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.
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