The north-west coast of Jura

It rained overnight so breaking camp was a chore, but the view over the raging waters of the Gulf were a good distraction. The tide was rushing through the gap between Jura and Scarba with white foaming crests. No whirlpools of course. 

I headed west picking my way down to the shore through quartzite cliffs and brown flattened bracken to cook some porridge in a cave while sheltering from the rain. 

Then the walk began in earnest. What an amazing place, a place where life is hard. Goats and deer thrive, but humans are just visitors. For the next eight hours I followed the coast south, weaving between the cliffs in and out of every cove and bay. 

In the water I was watched by inquisitive seals. The deer were like sentinels on the cliff-tops silhouetted by the bright sun. And as for the brown hairy goats - they were flighty but very helpful in route finding. After a few miles I came to realise they were the path masters of this coastline, and whenever I was unsure of the route, I just followed their hoof prints. 

Past a bothy for lunch. The visitor's book said of two visits in 2024, the last at the beginning of the month. 

At the end of the day, I trudged onto flat grass at Traigh Miadar to camp overlooking the sea and watched the sunset over Colonsay. 

Picture shows a typical section of the day's walk, looking back north from where I came.