Friendly Scots, clean air, clear water and compost loo

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Today was our first boat trip, the 10am Knoydart ferry to Inverie on Loch Nevis. The other passengers were locals who appeared to have come to the mainland to get their food shopping and the crew helped them with their bags. They all seem to know each other.
According to the lady that sold us the trip, that although it is on the mainland, it is cut off from everywhere else via road. So I was a bit surprised that they had cars there, although not a lot was tarmacced. A very few houses were dotted on the hillside, with a gift shop, forge, the most remote pub in Britain (it’s in the Guinness book of records) and all were closed as expected. A map showed us the walking routes and those to avoid if you didn’t have the gear or experience, there were also mountain bike routes, also not for beginners.
The basic route still climbed the hill, because all walks here at least start with a steep hill and if you’re lucky they continue with a steep hill and end with a sharp decline. The path took us through lots of pine trees and Christmas Trees, the silence shattered by someone logging. It appears to be one of the local industries here as there were a lot of logs.
Eventually we arrived at a campsite that was put together by volunteers, with benches, a hut and a compost loo that they are very proud of. Obviously Glyn and I both had a go on it and there’s a lot of information to read in there about the community and volunteers coming together to build the loo and the science behind it with lots of photos. The photos were of it being built, not it being used, just in case you were wondering. The previous loo was a shovel next to a tree and there was a photo of that too.
No one was camping, so it was incredibly quiet and we stopped to enjoy that with our pack lunches overlooking Loch Nevis. We planned to continue along the shore, looking for somewhere really remote to fly drones, but a big river diverted us inland as there was no way over it until we were too far away. Further up we crossed a bridge that had a notice saying we were free to walk there but stick to the river and don’t go near the farmshop and barn as they are privately owned. We were a few miles away from Inverie that has a minute population so I’m guessing they must get a fair few people camping to keep a farm shop going.
A walled off area contained a graveyard, with the stones ranging from a good few hundred years old to only a few decades. Everyone was called Mackay, or were married to or born a Mackay. A notice also let us know that there were commonwealth war graves here too but I’ve no idea which graves were those.
The distant mountains were snowcapped, but it wasn’t that cold and the sun was shining. The air was so crisp and clean, the river water perfectly clear so I could see the bottom. I’d brought my tripod so far so I was going to use it, I asked Glyn if he’d brought any filters and got laughed at. So he sat reading whilst I tried to do a bit of fancy photography, I even spotted some deer with massive antlers in the distance. A sign at the river had warned us that we were not allowed to take any discarded antlers, but even if we did, they’d never fit in the Fiat 500. It was a beautiful area with no sign of any other people and appeared to stretch out for miles. There’s no way we could have flown drones here though because you just know an angry bod would appear if it looked like we were going anywhere near the deer.
We turned back because the return ferry was at 3pm and if we missed it, there was nowhere to stay and it would have been many days walk back, that’s assuming we didn’t get lost, which we would, so not an option. The path back was a bit undulating but not our usual steep fare and Glyn was concerned that I’d not had enough hills today. Randomly we found a rusty Singer sewing machine in the wood, totally nowhere near a house, I’d love to know the story behind that. The area was strewn wit fallen trees, thick with heavy moss so that the area was carpeted in green. Some of the trees had grown in unusual and very bent shapes.
I’ve noticed in North Scotland just how friendly people are, not just those in the service industry but everyone. People walking past say hello, cyclists wave and all seem happy to chat when asked questions. Even if you drive past someone walking a dog, they wave. When we returned to the dock, a small child of about 10 years old walked by, looked at me and then said hello. Where I come from, 10 year olds like to give me lots of hassle until I run away.
When the ferry arrived, it was full of parcels and deliveries. We spotted quite a few Amazon parcels (I bet they don’t guarantee next day delivery here) a Boots box, plenty of Tennants Extra plus lots of sacks of mail. A post-lady swapped a lot of it for more full postbags, while another lady was placing other parcels in nearby metal draws attached to the dock. Maybe people collect them later? A few locals pulled up to collect their packages and prescriptions. If you ever watch American films set in Scotland, they always have an exaggerated rugged old bloke, a bit crossed-eyed and bent over - usually sat in the corner of the local pub - well I saw a real life one today at the dock. He smiled and said hello and appears to be the owner of the multiple cans of Tennants, well the pub was shut after all.
The journey back like the journey there took around 45 minutes, Glyn and I sat outside because we are well ‘ard! Although I’ve seen some locals walking around in shorts and others in t-shirts. And I was wearing thermals and snow boots!
The day ended with a trip to Coop because it’s the only shop and there’s nowhere open to go for a meal. We drove almost all the way back to Bracara when Glyn, daydreaming about his next poo realised we’d forgotten to buy the bogroll. This would not do and so we returned to Coop again. What a day!

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