Perimeter

Quintin Lake finds that Man’s mark is still apparent in the remote north of Scotland

Quintin Lake finds that Man’s mark is still present in a remote corner of Scotland

Peaty paths through heather become disconcertingly bouncy when you’re above sheer 100-metre cliffs. I look up to see plumes of smoke rise from the headlands, as wildfire burns along the horizon. I try to dispel thoughts of being caught in the blaze while walking – or worse, while in a tent.

The following day, the fire has died down by the time I reach the charred landscape. Fence posts have been burnt away, leaving their wires draped exhausted across the landscape. Peat still smoulders in places, sending up twirls of smoke. This unexpected

transformation makes an interesting photographic subject: what one expects to be green is now black.

I reach Greenstone Point under a full moon, and enjoy the rare luxury of being able to delay putting up the tent, as there’s no wind. Sleeping on the dry peat is as comfortable here as on a mattress at home. In the morning, I get the first glimpse of Assynt, the very far north, from the tent.

“They say when the Arctic convoy was here, there were so many ships that you could walk from one side of the loch to the other,” a dog walker in Aultbea tells me. Judging by his attuned bearing, I ask if he’s a fisherman. “I had three boats once, sold them now. The industry’s changed: fish farms are all big corporations today. When I started, the fish were in wooden cages, and we fed them by hand. Now the fish barges feed the pellets in by machine; each barge has one operator, who controls everything by a computer on-shore.”

That night I have a sinister night’s sleep opposite Gruinard Island, where in 1942 biological warfare tests using Anthrax were carried out. In 1990, after 48 years of quarantine, the island was deemed safe, and warning signs were removed. Needless to say, I’d collected the water for my dinner a couple of hours away from the island!

Feeling lightheaded, angry and exhausted after seven hours toiling over the pathless moors, I’m frustrated to find I’ve only progressed 10km. My last bag of rations for this 18-day section is down to half a broken oatcake and a smidge of peanut butter, and I’ve 24km more to go to get to Ullapool and the nearest shop. To get through the day, everything becomes timings and points to aim for a fiveminute rest. I’ve had enough – and my pictures have become appallingly unimaginative. Time to recharge!

This structure in Loch Ewe is the remains of a jetty used for loading Arctic convoys in WWII, where they began their perilous journey. A submarine net ran from this point to the opposite mouth of the loch while concrete naval gun and anti-aircraft emplacements surrounding the site remain. Now the purpose of this podium is gone; it stands in evocative contrast to the gentle lapping of the waves in the image.