Well! I feel like a kid who has just come in from a long day on the beach. I'm all windblown and rosy cheeked, and I'm covered in grit and sand and salt.

Where did I leave you? Ah yes, I was about to leave Ullapool. Okay well because it was still early when I left, I got a lovely clear run to the camp site. I guess I was up and out whilst most campers were still cranking up the primus for their morning cuppa. Accidental, but useful.

Even the single track road stretch of the journey was painless, unlike yesterday where it seemed to be populated by dumb idiots who didn't know you were meant to let people overtake on passing places, and even dumber idiots who would come to a dead stop in the road in front of me and expect ME to back into a passing place, even if a passing place was directly behind them and miles from me. Oh and a lot of people who didn't wave as they passed...you don't not wave, it's just not right, if feels as if you have been snubbed at a party or something. Maybe it was the crappy weather that made everyone grouchy.

Today however, everyone was chilled out and civil - the sun was shining and everyone was happy to wait for you in the most logical passing place and give you a jolly wave and a grin as you passed. It was still a long way into the middle of nowhere though - first through a desolate granity moor section, and then a fun dead straight bit of road over a spit of sand. You could see the campsite and the beach on the approach and it looked great, even from miles away.

The motivation for going to Achnahaird was two-fold. One, it is mentioned in goodness knows how many camping booked as a 'magical' place to camp. Two, it's closing this year for good, probably to become a nature santuary for the Scottish Primrose. I had to do it before it disappeared for good.

When I arrived, I saw instantly what people were going on about - a grassy dunescape where you could camp anywhere, and a large sandy beach plus rocky foreshore which sustained any number of beachy type activities such as sandcastles, swimming, body boarding, kiting, strolling hand in hand, sunbathing (in sheltered nooks), picnics, contemplation, everything. This made up for the lack of facilities (portaloo only) and complete isolation.

I pitched hastily, then headed for the beach. I was two sand sculptures in by dinner time, and then I downed a hasty cheese bun and parked my bum on a rocky outcrop with a book in the sun. I was intending simply to sit, read and ocassionally glance up and go 'aaah' contentedly for the rest of the afternoon. What actually happened was that the book got ignored completely and I watched the tide come in for two hours. I don't think I was thinking anything deep and meaningful at the time - I simply stared at the sea for two hours and flatlined, mentally. It was great.

I ended the day with another sand sculpture. My other two were getting a lot of attention from idle passers by and delighted children who were making cute little replicas of my stuff nearby (and not stamping on them). I finished the day with a tall one - some sort of dolphin-esque thing though not at all biologically accurate.

Finally, I had a paddle in the sea (by this time, going out and you'd therefore think, slightly warmer, though it was still freezing). I got back to the tent just as the rain rolled in, and now I'm freshed up after a pits 'n' cracks flannel wash from a foldable bucket, and about ready for tea.

I'm hoping it'll stay fine tomorrow. As with a lot of scenic places, this is lovely now but could be miserable in crappier weather. It's also very exposed, but I'm seeing a lot of tents which or obviously flimsier built than mine so I should be able to hear their screams before mine caves in, which'll give me a bit of time to bail out into the car.

I've had a great day! AND...no midges! (sand flies don't count). Fingers crossed for tomorrow (if it's crap weather, I'm bailing out to John O'Groats).

I just saw someone taking a photo of my sand sculptures. That makes me feel good :)

Last night a strange silent man pulled up between me and the tourer guy (who was still sleeping at the wheel when I went to bed - he looked drunk). The silent man pitched quietly and efficiently, was up with a light on when I got up at 3am, and packed up just as quietly and efficiently at the same time as me at 7am. He interacted with no-one and no-one noticed his presence - I wonder if people think the same about me when they see me?

I wanted to swing by Coastcutta before I left to pick up a few things but it wasn't open yet. An irritated looking man in a shirt and tie waited in the car space next to me and I wondered what conceivable office he could be working in in a place like this. Eventually a queue of people started to build up outside the shop, and it became apparent that though the till girl has turned up on time, the person with the keys has slept in. Till girl soon realised and sprinted down the street to bang on a door, and shortly after a dishevelled lass arrived with keys and opened up. All finesse went out the window then and the bread crate, milk crate and newspapers were just chucked on the floor (which was what all the locals were after) and people scrambled for it. Suited man grabbed a newspaper and some milk and sped off, wheels spinning. Foreign campers looked bemused.

It's nice being up and about in a place before everything starts waking up. Everything was deathly still until on the dot of 8am, there was a rumble as engines fired up in the tower at the end of the ferry terminal, and as if sympathy, a lorry driver on the pier did the same, but for no apparent reason.

The rest of the pier was deathly still, though filled with evidence that on a normal day of the week its bustling. There was another cultural stereotype - a crate of Ironbru in a fishboat. And there was a nice sign on some sort of hut - 'Wanted - I wish to buy Prawns in large quanties'. So wanted ads round here are slightly different to normal...

A boat I had seen way off at the mouth of Loch Broom as I was packing up finally came into harbor soon after I arrived. Though it looked too clean to be a fishing boat I was mistaken, because as soon as it had tied up, the lorry driver who'd been revving earlier manouvered up next to it on the harbor front and started to load and unload crates. Presumably it was taking fish off the boat for distribution (theres no name on the van) and handing over empty crates for the fishermen to fill up again when they next went out. Goodness knows what time the fishermen got up in order to be in harbor for 8ish though. And I also don't understand how their boat can be so clean when all the other boats tied up are in a right state. Mind you it is the biggest - it even has it's own crane. Bet it has satellite tv too.

So I've sat watching the fishing boat unload and jellyfish wibble languidly around in the water, all whilst eating some breakfast. But perhaps it's time to tear myself away - somewhat unwillingly I might add, but there will always be other times to come back and explore (perhaps in winter...).

Next stop - the Brae of Achnahaird and a campsite that every campbook keeps going on about. Could also be the first potential destroyer of my tent, and its bound to have no mobile signal so I'll sign off now, and expect to here from me again late tomorrow unless I get lucky.

Toodleoo