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No. 1 Magazine - - INTERIORS -

eths eand Hi High­lands are a jewel in Scot­land's cr crown. We of­ten for­get how lucky we are liv­ing in such a beau­ti­ful coun­try, so No.1 wants to re­mind you by shin­ing a light on this much-loved area. First, let's take a look at Cape Wrath where one fam­ily-of-five re­lo­cated to for an ex­cit­ing and unique Scot­tish ad­ven­ture…

STORMY SOLI­TUDE – AND A CUPPA You can take the man out of the city but in John Ure’s case, you can also take the city out of the man. John and his wife Kather­ine gave up the rat race for a life in the re­mote peace of Cape Wrath. Bri­tain’s best-known ex­trem­i­ties, John O’groats and Land’s End, could both be con­sid­ered com­mer­cial tourist traps. In con­trast, Cape Wrath is an es­cape, a chance for soli­tude and the op­por­tu­nity to live in an un­de­ni­ably beau­ti­ful lo­ca­tion. John and Kather­ine op­er­ate the Ozone Café, part of the un­manned Stevenson light­house which still guides ships round this no­to­ri­ous stretch of coast­line on Scot­land’s north-west tip. The café is open 24 hours-aday, 365 days-a-year and by the time vis­i­tors reach it, any re­fresh­ment is most wel­com­ing. To reach John’s tea counter you have to drive to Dur­ness, Bri­tain’s most north-west­erly vil­lage, take a tiny ferry across the Kyle of Dur­ness then jump in a minibus for the 11mile trip to the Cape. If you’re in the area and the ferry’s in op­er­a­tion, put ev­ery­thing else on hold. It’s an ex­pe­ri­ence not to be missed. Cape Wrath takes its name from the Norse for “turn­ing point”, where the Vik­ings ei­ther headed east for home or south to the He­brides. Mov­ing to the Cape was a sig­nif­i­cant turn­ing point for the Ures fam­ily but one they haven’t lived to re­gret. Glas­gow en­gi­neer John was look­ing for prop­erty in need of restora­tion. He missed out on the light­house at Ard­na­mur­chan but when he heard the one at Cape Wrath was avail­able on a 25-year lease for £25, he jumped at the chance. “We had three small kids and we thought it would be bet­ter to bring them out of Glas­gow and bring them up, up north,” says John. “Thank­fully, they liked it up here with a brand new school in Dur­ness and plenty beaches to play on.” There’s no deny­ing the harsh­ness of the Ures’ ex­is­tence. For most of Fe­bru­ary there’s not a great deal to do apart from keep­ing cosy and lis­ten­ing to gales whistling round the light­house or waves crash­ing against the cliffffffs. But then, there’s the sense of soli­tude and calm – and on a wind­less sum­mer’s day, few places can com­pete with Cape Wrath, which is a scenic at­trac­tion in it­self. The cliffs along the coast at Clo Mor are, at 274m (900ft), the high­est on mainland Bri­tain and are worth even a ten­ta­tive look. A climb to the trig point on Du­nan Mor (163m or 535ft) will give you mag­nif­i­cent views of the

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