A windy, wild and wonderful week in the north west (part two)

Following on from my post last week about the start of Dave and I's epic adventure to the north west in our stylish and very cool camper-van, I return now to the Stac Pollaidh car park for Part Two.

Oh how I wish I could actually return right now to Stac Pollaidh. However I'd be physically incapable of leaving the car park, having been floored this week by a viral infection. Going up and down the stairs in the house has provided just as big a challenge as climbing a Graham in the north west highlands. Much though I hate being cooped up inside (missing what looked like some brilliant October days), sometimes you just have to concede that your body needs to rest.

So reliving the second part of our trip is a real treat now (can't believe it was nearly a month ago!) and I do yearn for those wide open spaces.

Where were we? About to scramble up Stac Pollaidh, one of the best known and most popular mountains in Scotland. Dave and I knew we had a weather window, and we estimated it would take around 3 hours to get up and back to the camper-van.

We set off, and immediately we were going uphill. Short and sharp, steep and sweaty. We kept on, stopping regularly as is our norm, to rest and take in the views. And what views they were! I knew they'd keep getting better and better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The path takes you round the 'back' of the ridge, then another short sharp push to the top and you're there! And what elation - stunning views all around us, an amazing sense of achievement, and the feeling of being literally on top of the world. What a buzz.

 

 

 

 

We explored the ridge as much as possible, me slightly more than Dave as he hasn't got a great head for heights, before the descent. For such an awesome and threatening looking mountain, it really is very accessible. Or at least, the accessible bits are - the true summit involves a much more technical scramble!

We met a lovely couple from down south and their delightful dogs, and also a couple more people as we made our descent. For the most part, we had the ridge to ourselves and for me the feelings that Stac Pollaidh brought were exactly what I was looking for. Isolation, peace, solitude, a sense of perspective, achievement, and most of all, the feeling that anything was possible.

 

 

 

 

 

Our descent was reasonably quick (Dave's was faster than mine - I could make a reference to the pies that were awaiting us back at the van, but in all honesty my knees were sore and it slowed me down!!) and as soon as we reached the camper-van - the heavens opened!

 

 

 

Much like Goat Fell on Arran last year, we made the most of the short weather window we had available. Sitting in the camper-van drinking cups of tea, eating our delicious Lochinver pies and congratulating ourselves on a successful (dry) couple of hours was very nice indeed. Stac Pollaidh was fantastic - truly one of my favourite moments of the year.

From there, we made our way north again, heading for a campsite in Scourie. The weather was pretty awful by this point, and we certainly didn't mind being stuck inside. We felt we'd earned it.

Despite a wild and windy night, the pitch at Scourie was one of our favourites. The views were amazing, the campsite owner was a character, and the facilities were great. Unfortunately it was the night my motion sickness began - as I stood in the campsite bathroom brushing my teeth, I did wonder why the floor was moving...

 

 

 

The next day brought a real mix of weather, but was generally dry, although very windy. Our plan was to head south and enjoy the walk out to the Old Man of Stoer. After a photo stop and a bit of seal spotting at the impressive Kylesku bridge, we took a mad road out towards Stoer. Again I was grateful for Dave's skills at manoeuvering the camper-van round the wild bends and twisty tarmac, but I was not a relaxed passenger. The drive was stunning though, and we were itching to get out on foot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps our climb up Stac Pollaidh had taken its toll, or perhaps it was just due to a bad nights sleep in a rocking camper-van, but neither of us really felt up to walking right out to the Old Man of Stoer. Once we got as far that the impressive sea stack was in view, we turned for home. A combination of lethargy and windy weather, I think we silently agreed that this would be a "quieter" day for us.

 

 

 

 

Thankfully our next stop was just what we were looking for, and again we got lucky with the weather. We made our way south, enjoying another delightful drive. When we pulled into the car park at Achmelvich Beach, I was practically sprinting for the sand - all of a sudden we'd stumbled upon an abundance of blue sky, in the most perfect place!

 

 

 

After a spot of September sunbathing, we decided to abandon our hastily made plan to pitch here for the night. The cloud came in fast, and we realised that we'd been very lucky to catch even that small weather window at Achmelvich.

On our return to the car park we were treated to the sight of a stag in the nearby rocks, who kept a close eye on the proceedings.

 

We doubled back on ourselves, going north again over the Kylesku bridge and past Scourie (we were sorely tempted to pitch here again for the night!), then into new territory. Our rough plan was to stay in Kinlochbervie tonight, Durness tomorrow, and home the following day (Friday). In hindsight I think we should have given Kinlochbervie a miss, but in fairness it gave us a pub, brambles and bacon rolls in the morning, and great access to Sandwood Bay, our walk for the next day.

Another windy night in the camper-van ensued (or rather, a windy night outside the camper-van, nothing to do with our impressive three-pan meal of sausages, mash & carrots!!) and neither of us got a great night's sleep.

 

 

 

Thursday brought another highlight of the trip - a delightful walk to Sandwood Bay, considered one of the most beautiful beaches in Britain. It is one of those magical walks, where you don't know what awaits you at the end of the walk (besides a beach) until you get there. The weather was wild - windy and misty - so anticipation was heightened. When you reach the final corner, and the beach comes into view....wow!

 

 

 

 

For a four mile walk out, and a four mile walk back, we didn't spend all that long on the beach itself. It was blowing an absolute hoolie! However we both loved this spot - it is a magical place.

 

 

The walk back was fairly brutal; into the wind and in a cloud, so we were cold and damp by the time we got back to the car park.

After yet another restorative cup of tea, we were on the road again, heading north to Durness. We reached the campsite at Sango Sands in Durness around 5pm, and already the winds were high. If the past two nights had been a bit rocky in the van, we were in for wild one tonight!

 

But one thing I was extremely thankful for at Durness was the pub! I remembered being in the campsite pub/restaurant prior to the 2008 Cape Wrath Challenge, and after nearly a week of camper-van meals (which, I have to say were great, thanks to the chef!) we were both ready to let someone else take care of the cooking.

Unfortunately no amount of fresh air, beer or average food was going to be enough to let us drift off into the land of nod tonight. I was more concerned about drifting off to the land of the ocean I have to say...although my main concern was not that we'd drift off, but be lifted up by the wind, whirled around a la the tornado in the Wizard of Oz, and dropped somewhere offshore.

It is mad to think that I actually was convinced we'd be blown off the edge of the cliff, but the noise inside the camper-van was so ferocious, and the side to side movement was so terrifying, it was hard to tell my brain that we weren't going anywhere.

A bad night indeed - it was a relief when morning came at last. Unfortunately the weather was so bad that the boat trips into Smoo Caves weren't operating, something that Dave and I had been looking forward to, but we enjoyed a fine stroll to explore the impressive cave.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then we started to make the long journey south. I felt a sense of dread - I really didn't want our holiday to be over. Whilst it certainly wasn't an anxiety-free holiday, it provided such an amazing sense of freedom at such a crucial time. It will always be remembered as a healing, restorative break.

The drive alongside Loch Eriboll, across the Kyle of Tongue, and south through Altnaharra and Lairg was impressive, but spirits were fairly low. We pitched for the final time in the driveway of Dave's parents in Kinross, but thankfully we were given a bed for the night!

 

 

Some brilliant memories were created on this trip, some of the best moments of the year. The scenery in the north west is so wild, rugged, bleak, dramatic, and impressive. With so many more of Scotland's islands still to explore, it is easy for me to forget that some of the best scenery is right here on the mainland.

Back to reality with a bump, but with the hope for change ever present in my mind. What comes next on my own adventure, or on Scotland's, remains to be seen...