Field Notes: A Sandwood Country Almanac

Join Sandwood Conservation Officer Carrie Weager on a virtual walk between beaches we look after in the North West corner of Scotland

Thanks to a rare and wonderful area of high pressure sitting over Scotland for over a week now, the daily walks of ‘lockdown’ on the Sandwood estate have been bright, sunny, and occasionally quite hot when the breeze drops! At the weekend my wandering took me along the coast, from Sheigra to Polin and back again.

The beach at Sheigra, normally busy with campers and day-trippers, is quieter at the moment than it will have been for many years. As I set out on my walk I am acutely aware of how lucky I am to live in this place at this time, and that the majority of people are far less fortunate.

The ever-present common ringed plovers run on ahead as I walk the short length of the beach, while a pair of oystercatchers wheel noisily out of my way, wanting the place to themselves again.

I climb the path up the headland of Cnoc Garbh (rough hill) until the views open up over Eilean an Ròin Mòr and Beag (large seal island and small seal island), towards Handa island and Assynt’s Stoer peninsula. The hills of Lewis and Harris are just visible on the far horizon.

Turning to look back at the calm water of the bay I notice a red-throated diver, in vibrant breeding plumage once more. I sit and watch its long dives below the surface, clearly visible as it glides over sandy patches. Further out in the bay there is a sudden commotion, as a great black-backed gull swoops down to take a sizeable brown fish from a cormorant. Its attempts to defend its catch by diving underwater eventually fail, and it must find another meal.

The familiar sound of fulmars has returned to the cliffs, and the views open up to the west as I round the headland, bringing the three iconic peaks of Foinaven, Arkle and Ben Stack into view. A male wheatear scolds and flits from rock to rock as I walk along the track.

The primroses are still in full flower, and the edge of the path is dotted with common dog-violets, brought suddenly into flower by the sun of the last few days. In a small cleft above Droman beach the air is heavy with the scent of the scurvygrass that clings to steep, damp walls where the land drains down towards the sea. The first garden bumblebee of the year is making the most of the primrose feast, while the thrift and the roseroot, flowers not far behind, wait quietly for their turn.

As I walk up onto the machair on Am Meall (the hill), I look for signs of the profusion to come: the globeflower and knapweed, kidney vetch, milkwort and birds-foot trefoil. Leaves are appearing, but their season seems distant yet. Down on hands and knees I find thyme and stonecrop, and the catkins of creeping willow. Small tortoiseshell butterflies have appeared, the first of many.

I make my way down to the white sand of a deserted Polin beach (pictured at the top), skirting round the smelly carcass of a whale cast up by winter storms. I sit a while, boots off, wriggling my toes in the hot sand, before wading into cold, clear water. It’s a while before I leave.

• For more of the 'Sandwood Country Almanac' Carrie is compiling, read about her walk to the flows and tracking an otter.