Durness to Scourie was a grand tour through the Geopark – a UNESCO dedicated site with some pretty impressive geology which was roughly explained by the resident geologist. With a long steep climb up the valley to start with, we were rather grateful for the excuse to stop at some of the many passing places – sometimes for a rest, other times to go through our array of layers as it varied from sunshine, clouds, rain and cold throughout the day. Although there was an array of landscapes, there was limited places to stop so we had to make do with making our oatie soup outside a very isolated police station whilst sheltering from the wind.
The Scourie campsite was on tiered pitches going down to the loch and we pitched up there and decided to have a proper rest day there – which would include washing our rather neglected clothes, sending home things that really were not ‘essentials’, and hopefully going on the island of Handa on the ferry. Although we had a lovely route to the ferry, the wind and rain meant there was no crossings that day (and the local restaurant was filled up) but we did bump into (on the single track road) Richard and Julia (my boss) on their way back from the island! Although the cold day didn’t allow for a long catch up – it was a lovely surprise to see them. We also relished a second day of the incredibly powerful and hot showers, almost sand blasters, and definitely the best bit of the campsite (and the views were very pretty!).
After crossing the Kylesku bridge (via Badcall bay), and the memorial of the midget submarines, we had been told by Rick that the Assynt valley coast road was beautiful. Although the OS map had more black arrows of doom (i.e. hills over a set percentage) than we would have liked, we decided that it would be worth it. It was. The helter-skelter of a single track road went between lochs up and down hills (with climbs of 25%). It was a real treat going through wooded glades, past sea lochs and high level lochans. Some campervans had also, inadvisably, also joined and on one of the hill peaks we had to shimmy round a line of parked up cars as a campervan was pulled out as it had gone off a kerb. Some motorhome owners/renters do seem to have left their brains at home…!
Home for the night was Clachtoll beach – the most friendly campsite we had stayed at – with body boards to borrow, campfires in a communal area in the evening and a campsite owner that didn’t mind we hadn’t booked. There were also fresh eggs for sale in the morning for some great scrambled eggs. The beach was also beautiful – a rocky cove with white sand. We decided to stay another night and properly rested, enjoying walks out to a broch (a coastal sea defence) and swims in the sea. A little paradise.
The next day was the final day on the 500. We had heard good things about Lochinver, pubs and food places having been in short supply, and its famous pies. Although we arrived at 11ish there was already a queue for the pies – and Robbie was happy to tuck into a crab sandwich and order a venison pie at that time. I was quite happy to settle for a salmon pie for lunch later on. As it was the day of Dad’s hip operation, I had been tense all morning, and it was just as we were leaving that we had the good news that it had been successful and Dad was sitting up and enjoying some coffee. I flew up the next hill, almost missing the stag that was munching on some birch leaves outside the local primary school.
The helter-skelter continued to Ullapool, stopping only to help a Glaswegian couple who had run out of puncture repair kits for their relatively old inner tube. We had heard that the pubs were great in Ullapool, but it turns out the local road-racers were also keen to get there for a Friday night, and we almost saw two head on collisions on the way down the hill… Although we arrived to a quayside of people enjoying their drinks on the harbour, by the time we reached the campsite it was raining and midgiess were out, which put a dampner on our desire to celebrate a drink. A Tesco trip whilst hungry and cold resulted in an assortment of food as we wrapped up in our drenched tent ready for our ferry trip to the outer Hebrides the next day.
Pedalling_Patagonia 