Welcome to Knoydart
Welcome to Knoydart, a land as wild and remote as anywhere in mainland Britain.
Hiking down the rough track that cuts between the hulking mountains that stand sentinel on either flank I squeeze through the narrow pass. Then descend by some ruined crofts as the landscape opens up to reveal an epic sea loch, savagely wild slopes and seriously big skies. Today the only sounds are from a herd of Highland Cattle ambling by, the only other life a golden eagle soaring high above. I push on safe in the knowledge that Britain’s most remote pub is waiting out there somewhere with a creamy Scottish ale for me.
The only ways into the Knoydart peninsula are by trekking through the notorious ‘rough bounds’ from where the tarmac runs out at Kinloch Hourn, or by finding a boat to take you over. I arrived tucked in the Mary Doune, our aquatic chariot for a week of walking in knoydart with Wilderness Scotland. Along with the walking group the only other passengers on the motor launch were a basket of wriggling langoustines and a headless stag, just part of the superb local produce that marked our dinners at our ultra cosy lodge. This dramatic arrival, I soon found, was all very Knoydart.