DURING the latter end of the summer, I walked across Scotland, from coast to coast.
Our little expedition was for a BBC television programme that will be broadcast at Christmas and, although I'd walked across the breadth of Scotland before, this crossing was a little different.
On previous trips, I had started in the West before heading east and the first time I walked across Scotland, before I was as familiar with the Scottish landscapes as I am now, it didn't worry me too much, although I do recall a reluctance to leave the mountainous terrain of the West behind me.
But last year I walked across Scotland again, as part of the annual TGO Challenge.
Our chosen route lay between Inverie in Knoydart and St Cyrus, near Montrose, and it wasn't until we crossed over the Mam Meadail, the first major divide of our crossing, that I suddenly realised what had been niggling me all morning.
Dropping down from the high pass towards Sourlies, with Sgurr na Ciche and Ben Aden looming over us, an awareness of what lay ahead of us unexpectedly hit me.
Curiously, it wasn't the fact that we had more than 200 miles of mountain terrain, tracks and footpaths to negotiate but I sensed, somewhere in my being, that we were going the wrong way.
We were walking east against all my natural inclinations, and the power of those inclinations almost stopped me in my tracks. I was leaving my beloved West behind
When I thought about it, I realised that all my backpacking trips have been in the direction of West, or North.
I've always preferred the West Coast of the USA to the East; I've travelled extensively on the West Coast of Ireland but very little in the East; I really don't know the East of England at all but I'm pretty fond of the Lake District, Wales and the West Country.
For a number of years I lived in Aberdeen, but I couldn't settle in that East Coast city. All my inclinations point west, and I'm not sure why
Last summer, as I left Aberdeen Beach after dipping my toes in the chilly waters of the North Sea, I felt much more comfortable about the direction I was moving - it was as though the West was gently pulling at me.
I guess it was a sense of expectation and anticipation, and as I wandered along the Deeside Way towards Aboyne I was already looking forward to climbing Mount Keen, Scotland's most easterly Munro.
We had taken the decision to not only walk across the breadth of Scotland but, en route, climb our most eastern Munro and the most westerly Munro on the mainland, Ladhar Bheinn in Knoydart, and if the latter hill isn't a great magnetic pull to keep me walking westwards across Scotland I don't know what is.
We eventually got there, via Braemar, the Lairig Ghru, Aviemore, Newtonmore, the Corrieyairack, Glengarry, Glen Kingie and Glen Dessary.
The final couple of days were the highlights of the trip for me as we met up with my old pal, the nature writer Jim Crumley, and made our way through the glorious Rough Bounds of Knoydart and over to Barrisdale on Loch Hourn where the landowners, the amiable Gordon brothers, made us as welcome as ever.
We climbed Ladhar Bheinn in the rain, but thoroughly enjoyed it, before descending to Inverie and the comforts and delights of Scotland's most isolated pub, the Old Forge.
I think it made an appropriate ending for our walk, and as I dipped my toes in the western waters of Loch Nevis I felt I had almost come home.
A Scottish Coast to Coast will be shown on BBC 2 Scotland during Christmas week.
