[This walk was completed on the 9th July 2022]

I stayed in a bed-without-breakfast place last night. So, this morning, I drove to a parking spot just outside Ullapool, brewed up some coffee in my van, ate my muesli, then jumped on my Scooty ebike and cycled back to the car park at Lael Forest Garden. The ride seemed longer than I anticipated – I’m still walking “off the map” – but luckly my bike’s battery held out.

Back in the car park, I chain my bike to a sign post, and look at a plan showing the forest trails.

You can do an easy Green trail, or a strenuous Red trail. Of course, I choose the Red trail! It takes me uphill along a steep path with a good surface.

After climbing up a slope- disappointingly dominated by boring old conifers – I emerge onto a wide, flat track which leads through the woodland along the side of the slope. More boring old conifers.

After 10 minutes or so, a gap appears between the trees, and I step onto a bridge. It gives me a wonderful view over the valley below.

It’s time to turn downhill – a steep descent but along a well-maintained path with easy steps. Here there is a better mix of trees, with silver birch predominating.

At the bottom is a second car park, and I hear a roaring sound – not traffic, but a waterfall. Following a narrow path between the rocks, I get a good view of the water. Sadly, the little gorge is too dark for decent photography.

Back on the road, I discover my “strenuous” route through the woods had only taken me a few hundred yards further along the A835. Oh well, at least I am a few hundred yards closer to Ullapool. The rest of my route today will be along the road, so I pull on my high-vis jacket and pray for light traffic.

Onwards.

A sign warns of squirrels, and someone has tied a stuffed squirrel (a toy, not a real one) to a nearby post.

This part of the west coast of Scotland is known for its red squirrel population, but they are very shy creatures. Despite constantly scanning the trees, I never manage to spot one.

Never mind. It’s a lovely road with a great mix of trees.

Opposite somebody’s drive, there is one of those circular mirrors stuck to a tall redwood tree. It seems a bit of a desecration to attach a mirror to such a magnificent tree, but I take the oppotunity to snap a self-portrait.

I pass a village hall. Braemore Hall. Love the way even the tiniest Scottish settlement has a sense of community.

Walk past a pretty cottage, overlooking the road, and surrounded by wonderful woodland.

Luckily the traffic is light. It’s a Saturday during peak holiday season, and I was expecting the road to be heaving. What a pleasant surprise. Where is everybody?

A bright little VW van trundles past. I think of my own van waiting for me, and pick up my pace.

At least it’s not raining today, and the cyclists are out. I’m approaching a road junction, signposted to somwhere called Loggie and a place with the unlikely name of Letters.

As I reach the junction, I spot another sign. “Coffin Road.” I don’t have a paper map with me, but squint at my Garmin…

… and the penny drops. I could have walked right over the Scoraig peninsula, from Dundonnell House to here. It would have been a lovely walk, I’m sure, and I could have missed out two further days of road walking. It’s the route several other coastal walkers have done (including Jon Combe and Alan Palin and my original inspiration for the coastal walk, David Cotton). How stupid am I?

I stand on the bridge at the beginning of the Coffin Road, and look down the river. It’s always tempting to think the path you didn’t take was so much better than the path you actually took.

But I wouldn’t have got to see the Corrieshalloch Gorge, or walked through Lael Forest Gardens and seen the giant redwood trees. And, I don’t think my bike would have made the long journey round by road in one go, so, I would probably have had to do the walk in two there-and-back stretches.

Oh well, too late now.

Turning back to the main road, I notice something in the grass on the verge. It’s a memorial – created out of a few motorbike parts and a helmet. Oh dear.

There’s little poem on a plaque, but no obvious name. Was it a natural death, or an accident at this spot? “Coffin Road” suddenly takes on a more sinister meaning. And now, just by coincidence, a solitary motocyclist roars past along the road.

I have medical friends who ride motorbikes and once, a very long time ago, I had a boyfriend who rode one too – and I once rode pillion behind him. No helmets, of course. It was a long time ago. I wouldn’t do it now.

Onwards, along the road. Funny how this main road seems dwarfed by the landscape. In this vast Scottish countryside, a major strip of tarmac is turned into something trivial and insignificant.

It’s been a couple of hours since I left my van, and my breakfast coffee has made its way through my system and I realise I urgently need to wee. There are no public toilets in sight.

Luckily, I spot an ancient gate by the side of the road, behind which is a ruined house. A sign warns of dangerous buildings. But I’m not interested in what’s going on behind the gate, because in front are a group of large bushes which will screen me from the road… yes, an excllent spot for a toilet break!

Afterwards, I walk another 1/4 mile along the road, before noticing my camera lens cap is missing. Oh no! Where could I have dropped it? The last photo I took was by the old gates. I better go back and look.

Thank goodness. There it is, in the grass right beside the gate.

It’s then I notice something else about the gate. On the tree behind it, there are two warning signs in place – one about the ruined building being dangerous, and the other mentions cameras! Cameras – recording and transmitting day and night.

Oh dear. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good place to stop for a wee, after all! Too late now. (I’ve said that several times on this walk, already.) Onwards.

I reach a place called Inverlael, where there is a walker’s car park, a few buildings, a sign that says “Inverlael School Hall” and another Forestry Commission sign that talks about “Sustainable Siberia”.

There is also an old red phone box. I go to check – as I usually do. Many of these are still in working order in the highlands, but this one isn’t. The phone and the money box have been ripped out.

It’s 1:30 pm and I’m hungry, so I look for somewhere to sit while I eat my picnic. Sadly, there is nowhere inviting. The verge is too choppy and overgrown with thistles and nettles, and the traffic has hotted up. I spot this old bridge, running alongside the main road and crossing the River Lael. Its stone walls might have made an excellent place to sit, but it is fenced off.

Across the bridge, and I feel a thrill of joy. There, finally, I can see open water again. I’ve reached the top of Loch Broom. Not far to Ullapool now.

At the top of the loch is Inverlael Farm, which advertises camper van pitches. I thought of staying here in my van, but managed to find a B&B instead (or, as it turned out, a B-minus-the-B).

On the other side of the road, opposite the farm, is a gate with a sign. “Please ensure this gate remains closed.” I take that as an invitation.

I stumble along an uncertain path and find a large stone close to the water. Shrug off my rucksack, sit down, and pull out my lunch-box and water bottle.

It’s a perfect spot for lunch. What a view!

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[to be continued…]

Route so far today:

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