NEW : See my campaign to establish a National Coastal Path here
Today was a completey different day from yesterday. It had rained in the middle of the night and although I love the sound of the rain battering off the roof of the van when Im tucked warm and cosy in my campervan, its a different story when I have to get up and get all my wet weather gear on and get out in the rain. I also forgot to take my camera today, although the weather wasnt really good enough to take anything of note. So Ive just posted the photo above from the beach at Ardnamurchan instead.
I was now heading eastwards back along the south side of the ardnamurchan peninsula and I planned on getting to Glenborrodale, which is just a scattering of houses and a big castle. Just outside Kilchoan the road headed northward on a loop to avoid the mass of Ben Hiant lies jsut offshore. There was a path marked on the map which would take me 5 miles across the moors and save me having to walk the road the whole way. I plodded upwards gaining height, although I coudnt see much through the rain. It wasnt long before my glasses were misted up with rain. my gloves were soaked through and I my overtrousers were dragging. The route was barely visible and a real sense of isolation overcame me. There was no alternative than to dig in, grit my teeth and concentrate on navigation. I followed the route upwards, skirted a forest and watched a herd of deer scampering ahead of me once they noticed me about a mile off. Deer are rife around here. There isnt a day goes by where I havent seen them. Driving back from Glencoe at night can be dangerous as they graze now at the side of the road and don’t seem to be afraid of traffic. One of the path workers I met a couple of days ago said that he knew of someone who hit a deer at 50 miles an hour and was impaled by its antlers in the car as its scrambled around trying to escape. Not really a thought to dwell on.
When I eventually descended from the side of the hill back onto the road, I met a guy with his 5 year old son on his bike. It was a kind of bike I hadnt seen before. His son was sitting recumbent at the front while his dad sat at the back doing wall the hard work. He was Scottish but lived in France and his son didnt like to speak English. Later on at the visitor centre at Glenbeg we met up again and I had a stuttering conversation in French with the boy. They were cycling on the Strontian after coming over from Mull that morning. I wonder if his son will grow to hate or love the experience of being stuck in front of a bike in the pouring rain. Eventually after a constant heavy downpour I clambered soaked to the skin back on the bus that took me back to Kilchoan. I was glad another section was completed – tommorow I’d be close to finishing the Ardnamurchan Peninsula and would be heading next time Im up to navigate the wilds of Moidart.