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Heralded as Scotland’s last great wilderness, the KNOYDART peninsula is a place of great beauty and long summer nights, finds Rachael Street.
I was a strange day to be travelling to Knoydart, one of the most remote and hard to reach peninsulas on mainland Britain. As the G8 summit kicked off in earnest and four bombs exploded in central London, we were making the six hour drive to Mallaig in order to catch the afternoon ferry over to Inverie. A succession of coach parties, lorries and winding single-track roads seemed determined to thwart our trip. But luck was just on our side (and I mean only just), and thanks to the patience of our ferrymen, we made the crossing with seconds to spare. Gliding into the bay, we were rewarded by a beneficent, open arms greeting from the Virgin Mary, a pale statue perched on the hill, which gave our am'val a miraculous feel. Later, we found out that this hangover from the days when Knoydart was under the control of Catholic landowners is actually an ugly. fibreglass model — nothing like the stone beauty we imagined. But then you don’t always get what you expect on Knoydart. In the vast bay, the village of Inverie was only a speck. a row of picturesque white buildings marred only by a building site that will soon produce a bigger and better pier. On its completion, this much needed harbour could
‘ ‘” bring a whole new flock of visitors to Knoydart — a thought which on first arrival is unbearable. The hills that rise around this tiny civilisation have an incredibly unspoilt beauty. partly because the area is so difficult to reach. My first urge was protective — I wanted to keep it a secret. leave the place unsullied — perhaps I could ring my editor and suggest a different feature. For Knoydart is that rare thing in the UK — an expanse of peaks and glens that has a truly untouched feel. There are none of the usual trappings of tourism and you can walk for miles without seeing another human being or an inhabited building. Yet it‘s all too easy to get sentimental about this kind of place and its more traditional way of life. where a mobile phone signal is unheard of, there are few televisions and little radio reception apart from the shipping forecast.
Despite all of this apparent isolation. when you’re on Knoydart for a few days. it doesn’t feel like the edge of the world but the centre of it. Folks go out of their way to help you out and it's easy to get sucked into the way of life as if you’re a fully-fledged resident. Our base for the weekend was with Gwen Barrell at the Pier House. a homely hotel only a few steps from the end of the current dock. Set in a prime location for watching the coming and going of yachts in the bay and catching up on village gossip. it also has a restaurant downstairs that serves up great fresh seafood and stunning puddings. We ate incredibly well that night — an experience that was repeated everywhere we dined, which. in a country where food is so often disappointing. was a true joy.
However, the true heart of Inverie was the Old