[This walk was completed on the 10th July 2022]

I had been staying in a B&B, but last night I moved on to a campsite at a place just north of Ullapool, called Ardmair. This morning, I cycle back to the car park where I ended yesterday’s walk. Today, I’m walking into Ullapool itself, and then on to Ardmair.

Luckily a pavement begins at this point, and I don’t have to resort to the verge-hopping of yesterday. Lucky, too, that the weather has settled – and it’s a beautiful, warm summer’s day. Hardly a cloud in the sky.

As the road bends down the hill, I get a fabulous view overlooking Ullapool harbour.

I pass my old B&B (which doesn’t do breakfast). The driveway is very steep, and I was nervous about parking my van up there. Luckily the brakes held and it didn’t end up rolling down the slope.

To my left, between the road and the shore of Loch Broom, is a row of very attractive houses. Some are bed and breakfasts too. They are all full.

In fact, Ullapool is such a popular destination in the summer, that I was lucky to find a bed at all but couldn’t find one last night. That’s why I’ve booked into a campsite for the next few nights.

Down near the water’s edge, I walk through a lovely green space close to the shore…

… and use a nearby wall as a prop for my camera. Time for a self-portrait. I’d forgotten I was wearing my hi-vis vest because of the road walking, but I have managed to strip down to a T-shirt. Summer has finally arrived in Scotland!

A nearby information board tells me the history of Ullapool. It isn’t a traditional fishing village really, having been founded in the 18th Century as a fishing station. Thomas Telford had a hand in planning the layout of the place.

Another sign tells me that the jetty has been recently restored and extended. Looks like a wonderful place to keep a boat. And a great view all the way up to the top of Loch Broom.

All the previous coastal walkers have mentioned Ullapool as a sort of high point along the route. Now, I understand why. It really is very beautiful.

A row of houses overlook the water. One is a pub – and it’s actually open. I’ve only just started walking, but decide it’s time to stop and have a drink. That little table in the sunshine… so inviting.

While I’m drinking my cider outside, a group of American tourists walk past. One of the women is on her mobile and speaking (very loudly) to a member of her family who must still be back in the States. “It’s beautiful here,” she says. “And so sunny and warm.”

Yes, the weather has been kind to us. It wasn’t so warm here last week.

Afterwards, I stroll down the street towards the ferry port. I’ve been here before, in my car, when I dropped off the woman hitch-hiker in the pouring rain a few days ago. I always wondered if she managed to catch her bus and get to her eventual destination.

The place looks completely different in the sunshine. Look at that articulated lorry over there. The trailer promises 19 hours of daylight in Shetland in midsummer.

That sounds enticing, until I remember that 19 hours of sunshine in summer equates to 19 hours of darkness in winter. Not so enticing.

I pass a couple of fish and chip shops. Make a mental note of their position… and decide to return later in the evening for my supper.

The street has become quieter. I’m walking down the final section before it comes to a dead end. Love the little cottages here, but I wonder how many are holiday homes.

At the end of the street, a vague path climbs over some wasteland, and I find myself overlooking a pebbly beach and a camp site (not the one I’m staying in).

I walk through the camp site, trying to find a short cut up the slope to rejoin the road. A set of promising wooden steps only lead to a children’s slide, not an exit route. So I must follow the main access road. Always nervous about being challenged, I speed up as I reach the reception area, but nobody stops me.

Out of the campsite, I follow the road as it runs above the camp site, and then turns inland to follow the course of the river estuary.

I’m pleased to spot a footpath leading off the road. “Riverside Path” it says. And my OS map (yes, I’m back on the map!) shows a possible bridge over the river below me.

Half way down the path is a bench, where I stop to readjust my back pack and have a drink.

Reaching the water, the path heads inland along the river and, yes, there really is a bridge ahead.

Over the bridge, I walk through a pleasant area of woodland, before emerging onto the river bank.

A sign on the fence tells me there is a set of rules governing the use of this river bank, mainly to stop you fishing without permission. I’m interested to see that fishing on a Sunday is forbidden.

The path becomes very overgrown. I meet a couple coming towards me, fighting their way through weeds and rushes, and I ask how far you can get along the river bank. They ask where I’m staying, and I tell them I’m trying to reach the camp site at Ardmair.

They tell me that when the tide is low, you can probably walk all the way to the Rhue lighthouse along the shore. The lighthouse marks the entrance to Loch Broom. But the tide is high at the moment, and still incoming. My guides reassure me I can make it through to a golf course, and then rejoin the main road by walking up across the greens.

Jungle gives way to a pebbly beach. I pass the skeleton of a boat, and can see the golf greens straight ahead.

Walking across a golf course always makes me uneasy – partly because of the fear of being challenged for trespassing, and partly because of anxiety about being hit by a golf ball! But there are only a few people on the course, and I give them a wide berth.

Some great views from up here. I look back over the estuary and towards Ullapool – where the campsite is all but hidden behind a curve in the shore.

The greens are arranged on a series of flat terraces overlooking the water. At the top of a slope is a track, which I follow towards the golf club and the car park.

Through the car park, and along a short access road, and I rejoin the main road. This area is called Morefield, according to my map. I pull out my high-vis vest again, and begin the uphill trudge.

Luckily traffic is light, and the views are amazing.

It’s a long climb and I get hot. Try to find my cap in my rucksack, and realise it has mysteriously gone missing. I wonder if I left it on the bench when I first joined the riverside walk? Or did I drop it on my way through along the river? Or on the golf course? Well, it could be anywhere really. Too late to go back now. Onwards.

Near the top of the hill, I turn around and take some photos overlooking Ullapool and Loch Broom.

At the top of the hill, the road curves and begins an immediate descent. But my eye is caught by the impressive table-like mountain ahead – which is covered in a cascading waterfall of clouds.

This is a lovely road. It’s a shame I couldn’t make it along the shore, but the views up here are gorgeous. Look at the road curving ahead. The distance across the valley is always longer than it seems on the map.

I reach the turn-off to Rhue. I was planning to walk along to the lighthouse and back. Stop on the verge – covered in yellow flowers – for a drink and a rest. And make a decision.

I won’t go to the lighthouse now. It’s only a mile or so, but then I will just have to turn round and come back. I’ll return later with my bike and walk one way and cycle back. (In fact, I never do this, because I get caught up in a drive to move ONWARDS.)

Following the road, the huge table-top of a mountain still dominates my view. So impressive.

The road begins to descend in a series of loops and curves. I have to keep my ears open for traffic – the light hum of speedy downhill cars, and the deeper roar of engines making their way uphill.

It’s only a mile away, but it takes several twists and turns in the road before I’m looking down on Ardmair. Just a row of houses and a campsite.

I climb off the road as soon as I can, and walk along the beach. This turns out to be a bit of a mistake, as this beach is covered in huge, flat, shifting stones. Walking is difficult and requires a lot of concentration.

At the end of the pebbly beach is the campsite. My camper van is pitched in a perfect spot, overlooking the sea. Such a beautiful place.

I drive back into Ullapool to pick up my bike and buy a hosepipe. My van (fairly new to me) has a large water tank, but it is running low, and the water taps here have no hoses attached.

When I return, a friendly couple in the next door van watch me struggling with my new hose – what are all these attachments actually for?! Turns out he is a plumber. He sorts out the hose for me, fastens the right attachment onto the end, and I decide to fill up tomorrow. I’m too tired to move the van, yet again. And too tired to return to Ullapool for fish and chips. I make myself a sandwhich instead.

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Miles walked today = 6 miles

Total around coast = 4,795 miles

Route:

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