Monday 6 February

Following the previous day’s unexpectedly adventurous excursion up Ben Wyvis, we indulged in a “rest day”. This meant exploring the area with no real agenda, so after a cup of coffee and a quick google we decided to head to Ullapool, a lochside fishing village 25 minutes northwest of our picturesque parking spot overlooking Loch Glascarnoch.

It was a fine day, although forecast to be windy up in the mountains, so we didn’t feel like we were missing out too much – particularly with Ryan’s ongoing (but thankfully improving) blister situation. The road to Ullapool was quiet and beautiful, carving through rugged hillsides carpeted in reddish heather and golden grass that glowed in the morning sun against a blue sky made wilder by smooth clouds that hung portentously over the dramatic, dark peaks and ridges of An Teallach mountain range straight ahead – another one high on the to do list. This was followed by a pretty drive along the bank of Loch Broom before arriving at the village, which is nestled on a low-lying promontory on the northern edge of the loch.

Ullapool

We parked at Tesco, which was just about the only indication (in a good way) that the village was connected to the rest of the world. A short walk through quiet, pretty, uniform streets took us to Ullapool Outdoors, a lovely independent shop where we picked up some stove gas and washing up liquid. From there we continued on to the water’s edge, which was lined by a row of whitewashed cottages overlooking a narrow, stony beach. We absorbed the tranquility as we wandered along the shore, skimming stones and marvelling like children at enormous mussel shells and seaweeds that clung to pebbles with masses of rubbery roots, all the while taking in the mountains that surrounded the loch. It was an utterly self-contained, other-worldly place.

We walked along the loch front past the ferry terminal, where a bustle of construction work was taking place, then popped into a country clothes shop, a charity shop, a small gallery and a delicatessen. We returned to the van with our bounty – a new jacket for Ryan, some charity shop clothes for me and a couple of rolls for lunch. We ate them overlooking the loch and left Ullapool feeling very tranquil.

Lael Forest Garden

Our next stop, just south of Loch Broom,  is perhaps best described as a living tree museum. Lael Forest Garden was founded in the 1870s by Victorian seed collectors who planted over 200 species from all around the world.

We pulled up in the small car park, entered through a gate and wandered the short trails, which showcased an interesting variety of trees and a wild, tumbling waterfall. Despite Scotland’s barely temperate winters the trees seemed to be thriving, perhaps because of their position up the steep eastern bank of a deep gorge. A personal highlight was the soft-barked sequoia redwoods, which – in their immense stillness – dwarfed everything else with a quiet, humbling majesty.

It only took half an hour to walk around in a loop, but there was nobody else around and that half hour felt very peaceful. I’d like to come back in spring or autumn.

Corrieshalloch Gorge & the Falls of Measach

Our next stop was a few minutes’ drive south. Corrieshalloch Gorge is a narrow, sheer-sided cut in the landscape that was formed during the ice age by a strong river flowing beneath a glacier into Loch Broom. The path from the roadside car park took us down through woodland to a narrow, 25 metre long Victorian suspension bridge that spanned the deep gorge quite spectacularly and bounced slightly underfoot.

Looking down into the vertigo-inducing 60 metre chasm below was a memorable experience. A white river rushed urgently through a narrow channel at the base of the gorge, fed by what seemed an impossibly voluminous, 45 metre high waterfall – the impressive Falls of Measach. It was wild, beautiful and, with nothing but air between my feet and the rocky water way below, quite unnerving to consider the consequences if the bridge failed.

We crossed the gorge, nipped along to a protruding, equally vertiginous platform for a good view of the bridge and the waterfall – which seemed even bigger from a distance – then crossed back and walked along the wooded brink for about half a kilometre. The gorge’s dark, sheer rock walls were covered in mosses, lichens, shrubby little plants and – wherever their audacious roots could take hold – trees, which all seemed to thrive in their damp, inaccessible sanctuary.

The path curved back on itself as it climbed towards the car park, and as we rose above the lilac birch tops we enjoyed a stunning view of the valley at the northern end of the gorge, looking back towards Ullapool. Loch Broom appeared in the V, backed by heathery slopes, and in the foreground deep green forests sprawled over undulating, yellow-brown hillsides. The air was still and once again I felt uncommonly peaceful.

North West Coast

I can’t tolerate serenity for too long, so we formulated a plan to climb another mountain the next day. Ryan had researched Beinn Alligin in Torridon, so we set off from Corrieshalloch on a 70-mile journey southwest along the not-very-direct, but scenic, road that snaked down the remote, jagged northwest coast.

As I’d hoped, the road was quiet and afforded lovely views of wild mountains, dark lochs, clear blue sea and tiny, timeless villages. We stopped briefly at the coastal village of Gairloch for a token beach trip, where the sand was pale, fine and backed by grassy dunes, then – sufficiently wind-nipped – we returned to the van and continued on to the wilderness of vast Glen Torridon, where we’d previously had an epic day mountain biking the Torridon Loop. It almost felt like going home.

We drove a short way up the hill behind Torridon village to the Beinn Alligin car park, arriving about 6pm. Ryan cooked sausage pasta and we spent a couple of hours researching the mountain, then went to bed early in anticipation of a 6am start. Like I said, serenity doesn’t last long.