Gales are forecast later in the week. I’d planned to walk to Cruib Lodge bothy today, but I need to climb the Paps in reasonable weather, so I’ll skip the bothy, hike back to the main road and catch the bus to Craighouse.
Chris will stay in the bothy for a couple of days to wash his clothes and sculpt his antler before continuing down the coast. We shake hands, all big grins and hopes of meeting again in the wilds, before shaking hands a second time and I’m off.
The mist rolls down the hills and settles just above the valley floor. The return journey is quicker now I know the way across the boggy moorland.
Progress is easier once I’m back on the main track, which runs over the hills to the public road and the bus. There’s only one problem. Today is Sunday. The bus on Jura does not run on Sunday. It’s going to be a long day.
A small group of calves scatter down the road. I’m in danger of herding them all the way to Craighouse. Thankfully, they spot an opening and dash back round the side.
There are fine views across the Sound of Jura.
A rainbow-coloured cyclist is cooking in a layby, gear strewn everywhere. Hinome is on the road for months at a time. Pitching up on the fells last night, his tent was quickly covered in “hundreds of tiny ticks” and he fled down here. I think he means midges, but neither is attractive. He’s a lively character. After a short chat, I leave him to his insect-free lunch. No doubt he will hurtle past at some point.
The road is endless but the scenery is gorgeous. Bein Shiantaidh, the second-highest peak of the Paps, broods and waits. Is there really a way up that?
Arriving back at Craighouse, the Commoners Choir has overrun the campsite, singing at Orwell’s cottage yesterday and recording in the village church today. It’s a shame I missed them. Perhaps they can trek across to the bothy next time. That would make a grand backdrop.
The bar in the Jura Hotel serves the best fish and chips I’ve had for years, and a cold beer tastes like heaven after two days of warm peaty water.
Date of walk: Sunday 19th May 2024.
Walk distance: 24 miles.
Total distance: 4,275 miles.
Next day
After the long walk yesterday, I’ve decided to recharge my batteries today before taking on the Paps tomorrow. I enjoy a long lie-in while the choir members pack and depart on a fleet of mini-buses for the ferry.
A cooked breakfast at the Antlers cafe is the perfect way to restore a few calories. Grabbing a couple of litres of cold milk from the community shop, I sit at a small table by the shore with my binoculars to work on my bird spotting, with a little help from Merlin: redstart, pied wagtail, goldfinch and hooded crow.
Corran Sands is a pretty beach less than two miles north of the village — perfect for a lazy stroll.
An old chap, tending his garden, is keen to discuss my hiking plans, offering advice on good routes. He met two Latvian women yesterday, heading for the bothy I skipped.
“I put my foot in it, as I mentioned that madman Putin and they were both fans.”
That’s worrying, given Latvia is in both the EU and NATO.
I’ve barely walked another hundred yards when a collection of colourful bags hurtles in my direction. It’s Hinome again, on his way to the ferry.
A quick chat and he’s off. That’s a serious load.
A loud humming sound comes from a sycamore tree, as though it were strung with power cables — bees, hundreds of bees, which is appropriate for World Bee Day. They are lovely and furry.
A house is surrounded by a web of ropes, running up into the treetops. Some are tied to an old metal railing, collapsing in places, as though holding the remains intact. Others are tied to saplings. They are too thin to be used for climbing or as pulleys. Very curious.
Corran Sands is deserted apart from two camper vans. I sit and read for a while before returning to watch the local seal colony on a reef. Two large seals hog the rocks, basking in the sun, while the small ones swim round. One tries to climb onto an occupied rock. There’s going to be trouble. Instead, the older seal rolls to one side and pats the young upstart. Her pup perhaps?
I pass the local primary school for the second time. On both occasions the children are outside, building wooden huts. That’s the life.
The campsite is peaceful. There’s just time for a leisurely beer, reading a little more of Feral before an early night, ready for a tough day tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Date of walk: Monday 20th May 2024.
Walk distance: 5 miles.
Total distance: 4,280 miles.