten about it.

Feeling positive and my hunger kept at bay for at least the time being I gathered my kit up and set off for drimnin. From the cottage and bothy I was able to follow a well defined gravel track,  my boots were still wet from the day before but the waterproof socks appeared to be doing their job.

Hiking the track I came across several deer and passed the sites of several ruined communities. I wasn't sure what I'd find at the end of the track or really how far I would have to walk before I came across drimnin. Drimnin was a particularly important place for me to stop at. Darren,  the lovely chap I'd had the pleasure of hiking from Whitby to robin Hoods bay several months prior had kindly put together a box of supplies for me and posted off to the post office in the village. If luck favoured the fool then there was a good chance it would be waiting for me to collect it and my food shortage would be short lived.

It was a cold morning but at least it was dry and it didn't take long to head up over the hills and down towards the small village.  At first the houses were scattered but after a mile I began to see small groups of two to three. The track had joined a tarmac road now and the going got simpler. I was beginning to feel hungry again and eager to get to the post office. Without knowing exactly where the post office was I decided to stick to the road and began to head up a small hill hoping it wouldn't be too far. It was still only 11am so I was feeling confident that it would still be open. As I made my way up the hill I met a couple coming towards me. Stopping to ask for directions Micheal and Patricia informed me that the post office would be closed that day but knowing the post mistress they said they could call ahead and see if the parcel had arrived, they also asked me if I fancied a coffee and bacon toasty while they made the call. Who could refuse.  There house was only a few yards behind me so I turned round and followed them back down the road to their home. I later discovered that Micheal had worked for the London zoo and had been responsible for acquiring the pandas from china.

Whilst I ate my toasty and sipped my coffee, complimented by biscuits,  Patricia called bibi, the post mistress. Bibi wasn't at the post office,  she was on the isle of mull visiting the vet with her dog but as with many of the small communities I'd come across Patricia knew someone who would have her mobile number.  It wasn't long before Patricia was chatting to bibi explaining that I was hoping to collect the package. It hadn't arrived yet. Although posted on Monday in remote communities like Durness it could take three even four days for the post to be delivered. It was a bit of a blow to say the least.  Michael then suggested that I should head for Lochaline,  the nearest village with a shop some 11 miles away, a five hour hike. I'd be able to get a few supplies there and have the parcel redirected as long as I could hold up for maybe a day or two. It sounded like a reasonable plan and an achievable goal. Before leaving the company of Michael and Patricia,  Patricia handed me a shopping bag with a few bits in. Bread, cheese spread, porridge and a box of oat and honey biscuits.

With time ticking away I needed to head off after my brief break and snacks. Attaching the food parcel to the back of my pack I said thank you and headed off back up the hill along the road towards the post office heading for Lochaline some 11 miles away. Passing the drimnin sub post office I had to stop even knowing that it was closed so I could get a photograph. It was a small wooden hut, slightly larger than the one I'd passed in Corran before navigating my way round knoydart.

Further on from the post office,  and at a guess I'd say around five miles I came across an unusual rock formation, only a couple of feet wide but long and tall similar to a natural wall jutting up from the ground only a few feet to the left of the road,  it looked particularly unstable with a large hole passing through one end. As I got closer I was able to make out a series of cairns randomly placed among the overgrown grasses on either side. I'll be honest it didn't look safe but I was sure it would have been fun for the local children. Deep down my inner child was urging me to play but my sense of urgency and need to get supplies from the shop drove me on.

Once again time was my enemy, and I was well aware of it even though I'd lost my watch many months before.  The sun was low in the sky, not that it ever seemed to rise much above the horizon these days anyway. Having a long trek ahead of me to get to my chosen destination,  Lochaline still 5-6 miles away, I put my head down and picked up the pace. I was well aware that it would be nearly 5pm or possibly later by the time I'd be able to stop and seek out a place to camp. It would be dark.

About quarter of a mile down the road I came upon a small car park with information board, something I can never resist. The information board related to the rock formation, the wishing stone. I read on. Anyone who could pass through the hole without touching the sides would be granted their wishes, it said. I looked back, should I go back and make a wish. I briefly paused for thought. Absolutely not, I didn't have the time or the energy. As I left the car park I wondered why the information board wasn't put closer.  I couldn't dwell on it though and once again picked up the pace.

It was a good three hours later and nearly 6pm when I finally made it into the village and down towards the ferry port where the village shop was located. Happy to take my pack off I left it outside and went in.

"You're the man walking Britain,  aren't you" the lady behind the counter said. I was quite taken a back. "I'd read about you in the oban times" she disappeared and returned holding a copy of the paper. Placing it down in front of me a thumbing through the pages she quickly found the column that contained the article. I couldn't believe it, there in front of me was my name in print. Although I'd been in several Highland newspapers since entering the Scotland I still wasn't used to it. "Tonight" she said "we'll pay for your supplies". Once again I was blind sided, not really knowing how to react. I thanked her and went to get what I had planned to buy. A box of cereal, 2ltrs of milk and a bottle of fresh orange juice. I didn't want to be rude or take advantage and stuck to my plan hoping the supply parcel would arrive the following day.

Before leaving the shop I asked if there was anywhere in Lochaline I could pick up a wifi signal and was informed that the local dive centre just along the road also had a cafe and free wifi. They didn't close till later and it seemed would be a good place to relax and enjoy a nice mug of coffee.

At the dive centre I quickly located the O2 cafe and went in. There was a group of divers that had come up from Southampton, rodrigo, dan, mark and rodrigo. Apparently 'rodrigo' was a rare name yet here were two. The four friends were on a diving holiday all fascinated by wrecks and loved wreck diving. They'd brought with them gopro cameras and were filming their finds for an article they were writing.  As a little experiment they were breaking the footage up frame by frame and importing it into a software package that was able to construct 3d computer models which allowed you to pan and zoom around the subject. It really was an amazing technology.

Eager to make the most of the warmth of the cafe, its wifi and power I hung around chatting away about their finds whilst editing and rendering a short video update to post online. It was now very dark outside and I was beginning to feel a little hungry but to my surprise I was invited to join them for dinner, a lasagne with glass of red wine followed by sponge cake the dive centre had prepared for them included in the price of their stay.

2nd December (day 271)

Again I woke around 7:45am, it was just getting light and I could see the stars slowly fading away. I got dressed and went to get some water from the nearby river and made up breakfast.

There was barely any light when I hit the track again but the further I hiked along it the lighter it became. Eventually after several miles of easy walking I came across another remote estate. I wanted to continue following the lochs edge but a huge fence and padlocked gate prevented me from going the way I'd wanted. Instead I had no choice but to follow the driveway towards the large house and follow the public right of way sign posts. Although I'd hoped to use hoolley to paddle across a small loch that joined loch sunart it appeared that I would instead have to make the long hike around it.

Passing the house the public right of way left the track and headed up into the hills adorned with trees and through a thick woodland. It was almost immediately obvious that this footpath wasn't a very popular one,  in fact at times it was difficult to even distinguish a path at all. Trees had fallen and the overgrowth was over grown.

Making my way through the woods was a slow process,  every so many yards I found myself having to stop to try and pick up the trail. Occasionally I was lucky and could spot a way marker ahead but most of the time I was looking for a the compacted ground left by previous walkers over the many years of use prior to its recent lack of popularity. As I continued I did wonder when the last person had set foot on this trail. There were signs of deer using the trail but no sign of man.

It then began to hail. I was pleased it wasn't raining as hail is more preferable and tends to bounce off your clothes as opposed to soaking in. The hail soon passed and I eventually emerged from the woods onto the top of the hills. Unfortunately though at this point I completely lost all indications of a footpath,  public right of way or even the fientest sign of any trail.

Looking down from the hills and trying to determine which way to go next I noticed how calm the waters of the loch below me were. It had turned out to be a perfect day for a paddle. I just needed to make my way off the hills and back down to the shore below,  then I would be able to use hoolley to paddle along the loch and possibly save me a couple of days hiking.

With the plan slowly forming in my head I proceeded across the marshes and over the rocky hills keeping the beach in sight and looking for a safe way to take me down towards the shore. I was up quite high with excellent views of the loch and where I'd hiked that morning.  Needing to make my way down a 150 meter steep descent I noticed a deer trail following the path of a narrow stream and cascading waterfalls. It was going to be tough on my knees and I'd have to watch my footing but it was possible. The deer trail made life simpler although in places very slippery. It took a good twenty minutes of carefully following the trail and in places and to avoid small boggy patches in the marshy bank I found myself straddling across rocks petruding from beneath the grass and using ruts as stepps down the steeper parts. Nearing the bottom the ground began to level out. I could hear the sound of running water, the roar of a waterfall as the water plummeted over the rocks into pools before continuing on its way to the loch. As the sound got louder I began to wonder what my next challenge would be,  had I made a mistake,  was I going to be faced with a ravine or deep channel, would it be difficult or impossible to cross.

It was very much a relief when I finally came close enough to determine that the deer had solved the problems I'd invisaged. The deer trail that I'd followed had lead me to a small shallow crossing with an easy transgression to the other side and into a small woodland. I was still 20-30 meters above the shore but again the trail took me an easily walkable route between the trees, although extremely boggy with large deep puddles.

Now only 10 meters above the beach I easily made my way out of the woods and down to the stony shore. The weather was still good and I still had plenty of time to make a good paddle,  the pieces of the plan were slowly falling into place. Reaching the waters edge I took my pack off. I needed to determine the state of the tides. It certainly wasn't high tide as the tide markings were some way from the water but was it coming in or going out. I took a small light coloured stone and placed on top of the dark coloured stones next to the calm ripple free water of the loch. I then began to pull hoolley from my pack and inflated her. About fifteen minutes had passed and hoolley was inflated, she was beginning to show a little wear and I noticed a small rip in the fabric near the cockpit behind the seat. It was nothing to worry about though and hadn't affected the integrity of the main hull. You could say it was superficial although it was something I would need to keep an eye on.

Before inserting the spray deck brace I checked the shoreline again, the stone was now submerged,  the tide was coming in and judging by the distance the water had travelled I was able to estimate that I'd have several hours before it reached the high tide mark. The water though was getting close to my pack and other gear and had to be moved back while I finished getting hoolley ready for the paddle.

Climbing in I found myself once again struggling to get my boots in passed the day sack laying in the bottom of her hull, the eyelets catching up on the spray deck brace. As frustating as it is it was something it was something I had very little control but comfortably sat and eager to go I dug my paddle in and pushed off. As with all my crossings the blade cutting through the surface of the water and first satisfying stroke I felt at ease. Turning my concentration to the task ahead I kept close to the shore keeping an eye out for obstructions below and ahead the floating kelp providing me an advanced warning of the shallow rocks which were to be avoided at all costs.

The tide was still coming in but the current was weak along the edge of the loch. It wasn't long before I found myself looking directly at the small island I was to paddle behind,  which was the safest route. The incoming tide was now of benefit to me as the current began pushing me round. Picking up speed and using less effort I was now able to relax and enjoy my short break from the tiring trip. Still focussed on the task at hand though I began to hear the sound of bagpipes.was I loosing my mind, surely here in a remote part of the wilderness there surely couldn't be a piper playing. I looked around trying to determine where the music was originating from. I stopped paddling and allowed the current to take over.

On small mound near the shore on the island, next to a small cottage, I could just make out a dark figure. A piper. I don't know if he knew I was there or if he'd simply been told by his wife to "get out of the bloody cottage with that thing" but for me it was a wonderful experience. The sound of the Highlands, a personal performance to an audience of one, me.

Satisfied I wasn't going mad I turned my attention back to navigating my way round the loch crossing from the mainland shores over to the shore of the Island.  A safety measure, should anything go wrong I knew I wouldn't be far from dry land. Now beyond the channel and the pull of the current I continued to paddle and make my way round to the far side where I knew the current that had assisted me would now be working against my efforts. I'd have to rely on my understanding of the water its currents and effects of the incoming tides. I'd have to put my faith in my abilities and use the effects of the submerged world below to minimize the forces acting against my strokes in order to successfully land on the shore of a small bay I'd hoped I would find just out of sight but that I'd spotted on the satellite images cached on my phone.

Ferry gliding from the shores of the island across the central channel where the current was strongest back towards the main land I made very little forward progress.  This I was expecting. The closer I got to land the less drag I felt on the hull of hoolley until I was able to break free.

Once again I making progress and heading in the right direction against the flow of the waters pushed in by the incoming tides. It was a good feeling although I still had to find a place to safely egress and land. The sun was still shining although much lower in the sky, time was getting on and I knew, although I didn't have a watch,  that the sun would soon begin setting.

My eyes were now fixated on the rocky shore line. All I needed was a tiny bay. I kept paddling. The rocks floating passed me with every stroke. It was beginning to feel like maybe I'd misread the information contained within the images,  had I mistaken the yellow and grey shores seen from space as bays when in fact they were rocky outcrops. Calmly I kept paddling. Ahead and to my left a found the small channel I was aiming for,  the water was shallow here, maybe 5-6 feet deep. I didn't fancy getting wet but felt confident that eventually the bed would find the surface. Kelp was also floating on the surface, a mat of dark reds and browns. These were good signs. I paddled a little further,  the kelp scraping beneath the hull as hoolley glided over. Then I saw it. A small bay, possibly an old boat launch, an archaic slipway of mud and shingle.  Further inland an old tire hung from a tree and beyond that an old white cottage.

I turned hoolley in and floated her closer to the shore using my paddle dug into the stony bed to help guide her between the rocks to a place I could climb out. It was a good feeling. I hadn't been wrong,  I'd landed exactly where I had planned.

Just up from the slipway, which was extremely muddy, was an old derelict cottage. I pulled hoolley up out of the water over the kelp and away from the rising tide then bit by bit I lugged my pack, daysack,  paddles and hoolley up to the cottage and onto the grass in front.

Being very conscious of the sun now so low in the sky it had begun to disappear behind the hills I packed hoolley away, attached the daysack and slung my pack on. My fingers numb from the cold water and frisky yet gentle breeze from the loch.

Walking around the cottage I found a track leading off and along the waters edge. It seemed reasonable to follow it as far as I could and I hoped I would find somewhere sheltered and warm to spend the night. The further I walked away from the cottage the better the track became,  it didn't look like it was heavily used and I didn't expect to see anyone for a good couple of days.

I'd had quite a pleasant hike but the air was getting chilly as I continued on. Turning a corner and following a bend in the track the ground became more boggy. Between looking at my feet I lifted my head to see where I waa heading.  Up on a small mound I saw what looked like an unusual sculpture.  As got closer I could make out the roof of some kind of building,  maybe a barn. I was quite surprised to say the least, surely nobody could be living out this far.

The track took me around behind the sculpture and building revealing a small cottage alongside. I went round to the front of the cottage where I found a picnic table so I took my pack off and placed it down so that I could see if I could find anyone. A tree in front of the cottage was adorned with objects, the type of things a new age hippy or artist would hang. Knocking at the front door I had no reply. I turned and went to the other building thinking that maybe someone would be there. From the outside it looked like stables with a courtyard. As I walked into the courtyard I immediately realised it was something else. There were glass doors on each side and once again began to summize, a hippy retreat maybe.

Knocking on the first door I came to I realised it was unlocked.  I opened the door and called out, again. Still no reply. My eyes panned around the room. To my right there were two beds, in front of me a table and to the right a wood burner and small open kitchen. From the kitchen was a corridor that went back and appeared to turn the corner linking to the rest of the building. I stepped in and once again called out and once again the reply was silence. Had I come across another private bothy. It certainly looked like it.

Following the corridor I went in search of life. At the far end and around the corner was another glass door leading to what appeared to be a work area. Posters on the walls describing different lichen, various garden tools laying on benches. At the far end of the room I could see reels of cables, soldering equipment and computer peripherals. Beyond that was another door this time with wire mesh and no glass. It was beginning to feel like a scene from the tv series "lost". I headed over and peered through the mesh. Now this was interesting, to my right was a large array of batteries,  a warning sign taped to a board of electrical relays, dials and switches. To my left computer screens, microphone and numerous home made control panels. A mad scientists lair maybe. I went in to take a closer look around.

As I inspected the electronic equipment I then began to realise that the sculpture I'd seen was in fact not an attemp at art at all but possibly an antenna or high tech wind turbine experiment. I'd seen similar designs before in science magazines and in science fiction films. A large distribution board had trip switches labeled,  one indicated a power supply to the bothy, at least I knew now that I had been right. Not wanting to disturb anything I turned to head back to the adjoining bothy and back to the courtyard.

Back outside and across from me was another door, again with a large pane of glass. I went over to peer through. There were plans on the wall and a computer on the desk. In the centre of the room was a film projector and two leather sofas to my left. This was a truly unusual place and again the door was unlocked but nobody around.

The sun was now beginning to set and the temperature dropping rapidly. Deciding to stop the night I went back to my pack to get my empty water bottles to fill them from the stream that I could hear running nearby. Upon approaching the stream I spotted a strange wooden structure,  as I got closer it became apparent that it was a hydro electric generator.

Returning to the cottage and bothy with the light almost entirely gone I grabbed my pack and went inside the bothy to settle in and shelter. My boots were soaking from the days romp which unusually I was particularly pleased about,  it meant I could try the new waterproof socks I'd been sent. I rummaged through my pack and pulled out the zip lock bag they were in, dried off my feet and put them on. Time would tell if they lived up to my expectations.

I was now feeling hungry so I boiled up some water and hydrated a meal ration and brewed a mug of tea. I was now almost completely empty of food except for a breakfast meal. Knowing drimnin was nearby and still feeling hungry I decided to have the smooth oats and raspberries ration too. Whilst opening the packet, my hands still cold I fumbled,  dropping the packet and mostly emptying the contents on the floor. Gutted,  I had no choice but to obey the 3 second rule. Scooping up what I could and picking out the grass and dirt as I went I managed to save about half of the pack. It was a little gritty but being hungry I still enjoyed every mouth full.

1st December (day 270)

With such long dark nights I've found myself waking up during the night wondering when dawn will break. It was quarter to eight when it was finally just light enough to see without the aid of a torch.  I clambered from the coffin and set off to get some more water for breakfast.  There were thick heavy clouds lingering above me, I just hoped the rain would pass me by.

After packing my gear away I was eager to make the most of the daylight and set off following the tarmac lane to wherever it would take me. The rain seemed to be holding off for the time being which frankly was great but I wasn't sure if later that day it would turn.  It was cold but wearing all my clothes and three jackets kept me reasonably warm. The lane eventually stopped at an estate, a gravel track continued on so I continued on too.

The hike was relatively easy going and flat which made a pleasant change from the normal wild landscapes I'd trekked over recent months. Just passing the estate I spotted a lone stag sauntering along on the other side of a river. It hadn't seen me and seemed completely oblivious to my presence. Deciding to take a break I took my pack off and sat down to watch as the stag walked along the river bank and turn towards a forest away from me. Its antlers were huge, I'd even say refined. Pondering,  as I tended to alone with my thoughts I wondered how it coped walking between the trees of a tightly grown woodland.  I had problems with just my backpack and I could only imagine what it must have been like for the deer.

With the stag now out of sight and a slight drizzle in the air I crossed a short bridge over the river and continued to follow the gravel track along the loch. I was still several days from the coast and with the weather conditions slowly deteriorating around me wasn't looking forward to sleeping under the tarp or having to pitch the tent up somewhere. Eventually I came across a sign which I hoped would at the very least give me some indication of where I was. The track at this point forked and the sign pointing in both directions to the same place, kinlochteagus, wherever that was. A sign beneath gave a little history about the track. It was called "bunavullin coffin road" a track used during the 19th century to carry coffins to a nearby burial ground. I'd been told about such tracks before and how the tradition of carrying the coffin of a resident by the parish still continues today although now for a much shorter distance and generally only through the main street of a village.

The rain was beginning to spit with consistency as I continued along the coffin road. The weather was turning drab and getting much colder. According to the weather app on my phone I could expect it to continue for at least a week,  I was hoping it was wrong. Feeling tired and hungry I made the decision to stop for something to eat. This posed a problem though,  if I had a meal ration now I would have to forgo one later that evening or run out of food a day earlier. Having an inadequate diet and well below my daily recommended let alone required calorie count was beginning to take its toll on my energy levels. If I wasn't careful it could potentially begin to affect my health too especially during the winter months.

I needed to eat,  my body was screaming for it. Passing a small waterfall I stopped took out my battered saucepan and boiled some water to rehydrate a chicken tikka curry meal. Normally I would have indulged in custard but I'd had that after my evening meal the night before. I was eating more than I had done up until now. This was going to cause problems later on, it was inevitable.

As I sat on my pack refuelling quite surprisingly a four by four pulled up. Niel was a deer stalker, lovely chap. He was towing a trailer full of deer he'd culled that morning.  All I saw though was venison steaks. After chatting for a short while,  the rain getting heavier, Niel said that if I wanted a cuppa and something to eat he'd give me a lift to the estate.  Unfortunately that was in the wrong direction so I had to decline.  It was a lovely offer though but I didn't fancy hiking back afterwards especially now that the weather was turning bad.

Feeling slightly better after my brief lunch break I carried on along the track. I don't really recall the hike from there in too much detail I guess I went into a trance like state determined to try and cover as much ground as possible with what little time I had left. The light was already beginning to fade.

I guess I must have walked a few more miles though when I came upon three cottages. Feeling cold and wet and not wanting a Plockton incident again I decided to knock on the doors to see if I could take shelter for a short while just to dry out and warm up. There was no answer at the first two cottages but finding an open door on the last I went in, hoping it was a bothy or at the very least hoping that the owner would understand.

Inside was very tidy. There were several bedrooms and an open kitchen area. On a table by some large windows was a welcome book which on opening to the first page gave information about how visitors could make a voluntary contribution.  The rest of the book contained information about the area, where to find wood, start the generator and even where a wood burning hot tub was located. If  it was a bothy it was the most upper class bothy I'd ever visited. At first I wasn't too sure about the whole deal but as I continued reading it did seem as though the cottage was left open for visitors and an honesty policy was in place.  I looked outside, it was still raining and would get even colder as the sun set. Inside I was dry and slowly warming up so I lit the wood burner and decided to stop just for the night.

As the evening drew in I felt hungry once again.  It was a tough decision and one I would no doubt regret a few days later but I pulled out another meal pack and rehydrated it. Sweet n sour chicken in rice. It was delicious,  well any food tastes delicious when you're hungry. I really didn't know when I'd be getting another resupply, jo had sent me the last box which I was now rapidly devouring. I also didn't know where I would find the next shop to get some emergency rice. The decisions of the day could spell disaster, I'd have to wait and see.

Relaxing in the cottage I pulled out my sleeping bag and lay it on the sofa. There were beds but it somehow didn't feel right sleeping in them. With the wood burner crackling away drying my clothes and keeping me warm I began to prepare myself mentally for some hard times ahead.