15^th Sept 2014

The deer trail took me down off the side of the mountain and down into a silver birch forrest. It was a lovely sight after spending so much time on the baron hill tops crossing over peat bogs with nothing around me but grass and heather. Ducking beneath the green canopy of leaves was like entering a new world. The forrest was growing on a very steep slope and I wasn't able to climb down so I just continued to follow the trail the deer had made as it wound round the birch trees. I felt quite at home here. As I moved between the trees it felt like a lovely spring day which was indeed odd because it was the height of summer, I'd completely lost track of dates. Months and days had blended into one. I continued to weave my way in and around the birch, sometimes heading up the slope other times down following the trail the deer had marked for me. In the distance and from the peace and tranquillity of the forest I heard a welcome sound, water running, the sound of a small waterfall. I headed for it, my hydration bladder and water bottle empty and in need of filling. The trail lead me to a small opening in the forest and a fresh water stream being fed by a small trickle of peat coloured water from the hills above. I hopped over the stream to get closer to the waterfall and filled mt hydration bladder up. The water was discoloured but I knew that by just boiling it, whatever evils it carried would be neutralized and the water would be safe for me to drink. As I topped up I noticed the roof and chimney of a small cottage just beyond the forest and among an overgrown piece of land covered in tall ferns. Could this be another bothy, I pondered. I packed my water away, slung my pack on and decided to head down into the ferns to find out.

The cottage was surrounded by a reasonably high dry stone wall and sat a few hundred yards from the river that I'd need to cross in order to continue with my journey. The ferns had been left to grow and dominated the land around the building. From the stream a small pathway emerged where the ferns had been beaten down and I hoped it had been formed whilst a previous occupant had come to the waterfall to fill there water containers while staying there. I followed the path beside the wall and around the front leading me up to an opening in the wall. The ferns were growing right up to the front of the cottage and had got so tall at times the building was obscured from my sight.

As I got closer I noticed the windows had been covered by boards. Still feeling hopeful that I'd found another small refuge I approached the front door. It was locked, a new shiny padlock sealing the entrance. It was a bothy for sure, but one the owners simply didn't want to share. Feeling hungry and a little tired I decided to sit in the doorway, rehydrate a ration and make a coffee. I now only had three packs left, food was running low and I still had a long way to go before reaching Durness to collect my next supplies sponsored by Barbara dodwell. Not dwelling on the lack of food and hopeful that I would be able to catch a rabbit or fashion a fishing pole from a branch or something I gathered my gear together and headed for the river bank looking for a safe place to pack raft across and head for the trees I'd spotted from the top of the hill earlier. Walking away from the bothy I followed the river banks all the time keeping an eye out for a place to easily launch hoolley and looking for a place to land on the other side. After about half a mile I found a nice level piece of grass that lead down to the banks which would have been perfect for me but the steep banks on the otherside meant getting out and carrying on would have been impossible. I decided that maybe I would have better luck a little further up the river so carried on still hopeful of a safe crossing. It wasn't far before I noticed a bridge ahead. A mere 20 - 30 minute hike away. I figured that the bridge was a good a place to cross as any and that from there I'd be able to get down onto the other bank and hike round to coast.

A small gravel track that ran close to the river bank seemed like the best way for me to get to the bridge, vehicles had obviously used it recently judging by the fresh tracks and they'd have to have got there from the road so I followed the track. Sure enough the track lead me to the road right next to the bridge. As I crossed the bridge I looked both up and down the river, it was quite wide and brown peat coloured water flowing quite quickly over boulders and rocks to the sea. Once across the bridge I began to look for a way to get back to the coast and continue either round the headland or climb over the small mountain at the end. The bank down to the river was too steep though and the pine forrest was enclosed in a deer, and apparently, Adam proof fence. The tall wired fence at least 7' high flexed precariously as I attempted to climb. There was also barbed wire strung between the tall posts at the top and I really didn't feel like I'd be able to get myself and my pack over without either snagging, falling or bringing the fence down. Too high to simply throw my kit over I decided that I would have to walk round the perimeter until I made my way back to the waters edge.

It was quickly turning from day into dusk as I followed the perimeter by road, reaching the crest of a hill I could see loch Eriboll ahead, Scotlands deepest loch. Walking down towards the water it became apparent that this would be the closest I would get to the coast until I'd hiked the long journey around the loch. The road ran fairly close to the waters edge and now finding myself beyond the mouth of the loch and away from the coastline I was able to use roads and paths to help me find the quickest way back which was a welcome thought. Taking it easy I still found the tarmac road hard on the feet, after being used to the soft and squidgy grassy bogs and the bounce of heather like walking over an enormous sprung matress. After a mile or so and climbing a fairly steep hill I got my first sight of the loch and tried to work out how far across it was and estimated the probabilities of a successful crossing in hoolley. It was difficult to judge the width and state of the water so I decided to continue with the hike around the loch pitching somewhere near the far end where I hoped I'd find sone trees and a little shelter should the weather change. Continuing to follow the road down the hill I tried to see if I still had a signal on my phone. No service. The rocky terrain was blocking any form of communication with the rest of the world, I soon realised that I would in the very near future I'd find myself very much alone, with no people around and no mobile if something were to go wrong I'd have only my self, my knowledge and experience to fall back on. Putting my phone away I noticed an unusual island joined to the mainland by a narrow spit of land. On the island was a small two storey cottage, nothing unusual about that, but just along from it were what looked like a couple of parapets, possibly the remains of a medieval castle. I had to take a closer look so I headed down and crossed the spit to investigate. As I approached the ruins I realised they were huge lime kilns. Mystery solved. I'd seen quite a few since entering Scotland but these were definitely one of the most impressive. The light was beginning to fade quite rapidly now and I couldn't spend too much time exploring the area and wanted to get as close to the far end of the loch as possible before nightfall. I headed back across the spit and back to the road.

A couple of hours later I noticed a biting chill in the air. My feet were beginning to hurt and my legs were feeling tired, seeing a small wood ahead I decided to stop and take a rest, get my gloves out of my bag and check my phone again. Surprisingly I had a full signal, looking around I couldn't see an antenna but figured there must have been one somewhere nearby. While checking in on Facebook a lonely sheep ventured over, baaing at me, slowly edging forward. This was unusual behaviour for a sheep usually they run away scared but this one seemed to want to have a chat. Unfortunately I don't speak sheep and had no idea what it was trying to say so I baa'd back and it seemed to wonder off quite contently. The chilly bite was now becoming harsher and night was beginning to fall so I grabbed my pack and set off.

I walked a few more miles stopping occasionally to look across at the loch and ahead at the road. The scenery was getting better and better and despite feeling tired I was looking forward to the journey ahead. The road now began to twist its way alongside the loch, up and around a bend. As I hiked up the slope I noticed clear running water from the rocks next to the road. Fresh Highland mineral water. I had collected water from a waterfall earlier, brown and discoloured from the peat, but this was nice and clear. Deciding to empty my hydration bladder I stopped and filled my containers up before setting off once more. It had been a long day and it was getting dark. I scanned ahead and in the distance I could see what looked like a copse a mile or so away. I needed to make camp and decided that as long as it was fairly level thats where I'd stop. With only one thing on my mind I stomped off, as I came over a slight hill I noticed another herd of deer scampering away from me. I couldn't believe how many I'd seen that day and started thinking about a nice venison steak with chips. Not only was I cold but also getting hungry. Getting closer to the copse I decided that I'd walked far enough that day and would hike the far bank the following day. I headed in amongst the small silver birch trees that grew along the shallow banks of a small stream and found a nice level grassy area to pitch my tent, hydrate a meal and settle in for the night.

15^th Sept 2014

Although it was extremely chilly walking around the loch where I had pitched my tent among the birch trees it was more temperate. It was a manageable coldness and not too uncomfortable. I slept reasonably well and only woke up the following morning after a car had driven passed. It was 9am and the exertion ofvthe previous days hike had taken its toll. Having no more breakfast meals left I decided to rehydrate a chicken korma meal knowing that I probably wouldn't find a cafe or shop until I arrived in Durness. It was a warm morning and the sun was out with only a few fluffy clouds in the sky. I packed up and decided to attach my solar charger to the back of my pack before setting off along the road, eager to get back to the coast. I hadn't quite made it to the end of the loch the night before but as I made my way around a bend I could see it a mere half hour walk away. That in its self was a boost to my moral. I continued to follow the road which was still running alongside the loch, occasionally passing the odd house here and there. In my own world and looking forward to getting off road I met an elderly gentleman walking towards me. As he approached we exchanged pleasantries and stopped for a little natter commenting on the weather and the phenomenal landscapes that surrounded the loch. He was particularly proud of the view we had of ben loyal, the mountain that towered over tongue. Looking back at it and even though a band of light fluffy clouds had obscured the peak it appeared much bigger from the loch than it had when I was stood beneath it a few days before. Naturally the topic of the trek came up and I mentioned I spent a couple of nights at freisgill bothy. I wasn't sure if the gentleman had heard or even knew about the little cottage but as soon as I mentioned the name his eye brows lifted, he looked me directly in the eye and told me that it was haunted. He couldn't remember the story behind it but thought it was once occupied by a lonely fisherman and that the fisherman had died there and his spirit had stayed behind when his body had been brought to a nearby cemetery. It was quite a spooky experience. I then recalled how restless I'd been during my stay there and although at the time put the strange happenings down to my mind playing tricks and the stress of the journey and what I had left to endure I did begin to wonder. Leaving the gentleman to continue his walk my head began to try to recollect anything odd that had happened to try and make sense of the experience.

A couple of miles later, still following the road, I came across a volvo parked up on the side of the road, a lady sat in the drivers seat looking at her phone, pointing it in different directions as if she was trying to get a signal. I was going to walk passed but something didn't seem right about the situation so I decided to stop and went back towards her. Opening the car door I asked her if everything was ok. She'd had a problem with her car and although she'd filled her tank before setting off the fuel gauge was showing empty and the engine management light was on. I then noticed the smell of fuel in the air. She was trying to get a signal and looked a little aggravated. I offered her my phone and pulling it out of my pocket I checked that I had a signal. Sure enough there were full bars, a strong connection. Thankfully she was able to make a call to get a breakdown pickup to come out to her. Satisfied I'd been able to assist a maiden in need I wished her luck and continued on with my journey.

Ahead of me now I could see the mouth of the loch, the start once again of the coast and my que to get back to the coastline. A little further along the road I spotted loch sian. This loch lay almost parallel to where I'd left the coast the day before and meant that I'd need to leave the road to head down to it and up onto the cliffs. Finding a small track that lead towards the loch I left the road, once again back on the trek with unknown challenges ahead of me. The loch was a reasonable size but what made this loch special was a narrow bank of stone that separated it from loch Eriboll. Climbing up onto the small rocky heather covered cliffs that ran next to the waters I had a strange satisfying feeling come over me. I followed the cliffs over a few humps and bumps and before I reached the headland came across a small village of just a handful of houses, some of which were generating there electricity by private wind turbines. A small single tarmac track ran between the houses so I followed the track down from the village back to the main road. It was a small adventure but it seemed that due to the terrain with its high rocky cliffs coupled with the fact the road ran extremely close to the edge I would have to wait to escape the tarmac. As I walked along the road I passed workmen laying fibre optic cable brining highspeed Internet to the most remote areas of Scotland. Below me now was a lovely closed off sandy bay. Climbing up the steep hill and looking down I had the urge to stop the night but managed to resist and carried on. I was now only about 4 miles from Durness and where I'd hoped to collect my next supply pack.

17^th Sept 2014

The road wound its way up well above bay below and the view of it was simply marvellous. At the top of the hill was a small car park and an old camper van parked up. As I walked towards it the driver wound the window down and leant out. Dave and his mother, marge were on a little tour of the Highlands and had bought the camper secondhand from Southampton. They'd stopped off to admire the scenery and had watched me climbing the hill, stopping every now and then looking across the bay. Finding it quite amusing they wanted to know how far I'd walked and said if I'd have run up the hill I'd have been in time for afternoon tea. Whilst chatting with them they plied me with chocolate chip cookies but before I headed off once more on my way they insisted I took a tin of boiled sweets with me. I had a lovely chat with them, the banter amusing especially from marge who must have been well into her 90's. A little way along from the car park I came across another ruined clearance village and following the path headed back to the coast. There wasn't much left of the village and if it hadn't been for information boards you wouldn't have known what you were looking at and even then you needed a really good imagination. After about a mile I found that I'd done a huge circuit and ended up pretty much where I'd started, back at the road once more. Deciding not to fight it I carried on along the road, down the hill passed another beach and up another hill. From here on in I began to realise that for the foreseeable future this is what I'd be dealing with on a daily if not hourly basis. Further along the road I came to smoo caves but reading the information board about the caves realised its tourist value which quite frankly I'm not interested in. The types of caving I prefer are the ones not yet explored or that have an unknown element of danger to them. It was also now getting late and I wanted to get as close to Durness as possible that night so that i could pop into the post office the following morning to pick up my supplies and continue on. Making a mental note that one day I should return, possibly when I'm retired I set off to finish the day. Durness was now only a couple of miles away and time passed quickly. Only having one ration left I decided to call In at the spar convenience store to get something to eat before they closed. The tourist information was on the way and I noticed a reasonable area to pitch up, I left my bag hidden behind a large sign out front and marched up the hill to the shop. When I got back I dragged my pack from its hiding place and went over to the level grass verge beside the centre overlooking Durness beach and set up the tent. It was then I realised I'd lost my solar charger which I'd thought had been fastened to the back of my pack. The solar panels were still attached but the battery charging unit and the plastic bag I'd put it in was gone. To say I was a little gutted simply doesn't go far enough. I could have lost it anywhere that day. I went back to the sign I'd hidden my pack behind in front of the information centre but it wasn't there. I needed to find someone who'd be willing to give me a lift along the route I'd taken hoping that I'd spot the bright blue plastic bag I'd stored the charger in. Carrying on with the trek without any way to charge my phone would have been terrible, not only an inconvenience but also dangerous. I needed to find, nay ask for help. My first port of call was Facebook. Maybe somebody knew somebody who was near by that could help. I posted a request for help and then set about looking for assistance in the village. Usually, but not always, you can often find a friendly soul in the local bar so I went in and spoke to the people there. Unfortunately they'd been sat there for a while unwinding with beers and wee drams. A couple overhearing my problem offered to give me a backup charger than ran from AA batteries. It was certainly an option. Not to be beaten I thanked them and said I'd try and get help from the local campsite just up the road but if I failed I would happily accept their offer. Leaving the bar I headed over to the campsite.

On entering the campsite I saw a man sat outside his tent strumming a eukalalee. I went over for a chat commenting on his little instrument and asking if he knew George foremans "when I'm cleaning windows". He laughed "thats one tune I haven't learnt yet" he replied. We began chatting about how steve had been given the instrument by sue, his wife, and that now he preferred playing it to the guitar. I then said about my plight and how I was hoping I'd be able to find someone who'd be willing to take me in a car along the route I'd hiked that day looking for the charger. "No problem" he said. Without further ado he ushered me to his car and we set off. While driving along the narrow winding roads steve and I chatted about the challenge and the various comical situations I'd found myself in and discussed where I thought the charger may be. I had a funny suspicion that the bag I'd attached to my pack had possibly fallen off somewhere near the place I'd camped the night before. As we passed the various places I'd stopped I looked out for the bright blue bag in the hope I'd easily spot it. The further we drove the more I hoped it was where I thought it would be. Eventually we arrived at the end of the loch and assuring steve we were getting close I described the place I'd called home for the night. A small copse of birch trees next to the road.

Ahead we could see exactly what I'd described and approaching the spot ee could both see the blue plastic bag laying on the floor beside the stream at the side of the road beneath a small birch tree. To say I was delighted wouldn't quite cover it. I jumped from the car to retrieve it. Opening up the bag I checked the charger was ok and returned back to Steve who by this time had turned the car around ready to make the trip back to Durness. I'll be forever in this wonderful persons debt for the help he gave me finding this vital piece of equipment. Before we headed back we decided to set the trip on his car to see how many miles I'd covered that day. Arriving at the campsite in Durness we checked the mileage. Even in the car it seemed quite a hike and the trip confirmed it. 13.2 miles. Before parting company I thanked both steve and sue for their help and wished them both an enjoyable holiday.

Knowing that the charger needed a boost I went back to the bar to plug into their mains whilst drinking an orange juice and lemonade. I also thanked the couple who'd offered me the alternative charger which I thought was extremely decent of them. After editing a couple of videos while charging the battery I decided to head back to the tent to eat some food I'd bought at the shop, ginger cake and custard and get some rest in the hope that the following day my rations would arrive and I'd be able to continue with the trek.

The following morning I woke and had what was left of the ginger cake and while waiting for the post to arrive I set about catching up with my blogs. As 11am approached I climbed out of the tent and began to walk towards the post office. As I did the post van passed me going the opposite way. For no particular reason I looked up at the sky and crossed my fingers. I went in to the shop and over to the post office counter. Nothing had arrived for me. I left feeling a little gutted but felt sure that it would arrive the following day. I now had the rest of the day to kill so I decided to head back to the information centre to research a little about the cape wrath and find out if the military were planning to test any bombs over there.

Cape wrath - Originates from the Norse word "hvarf" meaning "turning point". For me this was quite apt because once I'd reached the lighthouse I'd no longer be hiking the north coast but instead I'd be heading south along the west coast. Chatting to the lovely lady who worked at the centre we ascertained that there would possibly be some military activity on cape wrath and I was shown a notice they'd been sent specifying the dates when activities may be happening. It wasn't guaranteed and I was advised to ask the sentry or call the range manager before I headed over. I was also strongly advised to keep to the road and not attempt the coastal route as unexploded ordinance may still be active despite the army bomb disposal team making a recent sweep of the area. I figured it was pretty good advice as I didn't particularly want to get blown up. While chatting away about the area and the recent adventures I mentioned my meeting with the elderly gentleman I'd met the day before and explained about the strange happenings at freisgill bothy and that I'd been told the bothy was haunted. It was. I was handed a book I think was called "ghosts of Scotland" and inside was a small section about freisgill bothy. Apparently a fisherman called rudriah lived there for many years his daughter visited him one day and gave him a chanter, a musical training instrument for learning to play the bagpipes. The fisherman loved the instrument and when one day he fell seriously ill was fetched by some locals to take him to see a doctor. Before they left he asked for his chanter. Once they'd given him the instrument he promptly passed away. Fishermen today often report the sounds of music coming from the bothy and strangely enough I had been woken up on the second night thinking I'd heard music but at the time put it down to my mind playing tricks on me. I have never believed in ghosts or spirits but this is the third time now something strange and unexplainable has happened during the night at around 2:30 in the morning. Before leaving the information centre ki asked if it would be ok to leave my charger with the lady to be picked up the following day hopefully fully charged before I set off for cape wrath. The rest of the day I spent sat in the local bar editing videos and searching for an app that would pinpoint any bothys I'd be passing. I wanted to compare them to freisgill so finding the android app "bothy" was delightful and highlighted a bothy on cape wrath not too far from the lighthouse.

The next morning I got up had some breakfast and packed everything away. Calling in at the information centre I asked if it was ok to leave my pack while I retrieved my parcel from the post office. Leaving the post office I felt disappointed, no post. I now had to make a decision, I either stopped another day and night in Durness or I headed off without the supplies. I still had one ration meal left that I'd been saving so as I made my way down to the information centre I figured that it would be a waste of a lovely day and that maybe if the parcel arrived the following day I might be able to get it forwarded on somewhere or find someone who could possibly drop it off to me. Arriving at the information centre I explained the problem to the lovely lady and checked local maps of the area to see where I'd be walking and look for options. My mind now made up I grabbed my pack and retrieved my nearly fully charged power monkey and set off along the cliffs looking down on Durness beach. I was heading for farheid point a peninsula just north of Durness. After about a mile the well trodden path I'd been following ended and I had to climb a dry stone wall into a field of sheep in order to continue. On the far side of the field was another field joined by a gate. Not wanting to climb the wall I headed for the gate and carried on through the next field to sand dunes that seperated Durness from the point.

The sand dunes felt a little like a no man's land. A space between two landmasses and very out of keeping with the area around me. Keeping close to the edge and the sea to my right I headed along the steep banks of the dunes looking down at the pristine sandy beach below. The sand dunes were covered in long thick grasses and between clumps of grass ran small sandy pathways. It seemed sensible to follow the maze of pathways to help negotiate my route. Halfway along I came across a land or should I say sandslide. Part of the dune had collapsed and being a long way above the sea by now seemed dangerously impassable. I had to stop and either look for alternatives or risk traversing the soft golden slide to get to the other side.

18^th Sept 2014

Deciding that I needed to conserve my energy I opted to cross the sandslide instead of taking the safer but more energy consuming climb over the top of the dune. Digging my boots firmly into the loose sand I quickly and lightfootedly crossed over to the safety of the more solid sandy path on the other side. Making my way off yhe dune I foubd myself standing on extremely firm sand, barely leaving a footprint as I walked. The expanse resembled a small desert with my first clear views of cape wrath across the waters. It was a clear, sunny day and I could clearly see the tall cliff faces towering above the sea. Pondering how I'd be able to cover the terrain I made my way across the small desert and back into the dunes. Once again following the maze of sandy pathways I crossed the dunes and came out onto the grass covered cliffs looking down and back across at the multitude of secluded bays and beaches I'd passed. Ahead of me now were the cape wrath ranges control tower, in considerably fenced off and built right in the path of the trek. I followed the fences round and headed up to the top of the peninsula. I could go no further north. Standing at the very point I looked across at cape wrath, my next big challenge and the one part of the trek I was dreading. Not only would I be out of signal range and miles and miles if not days from civilisation but I'd also been told that the baron landscape and unpredictable weather made the area uninhabitable. From where I was standing it looked beautiful and at the same time intimidating.

I was now feeling quite hot and a little weary so decided to put down my pack, make a drink and lie in the sun. After about an hour and feeling much better I grabbed my kit and set off back down south and back towards Durness. On this side of the peninsula was a very long golden sandy beach and as I approached from the cliffs I could see an easy way down. I stopped and looked along the length of the beach and deciding that although the tide was coming in I'd probably have time to cross it before getting cut off halfway. With a slight sense of urgency in my stride I headed down and walking on the firm, damp shoreline made my way across. It had been sometime since I'd had to race the tide but once I'd passed the rocky cliffs near the middle of the beach my sense of urgency dwindled and I was able to relaxe and enjoy the sounds of the waves lapping the shore and the views of the coastline directly opposite.

At the far end of the beach I headed up to the dunes which sat opposite an old graveyard, a ruined chapel among tge old gravestones. It was still quite early but I could see Durness a mile or so away and didn't wanr to stray too far so that I could wander in to the village the following day to hopefully collect the much needed ration pack ready fir my trip across cape wrath. Once I'd pitched up the tent among the dunes I hydrated my last ration and enjoyed the sun setting, the anti midge spray appearing to keep the annoying little blighters at bay.

That night it was particularly cold and around midnight I found myself putting my clothes back on in order to stay warm. I woke around 9:30 and left the tent still erected and pack under the flysheet to walk into the village to collect my long awaited supplies. Thankfully today they had been delivered, I was delighted as organising them to be redirected would have quite simply been a real pain. The day was beginning to turn out ok, the sun was shining and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Reaching the tent I immediately prepared some boiling water and rehydrated a breakfast ration, smooth oats with raspberries. Now fueled and feeling particularly positive I packed up camp and set off for Durness golf course, the most north westerly golf course in great Britain.

The golf course, like many in Scotland, sat up against the cliffs a coastal path running through it. I followed the path, watching out fir flying balls and made my way to a field on the far side. Now out of harms way I continued to follow the well trodden path along the coastline up on the cliffs gazing at tge huge landmass across from me. Cape wrath was going to be a tough challenge and challenge I would be tackling later that day. I couldn't have wished for better weather though, especially knowing that I'd need to be unpacking hoolley for yet another wet crossing. A little way around the headland I came across some more dunes, the path vanishing amongst the tall grasses. Below me the water was crystal clear and still. I headed up into the dunes and followed the sandy pathways that resembled a labyrinth. Once on the other side of the dunes I made my way across a grassy field and down to where the small ferry, a boat with an outboard, took visitors to cape wrath across to board a mini bus that would take them to britains most north westerly point. Stood at the slipway I watched as the ferry departed. As it did the captain shouted over "I'll just take these passengers across and I'll be back", "no problem" I replied "I have my own boat".

As I unpacked hoolley I watched the ferry to ascertain the speed and strength of the current and determined the tide was going out. With thus in mind I plotted a route across that I hoped would land me on the slipway opposite.

20^th Sept 2014

The water was as still as a mill pond with only a few ripples caused by the flowing tide over shallowly submerged boulders. I headed down to the slipway the ferry had left from and got hoolley ready for the crossing to cape wrath. Once away from the slipway the current began taking me across the loch and towards the otherside. It was an easy paddle and not at all what I'd anticipated a few days before. As I approached the far slipway a waiting passenger began walking towards me. "How are we all going to fit on there?" He asked. "Its ok I can tie a couple to the front and the rest can squeeze in with me" I replied. Having safely made the crossing I actually had a bit of trouble landing hoolley on the slipway, the current wanting to drag me a little further down. After a couple of attempts though I managed to paddle her up onto the concrete and drag her up out of the water. The ferry had now returned to collect the waiting passengers as I was deflating hoolley and packing her away into my backpack. While I was getting everything stowed the mini bus was just pulling up with to drop the next load of visitors off for their return trip on the ferry. While they were waiting we chatted about my unusual adventure and I explained the rules meaning that I had to make my way round the coast of Britain as close as possible and without the aid of any form of mechanical assistance, which meant no ferries. It wasn't long before the ferry once again returned to collect the passengers and took them away and I was once more alone and setting off along the only road to the lighthouse. It was a very steep climb to the top of the cliffs and the view was amazing. The river that joined the loch to the sea had almost completely drained leaving huge sand banks where there had previously been water and leaving a small channel just wide enough to fit a small boat winding its way between them. Remembering the advice about not leaving the road I followed it in anticipation of locating the bothy some miles ahead. It was late afternoon now and I could see the sun beginning to gradually make its way to the horizon. A couple of miles from the ferry I passed a house, it didn't appear to be occupied but I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like living there. A little further along I came to the first sentry post. A smal black and white checkered hut with a large red elevated barrier. There was nobody there which was a good sign, it meant that the military weren't out playing and that I'd have ar least the rest of the day to make my way through the danger zone. I reminded myself once again not to stray from the road and set off.

The road wound its way around the baron landscape of grassy, heather coated hills, descending and ascending occasionally crossing small streams. While heading down one slope I met a couple of hikers walking towards me. They'd left the lighthouse some hours before and were enjoying the peace and quite and the interesting scenery heading for the ferry. We stopped and chatted before parting company. The light was now beginning to fade and I was beginning to feel hungry and tired. I was still some way off from the lighthouse but was looking for a track that would take me to the secluded bothy of cape wrath with its private beach in its own unique setting. Seeing a small shack ahead I decided I'd stop off to take shelter from the draft that had now picked up and rehydrate a ration from the supplies I'd picked up earlier that day. My feet were beginning to feel the pain of walking on the tarmac and my back and shoulders were glad to have the weight of my pack removed, if only for a short time.

With my short break over I grabbed my pack and continued to follow the road still looking for the track that would take me to the secluded bothy with its private beach. Heading down the winding hill and crossing a bridge and passed a second sentry post I began the ascent up the next hill. Nearing the top I noticed a beach to my right and thought to myself how nice it would be to stop there and wondered if anyone had ever set foot on it with no apparent way if getting to it. I carried on for a short time when it dawned on me. I took out my phone and pulled up Google earth to take a look at the satellite images. Looking for landmarks such as the bridge and hut I'd stopped at it soon became apparent that I'd somehow missed the trail that lead to the bothy and in fact the beach I'd seen was the secluded beach in front of the bothy. I turned round and began to make my way back. After about half a mile and still unable to see the beach I decided that I'd covered too much ground to warrant the hike back to the bothy but instead I'd probably be better off just following the road up to the lighthouse. As I set off, my mind made up, I wondered how I'd missed the track, had been to tired to notice or had my hunger distracted me it had been a long day after all. A little further along I noticed a stone painted with the number 3 on it. It was obviously a milestone. Sure enough about a mile later another stone with the number 2. I could now see the lighthouse ahead and arriving, the light almost completely diminished, I found a small piece of grass and pitched the tent. I was a little gutted to say the least that I'd missed the bothy but at the same time happy that I'd reached a very special turning point in the trek. As from the following morning I'd be heading along the west coast and finally saying goodbye to Britain's most northern coast.

Having difficulty getting to sleep I eventually dropped off in the early hours of the morning. Waking up I peered out from the tent hoping for good weather. It was cloudy and overcast but there was very little wind. I had breakfast and packed up ready for my journey south. Before I left cape wrath I had to go and take a wander around the lighthouse and look out across the North coast one last time. The lighthouse is home to the most remote cafe of mainland Britain. Owned by a lonely gentleman the cafe, ozone, is open all year round including Christmas day. Quite often visitors can find themselves snowed in and unable to return to the ferry. With no money in my pocket though I was unable to see how the food was but because I'd wanted to one day return and stay at the bothy I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone then and try it out when I returned. With not really that much else to see otger than some old buildings which had been bricked up and inaccessible I began the journey along the west coast. My goal for the day was to stop at another bothy I'd been told about whilst chatting to a local at the Bettyhill hotel. The bothy was well known to locals of the Highlands because until recently it had been the permanent home to a hermit known as Sandy. I wanted to compare my stay at the haunted freisgill bothy with others I found along the way and although I'd missed the one up at cape wrath I was determined to locate Sandys bothy on my way south.

Following the clifftop south from the lighthouse I headed off, there was a well trodden trail among the grass inches from the high cliffs. As I walked along them it occured to me that cape wrath wasn't exactly how I'd imagined it. It was much smaller than I'd expected and by that I mean not so high, rugged or mountainous. The slopes I had to climb were steep however and ahead the landscape became more dramatic. Eventually the trail I'd been following ended quite abruptly so I carried on, still with the sea to my right. A hiked up the next hill to get a better view of what lay ahead. The landscape looking more and more challenging the further south I headed. The sun had now broken through and the clouds that had been blocking it had moved on. Still crossing boggy peat marshes I slugged on, these marshes weren't as wet as I'd encountered before and gradually as I made progress became drier and more firm underfoot. After a while I cane across a huge recess in the hills so headed down to be faced with a long climb back up. It seemed to take ages, stopping half way up to get my breath back. The further I walked the harder and more interesting the cliffs and hills became. The peat bigs also becoming more interesting, sone firm like concrete abd others looking firm but in actual fact only crusted on the surface hiding holes of peaty water below.

After a hard walk I eventually found myself looking down into a huge Y shaped valley, beyond that the Scottish West coast getting higher, steeper and rockier. I needed to cross this valley and it didn't appear that it would be simply a case of walking round it. I also couldn't just take tge direct route across near the cliffs,a waterfall plummeting down to the sea below, so I decided to tackle the first spur where the banks were a reasonable and gradual slope to a running stream. Once at the bottom and feeling a little hungry I decided to make a drink and eat a flapjack. It was a really nice spot to stop at. Whilst taking my lunch time break I looked across at the other side to plan my exit strategy climbing up the far side among the ferns.

Once up onto the other side I walked over to the adjoining valley. This one was steeper and more of a challenge but I tackled it in much the same way as the other, finding a gradual slope in and making the harsh and much tougher climb up and out the other side. The landscape was now becoming very different to any that I'd hiked so far on the trek since leaving Southampton many months before. Pink granite viens ran through light grey solid rocks. Tge marshes slowly being replaced by solid rock and much easier to walk over. The cliffs were also becoming considerably higher and rocky slopes made for an interesting and thrilling hike overlooking the sea below. A little while later, from the top of one of the higher cliffs I could see the fence that marked the boundaries of the MOD ranges but before I could get to it I needed to make an extremely steep ascent towards a gorgeous stream that ran over granite shelves cascade gradually to a rocky bay below. The climb up the other side was extremely vertical and with the weight of my pack, extremely difficult. Once again I was feeling hungry and decided to have an early dinner although time had been moving on and the sun was slowly getting lower in the sky.

At the top of the climb I found a small improvised shelter made from stones and rocks, wooden poles had been laid across and moss carefully placed to make a roof. Inside somebody had left a large bottle of water, probably taken from the stream below. I sat down in the sun on the short grassy outcrop and took out a chilli con carne. As I munched away on my rehydrated meal I began to wish I had some chilli heatwave doritos to dip in and compliment the meal. It had been so long now since I'd enjoyed any real hone comforts and I was now beginning to really miss them.

Although I'd made the almost vertical climb up from the stream below I still wasn't at the very top. There was signs of human life though, boot prints pressed into the soft mud leading up the heather covered slope towards the range boundary. I set off, following the trail, the cliffs getting higher still with rocky slopes. A few miles later I could see Sandwood beach in the distance. I knew that before I'd reach the beach though I would encounter a small river that I would need to follow for about three quarters of a mile to reach Sandys bothy. Sure enough about half way to the beach I found the river. Looking along it the river twisted and turned violently through the peat marshes towards the mountains sone way off. I followed the river and seeing the roof of the bothy took the first opportunity I could to cross over. As I hiked towards my improvised shelter for the night I found an old wooden post laying alongside the river on its bank and a dry piece of driftwood that had found its way from somewhere. Looking around I couldn't see any trees and thinking back hadn't seen any all day not even from the top of the highest peaks I'd climbed. Wondering if there would be anything to make a fire with when I arrived at the bothy I attached the driftwood to my pack and slung the large fence post over my shoulder. It was pretty heavy but I figured it would keep me warm that night so worth the extra effort for carrying it.

The bothy was a very basic single level cottage. The first thing I noticed was a set of deer antlers nailed to the gables of the roof facing seaward. Tge roof was in very good shape and all in all the outward appearance was good. Before entering my temporary home I put my bag down and leant it against the stone wall. I then went to investigate the exterior. At the far end I found a small sheltered area with peat blicks drying out. At the back the river trickled over boulders into small waterfalls perfect for collecting much needed drinking water. Happy that I had the necessary resources to spend the night I headed back to the front door to let myself in. As walked around the corner I noticed my pack had slid down the wall and had fallen over. I'd had the solar panels attached to the top and concerned that they may have been damaged inspected them before letting myself in. Sure enough one of the panels now had quite a nasty scratch on the surface but it appeared to still be working in the fading light and I hoped the damage wasn't too serious.