Inland extends a long succession of mountain summits, similar to those already seen above Aultbea. Over Rudha Coigeach, tower the great peaks round Loch Assynt and Kyle Skou, conspicuous among which is the cone of Suilven, flanked by Queenaig and Canisp. Next comes the mountain group of Coigeach, crowned by the broad Beinn Mhor. Then, isolated and steep, the dark double-peaked Beinn Gobhlach heaves itself between the two Loch Brooms, and, being separated entirely from the rest, stands as a grand centre to the picture. Finally, closing the line to the right, rise the domed Sail Mor and the pointed peaks that stand round Loch na Sheallag.
This wide expanse of mingled sea and shore, island and mountain, becomes an indelible memory, especially under a favourable sky, bearing with it the proverbial joy.
One extraordinary feature of the scene is the absolute want of trees, except a few at the head of Loch Gruinard. The country looks to the eye as bare of wood as Caithness or the Uists.
But more remains. Descend the road a short distance, and climb a slight eminence on the left, which will tax the strength of none. From its top, low as it is, a still more magnificent prospect may be had, unusual in its sweep and remarkable for the number of hill tops in sight. At one glance your eye commands the whole series of mountains comprised in both the views already obtained, from Sutherland to Applecross, the peaks crowded round Loch na Sheallag and Fionn occupying the centre of the splendid circle. In the far north, in clear weather, the isle of Handa at Scourie is distinctly seen, and under very favourable conditions Cape Wrath itself is reported at times to be visible. Behind you, to the west, appear the outlines of the Lews and Harris, the shadowy representatives of Atlantic lands. This remarkable outlook should by no means be missed.
But there are other matters besides the scenery that will interest not a few. On the shore, where the road strikes the coast, the picturesque old chapel, amid its overgrown graveyard, will draw the antiquarian and the sentimentalist to observe and to meditate. The sandstone cliffs will attract the geologist; and these should interest even the common traveller. The coast consists of a series of steep cliffs, whose unusual redness arrests the eye. Here, hidden away, as it were, in this remote bay, occur two patches of the Trias, one of the rarest systems in Scotland, only a few scattered patches representing that comparatively modern epoch, here enclosed by the two most ancient systems of Britain, the Hebridean gneiss and the Torridon sandstone, as elsewhere explained.
Beyond the sandy bay to the east, the shore rises into high precipices, unusually contorted and picturesque, with isolated stacks and projecting capes, which shew varied forms and remarkable "weathering." A footpath leads down the cliff, and should be followed to the beach. There one of the old caves, excavated by the sea in a crack of the Trias, has been enclosed by a wall and put under lock and key. It is regularly used as a chapel by the Free Church, and there numerous worshippers gather on Sabbath, and, seated on the boulders that form the pews, listen to sacred words and sing their weird Gaelic psalms. This cave is cold and comfortless compared with another at Cove on the other side of Loch Ewe, also utilised as a church. This other is formed in the Torridon sandstone, and is roomy and dry, and well seated with planks laid on stones. The entrance is festooned with wild plants and flowers, and the interior shews a full view of the open bay and the land beyond. Worship under such conditions must be at once picturesque and impressive.
Close to this cave on Gruinard Bay another exhibits a still more interesting sight,—a modern example of the ancient cave-dwellers. It is the home of an old woman of seventy, and a girl her sole companion. The front of the shallow cave has been rudely closed in with stones, turf, and cloths, leaving an opening above through which escapes the smoke of the peat fire. The interior is barely furnished with the simplest of necessities. The fire is close by the door on the left, and the bed lies on the ground on the right just under the open roof, though protected by the projecting rock. The old dame seemed bright as the sunshine when we visited her this summer (1886), and declared that, though rough, the place was more comfortable than it looked. As she drank her simple cup of tea from the top of a box, after putting some clothes to dry upon the shore, with her wrinkled but intelligent face, her Gaelic Bible her only literature, the wild rocks round, and the splash of the restless waves in the ear, this simple, solitary old woman looked as picturesque and pathetic an object as I had ever seen, much more so than the wildest of gipsies at a camp fire. But this is not the place to enter into her story.
Beyond this the road passes through two townships called Coast. These stand where an interesting junction occurs between the Trias system and the Torridon sandstone; while a little further on exists another junction between the Torridon sandstone and the grey contorted gneiss.
The numerous blocks along the shore, mostly foreign to the ground, are monuments of the great Ice Age.