Day Fifty Eight

Wednesday 4 May – Inverlael to Ullapool

This morning's lift to my starting point was provided by a sales rep for a textiles company which actually produces in Scotland – very unusual these days.

Inverlael, where the River Lael flows into Loch Broom, was a centre of population a long time before Ullapool was established. Many of the bloody events of the Jacobite rebellions and their aftermath were played out here. These and subsequent famine reduced the population by death or emigration.

In the 20^th Century, much of the valley through which the Lael flows was given over to forestry, and now many of the trees are “second rotation” - one lot of trees has been grown, felled, and replaced by a second crop which is in some cases reaching maturity.

From Inverlael, Ullapool is about 8 miles up the road. My plan for today was to strike off at a right angle, climb steeply to 1,000 feet or so, make my way in an arc across rough country, to arrive at a point about... 8 miles from Ullapool! Then I would walk down another valley to finish off the day.

I started up a farm-cum-forestry track, crossing the river after about ten minutes. Hill-walking and forestry are companions of many years in Scotland, so made-up forestry roads are often interspersed with tracks or paths established specifically for walkers and riders. So it proved here. After climbing gradually through the trees, I turned on to a narrower track which rose brutally up above the tree line and on to the treeless moorland, skirting a gorge in which, far below, a burn flowed.

The book (Scottish Hill Tracks) suggests that the track peters out around a particular grid reference, but in fact vehicle treads could be followed well beyond this point. The track was easiest to follow where the vehicles responsible had broken the surface of the peat, producing muddy ruts. This had no doubt happened in wet weather; today was warm and sunny again, rain being threatened for tomorrow.

When the track did eventually disappear, I kept on an Easterly course, swinging round gradually to the North East and then the North. This was rough going across tussocky hillside with splashy interludes. Reaching a ruined farm, mentioned in the book and shown on the map, I looked for a track to take me onwards. There was no sign of it. In the absence of recent vehicle use (maybe any use at all), it seemed to have been reabsorbed into the heather, a phenomenon which was repeated in coming days.

Never mind; I sat out of the freshening breeze and ate my lunch. I knew which cleft in the hills I was aiming for, so I set off again across the difficult terrain. When I reached higher, rockier ground, the track appeared – it takes a lot longer for it to disappear on bare rock or poor earth.

Since leaving the forestry, I had seen no trees, but suddenly I was looking down on a lovely sheltered valley, a burn running through it, and lined with broad leaf trees. The track went AWOL again, so I looked for a fence marked on the map, found it, spotted a gate through it, and found the track again. I descended quite steeply; the track had been puddled by animals and was muddy in parts.

The map shows a footbridge over the tree-lined burn, leading to another over the Rhidorroch River. I didn't see the first bridge, and didn't look very hard – it was clear that the river was very low and easily fordable. Across the river, I took a farm track which ran down Glen Achall, near and sometimes right beside the river.

I saw a couple of deer, then a few more, until eventually I counted more than 30. They were mostly just across the river from me, and those which were on my side quickly forded the river when they saw me. They were confined to a strip of land alongside the water, the higher slopes being fenced to provide grazing for sheep and protection for young trees from the greedy attentions of the deer.

Leaving East Rhidorroch Lodge and some farm buildings behind me, I pressed on down the valley. On my right, crags rose high above the Glen, then on my left the river flowed into Loch Achall, about a mile and a half long. When I was sheltered from the breeze, it was now very warm. At the Western end of the loch, I saw some people, the first since I had left Inverlael. They seemed to me young walkers. I didn't try to catch them up – too much effort.

Near the loch, but completely hidden by trees, was Rhidorroch House: I only saw its boathouse. I had intended to take a bridge back over the river. A sign said “dangerous bridge”, something of an understatement – it wasn't there at all. But soon another bridge appeared; once across, I had transitioned from farm track to estate road, which served the needs of local farms, houses, and a limestone quarry, into which I could peer from an embankment. Toy diggers and trucks were parked way below me.

On the other side of the road, I was now high above the gorge through which flows the river, renamed the Ullapool River below the loch. Further on, I passed the plant where the limestone is processed. Ahead, an Outdoor Adventures van with, I guessed, the young walkers aboard, whisked away.

I reached the road into Ullapool, following the pavement into the centre of the town. Loch Broom looked ridiculously beautiful in the early evening sunshine. A posse of walkers/riders/climbers (or whatever) thronged the pavement outside the Youth Hostel. A few yards further on, I found my hotel.