387 pm Strontian to Salen

[This walk was completed on the 10th April 2019]

I leave the hide and walk back to rejoin the main road. Well, you can’t really call it a main road, with virtually no traffic.

Sometimes running through trees, sometimes hugging the shore, it’s a beautiful road. The tide is out, and I try to imagine these little coves filled with water.

Round a bend, and I see houses ahead. Check my map. That must be Resipole.

Resipole Farm hosts a ‘holiday park’ or, perhaps more accurately, a campsite. It takes a mix of tents, caravans and camper vans. Once I used to view such places with disdain. Now I have my own lovely Beast and I take a different attitude. Each site becomes a possible home!

This is a lovely site overlooking Loch Sunart. Shame about the road running between the camping field and the shore. The site even has some of those quaint little huts for glampers.

I cross over Resipole Burn via an old humpback bridge.

On the other side area a number of swanky new houses. Great views from those windows, and sympathetically constructed. I hope they’re not just holiday homes.

The last part of any walk is always the longest. The road turns away from the sea and runs straight for a while. The trouble with a straight road, is that you can see the hills coming! Oh dear. How much further?

I reach another parking spot. I would like to stop here for a rest, and the picnic bench looks very inviting, but it’s been commandeered by a lady who looks settled in for a long stay.

I keep walking. A sign, tacked to a tree, promises me a tea-room in Acharacle. Only 2.5 miles away. Acharacle? Where’s that? Sounds familiar.

I check my map and discover Acharacle is a few miles beyond Salen. It’s where the bus detoured to this morning – nearly giving me a heart attack when I realised it was going the wrong way!

Well, I’m not walking that far. Never trust these signs anyway… I’ve been fooled before by promises of cafes that turn out to be closed, and this sign could be old.

At least I’m not cycling. How do these cyclists make it up the hills?

Over the next hill, and here’s another parking area. I stop to read the sign, which displays maps and gives more information about the local area and wildlife. Compared to Morvern, this part of Scotland really does cater for visitors.

Onwards, along the road. Ah, finally, a Salen signpost. Nearly there. Just another hill to climb.

Over the top, and there’s my car, parked in a little carpark just before the turnoff to Ardnamurchan.

The tip of Ardnamurchan is the most westerly point on mainland Britain (not the awful Lands End, as everybody assumes). I’m so looking forward to getting there.

The sign does seem to suggest that Ardnamurchan Point is just around the corner. I know it’s still several days’ walk away and, to prove the point, some helpful person has added in black felt tip – “25 miles” – to the sign.

The number isn’t large enough for car drivers to see easily, so it must be intended as a warning for walkers. Well, I will get to Ardnamurchan point, eventually. But I’ve finished walking for today.


Miles walked today = 11 miles
Total around coast = 4,059 miles

Route: (morning in black, afternoon in red)


About Ruth Livingstone

Walker, writer, photographer, blogger, doctor, woman, etc.
This entry was posted in 22 Highlands and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to 387 pm Strontian to Salen

  1. patriz2012 says:

    It must be a bit of a headache deciding which bits of the coast to walk – there’s such a lot of meandering in and out – beautiful photos as always – keep on trucking.

    All the best

    Patricia

    • Hi Patricia. I try to keep as close to the coast as I can, as long as there’s a footpath or track of some sort, but if not I have to follow the road. Yes, lots of meandering in and out!

  2. Diane Iles says:

    Love this area of Scotland Ruth brings back lots of memories for me.

  3. I’ve got muddled. I see you have now passed through Resipol. I think it was about 1976 – we had a trailer tent – my daughter and son were toddlers. We set up camp at Resipol. It was raining. It didn’t stop raining for twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like stopping for the rest of our fortnight. When I say I’ll do something I like to stick to it and would have braved it out come what may. My late wife Ann was the opposite – “We’re off to Devon” she announced (dictated). I remember me dripping wet, folding the dripping wet trailer tent and being watched by people comfortable in their posh caravan. That was my “poop-poop” moment (remember Toad lying in the ditch impressed by the automobile that had just mown him down and muttering “poop=poop” in envy and with new desire?)

    We drove nonstop through the night to Slapton Sands in Devon and had the rest of the fortnight in glorious sunshine. By next summer holidays we were caravaners.

    Over all the years since I have been pretty lucky with weather in Scotland.

    • I had to smile at your story, Conrad. I’m not surprised your wife insisted on moving the family to a sunny campsite in Devon! There are certainly plenty of sunny days in Scotland, but you have to pick your time to visit. Now I’m retired, I just watch the weather forecast and go when I see a window of opportunity.

I welcome your views

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s