The puddles of water at my head and feet have nothing to do with the heavy rain during the night. Condensation is a challenge when bad weather forces me to close the tent flaps. We exhale more than a litre of moisture while we sleep and the warm water vapour condenses on the colder tent walls. The tent is carefully designed so the tarp extends over the bathtub base, allowing condensation to run off outside. However, two short cords attached to the inner tarp raise the bathtub floor, and the droplets run down the cord, gravity intervening before they reach the end, and drop inside the tent. It’s not the end of the world but something I must research.
A lazy day beckons, including a local stroll, before catching the bus north to Salen village, so I doze and read into the late morning. The Outrun is well-written but I think I’ve run my course of redemption-through-nature novels. Wild is still my favourite. I could not bring myself to buy The Salt Path after listening to a grating interview with Raynor Winn.
I follow a woodland track to Torosay Castle. I enjoy all the seasons, but a crisp autumn morning is hard to beat, with the leaves falling through vibrant colours.
The castle itself is closed, being more of a private residence, but it looks across a lush valley, shrouded in mist.
Straining on tiptoes, I peer over a tall stone wall to capture the outbuildings, presumably home to estate workers.
The circular route leads back along the main road into Craignure. Rain begins to fall. A bus driver slows down and asks if I want a lift into the village. You don’t get that back home.
I’ve booked a tiny pod for two nights at Hart of Mull in woodland on the outskirts of Salen village. It’s too early to check in so time to explore. This looks promising.
Seaweed and low tide are perfect conditions for otter spotting but after half an hour perched out on the rocks, there’s no movement other than birds. I suspect this is too close to the road and the beached hulks popular with photographers.
The village bakery has shelves piled high with tempting savoury and sweet goods. It closes at the end of October, so the ovens are running round the clock to produce mince pies. Happy days.
Chatting to a local, I mention my quest for otters and they whisper the location of a nearby holt. Excited, I head off to the spot, which I agree not to photograph or describe. Still and quiet by the sea, midges appear to test my resolve. What are the devils doing here at this time of year? I stay for an hour before admitting defeat and retire to my hut for the night. The otters must be sleeping and so shall I.
Date of walk: Wednesday 16 October 2024.
Walk distance: 7 miles.
Total distance: 4,628 miles.
Next day
I’d planned a spectacular ridge walk from Craignure to Salen for my final day, but the weather forecast is grim, with low visibility, so I’ll start with that when I return to the island next year. I’ll potter about the beautiful coastline this morning.
Cormorants perch on the remains of an old jetty.
In the afternoon, I head up Glen Forsa, intending to visit the bothy at the end of the valley. The locals appear curious, although I don’t get so close to a bull further down the track.
The mist starts to descend and the track is too straight to hold my interest, so I turn back and enjoy a late lunch at the smart Glenforsa Cafe and Farm Shop, serving up-market blue cheese tart with salad.
I return to the pod and leave the doors open to the woodland as the rain comes down, reading and listening to music until it is pitch black.
The next morning, the ferry takes me back to Oban and I bid farewell to magnificent Mull. I look forward to returning next year when the restoration work has finished on Staffa Island jetty, allowing me to visit Fingal’s Cave, one of the must-visit places on my coastal walk.
Date of walk: Thursday 17 October 2024.
Walk distance: 9 miles.
Total distance: 4,637 miles.
I have seen those promising otter crossing signs in several locations and never once seen an otter! They are just not cooperative at all.
I did go back later in the evening but a mini bus pulled up and half a dozen Scandanavians tumbled out with tripods and expensive cameras, on some sort of wildlife tour. They made so much noise that there was no chance of seeing anything. 🙄
I watched an otter going about his fishing for about an hour on the Isle of Mull and it was a memory that will stay with me. How can I share the location with you without making it too public?!
Hi Andy. Just back from another trip up the East Coast. Thanks for the offer. It will be a while before I head back to Mull.