Day 74: Clar Loch Beag - Ullapool

We left at around eleven, with the calm of those who have already discovered that getting up early in Scotland doesn't guarantee sun or free whisky. We went back to Knockan Crag National Nature Reserve, but this time we left the car below, where you don't have to pay, and walked the last stretch on foot, like good weekend mountaineers.

The car park was almost deserted. There was only one lonely car left: our friends from Malaga and Gibraltar had already vanished like the Scottish mist. We did the educational trail of the park, a mixture of geological walk and crash course on tectonics. Did you know that here you can see how the Earth's layers fought each other hundreds of millions of years ago? Well, there you have it. Information panels, sculptures in the middle of the path, rocks that speak (well, almost)... All very educational and entertaining. It took us a little over an hour between reading, posing for selfies, taking photos and making sure I didn't make a burrow in the middle of a geological fold.

Afterwards we drove to Achnahaird beach. It's the second time we've travelled along that scenic road that passes by Stac Pollaidh, a mountain so pointed that it seems designed by a dragon with a sculptor's complex. We loved the car park on the coast: quiet, traffic-free and with open views of the sea. All that was missing was a gentle bagpipe in the background.

We walked among sheep that seemed more interested in grazing than in our lives, and we reached the beach. Achnahaird Bay is a wide, wild corner, with soft sand, mountains in the background and that air of an old postcard that only the Scottish northwest can give you. The sky was a bit cloudy, but the weather was good. Well... it wasn't hot, but by local standards it was almost like a tropical wave.

Daddy Edu lay on the sand to sunbathe like a cautious lizard, while I played with dog-like enthusiasm, dug a couple of strategic holes and, as it couldn't be otherwise, left it full of sand up to my ears. We had lunch in the camper and around half past five we set off again. We wanted to continue along the road south of the peninsula, but surprise! it's a dead end. So we went back via Stac Pollaidh, yes, for the third time. The mountain already greets us with its eyebrow raised.

In Ullapool we parked at Tesco, where Daddy Edu did some shopping to survive a couple more days. Afterwards, a technical stop at a petrol station: diesel and water. Yes, paid water. One pound! I think it's the first time in all our years as campervan enthusiasts that we've paid to fill the water tank. Daddy Edu is still getting over it.

We tried to find a place to sleep in the city, but between churches with mass the next day and car parks that were too visible, everything was a problem. In the end, we parked for a while on Shore Street, although not to sleep. Daddy Edu had a social appointment: he had arranged to meet Len, May, Douglas and Janice for a drink at the Argyll Hotel, where Pat Dennis and Susanna Wolfe were playing. Supposedly, musicians. In their town, they'll know them.

I stayed in the camper, watching to make sure no bagpipers sneaked in at midnight. Daddy came back at almost half past eleven. According to him, the music wasn't great, but the company was worth it. Then we got in the car and, in less than five minutes, we were at a lay-by at the entrance (or exit) of Ullapool. There were already cars with people sleeping, some motorhomes and even a car with a roof tent. Like good asphalt castaways, we stayed there to sleep too, with the soundtrack of a lost cricket and the snoring of a distant engine.

Tomorrow, more Scotland. And surely more sheep.