[This walk was completed on the 2nd May 2023]

Every coastal walker who has walked through this area has told me I MUST visit Sandwood Bay. So, here I am, at the beginning of the path that leads to the beach, and I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. I’m finally going to see this famous bay.

But, perhaps the route will be too tough for me? Even worse, perhaps the bay will turn out to be a disappointment?

It’s 4.5 miles there, and 4.5 miles back. I don’t have to cycle (hooray!) because I’m simply going to walk to the beach, have lunch, and walk back. And it’s a beautiful day. What could possibly go wrong?

In fact, the start of the walk is almost disappointingly easy – a wide track that glides across grassy slopes, taking me past the first of many lochs, Loch Aisir.

Once over the brow of a low hill, the landscape opens up. Ahead is a huge, wide expanse of brown/yellow grass, dotted with rocks. An undulating plateau. In the mid-distance are two more lochs. In the far-distance, the terrain seems to dip downwards towards, I presume, the distant shore.

There’s a coolness to the breeze, and delightful freshness on the air. Nothing north of here except sea and the arctic… yes, I’m really on the edge of Britain.

I’m always intrigued by names. “Sandwood Bay” conjures up the impression of woodland and sand. Well, there are no signs of any woods – no tree as far as the eye can see – but there is plenty of sand. In fact, the shore of the nearest loch (Loch na Gainimh) resembles a beach. I have to remind myself this isn’t really the sea, just an inland lake.

The path meanders round the edge of the loch’s shore, and then takes me across a featureless plain, before slowly descending towards another loch. It’s acutally a relief to see the loch – something for the eye to fix on.

Before I reach the water, there is another feature to fix my eyes on. Regularly spaced poles with metal bars between… weird. Ah, it’s a bicycle rack! Unexpected and somewhat surreal.

“Dear Cyclist,” says the sign, “please help us to maintain the fragile footpath…” and goes on to ask cyclists to leave their bikes here. So, apparently you can cycle up to this point.

Such a polite and friendly sign. Well done, the John Muir Trust. A good example of how to ask people to follow an instruction while avoiding use of the words “No” and “Not allowed”.

I balance my camera on one of the upright poles, and take a self-portrait with my timer.

Yes, it may be sunny, but it’s chilly and I need my coat.

Then I head down towards the shore of the loch – Loch a’ Mhuilinn. Loch of the Mill. It’s hard to imagine this area once being cultivated and requiring the facility of a mill.

The path is in very good condition. It has been a dry spring in Scotland, and the sandy ground helps, but there is no mud to wade through and even the multiple little streams that feed into the loch have been channelled into stone-bounded conduits.

I needn’t have worried about the path being too tough. In fact, it’s the easiest off-road walk I’ve done in a long time!

And I’m not alone. There have been a couple walking ahead of me, but maybe 1/2 mile away, and walking faster than I am. I soon lose sight of them. Then I meet a group of young men who have been camping at Sandwood Bay. Yes, it really is beautiful, they tell me.

Over the next low hill, and another loch – Loch Clais nan Coinneal, which could mean the loch of the wooden stick, or the loch of the candle, or even the loch of a line of snot dribbling from your nose – I kid you not – according to the LearnGaelic Dictionary!

I’m reaching the end of the plateau. In the distance, a lone figure is coming towards me.

As he gets nearer, I realise it was the hiker I met yesterday, the one who was planning on camping in Sandwood Bay last night. He obviously made it.

We have a chat. He woke up this morning to sunlight coming through the tent, and is very pleased with himself. Yes, he tells me, Sandwood Bay really is beautiful. Shame he lost his camera and couldn’t record his trip. He eyes my Canon with a mix of regret and envy, and tells me there is a ruined cottage ahead that would make a good photographic subject.

More good news… he has remembered something about the lady whom he accepted a lift from yesterday, and he hopes his camera is still in the boot of her car. She was staying in the Kinlochbervie Hotel. When he gets back in range of a mobile signal, he will give the hotel a ring.

I wish him well, and we continue our separate ways.

There is a large body of water ahead. At first I think it’s the sea, but check my map and realise it’s actually another loch – Sandwood Loch. Still no sign of any woods, but that must be the ruined cottage the hiker talked about. Yes, it does add a sense of perspective to this huge landscape.

The path veers northwards, and – at last – there’s the sea. Sandwood Bay. What a beautiful sight!

The path deteriorates as I approach the shore, with multiple side branches where people have made their own way down the slope. Fragrant gorse bushes – coconut and burnt butter – so delicious. I’m getting hungry.

Nearer the shore, the path passes through a series of sandy dunes. Always tough going. A couple of walkers come towards me, labouring up the hill, and seemingly too tired even to give me a smile.

The beach is as beautiful as everybody promised it would be. Sand, rocks, blue sea, rolling breakers, and an interesting pinnacle of rock. At the base of the stack, I think I see small figures. Rock climbers? But when I look again they’ve gone, and I’m not sure if I imagined them.

It’s nearly 1pm and I really am hungry. I climb onto a mass of rocks beside the water and make myself comfortable with my back to the breeze. Such a huge beach. Two tiny figures walking along the sand give you some impression of the vastness of the bay.

Looking the other way, and what a tropical-looking view. Blue-green water, beautifully clear. Breakers of foam. And more sand. The headland in the distance could be… should be… must be… Cape Wrath!

I decide to make the most of the day. Luckily, I stopped in the Spa in Kinlochbervie on the way to Blairmore to stock up with provisions, and so my backpack is full of delicious snacks. After a long, leisurely picnic lunch, I walk northwards along the beach.

Mine are the only footprints in the sand. Such a simple thing, but it always gives me so much pleasure. I turn and take a photo looking back along my tracks. You can see the rocks where I had my lunch, and the pinnacle of rock peering out above them.

The shore might look deceptively tropical, but those waves are rough. I look towards Cape Wrath – the northwest tip of Scotland, and a place that has achieved almost mythical status in my mind. Can’t believe I’m nearly there.

What’s the white object… ah, with my camera on full zoom I can see more clearly… is it the lighthouse at Cape Wrath? Must be. Wow, it seems so near. So close.

There are two ways to get to Cape Wrath. One is to trek overland from this bay, and that’s the route taken by the Cape Wrath trail. I gather there is no trail on the ground. No path to follow. And it’s about 6 miles from here by land. The second way is to take a ferry from Durness, and then follow a 12 mile track to the lighthouse. Just to complicate matters, the military use the area around Cape Wrath as a training zone.

I’d already decided not to attempt the pathless route from Sandwood Bay. On my own, with lowered fitness levels, and with no backup, I’ve decided it would be foolish.

But, for a moment, seeing the lighthouse so tantalising close… I wonder if it is worth trying it.

Shake myself back to sensibleness. No, Ruth. Too dangerous. Just enjoy this moment in this beautiful bay. And, oh, I am enjoying this moment!

I take dozens of photographs. Look at this tranquil little bay, with waves crashing just beyond it. This beach really does have everything. It’s perfect.

I reach the end of the sands and look back. Love the textures in this view – the ripples of sand, the scrumbled stones, the little waves, the mass of rocks, the breakers beyond, the cliffs, and that lone stack poking up like an exclamation mark.

The pebbles on the beach show great diversity. Red sandstone, yellow sandstone, and striated rocks which could be sedimentary but I’m not sure. What an eclectic mix. A geologist would have a literal field trip here.

A wide, shallow river crosses the beach, and drains the waters of Sandwood Loch into the sea. I follow it inland for a while and climb up into the dunes for a better view. Beautiful.

Time to head back. My map shows another, smaller, body of water adjacent to the beach, but it seems to have disappeared. Is this it? Dried up?

I set off across the basin of sand. Rather ominously, when I’m half-way across, my boots begin to sink deeper and deeper with each step. Quicksand? I mustn’t stand still – must keep moving … but… uh, oh. This sand is covered in a mess of small silver fish.

I guess there really was a lake here once, and it’s dried up, leaving the little fish stranded. How sad.

On the other side of the dried up lake, I climb the sand dunes, stopping to take a photo looking back over Sandwood Bay. Goodbye, you beautiful place. I’m so glad I came.

The path back seems shorter than it did on the way here. A common phenomenom. I meet the odd couple of walkers, and some sheep.

Now, I’m on the final stretch. There’s Loch Aisir again, Blairmore, and the entrance to Loch Inchard.

I’ve been very lucky with the weather today. The views have been staggering. The beach was utterly beautiful. What a perfect walk! A day I will never forget.

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You can find information on the local geology here: Geopark Leaflet, and a more scholarly paper here: PDF by Jane Browning.

Miles walked today = 9.5 miles (there and back)

Total around coast = 4,912 miles

Route:

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