[This walk was completed on the 6th July 2022]

The landscape is obscured by mist and the air is filled with a constant, miserable drizzle, interspersed with heavier downfalls of rain. A real change from the glorious sunshine of yesterday.

This morning, I filled the van with diesel from the self-service pumps in Laide. As I was driving out of the forecourt, I noticed a woman standing with her thumb out. She was wearing a flimsy jacket over shorts, open-toe sandals on her feet, and carried a large backpack. She was thoroughly drenched and shivering with cold. She had been waiting for the bus to take her to Ullapool, but it wasn’t running any more.

Of course, I felt obliged to offer her a lift, but told her I was only going to Dundonnell. She climbed into my van, and spent the whole journey with her hands pressed against the heater vent.

The rain lifted slightly as we drove through First and Second Coast, but was pelting down when we reached Dundonnell. So wet and cold – I felt I couldn’t just turf the woman out the van – and, anyway, I wasn’t going to set off wallking in the downpour. So, I offered to take her all the way to Ullapool.

Now, according to my OS map, Ullapool is literally 4 miles away as the crow flies. What I didn’t realise was that by road Ullapool is actually nearly 30 miles away. The first half of the journey was along a narrow, twisting road. The second half along a busy road littered with slow caravans and even slower cyclists. It took over an hour to get there.

On the way back, I stopped for a late lunch in my van, then sat and read my book for an hour, while the rain thundered down outside. Now, 4 hours and 60 miles later, and after a short cycle trip on my Scooty bike, I’m back in Dundonnell.

Time to start today’s walk. It is still drizzlling.

I chain up Scooty bike at the start of the track to the Mountain Rescue Centre. On a day like today, you realise why such a centre is necessary. Then I’m back on the A832 and heading off into the mist.

I pass a little cottage (which may or may not be inhabitable) with the Scottish Saltire proudly painted on the door. Everywhere you go, you still see little stickers with the Scottish flag, often accompanied by the word “YES” in suppport of Scottish independence, but I’ve never seen a door painted with the flag before.

A road sign welcomes me to Dundonnell (if I was walking the opposite way) and I plod on through the drizzle.

Sometimes the drizzle turns to rain. Sometimes it dries up almost completely, and I’m merely walking through damp mist.

The road runs along a slope, with fields giving way to trees. It’s peaceful. Little traffic. Only the drip-drip of raindrops from the leaves above. At least it is sheltered and not blowing a gale.

To my left is the sound of water. The Dundonnell river is just down the slope, running roughly parallel to the road. I pass the turn off to Dundonnel House, and get a good view of the river as it cascades through a narrow channel before passing under the road.

My van is parked in a lay-by close to a corner – and at the foot of a steep hill. For a brief moment, the sun almost comes out.

My plan was to return to Dundonnell and collect Scooty, then drive further along the A832 and do some more walking. But, as I climb into the van, the sky darkens and the rain falls harder. Oh dear. It’s gone 6pm and I still have several hours of daylight left – I really should do a few more miles – but there’s a steep hill coming up – and it’s raining again.

I decide to drive back to collect my Scooty bike and make my mind up at that point, but in reality my mind is already made up. I don’t have the heart to walk any further today.

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One of my shortest walks ever = 2.5 miles

Total around coast = 4,765 miles

Route:

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