Boy, do I let myself in for some exhausting pastimes. I could have spent the day at home, slumped in front of the web, but nope, not today. Gulvain is a right royal pain. A “shy hill”, according to the books, which basically means you have to walk for miles before you reach its foot. Then you have a steep walk upwards before reaching what, admittedly, is a fairly enjoyable ridge. Or at least I imagine it would be were it possible to see more then a few metres ahead of you. Seeing a trig point emerging out of the mist on an otherwise barren landscape is quite a spooky experience – I felt vaguely akin to one of the monkeys at the start of 2001 – A Space Odyssey, surrounding that vast solid pillar inquisitively. But there wasn’t time to peruse on this for too long, as the evening was drawing in and we had a date to keep in Ullapool.
The surprisingly enjoyable long walk out meant that we returned to Morky a few minutes before sunset, at 20:30. After a quick stop for drinks (Red Bull in my case), and more petrol, we headed north, accompanied by the sounds of the one and only Mr David Bowie. The Loch Ness road twisted and turned in a most unpleasant manner, and it wasn’t until shortly after midnight that we finally made it, tired but happy, to our rented accommodation in Ullapool, to be greeted by a fine selection of food and drink acquired earlier that evening by Becks and Dave.
