The bonniest lad that e’er I saw,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
Wore a plaid, and was fu’ braw,
Bonnie Highland laddie.
On his head a bonnet blue,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
His royal heart was firm and true,
Bonnie Highland laddie.

Robert Burns

It was a wild and wet night. Stravaigin tugged at her mooring chain all night and swung about like a tied up wild horse, just straining to be free. I was glad she was held tight though and put in ear plugs to drown out her moaning.

I was glad to waken up with no wobbles but an aching lower back had taken over. The soft mattress on our bunk was comfy to sink into but I was missing my extra firm one at home.

My thoughts had returned more to home in general, I was conscious we needed time back home to prepare for our middle and his family’s arrival, grass would need cut, hot tub repaired cleaned and filled for the little ones, beds made and shopping done. The captain could also do with some decent shore time before his trips started again so we rethought our plans and plotted a more direct route south and home. Still allowing plenty time though to amble down, stops for cycles and walks ashore and as the forecast was improving after tomorrow, maybe some time sitting out on deck admiring the view.

The weather really was atrocious, such a contrast to the heatwave south of the border. Our united kingdom really was split in half, north of the Central belt we were more latitudenally  aligned with the Baltic states  while south of Carlisle twinned more with continenal Europe and warmer, drier climate.

However we decided we needed to get off the boat and get a bit of exercise plus see the surrounding area. We’d dropped the bikes off yesterday so took towels, toiletries and shopping bags ashore in the dinghy for showering and restocking later and were already wet by the time we reached the pontoons. We met the harbour master, paid our dues and he kindly said we could leave our bikes in the harbour store for the night. He also gave us a suggested bike trail route that would be slightly more sheltered, inland and interesting than the coastal route we’d planned.

We climbed the brae out of the town then turned off right towards a quarry, the steep track following the River Ullapool which was hidden to our left in a steep gorge. The track then levelled off and ran through pretty birch woods and then opened out to a beautiful hill loch. Loch Achall was full, the river it feeds was in spate, its deep brown waters churning over rocks and flooding the sides, isolating trees and swallowing banks of myrtle.

We saw a fly fisherman trying his luck on the bank further up and despite the grey cloud and misty tops, we were loving  being on solid, albeit sodden, ground and enjoying being immersed in this highland landscape. We came to a section in the road that was completely flooded but decided to give it a go. I sent the captain ahead and when he emerged safe on the other side, I followed. All good.

This was part of the Rhidorroch Estate and was well looked after, good road, solid bridges and impressive estate lodges. We passed a mature pine woodland with a couple of happy pigs furrowing away and further up the track the fisherman and his pal stopped their 4×4 to enquire if I was enjoying myself! I laughed and replied indeed I was.

I suppose we did look a bit odd being so wet, heading along a remote glen track and far away from the main hub. I enquired if he’d had any luck but no. The river was too high so another 24 hrs once it dropped would be better he said. They told us the track led all the way to Oykell Bridge but there were bridges on the way that they thought might be flooded over and would cut off the estate lodges further along the glen.

We weren’t intending going much further and left the bikes by the track to walk up to the impressive waterfall raging down the cleft in the cliff from Loch Na Eala (Loch of the swan). We followed a wee sheep track up the burn side and I loved seeing all the tiny moorland  flowers carpeting the banks, the bright yellow of tormentil, cream of heath bedstraw, yellow and red of bird’s foot trefoil, purple of mountain thyme and delicate white of eyebright.

As we turned to cycle back the rain came in again with a vengeance. The wind was now directly towards us and the rain stung our faces as we, head down, pushed hard against it. The loch had risen even more at the place we’d forded it and I thought the fisherman was probably right that the lodges further east would be cut off. I’m sure they had plenty salmon, venison and lamb to keep them going for a day or two until it subsides. I read about the family who own the estate, the Scobie family and it was now in the care of the younger generation who seemed to be making a good job of it. The lodges were rennovated but off grid, a working sheep farm and stalking estate, fishing and self catering cottages provided nice options for those that were looking for a more relaxed immersive highland experience.

We reached the birch woods again and slight shelter, I noticed the boggy verges decorated with butterworts like stranded yellow starfish strewn around, pale lilac orchids and a couple deep purple ones too. There is always something to see and take notice of and despite the drenching we got, we were glad we had made the effort. A good couple of hours activity and now we enjoyed the downhill back to Ullapool to visit the supermarket for fresh supplies and a hot shower.

Back on the boat we stripped off the sodden clothes, again, had a welcome mug of tea then I set to making dinner of Argyll lamb we’d brought with us and roast veg. We had been tempted by, what I’m sure would be amazing local fish and chips but couldn’t face getting soaked yet again in the dinghy.