24 February: Rum to Arrochar

Goodbye volunteer team. Scott gives me the prize shell from his collection; Leah hands me the last banana. The two of them will be trying for Askival. The weather is sublime but still plenty of snow on the peaks (and I later learn from Leah that, because of this, they turn back just before the summit). I am envious. But I am also looking forward to the simplicity of self catering, having had my fill of packet-mix soup. It’s a good time to be leaving. 

I loiter in the otter-hide area, waiting for the ferry. The moss is vivid green today. Still no sign of the elusive Lutra lutra – or seals. Alex shows up, mid run, to farewell me. A nice gesture. He does a good job.

I look back at the island, where I walked yesterday. My relationship with the terrain has changed following the intimate knowledge borne of placing foot after foot along and down its hummocks and bogs. The castle prominent at the head of the bay; the bunkhouse concealed by trees.

Further along the coast I can trace the route the girls took for their Dibidil bothy adventure. Today the surrounding peaks – which they wouldn’t have even seen – are majestic, so different from the low cloud and rain they endured.

The next four hours are a delight as the ferry cruises around first Eigg then Muck on its way to Mallaig. I run from one side of the boat to the other, snap happy. Chatting with a passenger accompanying his lens-wielding friend on a holiday on Eigg, we reckon that we are looking at the Donegal coast far on the horizon. The Cuillen glisten, as do a host of unknown peaks in the Knoydart direction. The hills behind Arisaig and Mallaig are also enhanced by a snowy coats. Gorgeous.

Approaching Mallaig we veer into the Sound of Sleat, to access the harbour. More fabulous views.

The timing is tight. But I manage a trip to the Co-op to grab a few supplies before the train leaves. 

The views during the first couple of hours of the 4-hour journey are magical. I can’t resist taking terrible photos through the train window: Loch Eilt, Loch Eil, Loch Shiel, Ben Nevis…

Then night falls, signal drops and I am in a digital desert! 

At Arrochar the train conductor helps me unhook my bike from the “meat hook“ and I am warned that being able to do this on one’s own is a condition of travel. Oh dear. 

Arrochar Station is a short ride from the village centre, and I am relieved that my B&B is immediately visible as I coast in. The moon and stars are bright and it is perishing cold. I’m looking forward to my lochside view tomorrow morning.