Tuesday 4th April, W5D5

In awe of the landscape and its geological ancestry, I begin and end today on poetry. First, a favourite of mine, Beth Neilsen Chapman. "Solid stone is just sand and water, baby, sand and water and a million years gone by." 

Anyway, I changed counties again, so now in Ross and  Cromarty, and by chance hit on a nice campsite at Ardmair Point with a space, a few miles outside Ullapool, a site which was otherwise unhelpful for us nomads.

But back to the day's travels. Started with breakfast (really?) at the Lochinver Larder, where they had their full range of pies on offer. Mine was venison and cranberry, and I bought a rhubarb pie to take away for some time later. Then backtracking to the leisure centre where I had a great shower, guided by the manager to the ladies, because the ladies' showers are the best (and the door blocked off while I was inside!)

I set off for Ullapool, and stopped en route to have a look at Ardvreck Castle, an irresistible roadside sight. It has been the stronghold of the McLeods, destroyed by the McKenzies (or was it the other way round?), who sensibly used the stones to build a luxury 5 bedroom house on the opposite shore of Loch Assynt, now also a ruin. The McLeods had caused an upset in about 1650 by kidnapping the Earl of Montrose, for which Mcleod was tied to his horse and paraded back to front down the Grassmarket and then beheaded. For my part, I hobbled my way down the boggy ground to the causeway to get a closer look, the first stage today of my realisation I had transited from agile to fragile. More of that later, sadly, but onwards and southwards. 

With my planned stop at the Knockan Crag - true confession - for the first time this trip I actually GOT LOST, on the usual improbable looking rough roads (with an 'A' label incredibly enough), no satnav signal and a rising level of anxiety about what it would be like to try and call out the RAC in the middle of the bundu. Not for the first time I wished my excellent VW dashboard could include a pulse oximiter and BP monitor amongst its instruments. 

Anyway, in the end I made a Uturn and eventually got back to the 'main' road. Relieved, but assumed I had missed my plan to visit the Crag, but no - there it was on the (correct) road. It's important to realise that I was in  Scotland’s Premier Geopark, and all the information boards are there to educate me in the geological origins of the terrain, which have been produced by millions of years of land shifts forcing themselves against each other to gain supremacy. (A bit like family life I suppose.) So to the Knockan Crag, which has beautifully constructed and illustrated  detailed accounts of the controversies that engaged earth scientists in the 19th century to explain how the oldest strata struggled to get on top of the youngest (like families). I gamely set off on the mountain track in my walking shoes and two poles, but confess I found it hard going, not  because of fatigue, but a worrying lack of balance on the steep paths. I may be slowly and reluctantly finding my limitations. So, better safe than sorry, I took the shorter of the track options, and enjoyed the experience. But as this is apparently Norman McCaig country, I should let him have the last word, carved in the stones.

"Who is in possession of this landscape? The man who bought it, or I who am possessed by it? False questions, for this landscape is masterless, and intractable in any terms that are human."

Ferry booked for Stornoway for the morning, so ended with some mussels in town, and back to camp. But before that, on the advice of my taxi driver, a quick visit to the Arch Bar for some live music. Night night.