The man from Newcastle doing the E2E in lieu of a round the world cycle trip was repacking his crinkly plastic bags in the dorm. for the second time. I offered him 3 mini choc bars for the 3 big hills en route to Durness he said I'd need 15 on the coast road to Achinver! Coffee at 7 with the happy Swedish family from Sonunda: Anders and Matilda Norstrom and their children Arvid and Beata. Anders was worried about our British plumbing today and our strange ways to waste energy in our homes..."this would not be allowed in Sweden", he said, gravely. "It shouldn't be allowed here", I said. Breakfast in Lochinver was interrupted by biting insects so back on the bike to the next bay on the coast; Inverkirkaig. Sat on a bench dedicated to husband and wife Drs Munro...'who loved this place'. Both me and the deer busily hoovering the grass appreciated the place too. A man walking a large white fluffy dog expressed his contentment and we both talked about the pulses of traffic on this tiny wee road: firstly the workforce rushing to depots for 7; then the local warm rolls and newspapers by 9; followed by the tourists with no kids by 10; then the children encumbered by 11; finished off by the Range Rover brigade (with or without rods) around 12. He said it happened just about every day except Sunday. Travelling now in another extraordinary landscape of saw toothed mountains Suilven, Canisp, Cul Mor, Cul Beag and Stac Pollaidh...here and there I noticed personal artistic offerings to this powerful place: cotton grass buds stuck in formation patterns to bushes and mounds of stones in imitation of the stac scenery. It was moving to think that probably only I and their creators saw them as the cars passed by unaware. At Loch Bad a Ghaill the landscape suddenly flattened and the light increased in intensity as I headed once more into the wind and the coast at Achiltibuie. Found the PO with a sign saying 'Internet access from here' but it was Thursday halfday closing! Made up for all the frozen food catering supplier lorries that had passed me on the roads by finally finding real, local, fresh seafood at the Summer Isles Bar. Oysters, langoustines, squat lobsters, smoked salmon and smoked roast salmon from the local smokery, roll mop herring and anchovy, salad, mayonnaise, bread and lemon: perfectly accompanied by a glass of Red Cuillin beer from the Isle of Skye Brewery. The sun was hot and the Summer Isles were in sight of the bar. Officially SLOW. Followed that by a visit to the Hydroponicum; a collection of unsightly plastic sheds on an old crofting plot, exploring soil-less agriculture. It was self billed as the 'agriculture of the future' but felt more like a Blue Peter project using recycled margarine tubs. Individual plants were being given individual care in their little pots including espalier apples such as Nettlestone Pippin from the IOW, and Charles Ross and Red Miller's Seedling from Berkshire. No one seemed to know why these rare varieties came to be there. Upwards in the plastic house to see the most northerly bananas in Scotland..sweet and small from the Canary Islands. Meanwhile outside the survival agriculture of crofting and everywhere poignant reminders of evictions and clearances in roofless houses left like gravestones in the community fields. My SYHA accomodation at Achinver was a small white house reached (after a half mile walk) by a footbridge over a gurgling mountain stream with one of the most impressive views in Britain. I was the only guest and, after my now traditional evening rigors hour, spent the rest of the night with my hosts Reuben and Claire around a little stove, my bottle of Cuillin Black beer and Reuben's experimental 'leftovers' cooking (sausages, sliced apple and pasta in extra strong cider). I offered some supplementary cheese on wheatbread toast as the light faded over the CalMac ferries heading for Stornoway. A stunning place.