Land's End to Cape Wrath

Part 4: Loch Lomond to Cape Wrath

June 2022

This is the fourth and final part of my End to End journey in which I walk the West Highland Way, then the epic finale of the Cape Wrath Trail.

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Kilearn to Tryndrum

West Highland Way, 45 miles, 4 days

Day 85: the wind has finally subsided and, despite an early start, it is sunny and actually warm. I rejoin the West Highland Way and pass through Drymen, then onto a forest track that spirals round and over a small hill to a beautiful view of Loch Lomond, laid out at my feet. Pausing to take it in I’m sitting directly on the Highland boundary fault, and really am at the start of a new and final stage of my adventure. There are lots of other people enjoying the view too. Maybe it’s just that it’s now later in the year, but the WHW is so much busier than anything I’ve experienced on any other trail. On the Pennine Way we passed a handful of other walkers each day, here it’s rare if I walk for 20 minutes alone. It’s like being part of a constant stream, a migration of booted and backpacked wanderers from all over the world. At a guess I’d say half the conversations I overhear are in non-English languages. Dropping down to Balmaha (the last food shop before Chrianlarich), I’m getting nervous that it will all be cleaned out but no, there is plenty of choice and lots of backpacker orientated food options. Setting off along the loch it’s a beautiful wooded path which winds gently up and down along the shore. I stop for a swim (partly because it looks fantastically clear and inviting and partly because Tas is joining me soon and I therefore need to work on my cold water tolerance!). It is horribly cold but I do manage a hasty and breathless few strokes out and back again before retreating back to the shore feeling very refreshed. Carrying on into early evening I turn away from the trail and head off up the Ben Lomond path, aiming to camp as soon as I reach the end of the camping management zone. Annoyingly this plan is made harder because the end isn’t actually signed, and the overview maps are so zoomed out that it’s hard to know exactly where it finishes. I pop out onto the hillside where I decide I am definitely well clear, but everything is boggy and sloping. I walk a few circles and eventually end up with a slightly desperate spot by a stream which has two angles of slope, some tussocks and a cow pat just outside the door, but is at least reasonably dry. The midges appear as I make dinner which makes the first outing for the head net before I retreat to the safety of the tent.

Day 86: no trampling heard of cows overnight but I do have an unsettling dream in which I buy a very large (and therefore heavy) orange in Balmaha and forget to eat it, and therefore unnecessarily carry it all the way over Ben Lomond. It’s enough to cause mild anxiety and I check the food bag for stowaway oranges but find none. Up and off it’s a bright and sunny morning with very few other walkers on the path. It’s a straightforward plod to the summit but with quite a lot of up, helped by an awesome view. The air is cold, fairly still and super clear. From the summit I can make out Ben Nevis, and can just about spot the line of the route that will take me there. I chat to a few other walkers who find the idea of walking the length of the country fascinating, but can’t seem to get their heads around what I’m doing on top of a munro with full backpacking kit. Surely there are easier routes? Well, yes, but they don’t come with views like this. I sit about for a while soaking it all in, reflecting that there is nowhere quite like the Highlands for the shear amount of view. Getting going again I briefly follow a steep descent path, then turn off and leave the paths and people behind. Off-piste there is a long and grassy descent, then a slightly awkward clamber through a deer fence that isn’t marked on the map, then back up to the much less visited summit of Cruinn a’ Bheinn which I have all to myself. Then onwards and downwards there is a bit of a bog slog followed by a nice clear track that drops back to the loch side where I am immediately swept up once more in the line of WHW walkers. The views remain stunning and ground is covered in a fantastic carpet of bluebells, but my soggy and tired feet are happy to turn aside at Inversnaid to a little bunkhouse in a beautiful old converted church which I’m camping outside. They have awesome rainfall showers and good food.

Day 87: my first rest day since Edale which feels a very very long time ago. It’s a perfect place for it, and many thanks must go to the South-bound end-to-ender on the Union canal who recommended it. I’m sorry I forgot your name. I sit about on a comfy sofa reading a rather depressing book in which everyone dies horribly. Lunch in brief sunshine, then a comfortable hour in the hot tub while it rains just enough to keep me cool and the midges at bay.

Day 88: a very midgey morning. Thank goodness for a bunkhouse breakfast to escape to and a final go in the awesome rainfall shower. Onwards to the end of Loch Lomond, the woods remain beautiful and bluebell-covered and midge-filled. Keep moving or they’ll get you. The air is completely still with the occasional sudden downpour which I actually manage to time rather well. The first I’m just arriving at a bothy, and the second arrives just as I pass Beinglas campsite shop/pub allowing me to do a swift about turn and a tactical second lunch stop. I think about stopping for the night but don’t really need the facilities of another campsite so soon so carry on once it clears. I don’t go far though as I find a lovely flat grassy spot by a stream and make camp before 4.

Day 89: a perfect blue sky morning with a moderate but not overwhelming amount of midge. I get a leisurely start, letting the tent dry in the sun as I really don’t have far to go today. The trail follows the River Falloch (and the A82 but it’s fairly well hidden by trees) which has some lovely little gorge sections, and a good solid path underfoot. There’s the usual steady stream of fellow WHW walkers and a great view of the Chrianlarich munros up to my right. I detour into Chrianlarich for lunch supplies then carry on through a recently felled forestry plantation which, while a bit desolate, has at least opened up the view. I stop for a snack on a tree stump and receive the gift of a lovely sticky resin splodge on my backside that defies all efforts to remove it. I pass the remains of St Fillan’s Priory and some info boards about the history of various clan wars and Robert the Bruce, then make an early stop on a lovely piece of flat grass under the trees by the river. There’s a disused bridge just next to it which has enough breeze to keep the inevitable swarm of beasties away so for the first time in a while I can relax outside and watch the sunset. To make a great evening even better I’m then joined by Tas who has signed herself up to be my walking companion for the next four days, and brings with her the long awaited arrival of my new boots. Hallelujah for dry feet.

Tyndrum to Fort William

West Highland Way, 42 miles, 4 days

Day 90: we enjoy a lie in to make up for a late night, then an excellent lazy breakfast back up on the bridge in the sunshine, crowned off by the sighting of two sea eagles just behind the trees. Finally getting off it’s hot and sunny. The path follows a lovely community woodland into Tyndrum and then the long sloggy track to Bridge of Orchy. This is the bit you see from the road, and the little line of slow marching backpackers so close to the traffic has always put me off the idea of the WHW. Actually, on foot it’s not bad and there are good mountain views which you have much longer to appreciate than when you zoom past in a car. Through Bridge of Orchy we climb a small hillock and gain a great view on the far side of what we think is the back of Glencoe, though it’s difficult to tell with only the narrow strip map to hand. Down the other side to the river where we make camp in a little unofficial campsite which then quickly fills up with more tents. There are a group of Danish guys with a trangia and some very inappropriate fuel which produces a lot of smoke, flames and sparks and very little cooking. Satisfyingly we manage to time dinner just before a rain shower and then re-emerge for a leisurely evening. Tas spots a snipe which gets added to the list of new birds I’ve learned this spring and there’s just enough breeze to keep the midges away.

Day 92: not the best night’s sleep with lots of talking from fellow campers and a couple that arrive about 10 and spend a very long time pitching their tent right next to our heads (though to be fair that was about the only space left). It’s another perfect blue sky morning and we get boiled out of our tents at 6:30 meaning we’re breakfasted and off for 8. Up and over a little edge we make it to Ba Bridge which Tas remembers as a good swimming spot from her last WHW adventure. It’s a deep channel in the stream which is icy cold but beautiful and the memory of it helps to keep us cool as we set out across Rannoch Moor. The mountain views really open up all around us as we pass the imposing mass of the Bauchaille. We pause at the King’s House for a cool can and note quite a few very tame looking red deer wandering around the car park. Onwards and upwards we tackle the Devil’s Staircase which is very hot with no air movement at all but a fantastic view to look back at which gives a great excuse for a rest or two. There are quite a few people running some sort of race and two people leading horses which look rather unsure about the whole thing. Reaching the top we find a perfect camp spot with a little ring of beautifully flat grass by a stream. The evening is long and light. I sew up yet another big rip in my sleeping bag liner (which will almost certainly re-rip overnight as it’s too narrow for me) and we look through the maps for the upcoming Cape Wrath trail, picking Tas’ brains about camp spots and food supplies. I’m also pleased to report that two days in my new boots are causing no problems and are basically as comfy as the old pair straight out of the box, though we’ve not yet met any puddles to enjoy the waterproofing.

Day 93: another perfect blue sky morning which sticks around for a super hot and sunny day. It’s a fairly straightforward descent into Kinlochleven through lots of regenerating birch forest and we enjoy a leisurely lunch in a park hiding under a tree. We think about waiting out the heat of the day and walking in the evening but it’s still early and after sitting about for a few hours all we manage to achieve is setting off again at 1pm with the sun at its highest. Luckily the climb back up out of the valley is mostly wooded and we pop out of the top to a great view stretching away to the Balachulish horseshoe. We join an upland valley with a small stream which we sit/lie in to cool off though it doesn’t last long. Up and round the corner of the valley we gain a new view out West and Ben Nevis pokes it’s head out above us. We find a perfect grassy hillock to set up camp. There are skylarks singing and a snipe. Fetching water we spot a horn sticking out of the stream above us which turns out to be an entire dead sheep. Fortunately we’ve not yet drunk any of it and a long clamber up slope saves us from upset stomachs.

Day 94: yet another perfect hot blue sky day. Luckily there’s not much walking left and we’re off for 8 (fleeing a large cloud of midges) and into Fort William for 11. The last part of the way is a fairly simple route up and over into Glen Nevis and lots of felling means there’s a good view through the forestry. We treat ourselves to a café lunch then sit about by the loch and watch the thermometer on the petrol station climb to 25 degrees. Then Tas is off by bus back to Tyndrum and I wander round the outdoor shops stocking up on lots of expensive dehydrated meals so I can get myself to the next shop in 6 days time without killing my back. On the same logic I then treat myself to an enormous 2 person fish pie dinner with extra potatoes and pudding. And while I’m treating myself I pay the hostel £5 to wash all my clothes. To put this in context, I have been washing my clothes item at a time in various sinks and streams but the last time they saw a washing machine was Bristol. The lady on the desk takes pity on me standing there in just my waterproofs and bumps me up the queue, ultimately handing me back a neatly folded pile that is warm and fluffy from the dryer and smells of washing powder. It almost moves me to tears.

Fort William to Shiel Bridge

Cape Wrath Trail, 64 miles, 4 days

Day 94: the beginning of the end. Or the end of the >1000 mile warm up and onto the main event! It’s another beautiful blue sky day but according to the forecast tomorrow will be the last of these and then I’m due some heavy rain in some rough country. So it’s a day for going as far as possible. Also, at 6am when I decide to just casually double check the opening times for the Shiel Bridge shop, Google announces that it is permanently closed. You know, that only resupply point in the next 9-11 days. I run (well, walk rapidly with an enormous bag full of 6 days of food) to Morrison’s and add another 2. It probably should have been more but I’m panicking about the weight. Here’s to an awful lot of couscous and oatcakes and a very limited supply of stuff to go with them. At 8 I catch the passenger ferry across Loch Linnhe and that’s it. There are no more shops. What is in the bag is in the bag. I set off down the road, beautiful views back to Ben Nevis over my shoulder, the water sparkling in the sunshine. There are plenty of deer and not many cars and although it’s quite a long slog to the start of Cona Glen it is at least fairly efficient. I rest every hour to ease the weight on my shoulders but ultimately it’s manageable and there are enough streams that I can get away with not carrying any water which makes a huge difference. I even start to think I could have carried more. Up Cona Glen I pass a couple of day walkers and a guy on a bike of which I am very envious but otherwise I have it all to myself. It’s a beautiful place, with lots of memories of the last time I was here with Dad climbing Corbetts. I spend a lot of time thinking about food and how long it will last if I have to wait out bad weather or get stuck behind a river in spate that I can’t cross. It’s odd to think in terms of food passing rather than time. I realise that with the emergency couscous I actually have 9 decent sized dinners and 10 breakfast/lunches on fairly stingy rations which should see me safely to Kinlochewe if there is indeed nothing in Shiel Bridge. I also make great progress, with just enough of a cloud layer to take the heat out of the sun and before I know it I’m in Glenfinnan. I have dinner on the edge of Loch Shiel so that I can put the empty sardine tin in a bin and not have to carry it all the way across Knoydart. Then take the little road under the viaduct and up to Corryhully Bothy which I have all to myself and a mouse. 12 hours of walking and about 24 miles, possibly my longest day of the walk so far. My legs feel stiff and sore but nothing like as bad as that day in Somerset with the bridge and I’m impressed that I’ve made it this far with the weight.

Day 95: cloudy this morning for the first time in a long time. I enjoy a breakfast hot chocolate courtesy of the electric kettle and am off for 8. The bag still weighs a ton but must be at least 500g lighter, not that I can feel any noticeable difference. Again there is no need to carry water as the whole day is following rivers and streams. I catch an unexpected bit of mobile signal for a forecast which has pushed back the oncoming storm to the weekend, so keep pushing on! There’s a good track up to the first bealach and I meet Alistair and Bella the dog in their landrover out working on the estate. Down the other side it’s steep and boggy and that’s after a week of baking sunshine. The path is prone to vanish in bogs and it takes a while to pick my way down though I’m pleased to note my feet remain beautifully dry. There’s a heard of deer who are not too phased by me and I hear more snipe. Down to the river I have a first lunch on the bridge and the sun makes it out turning it into another hot afternoon. I turn the corner into Glen Dessary following a good track by the river which has lots of very tempting swimming spots but I’ve got my sights set on Sourlies and decide to press on. Eventually the track runs out and I join a rough path, winding its way through craggy terrain. It’s slow progress but incredibly beautiful. Craggy mountains, crystal clear streams, silent except the water and occasional bird song. The heather is full of dragonflies. Down the other side the descent to Sourlies is stunning; blue sea and sky, the tide lapping out. There are two other people staying, walking Glenfinnan to Inverie, and I find an entry in the book from a very wet sounding Tas and Craig in 2018. I enjoy some rather tasty noodles for dinner but could easily eat more and I’ve also gone slightly over my rationed 6 oatcakes. I am a full day ahead of schedule though. A heard of deer meander past, golden in the evening sun. I resolve to come back here some day by boat with large amounts of food and no need to hurry on.

Day 96: yet another long day, though no sunshine on this one. The others are up and off early so while I’m awake and it’s not yet raining I decide I really should be on my way too. The tide is out which makes for a nice simple walk around the headland, then I turn up river into what the book describes as a waist deep bog but is currently pretty dry. The bridge which was washed away a few years ago is beautifully restored but there is so little water in the river that I probably could have crossed with dry feet. Heading upstream it starts to drizzle slightly but the cloud is light and the tops clear so I still get great views. There are a few tents by the river but no-one else out yet. I meander up a craggy wooded valley then climb a steep hillside which the book describes as a pathless struggle but actually has a clear trod all the way up. Maybe foot traffic on the trail has increased since it was published. Down the other side to Barisdale it’s rough walking and I’m feeling tired and hungry. I stop for a second lunch and chat to a guy connecting the WHW up to the Skye Trail. I’m tempted to call it a day but I want to get over the Forcan Ridge tomorrow before the storm hits and that means carrying on. I plod towards Kinloch Hourn on a good but rough path with lots of little steep hills (not quite what you expect for a loch-side ramble). The views remain beautiful ahead and behind and the world is all very green. After a while I’m feeling more and more tired so quit early at a lovely but exposed lochside site which leaves only 12 mostly pathless miles to cover tomorrow. But it’s a beautiful place and that is justification enough. It’s difficult to believe I only left Glenfinnan yesterday morning. Feels like a world away. Later it stops drizzling and I go and sit outside with my ginger cake to enjoy a brief snatch of sunshine and after a while I spot something moving in the seaweed that doesn’t look quite like a bird. I zoom the camera in for a better look and it’s an otter! The first I’ve ever seen. It slides back into the water before I can focus a picture but then it swims all along the shore before me with lots of jumping dives and is so playful and elegant and beautiful that it makes me laugh. Absolutely the right choice to camp early.

Day 97: it’s a cloudy morning and with the absence of the sun boiling me out of the tent I sleep straight through till 7:30. Up and away at 9 I follow the loch side path through an awful lot of rhododendron which is sad to see in such a beautiful and wild place. The café at Kinloch Hourn is shut (I always seem to be too early or too late for such places) but I have a flapjack on the bench instead as the rain starts to fall. Heading on I meet Karen and Chris who have had an accidental overnight epic where they set off walking around the coast got very lost and ended up staying the night in an empty house. They are slightly shaken by their adventures and I walk up the hill with them and point out their return track. The rain stays light but the clouds are low and there’s not much of a view as I turn away from the track and head off up the hillside. Ultimately I realise I’ve stayed on the track too long and ended up in the “very rough” valley floor that the book says to avoid. It’s a long slog up to the pass and the bog comes in over the tops of my boots but then the rain clears and the sun even makes a few brief appearances. Gaining the ridge I dither about heading up to the summit of Sgurr na Sgine, tantalisingly close to my right, but with my three days out-of-date forecast promising rain and a lot of long days behind me I decide it might be pushing things too far. It turns out for the best because I then meet Toby, just starting out on his walk from Cape Wrath to Hastings. I’m the first other end-to-ender he’s met. We sling our backpacks down for a chat and he confirms that there really is a food shop at Sheil Bridge but called Kintail Crafts which is open late in the evenings. Hallelujah. I celebrate with second lunch and extra cheese and wonder about having a rest day to balance out the enormous distance I’ve just covered. The descent is long but on a good path all the way into Sheil Bridge. I treat myself to the campsite and a good hot shower then dinner out at the hotel. The updated forecast promises strong winds, and a lot of rain arriving tomorrow afternoon. I do lots of debating over dinner. To wait a couple of days at Shiel Bridge or to carry on and sit it out in a bothy? I’ve covered in 4 days what I thought would take me 6 and I’m in need of a rest day. And the next stage passes the Falls of Glomach on what the book describes as a treacherous path where a slip could have dire consequences. It doesn’t sound like the sort of place to be alone in a storm. But racing across it tomorrow in strong winds while the ground is still dry might be better than waiting a few days for everything to be sodden and slippery. I go to bed still undecided.

Shiel Bridge to Kinlochewe

Cape Wrath Trail, 52 miles, 3 days

Day 98: it’s a day for appreciating the impact of totally unplanned and random decisions. At 4am I wake up needing a wee. It happens to be dry and not actually all that windy and the sun is already rising so I shrug my shoulders and decide I may as well set off. On up a road which becomes a track and then a path, I set my sights on getting over the falls before the rain starts. I pause for a couple of snacks and some water but otherwise just put my head down and keep walking. And then there it is. The ground drops away dramatically and you hear the roar of the highest waterfall in Britain. There is a very steep drop from the path down to a precipitous view point which I omit, thinking I’ll get plenty enough view as I stumble my way down the rather shear valley side. But then I find my path and it’s fine. I’ve turned it in my head into some death defying cliff edge with a howling gale funnelling through but it’s just a path. It’s dry underfoot and completely sheltered with not a breath of wind and there’s enough of a slope to the side that if I were to take a tumble I’d probably just fall over rather than off anything. It’s all a bit of an anticlimax. There’s also no place you can see the whole waterfall except that precipitous view point I omitted but by the time I realise this I’ve gone too far to bother going back. So there I am at the bottom, on a nice dry track which leads pretty much all the way to the bothy and it’s only mid morning. I decide to start taking the guidebook a little less seriously. Wandering on I catch up with a couple of fellow walkers with large rucksacks, one of whom turns out to be Patrick (see day 69) who I met on the Pennine Way. He’s been back home since then rather than walking all the way which makes it even more of a bizarre coincidence that here he is on his next holiday tackling a week of the Cape Wrath Trail. I walk with them to Maol Bhuidhe bothy where I was thinking of stopping but they are carrying on to Bendronaig Lodge so for the sake of the company (and getting across a large river before it becomes larger) I decide to carry on. We cross a chunk of pathless moor and join the next track where the rain arrives in earnest, flung straight into our faces by some serious wind. I’m grateful for the companionship which makes the slog a lot more fun, but after 12 hours on the go I’m very glad to see Bendronaig come into view. We’re the only ones there and (by virtue of having walked twice as far as them) I get to slump in a chair while the others chop a load of fence posts and get a great fire going. Toasty warm toes and an evening of folk songs while the wind howls outside. Very glad I needed that 4am wee!

Day 99: having completed what should have been 8 days walking in 5 my feet are pretty sore and swollen this morning and the rain is flying past in horizontal sheets that make the windows shake. My rest day has finally arrived! Patrick and Jor have schedules to keep and are off early, then a slightly mad man on a bike appears to head up a nearby munro (I do thankfully see him return for the bike later so can vouch he survived). I decide a much better plan is snuggling down in my sleeping bag to catch up on the diary. I’m not alone for long though before Daniel arrives absolutely soaked through telling me how that weather is completely unnatural and is a curse put on him by two men outside Shiel Bridge who wished him a “nice day”. I’m then treated to a very long and rather one-sided conversation in which he fills me in on lots of very detailed conspiracy theories and paranoid delusions and being destined to become the antichrist, punctuated with his walks all over the country over the last few years. He camped outside Maol Bhuidhe last night in the storm because he’s suspicious of strangers and now his £8 Halfords tent is in pieces and everything he owns is soaked. I’m torn between feeling very alone and hoping he decides not to spend the whole day and night here with me, and worrying that he might actually die out there if I scare him away. But then we gain Lisa, also soaking wet, who I convince to stay and we get two fires going and dry out everyone’s stuff and pass the day very happily by nodding along to all sorts of things we don’t actually agree with while Daniel chops us large amounts of wood. Thomas arrives in the evening just as we are heading to bed also, you guessed it, soaked to the skin. Apparently the river I walked over yesterday with dry feet he’d had to swim.

Day 100: I’ve planned a very short and leisurely day to get the most out of the bothies but end up setting off at 6am to walk with Lisa (even then I’ve apparently slowed her down and it’s her latest start of the trail!). There’s plenty of drizzle but nothing too heavy and after a brief bog trudge we find a good but sodden path heading up and over the hill. The boots hold up OK and my feet are damp but far from soaked. We chat about long distance trails, Lisa having done both the AT and PCT, and how I’m actually getting pretty close to the end of mine but haven’t really started to process that yet. The whole way I’ve been breaking the walk down into sections in my head and I think a part of my brain is still expecting there to be another section after this one. We’re far too early for a cooked breakfast at Strathcarron Hotel (which doesn’t open until 12) so have trail bars and porridge in the train station waiting room instead. Then there’s a short section on the road and more clear tracks to reach Fionnaraich bothy by 11. The forecast isn’t bad and it would have been nice to carry on with Lisa for a few days but there’s more rain due tomorrow and I’m still seriously ahead of schedule (which matters because Robbie is booked to join me in Ullapool for the final week) so I elect to stop for another rest day. After about an hour alone I get bored and find a rather soggy print out from walkhighlands of the route to the Munro just above the bothy. It’s just on the edge of my strip map so I decide to head out and celebrate my 100th day with a lovely cloudy summit. I dump all my camping stuff and practically fly up to the top where the clouds roar past and treat me to brief snatches of an amazing view of quartzite and sandstone peaks. This is another place I vow to return to later. Back at the bothy I’m joined by Chloe who has just got the fire going and two Dutch CWT walkers. It’s all very warm and cozy. Expedition mac and cheese for dinner and chocolate mousse for pudding.

Day 101: another bothy rest day. I find a copy of Murder in the Clouds by Agatha Christie and play multiple games of solitaire (many thanks to whoever left the book and the cards!) while the rain drizzles down and clouds muffle the slopes. Allan, a fellow CWT walker, passes through and recognises me from my bothy book entries, though he is surprised to catch up with me. I have the rest of the afternoon to myself and am just thinking about bed when I catch sight of a dark figure on the path and think “Oh no, it’s Daniel”. I’m right and wrong and Dan turns out to be a very soggy man whose approach to bogs and rain is shorts and trainers. The jury’s out on whether that counts as sane.

Day 102: back to walking. It’s still pretty damp and the clouds are low but forecast to improve a little. Up and over Bealach Ban they lift just enough to give me an easy ride of the navigation, as does a luminous green rucksack cover bobbing along ahead of me which turns out to be yet another Daniel, this one from the Netherlands. Down to Ling Hut I have first lunch and spend a while debating whether to bother with the epic bog-slog round the back of Beinn Eighe which boasts “stunning views” and potentially problematic river crossings, or to just follow the road. I decide to go for it and end up walking with both Daniels as we’re all going about the same speed (i.e. very slowly). It’s reassuring to have company and there are a few snatches of view which are stunningly dramatic and bleak. After hearing how horrifically difficult the pathless section is it actually passes quite quickly. Yes we average less than 1km per hour but we get there. I leave my already sodden boots on for the rivers, and Dutch Daniel gets left behind (once safely across) after he not only removes his boots but then gets a towel out at the other side to dry between his toes. We spot a heard of deer and a golden eagle overhead. Into Kinlochewe campsite at 6 I’m tired and hungry but actually pretty dry (double waterproofs save the day once again) and am treated to an excellent hot shower and a drying room for the boots.

Kinlochewe to Inverlael

Cape Wrath Trail, 28 miles, 2 days

Day 103: it’s raining again this morning and the tent is saturated with condensation so a very wet take-down. Venturing to the drying room my socks are nice and crispy but the boots still rather sodden. Also I’ve worn a hole in the heal of one sock, which is quite an achievement given they were brand new back in March. The rain stops in time for breakfast then I’m off via the shop and second breakfast (a large pot of cherry yoghut and lots of fruit). I finally depart Kinlochewe after 10 into a day that is rapidly brightening, and find myself walking without my waterproofs on for the first time in a week. I follow a good track to Lochan Fada then wave it goodbye and commit to a boggy trod up the hillside. It leads to a maze of tall peat hags which I negotiate after a few false starts. Through the bealach I’m treated to a beautiful view of An Teallach which has amazingly remained cloud-free. Then there’s lots of down past some incredible rock slabs which I remember from a university trip many years ago where we walked through dense clouds and rain and quite a bit of darkness and ended up crossing the same river 5 times. I think my navigation skills have improved since then. Finally Shenavall bothy comes into view where I’m greeted by Dan and the two Dutch men I shared my first night at Fionnaraich with. It’s a lovely affect of the CWT passing so many bothies that many of my evenings have been very sociable, and with people writing in the bothy books I’m can now follow the progress of those like Lisa and Allan who have raced on ahead of me.

Day 104: another (final??) rest day at Shevavall. This time there is no terrible weather to hide from, just time to pass before I meet Robbie in Ullapool. I’m alone. It’s quiet and peaceful. I listen to the sound of the stream and watch the shifting light and clouds over Beinn Dearg Mor. There are cattle by the river. A cuckoo and a firecrest. I sweep the bothy out, dry the tent, sketch in the book. Wind shivers through the leaves of the trees. Inside it is so silent the only sound is my heart beating. A joyful day. But realising that it’s nearly over, and that this is my last day truly alone. Peace, solitude, quiet. No compulsion to do anything at all. What a beautiful way to spend time.

Day 105: today’s forecast is for a 90% chance of rain but when I set out it’s dry and, after a few patches of drizzle the clouds melt away and open up a stunning view of An Teallach laid out behind me. I’m on good dry paths all day and make great progress reaching Inverlael by 2. I then have a rather sad realisation that the bunkhouse I booked very quickly back in Strathcaron train station is actually 2 miles down the very busy road in the wrong direction (which is even more sad because I tomorrow I will have to add them onto what was already 8 miles to Ullapool), but it turns out to be a very comfy bunkhouse where I have a whole dorm room to myself. There’s also a café next door where chance throws up Karen and Chris (day 97) of the Kinlochhourn misadventure, who treat me to hot chocolate and cake and an account of all their latest sightseeing.

Inverlael to Loch Stack

Cape Wrath Trail, 72 miles, 5 days

Day 106: the road walk into Ullapool is described in my guide book as a hair raising experience for purists only but having walked all the way from Land’s End I’m not going to stick out my thumb for a lift now. My traffic avoidance strategy is an early start and 6am sees me donning the bag and setting out at a rapid plod. It works very well and the whole experience is wonderfully dull except for one wonderful moment when a pine marten decides to cross the road barely 10m in front of me. Into Ullapool I devour a fresh crab sandwich, then meet Robbie and Julie for a full Scottish breakfast. Then we tour the supermarket for our next week of rations and I finish off by sitting out in the car park and devouring an entire sharing pot of yoghurt and a fruit smoothie. OK, now I’m full. Robbie watches in mild horror. Setting out the bags are once again heavy with food and it’s a weight that feels good. The route out of town is easygoing on road and track with the wind blasting us along from behind. We catch up on the last few months of life, and enjoy a decadent lunch of pies and fruit tucked into a little sheltered hollow full of sheep poo. Then Julie heads back and we continue the plod to very satisfyingly reach Knockdamph bothy just as the rain sets in. I continue the decadent food trend with a big dinner of pasta and mixed grains and we’re joined by Rapheal and Patricia who recognise me from my bothy book entries and therefore know all about the walk already. Oh. They also bring the news that the Cape Wrath firing times have been updated and now, rather than open access all month, there’s only a two day window in the next two weeks where we can actually make the Cape at all. Luckily for our schedule it means slowing down which is something I’m now well practised at.

Day 107: a late start with a fair amount of drizzle around and the promise of a better afternoon. Heading out we follow the track all day which is a bit hard on the feet but at least keeps navigation easy. We pass another bothy at the Schoolhouse where we have first lunch and spend a while reading about the pupils who used to walk several miles each way to their lessons and cross the river on stilts. Carrying on along the track we pass through quite a lot of forestry into Oykel Bridge where the hotel is shut on Sundays so no roast dinners for us. Onwards, more track, we follow a river then more forest. Finally Loch Ailsh appears before us with a hint of mountains ahead. The guide book says the camping gets better the further up you go but we’re pretty tired and there’s a flat spot right by the lake. I make dinner under a midge net, and practice the classic circling 2mph wander up and down the road then retreat into the tent. We’re back in the two-man which has a mesh inner that allows a perfect view of the swarm collecting in the porch. Just as I’m thinking I really need to get out for a loo break there is the sound of footsteps on the road and one man breaks his silence to exclaim to his companion “Bl***y hell, will you look at the midges on that tent!”

Day 108: our unwelcome guests are still present this morning and if you lie quietly you can hear the patter of them against the tent fabric. We have a slightly fraught take-down but then are saved by a breeze, and some actual sunshine appears. Getting going there are great views of Ben More Assynt. We follow the track up into the glen until it becomes a path and then a trod and then a bog. The book is right, and there are some truly fantastic looking camping spots by the meanders of the river. Crossing over there is a bit of a slog to reach the bealach under Conival where we find a lizard basking in the sunshine and then surprise a Ptarmigan who does the broken wing trick trying to divert our attention. Seeing the ruse we scan the ground around us and find two chicks busily sitting very still and hoping we don’t see them. Through to the other side we descend some alarmingly steep ground and eventually make it onto a good path. There is a sign post pointing to some caves which we decide are worthy of exploration and are rewarded with an impressive rock arch and a series of small caverns where you can wriggle from one to the next to reach an underground river. Onwards we decide to try the 1km detour into Inchnadamph which then completely fails to provide a pub dinner, a public toilet, mobile signal for an updated forecast or even a bin for our rubbish. Back up the hill then. The clouds lower around us and it’s a fair slog to where the guidebook suggests camping by a little loch. It takes a bit of searching but we do eventually get a flat spot with a telltale ring of stones from where everyone else has also struggled to dig in their tent pegs. The tent is up just as the rain begins and we curl up inside for pasta and lentils for dinner. It’s tasty but I think we’d both happily eat the same again.

Day 109: it rains all night and we awake in thick cloud obscuring the other side of the loch. We have a hopeful lie in but aside from a brief glimpse of a large grey diving bird nothing changes and we are still thoroughly enshrouded when we finally get going at 11. Onwards and upwards we reach the bealach where I was hoping to divert up Glas Bheinn for a “wonderful view”. The clouds have broken a little so sit about for a snack, then decide to go for it, then 10 metres in it starts raining heavily and we change our minds. Straight down the other side we follow a winding path through a soggy and grey world. We lunch by a small lochan then follow a very wet and slippery slope towards the river where we finally pop out of the bottom of the cloud at 100m elevation. There’s a big waterfall pouring down from the clouds behind us and it all has a rather lost world feel. Onwards downstream it’s a bit of a bog slog to Glencoul Bothy which has a great view out over the bay and lots of interesting reading about the people who used to live there. We debate staying the night but the weather brightens and the next section appears to be out of the cloud so we elect to carry on to Glendhu. Up and over, we snatch a few seconds of sunshine and a view of the sea. Then there’s a very very wet path through some lovely birch woodland and some cool cliffs. Glendhu has two other occupants and a heard of wild ponies but plenty of space for all and we score a room to ourselves. Onto the dehydrated dinners.

Day 110: it’s cloudy and drizzly this morning so we have another lie in, though this time with more success and it’s much brighter as we set off along a good track. Sail Ghorm remains stubbornly hidden by cloud so we’ll have to return another day to see that, but we do get a peak of a view towards Kylescu and the bridges. Turning up hill we continue on good tracks with my boots drying out nicely. We grab first lunch on the balcony of a little hut which perfectly shelters us from the increasing wind and provides a great view over a small loch. Onwards and upwards the cloud-cropped bulk of Arkle appears ahead. There’s a choice of routes here, either to brave the pathless hill to our left for a “great view all the way to the cape” or to descend for an easy wander along the road. We’re not personally in cloud and the summit isn’t much further above us so we decide to give it a go. Naturally the cloud then descends around us and we cross the summit on a series of compass bearings, heads bent into a gusty wind. Finally popping out the other side we can see towards Kinlochbervie and possibly imagine the cape behind, but there’s a long slog over tussocky ground in payment. Emerging at last onto the road we find a good camp spot by Loch Stack where an abandoned building does a reasonable job of sheltering us from a howling gale. I break out the secret stash of chocolate digestives to celebrate our first wedding anniversary.

Loch Stack to Cape Wrath

Cape Wrath Trail, 26 miles, 3 days

Day 111: it’s a very blustery night with random bursts of wind shaking the tent and making for an uneasy sleep. Emerging into a still morning we find Rapheal and Patricia camped beside us and a view of Arkle just starting to emerge from the clouds. It clears fully over breakfast and we debate going up it as we have quite a bit of time to spare but really we should have made that decision yesterday as we’re now at the wrong side of the loch for the standard ascent route. Instead we have a lazy morning letting the tent dry then get off about 11 at which point it becomes warm and sunny and we are treated to clear blue skies for the rest of the day. I remove the fleece and hat for the first time in a long time and there are fantastic views of Arkle and Fionaven as we follow a series of narrow lochs through to Rhiconich. We cross a river that requires the removal of boots, socks and trousers after which we decide we may as well have a swim but despite being shallow and sun-baked the water is positively glacial. Robbie achieves a few seconds of submersion. I wimp out when it’s barely above my knees. Reaching Rhiconich we join the road around Loch Inchard where we find a take-away restaurant which provides us with excellent fish and chips followed by hot chocolate fudge cake served in a small lake of chocolate sauce and cream. It’s the best thing ever. Wandering away from the road we find a camp spot by our own private bay with a view out to sea and sit and watch the sun shift across the sky. It will be a while before it sets.

Day 112: today Sandwood Bay, tomorrow Cape Wrath. Suddenly the end is very close. We get another leisurely start for another short day and follow the road into Kinlochbervie via London Stores for our final food shop. Then we manage a café lunch and follow more road and a clear path through a much grassier landscape all the way to Sandwood Bay. Done by 4. We sit on the beach, white sand and waves, the sea stack, a view almost to the cape though clouds wrap the end in mystery. Dinner is a heavy luxury of tinned chilli and lots of rice.

Day 113: a 1am loo trip treats me to my first glimpse of the cape; the flash of the lighthouse against the red glow of sunset, merging into sunrise.

A sunny morning. Skylarks singing. Robbie sleeping. A clear view all the way to the end; a distant lighthouse over a small sliver of land. I want to get going and run to the finish line, but at the same time part of me wants this morning to last forever. The sound of waves on the shore, the wind whistling through the marram grass, the sun warm on my back.

It is an easy walk over short grass and very little bog. We follow the line of the coast with beautiful views out over the cliffs to the sea. No red flags fly. Cresting each rise the remaining chunk of land gets smaller and smaller. I remember the walk so far, gathering so many memories; from my first steps out on the coast path; to the moors, the mountains; glens, canals and bogs; sore feet and soggy feet; a country filled with footprints. We step onto the track. Round the corner and there’s the lighthouse. But there’s a fence and you can’t touch it. Past it. A small edge squeezing round the foghorn. Sea. The end. No land left to walk on. Done.

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We sit there a long time, warm in the sunshine, looking out to Orkney and the Western Isles. Then clouds arrive to move us into the café. Tomato soup and hot chocolate. Our fellow CWT walkers coming in, Rafael and Patricia, James, Alex. We lift the bags again for the walk to Kearvaig bothy, an evening of peace to sit and watch the waves before a long journey home. Puffins and Little Auks on the cliffs. A perfect golden sunset.