Days 248 & 249: Machrihanish to Isle of Gigha

I woke twice in the night with a bad headache, which is rare. Most likely dehydration, compounded by the beer before I fell asleep, or a lack of sugar, as I did not eat enough yesterday. A midnight KitKat and plenty of water did the trick and I’m fine now.

My only constraint today is catching the last ferry from Tayinloan at 6 pm to the tiny Isle of Gigha, only six miles long, home for the next two nights.

The pretty beach in Machrihanish Bay, miles of sand flanked by dunes, is deserted.

Leaving the beach, it’s a busy road for the rest of the day, although the views are wonderful and there is plenty of visibility for the fast traffic.

Cladh nam Paitean — Burial Place of the Drowned People — is surrounded by acres of short-cropped grass. It seems out of place, as though it has risen from the earth. It was first used as the resting place of shipwrecked mariners, washed ashore.

I’m hungry but every place serving food is closed. One last try, following a sign for a cafe in Glenbarr Garden Centre. It’s open! Time to relax for an hour over coffee, a brie panini and a huge slice of Victoria sponge cake.

I make the last ferry with plenty of time to spare and bid it farewell from the slipway on the Isle of Gigha.

The privately owned island, the most southerly of the Inner Hebrides, was put on the market in 2001 and bought by the 100 islanders for £4 million, funded by a loan from The Scottish Land Fund, of which £1 million had to be repaid within two years. Inevitably, this required the development and sale of properties, but the character was preserved and the infrastructure steadily improved. The population decline was reversed and there are over 170 people now living on Gigha. While the venture had its rocky moments, it’s a warming tale, and I look forward to exploring tomorrow.

The campsite is delightful, the pitches lovingly laid out and positioned. I’m the only person camping, although there are a few camper vans. It’s so peaceful and I’ve not heard this many birds from my tent in the evening. I enjoy varying the pace and rhythm of a long-distance hike. This is the kick-back-and-feel-my-toes-in-the-sand phase — bliss.

Walk distance: 18 miles.

Total distance: 4,173 miles.

Next day

Under a clear blue sky, lying in my sleeping bag, my Merlin bird identification app is going wild: a wren, a warbler, a firecrest and a linnet. Leaning out of the tent, a steaming mug of tea resting in the damp grass, I fail to find them with my binoculars.

I’m in no rush today so take my time setting off up the road to the small village.

I did ask but failed to get an answer.

I pass the primary school. Secondary school kids take the ferry each day. How many days do they miss in a year?

Picking up essential supplies of caramel shortbread from an honesty box, Achamore Gardens lies at the end of a lovely woodland path.

There’s an ongoing project to restore the gardens, flourishing in Gigha’s warm microclimate.

A seat on the banks of a tranquil pool is hard to resist. The boots come off, and I lean back in the sun, listening to the birds and the bees. This is the life.

Several wooden sculptures are placed round the gardens. My favourite sits in a wide clearing beneath a canopy of trees.

A short climb, beyond a walled garden, leads to a beautiful viewpoint of Islay and Jura.

The remains of the 13th century St Cathan’s Chapel complete my circuit of the gardens.

The Wee Cafe opens at midday, serving a full breakfast in a box, washed down by a pint of the local full-fat milk — precious calories.

I head north in the afternoon, wearing only my base layer. All the signposts and information boards are tastefully designed. A lot of thought has gone into the development of the island for visitors.

The idyllic Twin Beaches sit on either side of a tombolo, which connects the main island to the tiny outcrop of Eilean Garbh.

The white sandy beach is gorgeous. I sit on the edge of the dunes, layered against the cold wind blowing off the sea. It looks like paradise, but the freezing water would soon dispel any foolish notion of swimming.

There is no one visible next to the lone tent. Are they working their way round the islands?

My last stop is Fisherman’s Cave, where fishermen once took shelter during long trips or bad weather. In keeping with the rest of the island, stepping stones are carefully laid down to the shore.

The walk is worth it simply for the stunning view of Jura.

Relaxing back at my tent, fortified with supplies from the village shop, what a fantastic day. I’m so lucky to enjoy the island in this weather. On to Islay tomorrow.