East to West

By Deirdre Carney

At last, the bothy.

In the gathering dusk, we ate our cold sausage and cereal bar supper sitting on the wooden shelves that would be our beds. A hip flask appeared, and soon we were snorting with laughter at the memory of our map-reading and the lift from a Good Samaritan in the back of a pick-up in the company of sheep. An outdoor pee among the empty, silent hills ended our day. Nothing could be better, could it? Yes, it could.

Awake at six, we walked all the next day amid awe-inspiring hills and lochs, fording the gelid stream in our bare feet, seeing no-one, murmuring our gratitude and smiling at each other from time to time. Delight and regret mingled as we reached Ullapool and our two days in my heaven on Earth were over. I promised I would be back, and two weeks ago, I was.

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