[This walk was completed 16th July 2022]

I cycle to Lochinver, and chain my Scooty bike up in the car park, then walk along the main road towards the bridge over the River Inver. What a lovely old bridge.

There are actually two bridges across this river. The newer one is made of concrete and carries the main road, but I’m taking a side road towards Baddidarach. I stop on the older bridge to take photos of the new bridge, and of the river rushing down towards Loch Inver.

I follow the road towards Baddidarach. Walk past the Free Church of Scotland, turn off to try to find a route closer to the loch by walking down a little lane called “Inver Terrace”, fail to find a way through, turn back and rejoin the larger road again.

The Highland Stoneware Pottery sign is unmissable. Every time I see it I decide I really must go and visit the pottery, but by the time I’ve finished walking it’s usually shut. [In the end, I never get there.]

I come to the fork in the road where I could turn off towards Baddidarrach. That is where my B&B was situated, high on a slope overlooking the loch. But last night I moved to a camp site, and today I’m walking onwards to Glendarrach, where I should pick up a Core Path near the end of the road.

It is a long time since I found a Core Path that was going my way, so to speak, and I’m quite excited by the prospect. Luckily the begining of the path is well signposted.

I walk up a driveway to Darrach Cottage, where signs politely tell me “Walkers welcome. Please keep your dog at heel or on a lead.” More signs direct me up the overgrown slope beside the cottage… yes, there is a path here, under the ferns.

At the top of the slope, I pass through a gate that marks the boundary of the cottage’s property, follow the path through bushes and a few scraggly trees, and emerge into an open landscape of grassy slopes, rocky outcrops, and stone walls.

What a view! I can see right across Loch Inver to the village and the high peaks beyond. That magnificent mountain, sticking up like a fist above the rest, must be… Suilven.

One of the old boys in my B&B was talking about Suilven (which I thought was actually spelt Sullivan, until I looked it up on the map!) Apparently, he was staying in Lochinver with a friend, and his friend was climbing Suilven. He, however, had decided to give it a miss. “I did it years ago,” he told me, leaning on his walking stick.

Onwards, through a grove of young trees and tall bushes, and another gate.

The path winds between clusters of rocks. The air feels light, as it often does when you’re walking across high ground, and a soft breeze is blowing.

It’s perfect walking weather, and such a thrill to be off the roads, at last. Shame the light is poor – with darker clouds drifting across a grey sky – and too dull for good photography.

I pass a little pool of water. Loch an Tuin, according to my map.

Higher still, and I keep turning back to take photos over Loch Inver and Suilven. There are other mountains too, whose names I don’t know, but probably the same ones I was seeing on my walk yesterday. They look different from this new angle.

Down a slope and up again. I’ve only walked a mile or so from Baddarach, but this path feels very remote, and the landscape seems untouched.

Near the top of the slope is another gate, and then the path passes through a grove of young trees. Mainly silver birch. I have great respect for birches, having seen them strive to get a foothold in the most inhospitable places. They are “early colonisers” I believe, and where the silver birch go first, other substantial trees often follow.

I pass more lochs. No names given on my map. Now, I’m looking across a larger body of water and can see a line of buildings. What am I looking at – is that the place called Ardroe, where this footpath leads? How do I get there? It seems a long way away.

I have a moment of doubt, because the path seems to be doubling back on itself and I have temporarily lost my bearings. But, I keep putting one foot in front of the other and… ah, yes, those buildings were somewhere else – because here is Ardroe. Just below me.

“Ardroe Croft” says a sign. “Livestock, please keep all dogs on leads.” I look around, but can’t see any livestock.

After a steep descent into the valley, I cross over the little road, and follow signs that direct me to where the Core Path continues along the edge of a small farmstead. I’m hemmed in by two fences now, but at least the path exists and is relatively clear of vegetation.

To my right, in a field overgrown by a mass of tall bracken, are two minature goats. So sweet. They don’t even come up to my knee in height. I bend down to take photos through the fence.

Suddenly, I hear a thrashing, snorting sound. The bracken starts shaking and I stand frozen, glad of the fence, because a big beast must be in that field – and he’s heading straight towards me!

I get the glimpse of a large body beneath the ferns, but it suddenly veers away again – I can mark its passage by the frenzied shaking of leaves and waving foliage. But, something else is coming through the long grass now, straight towards me… oh, a bunch of little piglets.

The big beast must be their mother! I wait for her to emerge, but she seems too busy scuffling and snorting under cover of the bracken. Meanwhile, her piglets run around in the open grass, squealing and squeaking. They must think I have food, as they run right up to the fence, butting the goats out of the way, and charging and bullying each other as they jocky for best position.

Sorry little piglets, I have nothing to give you. (Actually, I have an apple, but I’m saving that for my own lunch.) After taking several more photographs, and a few videos, of the naughty little piglets, I move away. Time to get going.

I’m walking down a track now, which takes me past a large, deep, loch. Loch Dubh. There is an elegant waterfall on the other side – I take a photo with my camera on full zoom.

Here’s a bridge. It crosses the narrow watercourse that links the inland waters of Loch Dubh to the sea loch of Loch Roe.

I stop on the bridge to take photos. To my right is the expanse of Loch Dubh and another bridge! A rickety old, narrow bridge of rusting iron. That doesn’t look safe!

To my left is a long finger of inlet – Loch Roe – that leads, eventually to the sea. I can see a yacht slipping slowly along in the distance.

My little track continues – a road now, really, with trees on either side – up a slope…

… past a bungalow and one of those decrepit caravans you find so often dotted around the countryside in Scotland. Surely, this one is too delapidated to be hired out?

I reach the end of the track and join the main road. Here, I turn left towards Achmelvich. Well, maybe not exactly a main road – because it is only single track with passing places. I’m now familiar with this road, because I’m staying at the campsite along here – and I’ve driven this route in my van with my heart in my mouth, praying I don’t meet an oncoming vehicle on a narrow stretch. Reversing is no fun in a big van with no rear camera to help you! I don’t even have a rear mirror.

Anyway, no need to worry about oncoming traffic when you’re walking. And, funnily enough, I barely meet a thing.

As the road climbs higher, I get a good view over Loch Roe, where the sailing yacht I saw earlier seems to have made little progress.

I begin to pass bungalows and houses, spaced out along the road. At the top of the final rise, I get a great view down to Achmelvich itself, which consists mainly of holiday camps. And I meet my first walker – a woman. But, I think she had parked nearby and has only climbed the hill in order to take photographs.

I pass the sign to the youth hostel, a modern telephone box, and then the road narrows as it curves past a holiday park of static caravans.

I walk past the junction to the public car park, and reach the end of the road, where I enter my own camping park. No static caravans here. Just mobile homes, camper vans, and tents. I can see my blue and white van parked on the grass…

… but I don’t head straight there. Instead, I turn right and walk past the reception area, past the fish and chip shop, and down a narrow path to the beach. When I arrived late last night, I walked out to see the waves crashing against the rocky shore at the other end of the camp site. Later, I couldn’t quite work out where all the sand in the toilet/shower block had come from… until I spotted this beach this morning.

The beach below me is what Achmelvich is famous for, and why day visitors come to park here, and holiday makers come to camp here – a perfect curve of pale sand, lining a sheltered bay. Today, the water is a pale blue-green colour, reflecting a hazy sky.

It could almost be a tropical beach – if it wasn’t for the absence of palm trees and for the fact it is pretty darn cold.

I sit on the rocks at the side of the beach and unpack my picnic lunch. When I first start eating, I notice several people in the sea, wearing wet suits. They don’t last long – and run shivering to find their towels. Later, a young family arrives and the kids start paddling. There are kayaks drawn up on the sand too. A lovely summer beach scene – shame it’s too cold to remove my winter coat!

Perch my camera on the rocks and run down to the sand to take a self-portrait. (Nearly break my neck climbing over the rocks to get myself in position before the timer goes off!)

After lunch, I walk along the beach for a while, and then I return to my van and drive back to Lochinver – along the heart-in-mouth single track road – to pick up my Scooty bike. On my return to the campsite, I drive around trying to find a slightly better position.

This camp site has no marked pitches, so it is first come first served, and last night I ended up squashed between two large mobile homes with additional, and enormous, tented areas attached to their vehicles. Luckily, a few campers seem to have left this morning, and I take the opportunity to find a more spacious parking space, but still within reach of one of the few electric hook-up points. (Scooty’s battery needs charging overnight!)

I’ve actually found this camp site a bit of an ordeal. It’s summer holidays in Scotland. The place is full. Last night, people were chatting (loudly) in nearby tents until midnight. This morning, children began running around at the break of dawn. There is no phone signal and wifi only works if you log on before 6 am (one of the few advantages of being woken at 5 am was being able to log on and check the weather forecast.) The shower block is sandy and unpleasant, littered with tissues, discarded beach equipment, and odd socks. There are notices everywhere telling you what is NOT allowed – such as cooking in the washing area. To make life tricky, getting into the block requires a special key – which I keep forgetting to take with me.

But this evening, as the sun is setting (late in Scotland, of course) a young man emerges from a slightly battered caravan and begins playing the bagpipes. He makes a beautiful sound. Soon half the campsite is gathered around his caravan listening. At the end, as the evening finally grows dark, he places a hat down on the grass and waits with his head bowed. People applaud and some throw coins in the hat.

It’s a perfect end to a good day.

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You can find out more about Core Paths in Scotland here.

Miles walked today = a miserly 4.5 miles

Total around coast = 4,831 miles

Route:

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