Durness

Last night we were lulled asleep by the waves tickling the shoreline. This morning the sunshine of the last few days was gone. Nethertheless it was dry and not too cold. We bid farewell to our canoeist's neighbours, John forwarding them the photographs he had taken of them yesterday

Shortly into this morning's journey we stopped at a viewpoint to photograph yet another stunning view.

There was an information board detailing where the public toilets were in the area, and for anyone caught short, there was a small shovel for their use!

You'd have to be desperate, wouldn't you? This information board, and its fellow shovel, were common in these parts.

We were on route to Ullapool, a place where Marge's namesake often talked about after a coach holiday to Scotland. But once again we were distracted from our journey, as we saw a sign for the Corrieshalloch Gorge. Stop Marge, we're going to take a look at this.

Corrieshalloch Gorge is a 65-metre-deep slot gorge through which the river Droma rushes for a mile. We walked down to the suspension bridge, where a notice stated only six people were to be on the bridge at any one time. The view down was breath-taking, if you like that sort of thing, or in Angelas case, take a quick photograph and get over to the other side. Then down to the viewing platform. The falls of Measach here drop 45 metres, so all in all an impressive place. We walked back through the larch trees, ferns and fungi. The area was popular, and by the time we returned to Marge the car park was full.

We arrived at Ullapool around one o' clock, and parked Marge in the Tesco car park. After some shopping and lunch, we walked around the small port town. It was nice enough, but we couldn't see why our Marge liked it so much.

Leaving Ullapool, the weather began to deteriorate, the wind increasing and a light rain splashed over Marge. In places the sun split the clouds.

We stopped at the ruin of Ardvreck Castle, taking the opportunity to stretch our legs. Our journey from then on became bleak and miserable.

We saw barely another vehicle, the landscape was bleak and barren, the light dull, we felt like we were in no man's land. With time getting on, we travelled on yet more single-track roads with passing places, and decided to head for the town of Durness, hoping to find civilisation and a fish and chip shop. We found civilisation, but no fish and chip shop. Morale low, we parked up Marge with another van beside Loch Eriboll. The wind rocking Marge and the rain coming down, we hoped tomorrow would be a better day. We have been driving now for nineteen days, and as yet have not found a place we have wanted to stay a couple of days at. We have been told by quite a few people that the west coast is the better coast, so let's hope we are not too disappointed from here on.

Tomorrow we will drive along the north coast towards John o' Groats.

Little Gruinard Beach

Beautiful views across the Loch this morning. The light of the sun playing in the water. The island, where the sea eagle lived reflected perfectly in the loch. Bealach ba na under our belts we set off in search of a proper A road.

Just a few miles down the road we made an impromptu stop to take our first photographs of the day of, canoeists packing their boats for a day or overnight stay on the loch. We spoke to a young couple who were getting ready to launch, and watched, as they paddled away from the shore. It was obvious that it was the young ladies maiden voyage.

After completing another section of the north coast 500, we stopped at Gairloch for lunch. John chatted to the lady in the marine wildlife centre, and she told him that there were around 20-30 otters in the area, and that they came down the river to feed at low tide.

Whilst walking around, we were rewarded with the sighting of a seal, which taunted everyone watching by diving beneath the water before photographs could be taken, but we managed to catch it out. On the seabed we could see scallops, sea urchins and star fish, and in the clear water large jelly fish and shoals of mackerel.

A fishing boat in the harbour had had its wheelhouse scumbled, an art form that John's late father was fond of doing as a young man, often telling the tale of how as a very young man he scumbled his parents furniture to give it an extra emphasised woodgrain effect.

Walking back to Marge, we spotted a pair of sea eagles circling high in the sky. We wished they would come down lower so we could see them properly.

After four hours at Gairloch, and no sign of the otters, we left for our night stop at Gruinard Bay.

Just off shore is Gruinard Island where in the dim and distance past the British goverment conducted experiments with antrax.

After a walk on the beach we realised upon our return that the van next to us belonged to the young canoeist couple we’d spoken to this morning, so we chatted with them for a while. Small world.

We have not travelled far today, giving Marge a rest from yesterday’s stresses and strains. Conscious of how far we have yet to travel and the prospect of another lockdown we must make some headway tomorrow.