Our journey to Torridon marked a change in the weather.
Plans had been made in a pub in Ullapool amid the drunken revelers losing a weekend at the Loopallu. A map and guidebook were purchased for the old Torridon mountains – I would walk and the other half would kick back for a couple of days.
Reaching Torridon, the campsite was a bog. We found a dry patch and midges danced excitedly around our ears.
The massive bulk of Liathach loomed ominously above us. It looked a terrifying prospect.
The sun, our faithful companion for so much of this trip since Aviemore, then deserted us. I looked up to see a curtain of rain advancing from Loch Torridon and braced myself.
Finally, Scotland bit back and we were drenched. Still, we went for a walk.
Torridon was charming, particularly when the rain subsided. Locals gave us friendly greetings from doorsteps, although all seemed to have accents from Northern England… ‘incomers’ or holiday makers?
We struck out along a path on the shores of the loch and found a sign pointing to an ‘open air church/meeting place’.
We eventually found it, and the tiny amphitheatre felt eerie in the gloom. Later I read that it was used for worship until the late 1960’s and in adverse weather a sail was draped over the complete area. The modern, though modest, sign pointing to the feature would suggests it is still used, albeit in fairer conditions.
Walking along the road, a savage wind ripped cross the loch throwing cascades of brackish water in our faces. We were glad to reach the Torridon Inn to escape the chaos.