A Staycation

This was the year of the staycation - thousands of people, with a holiday abroad no longer an option, sought a British holiday, and we were no exception. 

Using our knowledge of travel to and fro our island, we decided to incorporate that into our travels as much as possible. We knew we wanted to go on a walking holiday, and then together came up with the idea of walking from one ferry route to another. Doing so, we'd not have to take our car to the mainland and could rely instead on public transport. Joey came up with the route. And the plan was thus: to walk from the village of Inverie in Knoydart, to Ullapool. We'd get the ferry from Lochboisdale to Mallaig and the wee boat to Inverie on Day 1, and on the way back, the ferry from Ullapool to Stornoway, and then fly from Stornoway to Balivanich. Perfect! 

Except, we live on an island and are the mercy of the weather for getting off said island. And the weather wasn't on our side. As the day of departure grew closer, the weather apps on our phones warned of worse and worse winds, and in the end we got the dreaded phone call "the ferry is not running tomorrow". We had two choices: change our route, or go the day after. In the end, we chose the former.

And happy we were to do so The new route was via the Lochmaddy ferry (much more reliable than the Lochboisdale one) and after arriving on Skye, we'd get the bus to Cluanie Inn and then walk from there. By heading south from Cluanie, and doubling back parallel to the road we'd end up with the same mileage as initially planned - Knoydart will wait, our holiday beckons. 

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The sea was flattened, the curves long and elegant, but the swell made the ferry roll slowly, and exaggeratedly: weak stomachs need not apply. The energy of the sea was immense, the roiling water creating a bleak, ominous mass. 

A lone gannet spun above the waves, but it did not dive. Surely even these most mighty of seafarers are no match for this? But it's strong, lean wings effortlessly rode the wind, and it swooped and dived across the seascape and I watched it until it disappeared from my view.  

It felt like a day of almost-happenings: waiting for the bus to leave Uig, sitting on the bus as we passed through the beautiful landscape of Skye and Lochalsh, my legs felt keen and ready to go. And so, once we'd had an early meal at the Cluanie Inn (recently done up), we set off. Walking past a window of diners, we zipped up our waterproofs and adjusted the straps on our bags: we were off, and through the rain gusted down, we were not deterred. Our holiday had started and my feet felt light and eager as we followed the estate track over the beallach to the south. 

Despite being keen and ready to go, it was pretty miserable: the wind blew the rain into our faces, my hat was inaccessible in my bag (I would learn quickly to have all cold weather gear easy to access) and night was falling quickly. However, despite the inauspicious start, we were happy. It was near darkness when we found somewhere to camp. The ground just wasn't camping ground, so we kept walking to try and find the perfect spot. It wasn't forthcoming, and we settled on a patch beside a wee, peaty burn that was slightly less lumpy, tussocky and damp than the surrounding area. We'd not see our surroundings perfectly until the next day, but the tent went up so easily, and it was exciting - here we were.