[This walk was completed on the 2nd July 2022]

I am staying in a B&B that doesn’t do breakfast. This seems a common phenomena in the remote northwest of Scotland, and rather difficult for guests, as there are no cafes around for miles in any direction. But I have my van, and I drive back to the viewpoint above Aultbea, park up, and make my own breakfast.

It’s raining. I don my full-length waterproof “hacking” coat – which reaches nearly down to my ankles but has an extra tuck of material at the back to allow unrestricted leg movement. Jump on my Scooty bike, glide down the hill to Aultbea, and then walk back up the hill to my van.

Sadly, I take no photos of this section, because it’s raining too hard to risk my camera.

After relocating the van, I set off on Scooty again, and cycle to the end of the Aultbea road. Leave my bike locked up, and as rainproof as I can make him…

… then set off walking back to Aultbea. (This is a strictly unnecessary part of my coastal walk, as I don’t have to walk along dead-end roads and I could have simply followed the main road up to Laide. But I would have missed out a whole peninsula and wanted to see more of this lovely area.)

Mind you, this morning I’m wondering why I bothered. This is the view across Loch Ewe!

At least the rain has settled down to an intermittent drizzle.

I’m walking through a crofting settlement with the delicious name of Mellon Charles. These places are always rather weird. You’re not exactly isolated – there are a whole series of crofts – but each is set in its own patch of land and so your neighbours aren’t exactly close by. There is also no “village” feeling – there is no “centre” and everything is spread out.

At least most of these cottages look as if they are used as proper crofts. I’ve been quite dismayed to find so many have been converted into holiday lets or posh holiday homes.

I pass a cafe. The Aroma Cafe. It appears to be open – but I’ve already had a huge mug of coffee in my van, so I don’t stop for more. I wonder how many visitors they get?

I would really love to spend more money locally – it’s important to support the economy in these remote areas – but the opening times of cafes and shops seems very arbitary and unpredictable. So, I’m ashamed to say, I’ve come with a fully stocked van. Muesli, milk, coffee, rolls, cheese, ham, fruit etc.

The low-hovering clouds means there is a lack of decent landscape views, but at least I can enjoy the summer flowers by the roadside.

Some kind of orchid, I think. Maybe the Early Purple Orchid? If so, it’s very common but that doesn’t make it any less dramatic.

Oh, it’s drizzling again. So wet! Even the sheep look miserable.

I think this is what counts as the village centre of Mellon Charles. A phone box and a post box. I check the phone box and, yes, the phone really does work.

Now I’m coming down off the high land – and the road stretches long, straight and wet. Someone is standing at the end of a track near the road. Waiting for a lift? There can’t be any other explanation for the motionless figure to be out in the rain.

I pass one of those circular mirrors at the end of drive. Can’t resist a self-portrait. I look like a grey wandering ghost in my huge raincoat. At least it’s keeping me dry.

I reach the track where the figure is standing – and discover it’s not a real human being after all!

The vacuum cleaner, the women’s tights, and the “broken free” message, appear to reference the Queen video where the band prance around with vaccuum cleaners dressed as women singing “I want to break free” – but the pirate outfit is not really in keeping with this theme.

Anyway, what an eccentric display to find in the middle of nowhere. Makes me chuckle.

I’m leaving Mellon Charles behind and entering Ormiscaig. The traffic appears to be hotting up – here come a couple of cars.

One car pulls up beside me with two women inside. They ask me if this is the way to Gairloch. Now, I might not know much about the area, but I can confidently answer this question. “No.” I explain they need to turn back and rejoin the main road.

They offer me a lift. It’s tempting… but I can’t. I’m walking. I watch them drive off, pull my coat around me, and set off again.

Hello cow. Are you wet too?

Ah, some horses. They seem interested and come trotting over to see me. No, I don’t have any food for you.

The white building ahead catches my attention. There are signs outside and it looks like it might be a cafe. That would be lovely. I feel in need of a hot drink now.

But the signs turn out to be speed-warnings due to a nearby school, and the “cafe” turns out just to be an ordinary house. What a shame. Onwards.

Hello ducks. Bet you’re enjoying this weather.

A cycle/walking lane has appeared. Presumably this was created for the school children, but I make the most of it.

I’m approaching Aultbea now. A proper village, and where I’m staying for the next few days.

On the outskirts is a small park, based on the site of an old military battery. It’s yet another remnant of WW2 and the Arctic Convoys. I stop to take a look.

There’s a couple of interesting information boards – and an attractive mural which must have taken a lot of work.

The remains of the battery are rather dull. The general sense of decay – and the nearby litter bins – aren’t particularly appealing.

But the information boards are really good, with lots of local anecdotes about the lives of the soldiers and sailors who were stationed here, and how they interacted with the local people. One man shares his memory of being a small boy at school when a German aircraft passed low overhead. They ran to wave at the German pilot – who waved back – before dropping his bombs in Loch Ewe.

Afterwards, the poor boys were given “the strap” by the schoolmaster! Unthinkable that a teacher would dish out such punishment now. It was a different era.

I walk through the park, and into a residential cul-de-sac. I recognise this area – my B&B is close by.

Here it is – my B&B (minus the breakfast, so I guess it’s really just a B!) – called the “Boat House”. I was expecting a literal converted boat house, so it was a bit of a surprise to discover it was just an ordinary bungalow.

Anyway, the lady who owns the B has made me very welcome and her garden is a work of love, with pots overflowing with bright flowers.

Past the Boat House, and I’m in another park. This is Aird Point. There’s a car park here, and a slipway leading down to the water, where a man is either launching or landing his boat. It’s too wet to hang around to watch him.

I wonder if he lives on the Isle of Ewe – there are several houses over there and the only way to access the island is by boat.

Look at this mass of colourful flowers. They’re the brightest thing I’ve seen all day.

I rejoin the road – a side-road off the main Aultbea road – which ends at the jetty and a small harbour. The rain has eased, and I stop to take photos of the boats. Love harbours.

Follow the road, which curves around the small bay created by Aird Point. The water is calm, and there is an attractive green area beside the shore.

I join the main Aultbea road, and walk past the village store (where I later buy a jar of hot chocolate – “Bet you didn’t think you would be buying that in July,” laughs the lady behind the counter.) Pass a building which I assume is a converted church – but it turns out to be a real church – and then onwards around the bay.

That’s the Aultbea Hotel – a large white building that seems to glow like a beacon. It would be nice to enjoy a proper lunch, and maybe a glass of cider. Can’t wait to get there.

As I slowly make my way towards the pub, a bevy of motorcyclists pull up in the car park, before turning round and driving off again. Then a couple of camper vans pull up. They stop briefly than drive off again – oh dear… this isn’t looking hopeful.

Of course, the Aultbea Hotel is shut.

Why is the pub closed? It’s Saturday lunchtime, and the height of the tourist season. Maybe they’ve closed down for good?

Feeling disappointed, I trudge on along the road. I’m glad I’ve got my own food in the van… there it is, parked just around the next bend.

Time to make myself a sandwich, and then continue with the next stage of today’s walk.

[To be continued]

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Route so far: (first section in blue, second in black)

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