Birchbank, Knocken near Elphin, The Far North West Scotland

20 August 2017:- The rain did arrive last night and heavy it was too. Any regrets we had had about having arriving for our overnight stop so early were soon dismissed. And this morning, rain was still falling as I opened one eye, then the other. As we peered through the rain mist across the Loch, a passenger liner came into view. We watched with interest as it made its way up past the island, turned and after some time, made its way out.

Loch Eriboll is about ten miles long and more like a fjord than a sea loch; it is between thirty and one hundred and twenty metres deep, and because of this, long been considered a safe anchorage by ships, including the Royal Navy, reputedly the deepest sea loch in Britain. During World War II, Atlantic and the Russian convoys would gather in these sheltered waters before making their dangerous voyage. At the same time, Choraidh Island, that immediately out from our camp, was “shipshape”, a stand in for the Battleship Terpitz during bombing practice. During May 1945 the loch was the site of the surrender of over thirty German U-Boats. 

Despite a decision to leave in a more leisurely fashion this morning, we were still away soon after 9.45 am; habits are hard to break beyond a certain age. We were very soon in Durness parked above Sango Bay, an “Award Winning Beach” if the brown tourist sign is to be believed. Certainly it is very attractive, however I imagine it was always as lovely and hardly worthy of some sort of “award” which would otherwise suggest human endeavour. 

Safely parked beside the Information Site, we walked up to the SPAR convenience store and bought bread, the Sunday newspaper and decadent cream cakes for morning tea. In the ISite we read the interpretative boards about the area, excellent information offering social, archeological and geological history. Here too there is a wonderful collection of books and souvenirs for sale, the books always a temptation, but alas they are weighty and I am always cognescente of airflight limitations.

We set off once again, looking for a more level spot to consume the calorie ridden treats than the carpark offered at Durness, and were soon rewarded by a wonderful spot near the head of the Kyle of Durness. In fact it was so lovely, offering a wonderful palate of colour and peace from our fellow tourists that we lingered until lunchtime; we had barely covered fifteen miles from our starting point.

Whilst there, we noted a very long coach travelling northwards as well as a rally of perhaps twenty sports cars, the latter travelling at a speed far greater than safe on these very narrow roads. Needless to say we were glad we were still stationery beside the road.

From here the road climbs up on to the Parph Peninsula, aka The Lonely Lands, nearly nineteen miles of bog, isolation and colour; all absolutely wonderful. Alas there are very few viewing spots across here, but the passing spots are plentiful and this was the part of the road which had been descibed as the most difficult for us to be towing a caravan. It was not at all, although we rarely travelled out of third gear. It is a slow road for those travelling with consideration, and in the main, our fellow tourists were doing so. The “dot, dot, dot” road ended at Rhiconich, where one reaches The Minch, the western seaboard of northern Scotland. From here the road was more like a highway, two lanes and still sealed, but not of great surface. 

Yesterday I referred to caravanning throughout Australia; then we had a dual wheel two and a half tonne caravan, here we have a single wheel affair weighing one and a half tonnes, this longer than that in Australia, but an entirely different cup of tea. On these roads in Scotland, the caravan bounces along, shaking everything up and on arrival, opening the cupboards is always a lucky dip.

We travelled only sixty four miles today, across those fabulous bog lands, peppered with lochs and lochans, beneath mountains and stoney hills, dodging laid-back sheep, most recently shorn, down across kyles and lochs, grazing seashores and past the isolated crofts of the hardy folk who choose to live up here. 

From our camp last night we had finally caught sight of the top of Ben Hope at 927 metres ASL and nearer our camp tonight Quinag at 809 metres ASL. As we descended from the heights down to Loch Assynt, we passed the ruins of Ardvreck Castle, the 15^th century tower house of the MacLeods of Assynt. There are grizzly tales surrounding this long past abode, but given we did nothing but park across the water and take a few snaps, I shall leave them for the more curious who actually bother to walk across the spit of land to learn these for themselves.

The Kylesku Bridge which crosses the Caolas Cumhann does so at a height of twenty four metres above water level and spans 276 metres. It was opened in 1984 doing away with the ferry service, opening up this area to the adventurous and ultimately the travellers of the NC500.

South of here and only a little north of our camp tonight is the Glencoul Thrust, a faultline that was the object of great geological research and discovery, offering theories about the evolution of the earth's upper crust.

We passed a number of waterfalls, the first probably the most attractive just beyond last night’s camp and making me regret that I had limited my wanderings yesterday to the entrance. The overnight rain had made this cascade so attractive. Along the route today, far off silver ribbons were evidence of the water rushing off the high lands to the country below. Near Unapool, had we been mobile enough to head off-route, we might have seen Britain’s highest waterfall, Eas a’Chual Aluinn, at 200 metres or on the opposite side of the valley, Eas an’t Strutha Ghil, the even higher 290 metre fall, which falls outside the records because it does not fall in one drop.

We arrived at our camp near 2 pm and easily found it soon after passing Elphin, partway up the road toward the Elphin Cliff. This is a working farm although our hosts are older than us, as is so often the case. We are already one of four parties in, tonight all caravanners. Television reception is zilch, as is internet, but I am already used to that. Instead we are listening to music stored on the iPad.