In Scotland Again - Kinlochewe and Achiltibue: Episode 6 - final

Leaving Morvich by the back road, we catch the A87 west bound towards Eilean Donan Castle crossing Loch Long at Dornie. At Auchtertyre we branch north on the A890 heading for Achmore and Stromeferry. The road then hugs the loch side until you reach Achintee. From there, the A890 rises north east to Achnasheen, with a west spur on the A832 to Kinlochewe.

Our H V Morton friends will recall that, 'In Scotland Again' Henry headed east to Inverness, and in his less adventurous first journey 'In Search of Scotland', he descended from Fort Augustus to Fort William before venturing out to the western coast and to Skye. Times were different in 1933, and unless roads led to ferries, there was little point in pursuing them to the handful of crofts at the road end.

So we are leaving Morton to his inland journey. But we will retain his spirit of travel, to observe his Scottish wilderness through 21st century eyes; and just as he left his bull-nosed Morris behind, will leave the Auto Trail to walk and share the special Allt a' Chuirn path towards A'Chreag Dhubh.

We camp at Kinlochewe, a gentle site that rests below the Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve. Our pitch collects the stream's gentle gurgle. After the mountain roads and tight bends, here is an oasis of calm. Even the nearby reserve has a soft, forested aspect to it with quiet walks on zig-zag stoned paths to the visitor's centre.

Just round from the site on the Torridon Road, Kinlochewe old village hall had probably seen better days before Lis Broome and her pose of helpers arrived to rescue the corrugated iron shed from the scrapman and turn it into The Whistle Stop Café, a vernacular place with oodles of charm and even better food. We visit before taking to the hills, and we are not alone.

Of the many Highland delights, The Whistle Stop Café's must rate as the best big breakfast. Joining Tom and Wendy, two young and intrepid walkers who were to cross the 1010 metres of Beinn Eighe and travel through 20 miles of heather tracks, Stephanie and I hunker down to the feast. This is the meal about which Morton dreamed in chapter 1 section 5 of 'In Scotland Again'.

Our journey is less ambitious. We aimed to walk the Allt a' Chuirn path west from the reserve towards the rugged, rocky Beinn Eighe, rising evenly by tracking the stream that cascades down to the A' Ghairbhe fed from Loch Clair. 

This is a truly magical walk, suitable for the averagely fit walker with three hours or so to spare. If the weather is kind, it is not to be taken at a trot, but savoured slowly with rests in the heather and long views through the valley.

 At the head of the valley where it departs into open, rugged terrain, stop at the waterfall. If the day is hot, drop down to the pool and bathe tired feet. We return down the valley in late afternoon sunshine. There is a sadness about leaving the solitude of the fells for the populated village below, but solace in anticipation of our barbecued 'born in Scotland', 'reared in Scotland', ear-tagged rib eye steak, pre-ordered from Allan at Kenneth Morrison, the camp site's visiting butcher (01445712485). 

Two days later, we head out for our final destination, Achiltibue, or more precisely, Port a Bhaigh campsite at Altandhu.

For Port A Bhaigh you must leave the A835 south of Drumrunie turning sharply out to the west 12 miles on on the narrowest single track road. The unnamed road traverses the north side of small lochs giving views into rugged low lying West Highland countryside. A measure of the terrain - you will need 45 minutes to complete the 12 miles, but using the passing places for moments to collect, we feel the journey as part of the experience. Port A Bhaigh campsite sits on a small bay, protected to the west by Isle Ristol and Eilean Mulagrach, the first of the Summer Islands, their low turf and heather clad moorland rimmed by cream rock shores.

The view is ‘heart-felt’ rather than breath-taking, but it has an intimacy that says you belong here. Ascend the hill to the owner’s pub. With friendly bar and dining room serving snacks and main evening meals, it has a convivial atmosphere. Make the most of it for, to the north, the nearest next pub is in Iceland. Walk the road to Reiff, offering headland views from the coastal path beyond, or hire kayaks for an escorted trip around the islands.

Henry Vollam Morton is still travelling as we return down to Inverness.

Like him, we found that the Highlands seeps into your soul. Gone, or rare, the Gaelic - no more the wood smoked hotel lounges with visiting 

salesmen and khaki-clad maidens. The ferries now pull with diesel engines rather than paddles. 

But the mountains remain solid and permanent, and the Golden Eagle still soars above.