[This walk was completed on 29th August 2022]

I walk across the pale sands of Achmelvich Beach, and stop on the far slope to take a photograph looking back across the little bay. What a beautiful beach. And, there’s my campsite on the other side.

Last time I was here, in July, the campsite was noisy and crowded. I suffered a couple of nights of disturbed sleep – on the first night because the noise made by other campers kept me awake, and on the next night because a fierce wind had started shaking the van. In fact, it was still windy when I got up, and it was raining… and I didn’t fancy walking. So, although I’d booked another night, I decided to pack up and just go home.

This time, in contrast, the weather is good and the camp site is mercifully quiet. The school holidays in Scotland both start and end earlier than in the rest of the UK, and all the Scottish children are back at school.

This was the view over the site as I set off this morning. Half empty and so calm!

Just above the beach is a sign for Alltanabradhan (or Alltan’abradhan on my map). It points me up a track. I’d been worrying about this walk – building it up in my mind to be a rough stumble across hostile countryside, but there was no need to worry. In fact. This is almost too easy.

Here’s a little path off to my left. It’s tempting, but I know it leads down to a little hidden beach and is a dead end.

So I carry on up the track. It must lead to that white cottage on the hill – what a view they will have! But, before I get to the cottage, a Core Path sign points off to the left. Alltanabradhan says the sign, along with Alltan na Bràthan.

One thing you can say about the spelling of Scottish place names – they are consistently inconsistent.

I climb the path, which pases to the left of the little white cottage, and stop for a breather near the top of the slope. Look back. What a wonderful view – over the heather, over Achmelvich Bay, across my campsite, and down to the entrance of Loch Roe. A small sailing boat is making it’s way up the shore. Wonder where it’s going?

I follow the path as it passes between two rocky outcrops and over the crest of a ridge. Now, I’m looking down into the next valley. Down to a gate in a wall, and then up again. Onwards.

Around the shoulder of the next hill, and I start climbing up a narrow valley with rocky slopes on either side. At the top of the valley – and this is surprise – the path curves around the base of a hillock and heads towards a road.

I wasn’t expecting a road here. Consult my map. Well, it’s more of a track than a road, really. And, as I follow the track, I soon come across this small collection of buildings. Ah! This is Alltanabradhan. It seems to consist of three cottages.

Another track leads up to my right, and a finger post suggests this is the way to go to get to Alltanabradhan M…something. It seems to be heading in the right direction, so I plod up the track, hoping I won’t discover it’s just a private driveway.

Along the track, I stop to look down at the views and take more photographs. What a fabulous view! Such a feeling of lightness and space – and I can see all the way to distant mountains.

I see no sign of life in Alltanabradhan, and wonder if the three cottages are holiday cottages. I suspect they are.

Up near the end of the track, I’m disheartened to see my way barred by a gate. So it was a private drive, after all… I wonder where the path goes? Perhaps over the crest of the hill to the left of the driveway?

Then I spot a sign – almost hidden in a gorse bush.

That says ‘path’, I think. Yes. It really does go up to the crest of the hill, as I suspected. And, once over the other side, I’m looking down into a river valley. Check my map. That’s Port Alltan na Bradhan below – another variation on the spelling of Alltanabradhan.

The path climbs down into the valley, and here I spot a couple of walkers – the first people I’ve seen since I left Achmelvich Beach behind. We stop for a brief chat and agree it’s a lovely day and a wonderful path. They’re heading back to Achmelvich now.

I snap a photo of their disappearing backs as they begin to climb the slope I’ve just come down..

Along the valley, and I see a ruined building below me. With its circular shape, I reckon it is the remains of a sheepfold. Probably all that is left of another abandoned village after the Highland clearances, I assume, and I don’t bother climbing down to look at the sign.

Continue climbing up the valley, which narrows, so that the last section is along the rocky edge of the stream. Lovely. Where’s the path gone? Better not fall in.

I climb up rocks and cross the river via some precarious stepping stones. At the top, the ground flattens out, and the path beside the stream becomes more obvious. There’s the main road, just ahead.

I pass a fingerpost sign, pointing back the way I’ve come down the stream. “Mill” is all it says. Oh, of course. That circular building wasn’t a sheep pen – it was the remains of a watermill. Now I wish I’d made the detour and taken a closer look.

Too late now. I follow the path to where it ends at the main road. From now on, it will be road-walking all the way. Turn left. Towards Clachtoll

The road passes over a rise and I stop to admire the view below me. A beautiful series of interconnecting lochs and lochans. And nothing else in sight.

Onwards along the road. Although this is the main road in the area, it’s not exactly wide and not exactly busy. In fact, it’s a continuation of the “wee mad road” I followed earlier in the year.

The road runs above a stretch of water – Maiden Loch (a strangely English formulation of a name). Beautiful.

A sign tells me I’m approaching Clachtoll (or Clach Toll). I pass the driveway to a small farm and begin to climb the twisting road up the next hill.

The end of Maiden Loch is truly beautiful, with still waters perfectly reflecting the clouds and blue sky. It even has its own minature islands, among water lilies dotting the surface with green saucers.

On the other side of the road, I pass ruined buildings – perhaps an old farmstead – now deserted apart from a group of sheep who eye me suspiciously. I don’t think they’re used to walkers.

A couple of cyclists whirr past me, picking up speed as they go downhill, but then forced to slow as they climb the next slope.

One final climb, and one last bend, and I’m looking down on Clachtoll. From this vantage point, the place seems remarkably empty.

But, after I get clear of the rocks, I see it’s quite a busy place really. There’s a static caravan park down below, along with a small camping site with camper vans and tents.

When I was camping in Ardmair in July, some fellow campers recommended this campsite at Clachtoll. “It’s really beautiful and well maintained. At night the owner lights a fire and people gather round and cook barbeques and sing songs.” It sounded idyllic, but the place was full when I tried to book it.

I walk up the road and pass the entrance to the camping site. Yes, it’s still full.

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To be continued…

Route so far today:

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