Day 23 – To Loch Diabaig, Torridon

Tuesday 18th May

A large motorhome pulled into the site next to me at about 7 pm last night. Though they are marked out pitches, it’s too close for me. No one got out all night. The first I saw was this morning at about 9, when the door opened at a couple got out, probably mid 50s, in smart dressing gowns, with toilet bags, heading for the shower. Remind me not to do this sort of campsite again. Too many things about it annoy me. That’s not to mention the fee, £24, and to be honest, it offered me nothing.

Some more McGregor (Lean, Fall, Stand) and some radio 4, then on the road for a few more miles.

I listened to an interview with Michael Rosen, the author. He is still recovering from having Covid 19 badly. It has been 8 months, and he still isn’t fully recovered. He was 40 days in an induced coma. Fortunate to survive. But something he said resounded with me. If certain thoughts come into his head, and they do quite often, he has to basically drop everything and write them down. I share that with him – I’m not for one moment saying that I share his writing ability, but many is the time I’ve taken time out of a hill run, often in adverse weather, to note something down, usually part of the review of a book I’ve just read, or this sort of blog post. Rosen is currently writing about his experience with the illness in the last year.

Onto Torridon, and it’s famous Inn, from which the tracks to several iconic mountain peaks leave. I’ve never actually been here; north of here certainly, south of here also, an obsession almost with Skye and Assynt. I’ve to face that I’ll most likely never get to the ridges and tops with difficulty levels of 4 and 5, they aren’t the realm of an inflexible soon to be 60 year old alone, or indeed with a labrador. But there a lot of other trails here that get you to places where the views are unrivalled. I chose Ben Damh after some research, and the showers, which were originally forecast to be heavier and more frequent today, stayed away. There may be a quite a few vehicles on the NC 500, but I’ve hardly seen anyone on the mountains. The only thing we saw today was an inquisitive red deer, high up; inquisitive about the dog, and vice versa, it disappeared when it saw me.

My tactic to get slightly off the NC500 to stopover worked a treat. Actually, the couple I met on Londain Beach a day or so ago had recommended the little road to Diabeg. This is far too narrow, potholed and steep for most vans and certainly motorhomes. Up by the Loch I got an excellent spot, and was passed only by two other vehicles all night.