Scotland:Strome Ferry to Poolewe on the North Coast
September 5, 1967
This is the Strome Ferry on Loch Carron, with its deck rotated to discharge the cars.
A greater blackbacked gull obligingly posed with Upper Loch Torridon in the background.
We took the small road to Upper Loch Torridon over some barren moorland. The oft-heard statement "Scotland is just like North Wales on a larger scale." has a lot of truth in it but there are some differences. These peat moorlands have a somewhat different appearance from those in Wales. The mountains have entirely different coloration - many red sandstones. Also the blue tints are not seen in Wales. Scotland is broken by many more bodies of water and this adds interest in traveling. As we travel northward the terrain becomes more bleak except for the areas of cultivated forest. The ever-present purple heather brightens the landscape considerably at this time of year. In places the heather forms extremely beautiful clumps - or even a hillside of lovely violet out on an uninhabited moor.
Upper Loch Torridon was a very attractive interlude and then we went back into moorland. We soon made it around to Loch Maree. Along the shore of this Loch are some forests of beautiful Scots pines. The Loch is one of the prettiest we've seen but pouring rain hampered the view. We drove around to Poolewe and took a B&B. Our room faced Loch Ewe and we were about 30 yards from the water. With rain and near gale force winds the bay was very pretty with whitecaps and heavy waves rolling in on the shore.
We sat in the living room in front of a fireplace in which blazed a peat fire - the first time we have seen peat used as fuel.
Also staying at the B&B was a nice couple in their 40's from Surrey. They were quite talkative - we sat and talked with them for over an hour. They were spending a fortnight in Scotland and had had rain every day.
He had been in Egypt during World War II. She had been evacuated from London to Swansea in South Wales and the first night there they had an air raid. Then she went to Caernarvon, just ten miles from Bangor, for the duration.
We had a good night's sleep with hot water bottles at our feet and a heavy comforter. With the wind howling and the rain beating on our window, we were warm and snuggled up together in bed and this night seemed magical. It would remain with us as our most memorable night in Scotland.