As the third day of August unfurled before us, we left Alness to head for the small hamlet of Tongue, a mouth-watering prospect, on the Northern Scottish coast. Along the way, quite by accident, we found the Falls of Shin, a fast series of Rapids and Falls cutting through a small rocky gorge.
Following the tourist signs we were led down increasingly narrow roads, until eventually a single track led us out into a large clearing containing a car park, kids playground and tourist centre. Clearly, the Falls were rising. There was a sign indicating a path down to a viewing platform, and we went down to look.
“Not the best Falls I’ve seen” I rather unkindly said, after briefly peering down into the frothing waters, but Miki agreed. We headed back up to the tourist gift shop, which inexplicably sold a mountain of Harrods Goods. I found out later that this land and the gift shop were owned by that celebrated Scot, Mohammed Al Fayed. And we’re worried about the Premiership being owned by foreign investors….
Any how, as we exited the gift shop replete with souvenirs, having dutifully lined Mr.Fayed’s already overflowing pockets, I happened to notice the Falls of Shin logo, featuring a Salmon. Realisation, like a 10 ton cartoon weight dropping on my head, suddenly dawned. “It’s where the Salmon leap!” I exclaimed to a nonplussed Miki.
All credit to her, having not the slightest idea to what I was referring she accompanied me as we scampered back down to the viewing platform and almost immediately saw a beautiful, graceful fish explode from the foam, gaining seemingly impossible height, fighting against the roaring flow of the Shin. Then another, and another. Nature’s incredible struggle against almost impossible odds, the salmons overwhelming compulsion to return upstream, regardless of obstacles. Then, another, powerful giant of a Salmon, leapt gracefully, water, like a string of pearls, cascading in its wake, its tail already swishing ready to take the tremendous force as it dropped into the upper stream. It was thrown to the banks with the water’s force, almost grounded, but it flicked itself back in and we watched, open mouthed, in awe, as it held its own against the relentless torrent. Side to side, it slowly gained ground, inexorably making its way against the odds and all reason. It had won. It was one of the most incredible things I have ever seen in my life.
As the day drew to a close, we neared Tongue, and got a tantalising glimpse of the North Atlantic. It felt like we’d reached the end of the world.
As we crested the final hill before dropping into Tongue village, we saw a great causeway and bridge spanning the estuary on which Tongue sits.
We headed down to it, via a delightful switchback road that dropped us down the hillside, and found a small parking area right on the land bridge. The tide was out, and after careful inspection, I felt that during the night it wouldn’t rise enough to bother us. We set up for the night on this strange land bridge between promontories, it was most odd! Stranger still, we were joined by a further three motorhomes in our little area, one Belgian, a guy with four dogs, and two Spanish from Barcelona, travelling together. They’d made the run from home to the top of Scotland within a week. It was then that Miki and I realised once again just how lucky we are to have the gift of time to do the things we love. So there we were, a little international community, tucked in together on a small sliver of land at the top of Europe for the night, as the wind howled and the rain lashed….and the tide came in.
Text by Kev Moore
Art & Photos by Miki
Both on Planet Goodaboom
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