9th May

Here is the full walk report from Achmelvich as uploaded to the walkhighlands.co.uk website:

Achmelvich

After a heavy day walking to Sandwood Bay my next day needed to be more gentle on my aching, sagging frame. So I went up from Lochinver, along the twisty little road that is the B869, to Achmelvich in hopes of seeing yet more sand.  For good measure I surmised that, in the event that Achmelvich turned out to be too short and quick of a walk, that I would append a visit to nearby Clachtoll (more of that in another report).

At Achmelvich the walk was in the order of 3 miles but to me it felt more like 300 miles (did I mention that my frame was sagging?). The weather was once again beautiful and I was in a state of shock. This was, after all, April in NW Scotland and I expected something a little more challenging. Now I have to say that Achmelvich is the closest thing to paradise/heaven/nirvana, call it what you will that I have yet found on this earth and I have traveled a lot, and to a lot of countries. You can keep Bora Bora, Hawaii, Barbados and all those other exotic places. I'll take Achmelvich on a sunny day ANY day. It reminded me of the time I spent walking along the tops of the cliffs near Hermanus in the Cape region of South Africa, many years ago. It is such déjà vu moments that make something stand out to me and this place was special. Achmelvich seems to be a happy nexus of nature at its finest with rocks everywhere, tight, short grass that looks like it is perpetually mowed by some lucky council worker, a lovely sandy beach and quietness to boot. Getting there is not so easy however. The narrow one lane roads are the width of a car, have passing places every 100 yards, and twist and turn like a Cobra that's been poked with a hot stick. Driving along this particular road is like walking on a tightrope between high buildings. Five miles can take half an hour but you do meet some polite people along the way.

The walk commences at the large and spacious car park near Achmelvich beach. The entrance road to the car park is one car width – not a problem at this time of year but in the summer, watch out! This is a major traffic snarl up waiting to happen and I could almost hear the angry growls and shaking fists waving in the air as summer visitors almost come to blows. Exit the car park on the left hand side where a sign post marked ‘Altanabradhan’ points to a gate, a stile and a wide well graveled road that winds slowly and relaxingly upwards through the rock outcrops. After 200 yards it started to rain and I realized that my waterproof over trousers were in the boot of the car so I returned, donned them and restarted the walk only to find that the sun was back out and shining gloriously in a clear blue sky! I am not sure how that happens in Scotland, but it does. Nonetheless, I was happily sauntering along this path when a remarkable flock of birds appeared overhead, heading out to sea. I write poems about things such as this but I will not assault you with an example.

 A few hundred yards further along the path I came upon two horses grazing next to a lochan off to my right – this was turning into a real nature walk!

Looking ahead I saw a house with the pathway veering off to the left of it. Pass the house and then through a gate and you are on a superb rocky (and dry) path that crosses a beautiful secluded hillside. 

This was sauntering at its very best, offering that wonderful feeling of having nowhere to go and lots of time to get there. The path trends downhill after a short while and reaches a white gravel road. Turn left and head toward a largish house on the hillside to your right. Pass that house on the left side going steeply uphill with spectacular views to the south along the coast,

 and shortly the path flattens out before descending towards the old disused 17^th century grain mill at alltan’abrahan (surely that should be Altanabradhan?). Cross the stream using the flat stepping stones that have been thoughtfully provided by some unknown entity. The mill has an information board that will tell you all you will need or want to know. 

Continue for a further 300 yards to the ocean and that’s where the magic really climaxed for me. Where the stream flows into the sea is a quiet and secluded embayment – I won’t go so far as to call it a beach, but there is sand and rocks and pristine clear blue-green water.

 I lingered here for quite a while, gazing at the lovely water worn blocks of Lewisian Gneiss and feeling a bit like Robinson Crusoe washed ashore on some isolated stretch of Caribbean beach.

 My fantasy remained intact until a welsh collie popped its head over the rocks and proceeded to yelp at me. That broke the spell and told me that it was time to go. I retraced my steps and, on reaching the car park, wandered down to the superb beach. 

I wonder what lazing on this beach in mid summer would be like. As fine as any Caribbean beach I am certain but with the addition of the midges (or as my wife refers to them - Scottish midgets) perhaps a less pleasant experience. Maybe one day I will return in the summer. But for now, this was as pleasant a day to recharge my almost drained batteries as I could have hoped for.

Clachtoll is certainly less grand than Achmelvich but is still worth a visit nonetheless. Another great little sandy beach and, of course the dubiously famous Clachtoll split rock which was once a sea arch that has now collapsed, probably from the weight of all the tourists who like to sit atop it during the short summer months.