Badachro

This morning Angela struggled to get up, but arise she must.

John was in his element preparing the wild Shaggy Cap mushrooms he'd foraged yesterday to add to his breakfast omelette. As it had the last few mornings the rain fell. Across the bay one headland was totally obscured the other clearly visible. We have been in Scotland long enough now to be able to read the weather. The usual pattern is rain, clear, rain, sun, rain.

All packed up, we headed for Gairloch Harbour where a service point had been installed for the vans. Because Marge's water tank is leaking, we have not been filling it up too much, but today we needed a shower. Hold it in as long as you can please Marge. Today we were heading to Badachro to an area known as The Fairy Lochs and Crash Site.

The crash site is that of a second world war American B24 Consolidated Liberator bomber that caught the summit of a nearby mountain and then attempted to crash land hitting the rocks and crashing in to the loch.

All fifteen on board were killed. The plane was of off course and should have been flying towards the Outer Hebrides.

Much of the wreckage remains where the plane crashed and is clearly visible. The area is classed as a war grave and visitors are expected not to disturb or remove any of the wreckage.

(John - I can almost hear my late father explaining how the propeller shaft reduction gearing worked, and the revs per minute it would come into operation and the exact oil pressure required to lubricate it.....)

Angela stumbled upon the site whilst reading on the internet about the area and was drawn to it.

It was a difficult walk of nearly an hour each way across boggy farmland, rocks and mud. Lots of mud. But the walk was worth it to visit somewhere so poignant that wasn't popularised by the guide books. Returning to Marge, wet, footwear and socks full of wet mud, we decided to take a break from scrambling up rocks. The crash site had attracted Angela's interest, and she noticed on the memorial plaque that the accident had happened on June 13th 1945. June 13th was her late grandfather's birthdate. Not wanting to drive much further we took Marge a few miles down the road to Redpoint, a beautiful bay with red sands at the end of a no through road.

Whilst the drive there was pretty, we felt it too remote so returned to the village of Badachro and are now nestled next to the water with views of islands and boats. Nice hey Marge? Very nice, and very quiet. Enjoy.

Gruinard Bay

This morning Angela ached, not so much from yesterday’s climb up the mountain but because she was unwell. A sore throat that had been troubling her for days took hold during the night adding to it a pounding head. I feel unwell Marge. We mustn’t drive too far today. To add to the misery of the morning the rain fell heavily. However we remained optimistic.

Around mid morning we bid farewell to the Royal Hotel, thankful that they offered a quiet and safe stopover on a Friday night. We wanted to take a look in the outdoor shop in the town before leaving and also purchase some medication for Angela.  Without warning, the rain suddenly stopped. A widening strip of blue pushed the dark clouds still full with rain aside. Shopping done we fired up Marge.

Right Marge, let’s go. The road from Ullapool twisted and turned, rose and fell. Taking us through valleys and glens, where there were waterfalls a plenty. The rain returned. First a drizzle and then heavier. With it came the lowering cloud obscuring views we should have seen of lochs and mountains. Finally, as we approached Mellon Udrigle which was supposed to be our overnight stop we were astounded at just how quickly the weather changed. Beautiful far reaching blue skies and sunshine a plenty. Did we really just drive from Ullapool in such terrible weather?

Sadly, the small campsite looking over the beach which a couple we met weeks ago at Ardtoe had recommended was closed. Great, going to park me in some random lay-by now then? No Marge, we promise to be selective, it’ll be a parking area with a view. Promise.

Mellon Udrigle was a truly stunning place with far reaching views across to the Summer Isles. Sand dunes, rocks, rock pools, headlands and a vast sweeping sandy beach. We were here now and although we couldn’t stay we walked out across the dunes and on to the beach. 

Right Marge, let’s get you settled. A few miles back was Gruinard Bay. We stayed here last year so headed off knowing it was a beautiful parking spot with stunning views across the bay back towards Mellon Udrigle. Happy Marge? Look, there’s a fellow Volkswagen to keep you company. The parking area was busy, besides the two vans there were many cars. Up near the woods behind us a large group of veterans (ex military) are wild camping. 

More walking, this time along the verge of the passing road. John foraging book in hand was keen to find some edible mushrooms (Shaggy Caps) to put in his breakfast omelette. After some time fungi spotting, we returned to Marge as Angela was feeling weary. Leaving her to rest whilst John walked along the beach.

This evening as the sun set somewhere behind the mountain range across the bay, the sky turned orange to purple to pink to grey. Beautiful. Scotland is starting to reel us in. Everyday we are wowed by stunning scenery and we just can’t get enough of it.

Tomorrow we are hoping for some settled weather as there is a walk we’d like to take a little further on. So far we’ve been lucky with the weather, it tends to settle down around lunchtime, so fingers crossed. 

Ullapool

Were we really going to climb Stac Pollaidh today. No probably not. The larger mountains sagged under the clouds. However, Stac Pollaidh was sitting under the merest whisper of cloud.

Would it be too high for Angela to ascend and descend, it was quite high. Other vehicles began to arrive. Are you going up? It seemed wrong to be sat so near to the mountain and not take the opportunity to give it a go. An older couple from the van next to us set off. Let's go. 

Whilst we packed our rucksacks with appropriate spare clothing and snacks the weak sunlight dispersed the cloud from the other mountains. Half an hour later we were on our way up. Stopping to remove our waterproof trousers. The sun was out and it was obvious the threat of rain had passed over. Down in the loch we could see some canoeists. Forty-five minutes in to the climb we stopped again for John to remove some layers. We were warming up.

The views back down were amazing. As we ventured further up the path became a little more difficult. Scrambling over the rocks, we realised to reach the ridge at the top the walk was almost vertical. Enough. Angela, panic rising knew she had walked far enough and hunkered down in a hollow next to a rock. Don't look down, look at the horizon. Down below the crystal waters of the Loch Gurgainn and the green lush vegetation surrounding it was stunning. In the flanks of the opposite mountains wisps of clouds clung. What a view. A quick photograph. Remember don't look down.

John climbed right up to the ridge and took some fantastic photographs. Was there a coffee shop at the top? No. Just a half star rating on trip adviser then. Many other people were now on the mountain, most fairly young. We were proud of our achievement. Not bad for an older couple. 

After a few deep breaths Angela steeled herself for the climb back down. With the aid of her walking pole, she became a little more confident. But this was it as far as mountain climbing went. That box was now ticked. Three hours fifteen minutes after leaving Marge we returned. Relieved, elated and proud. Angela had put more comfortable walking socks on before leaving, she now needed dry underwear and trousers. No Marge, I sat in a hollow on wet soil. 

Our time on the Coigach peninsula was over. We needed to make haste for Ullapool, a port and village just over ten miles away. There was a Tesco there for us to stock up on food. Busy with the vans we parked Marge. Once again, the shelves in the supermarket had been cleared. Then we found a stop with other vans in a layby alongside the main road out of Ullapool. Not ideal but it would do.

Another walk, this time down to the harbour to stretch our already tired legs.

At the Royal Hotel we saw a sign for motorhome parking. Ten pounds to park Marge somewhere quiet and safe on a Friday night and there was signal for the internet. Right Marge, play nice with your two companions, we're off out again. Walking around the harbour, the ferry having just left for one of the Hebridean islands, the aroma of fish and chips filled our nostrils. Trying to ignore it we marvelled at the trees in the distance, a riot of autumn colours. No good we were reeled in. Think of it as a reward for climbing Stac Pollaidh. The Seaforth Fish and Chip shop had a bar adjacent, so we sat under the covered area and ordered lager to accompany our meal. It felt good to be having a night out.

We have now been in Scotland five weeks and have certainly challenged ourselves. There's a saying. If it isn't a little scary, it probably isn't worth your time. The climb today proved that.

From the top of the Stac on times 10 magnification on the camera, a long way down!