Despite a fitful night, repeatedly sliding down the slope and inching back up in my sleeping bag like a caterpillar, I managed to sleep for 12 hours again. The rattle of waves on the stony shore grew louder through the night as the tide changed, so much so that I switched on my headtorch and checked the water level, worried that I’d pitched below the high tide mark.
It’s another fine morning to cross the rough moorland, taking care not to fall into deep water-filled holes where the earth is dug out for tree planting. Strangely, there are no saplings. It’s hard to find the right line despite sporadic marker posts, several of which will soon fall over and vanish into the quag.
Testing the depth of a bog with my hiking pole, perhaps I should put my emergency personal locator beacon in my top pocket?
Fascadale marks the end of the moors and the start of gentle road walking.
Cattle and sheep line the road, seemingly oblivious to my presence. A mighty stag leaps a fence and bounds across the road in front of me, which is a mistake as the following hinds veer off in the opposite direction. The light is gorgeous this time of year, transforming an ordinary scene.
Someone in Kilmory has a sense of humour.
How many photographs have I taken of the Small Isles? Eigg has a fantastic profile. I’ll be climbing that plateau next year.
The isles disappear beneath a wintry shower. I misread the wind direction, throwing on my waterproofs too late as the icy squall races across the sea, hammering down for a few minutes before clearing once more.
A pretty stone road winds through the hills to Ockle, ending at a sign for my destination and the start of a rough path up the hillside.
The climb goes on and on, over several false summits, my heavy winter pack dragging me down.
I’m relieved to reach the summit. The views are fantastic, but sadly in shadow. I descend quickly to beat the sunset, passing the grim remains of forestry operations.
Neil Ansell in The Last Wilderness found a quiet cove further along from the main beach. I try to reach it, but the coastline is overgrown, and the light is fading, so I return to the main beach and pitch on a raised area of grass.
A fine end to three days of rugged and inspiring coastline, blessed with weather that makes wild camping so enjoyable.
Total distance: 5,472 miles.
Some lovely wild country there, Tony
Yes, glorious. I could not have wished for better weather conditions.
I enjoyed walking this part of the coast as part of the TGO Challenge a couple of years ago. I walked from Morar to Kilchoan back in September. Check out the Glenuig Inn (website). It’s a gem and open most of the year. Inspired by some of your past comments I headed off around the North coast of Mull but left southern Mull for another time. Recently bought the Cicerone guide to Rum and Small Isles so torn as to walk these or Mull next. Hope you enjoy your walking in 2026. Tomorrow’s weather is supposed to be sunny tomorrow so I ought to get the early train to Scarborough for a coastal walk to Robin Hood’s Bay and a pint or two of Boltmaker in the Laurel Inn whilst waiting for the return bus.
Thanks for the recommendation David. I’m planning my January hike and will pass the Glenuig Inn at some point. I’ve still to do the North Coast of Mull. I’m waiting until Staffa is open again. The South Coast is stunning. Glad to hear you are also planning to walk the Small Isles. The more I read about them, the more excited I get. Enjoy what sounds like an excellent walk and pint tomorrow!
Yes it’s a tough path that one, but a beautiful walk. I really enjoyed all of Ardnamurchan.
I was not expecting such a long climb at the end of the day. I ought to pay more attention to the elevation profiles on my OS app. 😊
We almost visited Eigg last year but CalMac had other ideas and deposited us in Skye rather than Mallaig.
Hah! I’m under no illusion as to the challenge of constructing a schedule to stay and hike on them, given the vagaries of the weather in February / March and the impact on the ferries.
Sounds like a wonderful walk and what skies!