Getting out there

Sally Toms goes exploring in Scotland's far north west

As Editor of two magazines, it isn't always easy watching your writers whizzing about over the length and breadth of Scotland to bring me, and you, the best stories. Oh boo hoo, Iknow. There are worse jobs! But like countless other millions, 90 per cent of my time is spent at my desk.

So when, at the beginning of the year, I was invited by a hotelier to Durness at Scotland's most northerly westerly tip, I was on my way before you could say ‘can I put that on expenses?' This corner of Scotland has a desolate beauty all of its own. It is a landscape of few trees, wide rolling hills and dry stone walls, of shabby crofts and stock fencing, sheep and nibbled grass, and possibly the most dramatic coastline to be found on our little island – sheer cliffs and countless bays of beautiful, wide beaches of blonde sand punctuated with jagged black rocks.

Durness itself is an isolated coastal community, heavily reliant on crofting and tourism. A hundred or so hardy, utilitarian homesteads cling to the windswept landscape, loosely arranged around the village shop and licensed premises (funny how that always happens).

It is certainly remote. Inverness, the nearest centre of civilisation, is a good two and half hour drive across a lunar landscape of hills, heather and stone. For soft tourists like me, or anyone not used to the single track A836, it is well not to let yourself be distracted by the scenery or else you take your life in your hands.

But once you arrive at Durness you can...

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• By : Sally Toms
• In : Editor's View
• Issue : 39
• Page : 3
• Words : 645