The forgotten corner of Scotland – without another person in sight

“Why did the fungus and the algae get married?” asked Fraser Connal, from Gairloch Canoe and Kayak Centre. The shrill piping of an oystercatcher pierced the misty calm of Shieldaig Bay as we pondered possible punchlines. “No ideas?” he persisted, gamely. “Because they took a lichen to each other!” The groans might have been a little more vigor­ous had we not been partly pre­oc­c­upied with staying afloat. None of our party of six, squeezed into three two-person kayaks, had much paddling experience and, while our guide explained the biology of ­seaweed, we were doing our best to remain stationary.

Kayaking around Shieldaig bay

To be fair, Fraser had earned himself the odd appalling pun. For an hour, he had shepherded us expertly around the bay, solicitous to the occasional beginners’ wobbles, while pointing out everything from bladderwrack on the rocks to starfish on the seabed. It was perfect kayaking weather: an overcast morning, with the low cloud that obscured our mountain backdrop bringing an intimacy to the limpid bay and its shoreline fringe of lush, mossy oak forest. In the still air, bird voices were sharper than our own: common terns shrieked overhead; a heron squawked in protest, nudged by our approach into ponderous flight.

Shieldaig Bay lies in Wester Ross, the north-west corner of the Scottish Highlands spread roughly between the Isle of Skye to the south and Ullapool to the north. Since 2015, with the launch of the North Coast 500 – a 516-mile scenic road tour of the Highlands from Inverness – its delights have loomed a little larger on the tourist map, increasing the trickle of camper vans and convertibles. Or, at least, so say the locals. I’ve been coming here for years, though, and despite their adamance that the region is overrun, it felt as undisturbed as ever, with the little harbour town of Gairloch and many of the beaches gloriously unpeopled. 

As we completed our circuit, paddling back towards the slipway, we found a posse of harbour seals watching us from a rock platform exposed by the falling tide. Fraser pointed out how their shorter-nosed, puppy-like faces distinguish them from the grey seals that also frequent the area. I asked him whether he’s ever seen an otter in this bay. “Just twice,” he tells me. “They’re here, but you’ve got to be lucky.”

Time for hiking (and wildlife spotting)

Cloud blanketed the summits as we drove back into Gairloch. But with no sign of rain, we pulled on boots and set out with packed lunches up Flowerdale Glen. A broad track winds past Flower­dale House, seat of the Mackenzies since 1738, but soon narrows. As we climbed more steeply, the birches and rowans clung more tenuously to a rocky trail beside the white-water cascades and peat-blackened pools of a tumbling burn. Watching my footing, I discovered wildlife delights at boot level: a palmate newt ­wriggling across a puddle; an emperor moth, its ornate wings shivering on a sprig of heather. 

By the time we reached the top, the mist had cleared, raising the curtain on a stirring panorama: back below us, Gairloch Harbour opened onto an unbroken view across the Minch to the Outer Hebrides on the horizon; at our backs, the formidable mountainscape seemed to promise a wild, unexplored interior. We broke for lunch on a comfortable boulder encrusted with colourful lichens. (Did you hear the one about..?) My binoculars picked out two young red deer stags on the distant slopes, looking suitably monarch-of-the-glen. Then, thrillingly, a golden eagle broke the skyline and spiralled effortlessly into the blue on the first thermal of the day.

The great raptor is a rare treat. Wester Ross has outstanding wildlife, but you can never order up your sightings. Those who have a long checklist but are short on time may find other destinations easier. You want guaranteed eagles? Mull’s your best bet. Dolphins? Try the Moray Firth. Up here, I’ve learnt never to expect. An eagle may deign to offer a glimpse or it may not. Meanwhile, you put yourself out there – scaling the ridges, tramping the headlands, scanning the waves – and you take what comes. The going can be tough and, by midsummer, the midges maddening, but your rewards will come – and often when you least expect them: perhaps a pine marten scampering through the garden of your holiday cottage or a minke whale feeding just off the point. Meanwhile, you’re guaranteed vistas to stir the soul, a soundtrack of skylarks and cuckoos, and barely another soul in sight.

Over the week, our explorations continued and, with eyes peeled, the wildlife kept coming: at Mellon Udrigle, a passing porpoise broke the surface like a turning wheel; at Red Point, the sea detonated with plunging gannets; above Loch Ewe, a sea eagle soared overhead on tabletop wings. And when the rain played its hand – as in this part of the world it always might – we retreated to the charming Gairloch Museum to learn about Torridon sandstone and bloodthirsty clan feuds, peered into a replica croft house and admired the original lens of the ­dramatic Rua Reidh lighthouse. 

Empty beaches

Our last day dawned sunny. As we made the 90-minute drive back to Inverness, we dropped off en route at Gruinard Bay for a final dose of beach. There’s a short scramble down through the dunes, where whitethroats flit through the gorse and sand martins strafe the burn, before you emerge onto yet another perfect crescent of white sand. As ever, there wasn’t a deckchair or an ice-cream van in sight. In fact, there wasn’t another soul in sight. We crossed the beach and scrambled up onto an island promontory, its heather sprinkled with showy sea pinks and shyer primroses. The waves lapped against the rocks below and, in the swell, the head of an animal surfaced. Another seal? No, it was smaller – and it had a tail. An otter! We watched as the animal clambered out, sniffed around, then slipped back into the surf and was lost from sight. It seems we got lucky. Again. I was dying to tell Fraser.

How to do it

Gairloch Canoe and Kayak Centre (07787 526299; gairlochkayakcentre.com) offers a variety of outdoor activities, including a half-day sea kayaking, from £45. Those with a love of the great outdoors will find a stay at the Torridon (01445 700300; thetorridon.com) – with its sublime country-house vibes, superb coastal setting and mountain views – hard to bear. Double rooms cost from £305 a night. Read the full review here.

For more information on the destination: visitwester-ross.com