Distance: 10km
It’s 6pm. I have a small wine, chips and I’m looking out over one of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever visited. Needless to say, I feel pretty damn good!
I woke this morning to my old friend, the sun, peaking into my tent and precipitating good things to come. I have only a very short walk today, on account of the military range around Cape Wrath being closed. I could have gone in after 6pm, but decided, a nice, relaxing day spent beachside would be a fantastic prelude to the the conclusion of this epic walk.
The beach itself is accessible only on foot. A 4 mile (just over 6km walk) in and out, which gives it a mysterious, luxuriant feel. You only see it if you put in the effort. And the effort is so worth it.
The walk in is lovely in its own right, passing by a number of lochs set high on the moors. They are sparkling in a deep, blue shade that I haven’t seen over the past couple of weeks, on account of the beaming sun.
I round the corner and see it. It’s a defining moment of the hike. Mountainous cliffs, reaching like fingers into the sea. And there, in the distance, at the very edge of this land mass, is the lighthouse of Cape Wrath.
Memories come flooding back when I see it. The towns, the camps, the food, the people, the waterfalls, the lochs, the mountains, the glorious weather, the ridiculous weather, dancing, crying, singing, shouting. Walking. Walking. Walking. This adventure is so close to finishing now. In that way that thru-hiking does, I’m feeling both immensely sad and intensely grateful at the same time.
I quickly find a perch to set up my tent, high on the grassy hills, looking straight out towards the Cape. My last night camping is similar to my first, in that sheep are the only souls with any conversational skills, sharing my campsite tonight. A couple of little lambs have already made a play for my walking poles.
I wander the beach for several hours, wandering over the rocky shorelines at both ends. A loch sits discreetly off the coast, and water flows in a little river, from there to the sea.
This time tomorrow, it should be done. Tonight, I savour the experience and the incredible view, as I listen to the waves rolling into the sandy shore. How very lucky I am to have the opportunity, will, and resilience, to do this.
This article was first published on The Trek which can be found here