[This walk was completed on the 15th July 2022]

I study the little map. Culag wood is a community wood, managed by local people and the paths look quite straightforward. I will head towards the sea, and pick up the path called “Billy’s Path”, which should take me up and into the harbour area.

I walk through a gate, with a sign decorated by pre-schoolers telling me to pick up my dog poo. And then I’m walking along a gravel path through a most wonderful woodland.

I see a sculpture of a giant dragonfly fixed to a tree stump..

… and another one suspended over the grasses of a marshy clearing.

I have mixed feelings about these additions to the natural landscape. On the one hand, I’m not keen on adornments to what is, already, a magnificent work of natural art. On the other hand, I know how hard it can be to get children interested in a nature walk, so I guess anything that makes it more appealing is a good thing.

This colourful blue dragonfly is fastened to the side of a tree trunk.

Spot a tepeee through the trees. It has an air of permanence. Maybe the base for a “forest school”, which are very fashionable nowadays, and just seem to be a good way of getting children to play outside for a few hours.

There are multiple little paths lacing through the trees. I’m beginning to think I must have lost my way when I see this sign on a log of wood, “Billy’s Path”. Excellent. I’m on the right track after all.

Billy’s Path takes me up a slope. I can feel, rather than see, the open water of Loch Inver to my left.

A sign beside the path tells me that this area would have been under the sea 200 million years ago. In the life of the planet, that’s not a long time ago. But, in the life of a single human, it’s almost an unimaginable timespan.

A wooden boardwalk takes me over a marshy area. A weathered sign at the start of the walk says “Stop. Pay Troll. Then go away.”

I have no money for the troll, and have no intention of turning back. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be at home – and I cross safely.

A steep scramble up a hill, and I’m in a world of silver birches and rocky outcrops. Lovely.

In a natural clearing is a tree covered in pieces of string and dangling labels of stone, plastic, and cloth ribbons. I’m not to keen on this either – a “wishing tree” I assume. The wooden sign has six names engraved on it in crude handwriting and, in neater letters, another message which reads, “Lochinver Early Learning Centre wishes Lochinver Harbour would beome a Kimo Harbour.”

This is a total mystery to me. Who are the chosen few who signed the wooden plaque? And what is a Kimo Harbour”? Sounds Japanese. Is it a weird harbour twinning scheme?

Leaving the mysterious tree behind, I follow the path as it begins a gradual descent. As the trees begin to thin, I can see storage yards and yellow machinery through the foliage. I’m coming to the end of my woodland walk.

The path drops down steeply and, quite abruptly, the trees come to an end, and I’m standing on the harbour road.

It’s quite an extensive harbour, with a mix of small boats – yachts and fishing boats – and a larger wharf area with deeper moorings. Across the water of Loch Inver, I think I can see my B&B perched on the hill. It has the most wonderful views.

I pass the lifeboat station, and then a boatyard. Always interesting to see these large keels out of the water, being repaired and painted, I guess.

A long, low, storage building blocks the water from view. It has a series of bays for juggernaught lorries, some of which are occupied. But there are no ships in the harbour, and I don’t see any loading or unloading going on.

A large building near the end of the road proudly proclaims itself as the “Highland Harbours’ HQ”. Whether that’s an official government organisation, or a private company, isn’t clear.

The harbour road swings round to join the main road. I pass lobster pots, a bus station, and then I’m at the junction where the “wee mad road” branches off to Strathan, Inverkirkaig, and Achiltibuie – the place I’ve not quite managed to get to, but where all roads seem to lead.

“Drive on the Left” a sign tells me. Repeating the message in 6 different languages. This gives the illusion of an international port. Perhaps it is?

I remain on the main road as it curves around the edge of the water. Look across to the grand “HQ” and the motley collection of harbour buildings – the portacabins, the loading bays, and a tall structure which might hold fuel.

A man strides past me carrying a day pack, and heads for a nearby cafe. Well, it turns out to be more a trendy bar than a cafe, but I’m hungry (rain cut my lunch short) so I follow him inside. It’s that odd time of day – too late for lunch and too early for an evening meal – so I order a cup of coffee and a delicious piece of cake.

Back outside, a boat (possibly a ferry) is steaming towards the entrance to the loch. I watch it for a while as it threads its way through the rocky islands and gets gradually smaller.

Onwards, along the main road. Lochinver was larger than I expected… but then I wasn’t expecting much.

I pass a grand war memorial with plastic-poppy wreaths, a tiny police station, and then reach the Lochinver stores. In front of the stores is a self-service petrol station – a big relief to see this, because I’ve been running low on fuel. You drive a long way here to get nowhere in particular.

In the car park beside the stores is my lovely van – yes, I can just see his white roof.

I’m staying a second night in my B&B just on the outskirts of Lochinver in a place called Baddidarach. The place is large, and clean, and is run by a retired seaman, who seems either to be single or to have lost his wife. He doesn’t do a cooked breakfast, but he does supply a good selection of cereals, toast making equipment, pastries and fruit. After a succession of B&Bs that don’t do breakfast, I’m not complaining.

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Later, I look up KIMO harbours on the internet, and discover it is a marine-litter reduction scheme. There is a 2019 newspaper report about Lochinver joining the scheme. I also finally work out that the 6 names on the plaque – names which I assumed belonged to six chosen children – probably represent the entire pre-school population of Lochinver!

Miles walked today = 8.5 miles

Total around coast = 4,826.5 miles

Route (black route in previous blog, red route in this one)

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