The assault on the remain Munros continues.

For those of you at the back who were paying attention, I had a failed attempt to nab this one (MCD*) last year when the Inverness train made it no further than Burntisland before some radge threatened to jump from a bridge further up the line and I made it not to Strathcarron but instead Perth.

After a morning of packing the bare minimum to spare my increasingly sore shoulders and having despatched a post migraine Tom homewards, I set off on leg 1 via the 47 bus to coopt Loki to the cause.

Then a sunny stroll down the Royal Mile to the station and onto the 1330 Inverness train. 

Duly seated, I settled onto Islands of Abandonment and watched the scenery roll by. 

At Inverness,  we strolled across to Tesco to grab water, a lottery ticket and some dinner for the train and onto the 1754 for Kyle of Lochalsh.

There's the bike storage bit that's handy for a dog that wants to sleep and also there was another woman with her dog and another woman with 3 year old boy and buggy.

Before long we were involved in a lively thought provoking discussion about the dog woman's passion - vegan lifestyle. Poor Loki had a look somewhere between disgust and horror when he saw the other dog's dinner of leaves as part of its fully vegan existence. 

She baled at Achnashellach but said she was aiming for the same bothy as me but wanted to stop at a friend's between  Achnashellach and Coulags.  I carried on one stop to Strathcarron and opted for the shorter mostly off the road approach. 

1950 we disembarked; I fed the pup on the platform as the train rattled out the station southwards towards Skye. And mindful of midges, we set off on the walk to the bothy.

Out the village, across the bridge and immediately onto the riverside path and our first deer sighting (ornamental,  I think). Gorse blossom scent at every step,  a gorgeous natural planting scheme of bluebells coming up through the orange of dead bracken. After a bit we rejoined the road and continued for about a mile, commiserating with poor driver trying to change his punctured wheel whilst swatting midges .... I know who was winning.

And off into the wilds at Coulags. A very fine path heads through the hills to Torridon; mountains either side shrouded in cloud at 400 metres, climbing easily up along the side of the river as the trees gave way to Heather and rough grass. About two hours after leaving the station we walked up to the bothy; 3 bedrooms and a public room. 

in the kitchen area were Tors and Olivier (Hamburger and Swiss respectively) . They're loosely cycling the NC500 and day 1 had got them this far. Tors had been in a bothy before and wanted at least one night again and to introduce Olivier to this quaint British thing.  They cooked their dinner, we chatted and around 11, they departed and I laid out the bedding for the pair of us to collapse onto....

Please note the influence of meisterblipper IAC as I shamelessly rip off his style exhibited in his recent WHW /CMC ramblings  postings. 

*Maol Cheinn Dearg

A bemused Loki who swim the river rather than cross the bridge. He's a spaniel,  right?