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

I finish my lunch, shrug my backpack over my shoulders, and set off again. I think I’ve fallen in love with the A835. What a road!

The A835 runs roughly parallel to the shore of Loch Broom, but is set some way away, and higher than, the water. This means I get some spectacular views looking down the loch… ah, that must be Ullapool in the distance. Still seems a long way away.

I pass a For Sale sign. I think the property for sale is that tumbledown cottage surrounded by trees. It’s in need of a drastic amount of renovation – too much for me – but what great views you would have if you turned it into a beautiful cottage.

As well as the occasional farm building, I come across a few other properties dotted around, including a lovely-looking B&B. I wonder if they actually do breakfast here? I’ve been grateful to find proper beds to sleep in on this trip – but the two B&Bs I’ve stayed in so far have not provided breakfast. Shame.

Solitary walking is a lonely business, and it would be nice to start the day with a good, cooked meal, and with a conversation.

A sign warns of red squirrels, but only for 3 and 1/4 miles. A strangely specific distance. Something else is strange about the sign, although I don’t notice it at first. That’s not the image of a squirrel. Is it a stoat or a weasel? Or… maybe an otter?

I have been on the lookout for squirrels, but haven’t seen any. Now, I will keep a lookout for otters too.

The ground to my right is getting steeper. Some of the cliffs are covered in netting, presumably to keep any falling rocks off the road. It’s mid-afternoon, and the traffic is hotting up.

I’m trying to walk on the verge, but the ground is difficult underfoot, so I keep to the tarmac as much as I can. Have to keep an ear out for approaching traffic, especially around blind bends. All this concentration, and the constant verge hopping, is quite tiring.

But, look at those views. This road really is lovely.

I can see the mouth of the loch now, and some land beyond. Islands? The details are lost in the haze of the distance, but are those the Summer Isles?

Summer Isles. Such a romantic sounding name. Although, so far this particular Scottish summer has turned out to be distinctly unsummery.

I pass a holiday park. The lodges look inviting, nestled on a slope between the road and a patch of woodland.

Looking across the water of Loch Broom to the hills on the other side, I regret – again – the path I didn’t take. If I had been better at sorting out my maps, perhaps I would have ended up walking down that far slope? There is a settlement over there. Loggie? Or Letters?

On my right, I spot a gate, with a track and a sign. “Viewpoint 1m.” Below is another sign that assures me that walkers are welcome.

It’s very tempting to head off to explore, but I don’t have a map and it looks as though the track heads off vaguely backwards, and I need to keep going forwards.

Onwards. I pass another sign warning me this is a “Squirrel crossing hot spot” and a sign to Leckmelm Garden. At least this squirrel sign displays a proper squirrel.

Further along is another stoat / weasel / otter sign… although I guess it really is warning about otters, because the clue is attached to a pole nearby. A stuffed otter.

This last section of the road seems never-ending. I realise my distances have become shorter and shorter recently, partly because I use up energy on my bike when I cycle to get to my starting point, and partly because I seem to have lost some of my walking-fitness. Quite frustrating how quickly your fitness can deteriorate as you get older.

The road winds and bends, past more netting.

I pass the entrance to Corry Sea Farm, but the farm itself is hidden behind a bank of screening trees.

An elderly man passes me on his bike, pedalling uphill. I feel a bit guilty about feeling tired – because I always use my cycling as an excuse, but my bike is an e-bike. I barely have to peddle! That old boy puts me to shame.

A walker is coming towards me. He has a large rucksack, another bag slung on his shoulder, and he is walking in a tired manner. Trudging. I’m looking forward to having a word with him, but as he gets nearer I realise he looks very dishevelled. Maybe he’s a tramp? Should I speak to him… or not?

I’m saved from making a decision, because the other walker turns off the road abruptly and makes his way through a gate, before striding off across a grassy meadow.

I remember reading The Salt Path by Raynor Winn. She and her husband were made bankrupt, lost their home, and, for want of anything better to do, started walking the South West Coast Path, wild camping as they went. One particular story really stood out.

In the early days of their trek, they struck up a conversation with a couple in a cafe who were full of admiration for Raynor and her husband. What an adventure! How brave! They would love to give up their jobs and do something similar. Raynor Winn, quite innocently, began to explain that they were bankrupt, had no jobs to give up, were actually homeless, etc. The couple made some excuse and quickly moved away.

Talking to fellow hikers is fine. Talking to homeless people… not so fine, apparently. I tut-tutted when I read that story, but now I’m making the exact same judgements. Shame on me.

I pass a gate with a name in rusty ironwork – Corry. Love the sign. Looks like it was lovingly hand-crafted some years ago.

Above the gate is a flag – and one you don’t often see in this part of Scotland. A Union Jack! Brave man, to fly the union flag. I wonder what his neighbours think?

Another bend in the road, and another great view. Ullapool. I’m almost there.

There are plenty of parking areas dotted along this road. Every time I see the official blue [P] sign, I think I’ve reached the place where my van is parked. Each time… I’m disappointed.

The next parking spot is equally disappointing. I would have sat down on the bench to admire the view… but there is no view. The bushes are too high. Too many times I’ve seen this around the coast – in England, Wales, and Scotland too. Someone thoughtfully provides a bench with a lovely view… if only we could see it!

An information sign talks about the history of the area, and explains that Ullapool has always been a fishing port. Now most of the catching is still done by local vessels, but the processing and storage takes place aboard large European ships, called Klondykes.

The board also tells me about the Summer Isles. I had romantically assumed they were islands where people took their summer holidays. But apparently they are used – in the summer – for grazing sheep.

Here’s a sign for another parking spot and, this time, it’s the one I’ve been waiting for. There is my van!

To be honest, I haven’t quite reached Ullapool yet – the town is literally down the hill and round the corner – but this is the end of my walk for today.

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Red squirrels sighted = 0

Miles walked today = 10 miles

Total around coast = 4,789 miles

Route (morning in black, afternoon in red)

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