Month: October 2017

Total miles: 3.6
Elevation gain: 614 ft
Time walking: 10am – 11:15am
Miles to date: 1,398.8

I did it! My 1,400 mile journey has come to an end and I can’t quite believe it is over. After the highs and lows and aches and pains along the way, today I felt fairly calm. It seemed right that this journey was coming to its end but I couldn’t quite work exactly how I felt.

I woke with a mixed sense of excitement, nervousness, sadness and relief. I say “woke” but I didn’t really sleep much at all. From excitement, you might think, but in fact it was because the winds picked up overnight and not only was it incredibly noisy with the wind flapping my tent but I was genuinely worried that I might actually get blown off the cliff into the sea! I have never seen or heard my tent get as battered as it did last night and was terrified that this would be its end, after all its faithful protection along the way. I was envisaging ripped canvas and broken tent poles but in the dark of the night, in raging winds, on the edge of a cliff, there was nothing I could do but sit tight and question the common sense of camping on a clifftop hill exposed to the weather of the bleak north and east.

At some point I must have finally dropped off for a while as I was woken by pain deep in my hips and glutes (a near-nightly occurrence – they regularly seize up when I’m asleep). The contrast in the weather was eerie, everything had gone still and the night was now beautifully calm. I could have cried with relief! It was still dark and I slept on and off as I rolled over time and time again in an attempt to ease my cramping muscles, listening to the wind gradually growing in strength again but thankfully not quite to the ferocity of the middle of the night. Bit by bit it began to get light and I poked my head out to see if there was a pretty sunrise. In front of me the Stacks of Duncansby loomed out of the half-light and to the south east the small golden red patch of clouds indicated where the sun would come up. It wasn’t a spectacular sunrise, but it was pretty, and I wrapped up warm and climbed out of the tent to take it in. I was amazed at how stiff I was this morning. I’m always more stiff after camping but it was as if my body knew that this was it, the last time it would have to get up and walk on this trip.

It wasn’t quite as peaceful as it looked, what with the tent flapping around madly, but as I grew in confidence that it wasn’t about to blow away I was able to relax and enjoy my final morning. I wasn’t in too much of a rush as I was timing my arrival for when Eunice and the minibus gang were due to arrive. I took my time drinking my tea and eating my lovely warm porridge, trying to let it sink in that this was the end. I was so grateful that once again it wasn’t raining. It had rained heavily overnight, on top of the wind, but the tent had been blown bone dry and the sky was clearing. Not bad, considering originally it was supposed to rain heavily all day! I gave one last thankful prayer to the weather gods and packed up everything in my bag except the tent, a skill learned in the rain but useful now in the wind, and contemplated how on earth I would manage to get the tent down without it blowing away! In the end I took the pole out before any of the pegs and sat on the canvas, taking one peg out at a time and rolling it up roughly. It still managed to fan out like a kite and I could feel the power of the wind. Don’t let go!! I rolled the tent up rather haphazardly but managed to get it down, only losing a couple of repair patches from the bag in the process. One was bright yellow and I watched it flutter off into the wind over the cliff, soaring up above the waves. Ah well, hopefully I won’t be needing those!

And then, it was time to make a move. This was it, the final leg. Only a few miles, barely time to warm up. My feet were quite painful to start with and I wondered whether I’d be hobbling to the finish line but thankfully they did ease a little. The view of course was stunning. The waves were crashing around the base of the iconic stacks and the craggy cliffs were just as striking and interesting as they had been along the rest of the coast. My first goal was the lighthouse on Duncansby Head, whose light I had been watching flash over me steadily through the night, marking the most north-easterly point on mainland Great Britain. I passed several people, the most people I’d seen in weeks, out to take photos of the famous sight. Reaching the lighthouse felt strange. You can’t actually get right up to it, so you can’t actually stand on the very most north-easterly point, but I stood as far as I could go, gazing out to sea with only the outer Orkney isles in sight.

I’d like to say I was overwhelmed by the sense of achievement at how far I’d walked, lost to know I’d run out of land to walk on and flooded with relief that I was done. But it just felt surreal! I have grown so accustomed to walking every day that to walk a bit further just seems natural. My backpack, although heavy and now causing some pain, is a part of me and my journey, and this was just another day. Part of me almost wished that I had reached this point limping and practically crawling, so that it felt like more of a momentous occasion! Don’t get me wrong, I did feel an incredible sense of pride and achievement, I just took it all rather more calmly than I thought I might! I think having spent the evening before with the end point in sight, having time to reflect and come to terms with the fact that this was the end, had prepared me somewhat.

Even so, it wasn’t quite the end just yet! I still had the mile or two to walk to John O’Groats itself, the last little bit of the John O’Groats Trail along the coast. The trail skirts the lovely Bay of Sannick, a sandy beach where seals bob idly in the water watching passers-by with curious faces, then the grassy headland of Ness of Duncansby where the famous Seaview Hotel of John O’Groats finally comes into view. At that point I felt a quiver of excitement – that really was the end point, and my friends were waiting. I scanned the coastline to see if I could spot them but they were too far away, too small. It occurred to me that they would be doing the same for me and I perhaps should have worn something more visible – I was in my usual black and grey! A family on the headland stopped to chat, asking when I had finished, amazed when I told them this was me finishing now! My pace quickened as the path turned towards the finish line, now eager just to be done and to give my friends a big hug, to lose my bag – my rib giving me particularly bad pain.

That last half mile seemed to go on forever! The path turned to gravel, there were a couple of gates and then, there they were, waving at me! From the wrong side of the fence! It was actually me who was on the wrong side, somehow, but I wasn’t going to let one final barbed wire fence get the better of me! I hopped over easily and finally got my big hugs. Still not at the end though…a final 100 metres to get to that iconic finishing point – the final signpost. I was there. I’d actually done it!

I had to wait a few moments for some motorcyclists to finish having their photo taken. Gosh, I wonder how long it took them to ride up?! 😉 They shook my hand in amazement when they realised I’d walked the whole way, over three and a half months! And finally, it was my turn. There at the finish line, and a big round of applause from not only my friends but everybody else that was nearby. Cue happy dance!

Someone offered to take my bag for me and suddenly I didn’t want to take it off! I realised that this really was the end, and although my travels would be continuing for a few days longer, me and my bag, somehow taking it off now was incredibly symbolic! But off it came and my shoulders breathed a sigh of relief. I walked more lightly without it, but felt rather lost, almost naked, without it on my back. I’ve realised that my bag has become part of my identity – with it, it’s clear that I’m on some sort of long distance hike, without it, well, I’m just another person. And that will take some getting used to!

So me and six crazy friends – Eunice, Ken, Paul, Steve, Justin and Daddy Ken – who had driven up overnight in a minibus, went to find some obligatory souvenirs and a celebratory breakfast/brunch. We spent a few hours in that tiny place with an (un)surprising number of cafes, gift shops, craft shops etc (even a Christmas shop!), exploring the shops, taking photos next to the sign and the boulder sculptures and eating a ridiculous amount of ice cream (hey, I earned it!). And then it was time to head on. The crazy minibus crew had to turn around and drive all the way back again and I had to catch a ferry to Orkney. I was glad that I had something to look forward to. Whilst I was sad to say goodbye to my friends having only just seen them, I am glad to have given myself some space and time to reflect on it all before I return home to whatever the new normal will be.

And that is the end of my LEJOG adventure. I’m sure that you, like me, will feel like it has ended rather suddenly. I know that you have been along on this journey with me and I daresay we will all feel a little lost without it! But it won’t be the end of my blogs, there is still a lot to reflect on and write about over the coming days and weeks, perhaps longer, so do keep coming back to visit!

And finally, a thank you. To you for reading this, either as it happened or when it is long in the past, for all the wonderful messages of encouragement along the way. For everyone who believed in me, for everyone that helped me in some way along the way. It all mattered. Thank you xx

Total miles: 11.6
Elevation gain: 1,522 ft
Time walking: 9:45am – 5pm
Miles to date: 1,395.2

I am sitting outside my tent, wrapped up in multiple layers, with a spectacular view of the Stacks of Duncansby, and Duncansby Head just beyond. If you aren’t familiar with the geography of north east Scotland that basically means two things. Firstly, I am about 2.5 miles from my finishing point at John O’Groats. Secondly, that I have one of the most spectacular camping spots in the country! My incredible journey ends tomorrow morning when after 103 days and a fraction under 1,400 miles I finally reach that famous signpost at the very top of Great Britain.

Most of today felt surreal. I woke up to a beautiful morning, in a room overlooking the sea and the sunrise, and after a lovely breakfast Neil dropped me back at Keiss to start my penultimate leg and last full day of walking.

The morning’s path took me between the two Keiss castles, one old, one new, the old ruins standing tall against the blue sky beside the sea, the “new” castle (18th century) tucked back a little. More beautiful coastline, the cliffs gradually starting to get a little higher again. The rocks here are really blocky – almost like the gods have been playing a giant game of Tetris! I pass a large broch which looks like it had inner and outer walls and multiple outer buildings, and a strange broch-like monument built in honour of the man who first excavated the settlement. It’s amazing to think that people were living here well over 2000 years ago, tucked away among those walls!

Some soggy walking alongside a pig farm was rewarded by the dramatic ruins of Bucholly Castle, perched high on what is virtually a sea stack, just the tiniest ridge of rock connecting it to the mainland. It was blustery, so I didn’t venture over for closer inspection! Around the next headland I have a great views of Freswick Bay, with Skirza (the last little settlement before John O’Groats) spread out in the middle and Freswick Castle at the southern end. My route past Freswick Castle took me through a large patch of nettles but thankfully Jay had warned me of these so I was ready to switch into scrub-bashing mode! Down onto the beach and then quickly back inland slightly to get across a burn that I couldn’t be bothered to ford. Back on the beach and then a bit of field walking. Thankfully the cows that had left cowpats and deep hoof marks were nowhere to be seen!

The path drops down to the beach again below shallow cliffs where there are fantastic colours and interesting rocks, then up to a bench made out of boulders and pebbles overlooking the bay, a bench that Neil had made! I had reached my lunch stop.

It’s funny how I expected this section of the journey to be really remote and lonely – I’ve ended up making lots of friends in these parts! Neil made me a delicious lunch of homemade soup, chicken sandwich and a cup of tea, which was all much more civilised than I had expected for my last day! I didn’t dare stop too long as I didn’t trust myself to get going again, but Neil walked the next half mile with me which was nice.

The weather wasn’t so nice by the time I was rounding Skirza head and onto the home straight. It could definitely have been a lot worse though – it was dry at least – so I’m not complaining! Lost in my thoughts and carefully picking my way around a couple of narrow geos sudden movement ahead makes me jump. A young red deer skitters out of the dip in front of me and starts to run away along the cliff. He tries to jump the fence but fails, crashing into wire, sending it shivering. He panics, and bolts back towards me, passing me just a few metres away, scarily close the the cliff edge. He was so close I could see his patchy fur and the wild look in his eye. I watched him dash off and leap on his way over ditches and, more successfully this time, a fence or two. I’m amazed at how many deer I have seen in the last week. From resigning myself to perhaps not seeing any, to seeing deer most days! Just the one stag though. He was very special!

I could tell I was getting further away from civilisation as the fences eventually ran out and the path wandered along on open moorland with not a house in sight and dramatic cliffs below. I soon reach Wife Geo, one of the more famous geos on account of the stunning near-stack right in the middle and the through-cave in one of its sides. It was an impressive sight, too much to capture in a decent photo, but standing near the edge made me a little giddy (it is a particularly deep geo) and I continued a little further away from the edge. The path was distinctly visible here, a sign that despite being away from major settlements it was reasonably well used. Given the scenery, I’m not surprised, and it was pleasant to walk along a decent (if at times boggy!) path for a change. I still didn’t actually see anyone though!

Wife Geo

Ahead was a slight rise – the Hill of Crogodale. It was barely worth calling a hill really but it certainly deserves that title for the view it delivers. There is no higher ground between the Crogodale and the islands of Orkney, which meant that I had a clear view down to the Stacks of Duncansby, Duncansby Head, John O’Groats and the islands beyond. Tiny Stroma, the closest island, was clear and distinct, with the hills of Hoy shadowy in the background. South Ronaldsay, linked to the mainland, was also clear, and the tiny island of Muckle Skerry with its lighthouse over to the east, with nothing but wide open sea beyond.

Gosh, I could see my end point! And what an end point. I’ve only ever questioned my south-north choice once, and this afternoon, looking at that view, I was heartily glad I’d stuck with my decision. The Stacks of Duncansby are genuinely spectacular. I wondered whether they might be famous solely on account of their proximity to John O’Groats, but no, they are stunning. Tall, triangular, pointy, majestic. Combined with Duncansby Head and Orkney behind, sea all around, they make for a breathtaking sight and a fitting end to my journey.

I had one last challenge for the day – finding a dry, flat camping spot. I’d set my heart on camping overlooking the Stacks, so at least that narrowed my search slightly! It actually wasn’t as hard as I had thought it might be. There were a few flattish spots and a couple were even more or less dry. My spot is ever so slightly lumpy as there’s nowhere with just plain grass, but I have to say it is actually quite cosy – the lumps are fairly squashy so provide a bit of cushioning! The main plus point though: the view. I am sitting outside looking right at the stacks. I am so happy to be here. At first when we made the plan for me to get to John O’Groats sometime in the morning I wasn’t sure it would be a great idea – part of me just wanted to get in and finish at the end of the day. But now I’m in this spot I’m incredibly grateful at how it has worked out. I have had the evening to sit and gaze at this beautiful view, contemplating my journey and preparing myself for the finish tomorrow. Some time for it to sink in that I’ve actually done this thing that I set out to do. When I started it didn’t know if I could do it. I believed I could, but I just took each day as it came and suddenly, somehow, I’ve walked nearly 1,400 miles.

I’m going to need some time to process it all, and I’m so glad I have some time in Orkney to do that. I daresay I’ll be writing a few more blog posts to wrap up the adventure, but I’m not entirely sure the magnitude of what I’ve achieved will ever really sink in!

For now though, I’m wrapped up in as many layers as possible (including a headband, hat and three hoods!) and have just added my sleeping bag to the mix. It is now dark and I can see at least 7 lighthouses and a few other lights on the islands. There’s something quite reassuring about the regular flash of the lighthouse beam as it passes my way. It has clouded over slightly now but there are still a few stars about and I can hear the waves far below. It’s a magical spot.

So, tomorrow…! The journey ends but it will also mark the start of something new. There’ll be a few more blogs to come, so if you’ve enjoyed following my posts do stick around for whatever comes next…and I daresay there’ll be another big adventure to write about in the not too-distant future!

Total miles: 12.9
Elevation gain: 652 ft
Time walking: 10:15am – 5pm
Miles to date: 1,383.6

I’m pleased to report that day 101 was considerably better energy-wise than day 100! Whether it was the restful B&B, the bath, this morning’s pre-workout drink (my last sachet…I’d been holding out until I really needed it!), the slightly easier path or just because, after the initial aches and pains and stiffness I seemed to get into my stride again. It started off wet and wild in Wick, with a wet and blustery trip around the headland, and ended up a stunning (but still blustery) day walking along the gorgeous Sinclair Bay. Funny how it turns out!

As all good days should start, breakfast was plentiful and delicious, brought to my room on a tea trolley and eaten overlooking the harbour where the sun was making a halfhearted attempt to break through the clouds, creating beautiful scenes in the sky. The walk started by heading into the town along the busy marina where yachts, fishing boats, wildlife cruise ships and ferries all bobbed along together. Wick itself looked grey, all the buildings hunkered down against weather that hadn’t yet appeared. I’m sure on a sunny day it looks much more cheerful, and perhaps if I was feeling slightly perkier and my feet didn’t hurt suspiciously I would be more inclined to appreciate it! My feet weren’t just aching this morning, there was actually a pain in my left foot, along the bones of my mid-upper foot. It hurt to press it, and I’m not sure my feet were thrilled to be stuffed into my boots again. I hoped that once I got going they’d warm up and relax a bit (thankfully they did seem to, but every time I stop and the boots come off it gets a little more painful!). It sounds terrible, but it really wasn’t that bad really. Just the worst it has been so far!

I had to pop into town to pick up a few last supplies – enough chocolate, flapjack and nuts to see me through to the end, and something for lunch. As I stood in front of the chocolate aisle I had a funny realisation. This would be my final chocolate bar selection! While I’ve been walking chocolate has been a daily habit. Before this trip I very rarely bought chocolate bars (I’m a good quality dark chocolate girl usually!) but it’s easy calories and a brilliant pick me up – physically and mentally – at sticky points in the day. But I wouldn’t be walking any more, in two days’ time! At least not to the extent that it required daily chocolate bars. Which left me with a tough decision….which two chocolate bars would it be?! Chocolate bars selected and some exciting bits picked up for lunch – I went one step better than my usual ham when I found an exciting pack of cheddar cheese sticks with a Branston pickle dip! Ham, cheese and pickle wraps it is then. And a last bag of crisps. A few odds and sods more and I went to pay. As I took my card out a voice behind me said “Here, I’ll get that for you”. I turned, amazed. The kind guy behind me told me he’d seen my picture on Facebook and therefore knew I was doing my big walk, and wanted to buy my shopping for me. I was so touched, such kindness! That really gave me a boost, and I had a nice warm spot in my heart all day!

Oh, and it was a Twix and a biscuit and raisin Yorkie 😉

The first couple of miles out of Wick were wet and blustery but thankfully not that cold. I was actually quite enjoying the wildness of it, watching the waves crash along the shore. I had been planning to camp tonight but I had just been put in touch with Neil who lives directly on the trail further north and had offered to put me up. With weather like it currently was, a bed and hot shower was a tempting prospect!

Out of necessity the route follows the little road out to Staxigoe for a few miles which was not the most interesting section but was at least straightforward and even! Staxigoe wasn’t the prettiest place (I have to say the houses up here all look a bit ugly from the outside…functional but not beautiful!) but its harbour was lovely. A useful information board told me that at one point it was the busiest herring-processing harbour in Europe! The road ended here and turned into the driveway of Field of Noss Farm, notable for its “walkers welcome” sign and the great view of the Noss Head lighthouse beyond. The walk then followed seaside fields overlooking shallow cliffs with crashing waves. I wonder if the sheep knew what a great view they had?! Approaching the lighthouse a huge wall cut across the field with only one way through – a rather innocuous looking gate. As I drew closer the gate resembled something out of a Krypton Factor challenge… The gate was crooked and rusty but the main obstacle was the huge pool of water and deep soft mud spreading out several metres from the gate on both sides. I tested the mud with my pole and it sank about half a foot. It didn’t look promising! I poked about a bit more and found some spots that were slightly less deep, aimed for the gate and made a dash for it. The damage wasn’t too bad…my feet were already slightly damp anyway… then on climbing the gate the far side wasn’t actually as bad.

Not quite as muddy as I feared, I headed across towards the lighthouse and then suddenly noticed a large stretch of water to my left. At first I was a little confused, and I wondered if there was a loch I hadn’t noticed on the map, and then it twigged – it was the vast Sinclair Bay. Sure enough as I gained some height the rest of the bay stretched out in front of me, and, to my amazement and excitement, I suddenly realised that I could see Duncansby Head beyond the end of the bay. That’s the headland just beyond John O’Groats, the most north-easterly point of mainland Great Britain, my end point! The end was literally in sight! Just beyond I could see one of the Orkney islands, which gave the impression the mainland just kept going. I was glad it didn’t, even though it was amazing how close Duncansby Head looked. Still, I had the vast bay to skirt first, and my finishing point for the day was two-thirds of the way around it.

There were a couple of distinctive points of interest making themselves visible along the way. Firstly the ruins of Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, then beyond that the stately Ackergill Tower. And then the long stretch of sandy beach flanked by a tall narrow ridge of dunes, the only break in the sand being the River of Wester, not visible from this far away. It all looked at once achievably close and remarkably far away but as I made my way along the cliff tops everything started to gradually creep closer. First stop was the castle, with several of its ruined buildings intact enough to visualise how the castle might have looked in its heyday. It was built on an outcrop of land which was virtually a sea stack and a bridge took me over the deep ditch guarding the entrance. It would have been an impressive place to live, for sure!

A semi-clear path led from the castle to a lovely beach at Ackergill. There was a gorgeous flat grassy spot just above the beach that I thought would make a beautiful camping spot, until I noticed all the cow tracks around…maybe not! Today the field was empty, thankfully. I seem to be getting quite lucky on the cow front at the moment. Cows up here aren’t so used to humans and you have to be a bit more careful near them, however a lot of the fields which clearly often contain cattle were miraculously bovine-free! Without the threat of being trampled by cows I wandered along by the beach enjoying the sunshine, spotting a couple of seals, a mum and her pup, doing the same. Enjoying the sun, that is…they certainly weren’t wandering! They were doing what every sensible being should be doing on a warm sunny afternoon, lazing about, looking very comfortable on their rock!

The path led into the little hamlet of Ackergill and then through a field to Ackergill Tower (a posh hotel). Unfortunately I spoke too soon on the cow front and discovered a small group of cows, plus big ugly bull, waiting at the opposite end of the field…right by my exit gate. I warily ventured into the field and headed their way, keeping close to the fence in case I needed to beat a hasty retreat. I made it about two thirds of the way along when one of the cows got nervous and shied away. That got the bull’s attention and he gave me a long hard look and then, with an almost audible sigh as if I was dragging him away from something very important (to be fair, he did look like he was doing a bit of flirting with the cow next to him), he started to take a few steps towards me. That was enough of a hint for me – I was over the fence and wall in a flash! I made my way down to the other end and the cows all watched me suspiciously from the other side of the wall. I was somewhat dismayed to find a damp, nettle-covered ditch beyond the wall at the other end. To get out I had to climb up onto the wall, shimmy along, pick my way over some barbed wire, then climb down by the gate I had originally aimed for. A bit of a palava, but I’d made it in one piece, and un-trampled by scary bulls, which was rather satisfying!

The path beyond the tower was almost a let-down – easy and obstacle free! On the plus side it came out onto the stunning beach just a little further on, and it was the perfect afternoon for it. Sun, blue sky, blue sea and a strong breeze blowing the tops of the waves backwards in a spray of white. It was incredibly picturesque and reminded me of Druridge Bay in Northumberland where the cover picture for this website was taken! I took the path through the tall dunes which wound around a little but was very pretty. It was also incredibly windy! At points I wondered whether I’d get blown off the top! A little further on the path took me down into the beach and I enjoyed walking along the water’s edge, but was glad I hadn’t walked the whole way on the sand as it was soft and hard going.

A while further and I reached the dreaded River of Wester. I had been apprehensive about this river – the biggest on the trail – since Loth Burn. There are several warnings about it – normally at low-ish tide it should be easily wadeable along the beach but at high tide or in spate it can get up to chest deep! The tide was only half in but I took one look at the river and it was an easy decision to take the inland route. It may well have been fine but I wasn’t taking any chances!

The inland route was a bit of a pain – finding the way into and across the golf course to a gate onto farmland, then cutting through fields to join the A99 to cross the road bridge – but it was safe at least. I also got to see a little of the Subsea 7 factory, a place where they make undersea pipelines in sections 7km long, then use a railway line to feed them into the sea! It was only a brief spell on the road then I cut back towards the sea through the dunes. The sun had gone from this section of the beach but it still shone on the sea and on the village of Keiss up ahead. There were massive rollers coming in from the sea and I wondered what they’d be like to surf. Not that I can surf, but I could imagine that those waves might have been pretty good! I took a while to make my way down the beach as I kept stopping to look at the amazing waves, especially when the wind blew the spray backwards off the top of the waves. White horses galloping onto the shore!

The beach marked the end of my day and I was almost sad it was over. Neil, who I am staying with tonight, met me at the car park. He needed to pop to Wick to pick up a few things for dinner and it amused me how quickly we got there – a matter of minutes, after it had taken me 7 hours to walk! It was interesting to see the route from the car too, the way I would have walked had it not been for the JoG trail. It was still scenic, but had nothing on the coast path! The rest of the evening was very pleasant and definitely far more civilised and comfortable than if I had camped. Neil is a great cook and the multiple courses (including two rounds of dessert!) went down very well, although I fear I may now have to roll myself to the finish line!

Tomorrow is the final full day and it feels a bit strange to be honest! It shouldn’t be too challenging a day, the path starts getting a little more regularly worn at this end and it shouldn’t be a long day either. I’m just hoping the weather holds out as I’m planning to wild camp for my last night…currently the forecast shows heavy rain during Saturday night and all day Sunday…not really the weather I wanted to finish in but ah well, what will be will be!

Total miles: 10.0
Elevation gain: 2,688 ft
Time walking: 10:30am – 6pm
Miles to date: 1,344.7

A “short” day that took a long time! Lots of bracken-bashing today, a rather addictive past-time, which was satisfying but made for slow progress. The reward: stunning clifftop walking, spectacular views of waterfalls cascading straight into the sea, precarious sea stacks and cavernous geos, all of which barely anybody else has seen. Not to mention the satisfaction of helping to create a new path that hopefully many people will go on to enjoy. The downside: aching a lot more than I should do after a ten mile hike!

It was another gorgeous sunny morning when I woke up, although much windier today than the previous couple of days and the sea was choppy and uninviting. Jay (who kindly let me crash on his floor) spent some time talking me through the rest of the route, pointing out potentially tricky sections, and then I headed out, looking forward to being able to take a slower day. I was anticipating, and looking forward to, a bit of scrub bashing on the way as Jay had warned me there were some very overgrown sections that were hard going, and I thought it would be nice if I could make a bit of a path for others to follow. The first section, from Jay’s house, was already well-bashed and easy to follow, although I kept cross referencing against the map and instructions so I could add comments if needed. There are some slightly fiddly sections cutting in and out of the clifftop fence but after a while I was able to stay outside of the fence for most of the way. This is much better where landowner relations are concerned, but currently much harder going!

The views quickly made it worthwhile though, the first extra special sight being a tall waterfall tumbling off the cliff into the sea below, shimmering silver and white in the sunlight against the deep blue of the sea and the pale blue of the sky. It was quite a sight, and I was struck by how nobody would have seen this unless they’d walked this path (which given there isn’t actually a path, isn’t all that many people!) or seen it from a boat. I felt privileged to be up there at that beautiful vantage point.

The waterfall soon disappeared out of sight as the path cut in around a narrow cove and onto the very wet ground above the steep gully through which the stream that fed the waterfall ran. Getting down to the stream was probably the trickiest bit of the day – wet, steep and overgrown with damp-loving plants – but thankfully this is a stream where a bridge has been built so once down it was fine. The way back up was steep but it was also south-facing and grassy, rather than bracken covered or boggy so although tiring it was straightforward.

I took a rest at the top on a handy rock and checked my tracker, amazed to find I had only covered 1.5 miles! The terrain makes such a difference. I hadn’t even been doing that much deliberate scrub bashing yet, just picking my way along the faint path, but I think a fair bit of time was lost crossing stiles and a couple of barbed wire fences (after tearing my waterproof rucksack cover the other day I’m a bit more careful now, although I still managed to catch and enlarge the hole in my waterproof trousers where the seam had started to disintegrate. Ah well, another item to add to the “things I’ve destroyed on this trip” list!).

The next section was pleasantly grassy which made for slightly easier walking, although the grass was long and soft and hid the occasional hole. The wind was stronger too so I was taking it steady on the narrower bits! The next impressive sight was An-Dun, a hill-like outcrop of rock joined to the mainland by an incredibly thin ridge above a narrow sea arch. “Dun” usually indicates a hill fort of some kind…I wonder if people once lived on top of this one. It would be bleak up there on bad days! Pretty fine views though!

Soon after An-Dun there was a gate which marked the end of the grazed section of cliff and I had been warned that past this gate it was very overgrown. Jay wasn’t lying! Up this far north the summer growing season is short but fierce, and unless an area is regularly grazed (or otherwise managed/trampled), bracken (and gorse etc) quickly takes over. Here it was bracken, but thankfully it is the end of the season and it is now dying off which makes it easier to squash! For the next couple of miles I made my way along, trampling a path as best I could. Fun, and satisfying, but slow. And surprisingly tiring! I must be slightly bonkers as it’s not like this journey isn’t challenging enough, without adding in scrub bashing to the mix, but it certainly has added another dimension to my adventure, and one I’m rather pleased about! I have to admit though that I was rather glad when I reached the point where the path leaves the cliff tops before Dunbeath Castle and cuts in through a field (how civilised!) before joining a well-maintained grassy path through the estate, near to but separate from the road. This path eventually joins the old A9 which is now a quiet, pleasant dead-end road leading past the castle driveway into the southern part of Dunbeath.

Along this road I met Ken, the dad of a friend, who lives in Dunbeath, and his lovely terrier. It was so nice to see someone with links to back home, and we chatted about my trip as we walked back to his house (which is right on the sea front!) for a cup of tea and a rest for my feet. The weather was just starting to turn, the wind was picking up and the clouds were looking moody, so it was nice to get inside for a bit. After tea Ken walked me around the harbour to the picnic area where the next section of path started, with a steep climb back up to the cliff tops. The going was much less overgrown on this section, but it was still a tough walk, as you’d expect for any coast path, let alone an unfinished one!

There were some spectacular features along the way – massive geos with sheer cliffs and rocky beaches, waves crashing at their feet, and sea stacks which looked as though they’d topple and fall with the next battering wave. Birds – buzzards, gulls, other birds I didn’t know – flew out of hiding places in the fragmented cliffs and soared over the sea spray and craggy headlands. There were views back towards Dunbeath Castle, its white walls standing out clearly against the dark slopes behind.

The walk continued along the cliff top before retreating a safe distance back from the edge into fields. There was a slightly tricky section that is yet to be properly marked or constructed (i.e. stiles etc built) because the landowner is not playing ball. With the detailed instructions I was fine, but for once my progress was slowed not by heavy undergrowth but by the need to carefully cross barbed wire fences. In order to cross a stream that cannot yet have a bridge built over it the path veers inland toward the road and then back again, and as I was heading towards another set of fences, figuring out the best place to cross, I hear a quad bike draw up behind me. Uh oh!

I had an instant guilty feeling, even though I was perfectly within my rights to be there, and I wondered what the farmer was going to say. He was actually really friendly, and although I think his ulterior motive was to dissuade me from crossing his land, he warned me that the next few fields had cows and a bull in them and the trying to follow the coast was “very difficult”. I didn’t quite have the energy or the desire to explain that I had come across more cows and “difficult paths” than he could imagine and was so far coping very well, thank him very much, so I played the wide eyed schoolgirl and thanked him for the warning. His suggestion (clearly not meant to be ignored, despite saying it was of course completely my choice) was that I head back to the road and follow it into Latheronwheel, which would be easier. I decided it would be easiest just to go along with his suggestion (and to be fair, although the cows were at the far end of the field and would almost certainly have been absolutely fine, I had been eyeing them slightly warily) so retraced my steps across the field to easily join the A9.

I was disappointed to be back on the road as I was so close to completing the day entirely on the path. Furthermore there was a deer farm coming up with an enormous deer-fence-surrounded field which would make it impossible to cross back to the path before Latheronwheel, meaning a couple of miles on the road instead. I felt myself being a bit annoyed with the farmer. It must be difficult though, as a landowner. I can understand their reluctance to open up their fields to a potentially very popular long distance trail, which could see hundreds of hikers passing through, with the challenges that brings in terms of fence maintenance and livestock considerations. It wouldn’t be so bad if all hikers were considerate, but sadly it is still so common to see litter and all such things along trails. I’d like to claim that long distance hikers are perhaps a little more considerate and aware of their impact, but judging by the state of parts of the West Highland Way I’m disappointed that that might not be the case. I do hope that a mutually agreeable solution can be reached though, as it really is so lovely to not be walking along the road!

As I headed down the road I spotted a lay-by on the right and decided to see if I could find a way back to the cliff tops now I was at the far end of the cow field (and out of sight of the farmer!). The deer fence had just begun so I followed it back to the edge of the cow field, which was enclosed by a fence-topped wall. And then, result! I spotted a promising-looking space between the deer fence and cow field wall that looked like it would head right down to the cliff tops. The only problem was that there was a 5-6ft drop down a wall to get to it, not an easy prospect with a heavy backpack. I inspected the wall more closely and was happy (like, seriously happy – fist pump in the air type happy) to find there was a tiny stone ledge halfway down, just big enough for me to carefully climb down if I hung onto the fence and the stones at the top of the wall. Successfully landing ninja-like in the precious gap, I triumphantly headed down the slope, bashing my way through bracken, to pick up the path again.

I was so pleased with myself that I didn’t even worry too much about the rain that started to fall, even though it was pretty miserable. Thankfully I did at least already have my waterproof on, I just forgot to put my waterproof rucksack cover on and my bag got soaked! The path, although slightly covered with bracken, was fairly clear from this point and it was a pretty walk towards Latheronwheel. There was a lovely view of the tiny harbour and the path dropped down towards it over an old stone bridge, before climbing up the other side into the village. The path branched off back to the cliff tops but I was staying in a B&B run by Ken’s nephew right at the top of the village, half a mile further up. It felt like a long half mile after a tiring day, in the rain, as the light was just beginning to fade, and I was pleased to finally arrive, somewhat later than I had expected!

I feel incredibly tired considering I’ve only walked ten miles today. The elevation gain is pretty impressive for that distance though which goes some way to explaining that, on top of the heavy undergrowth. It’s amazing what a cup of tea, a biscuit and a nice hot shower can do though! And I had a lovely dinner with Ken at the Bay Owl, the only restaurant in Dunbeath (felt strange, to be driven back to Dunbeath in a matter of minutes having spent two hours walking from there!), so I think I’m going to sleep pretty well tonight.

Tomorrow I’m merging two stages (the first of which actually started in Dunbeath) so it’s a slightly longer day at around 12.5 miles but hopefully slightly less scrub bashing on the way! It’s going to be a wet one underfoot, judging by the rain I can hear on my window right now…!

Total miles: 16.2
Elevation gain: 931 ft
Time walking: 10am – 7pm
Miles to date: 1,323.1

Wow. After 95 days you’d think I would be getting used to everything that comes with long distance walking; the emotions, the aches and pains, the scenery, the joy, the challenges, the pride, the humility, the wonder, the excitement, the routine….but no, every day still hits me in some way, some more than others. Today was a big buffeting wave that rolled over me and somehow embraced and knocked me all at the same time, and I’m almost at a loss for words to describe it! Today’s walk was one of the most beautiful days and also one of the more challenging days and came with a huge mixture of emotions. I know it is one of those days that will stay with me forever.

As all good walking days should start, I had a good breakfast and a really lovely chat with my Airbnb host Caroline (I highly recommend her gorgeous, peaceful little B&B, Sputieburn, in Doll!). Once again, it proved that one of the most incredible things about this journey is the people I meet along it. I left the house in my waterproofs as we were due heavy showers all day but it wasn’t long before I took my jacket off. The showers came, on and off, but they were mostly light and the wind had dropped today so it was mostly warmer. The wind still picked up every now and then and prompted donning of the jacket for warmth (it’s around 12-14 degrees max during the day here now, but the wind strips away several more degrees!).

It was a short walk back down to the beach where I’d left off yesterday, where the pretty Sputie Burn cascades off a mini cliff down to a pool on the beach. A waterfall is always nice, but first thing – it’s a good beginning to a walk! The beach was still and beautiful. Without the wind the sea was flat, and silvery under a sky that hadn’t quite made up its mind, with gentle waves rhythmically lapping the tiny pebbles at the water’s edge. I was immediately filled with a sense of calm. The sound of the waves, the light breeze carrying scents of salt, fresh air, space and possibility, the serene light, all added to a sense of contentment and peace that went deep to my core. It was so beautiful, even right there, that I could feel tears and emotion welling up and the desire to impart even a little bit of this feeling, this sense of being right here right now, to everyone who needed it – present-ness, peace, fulfilment, grounding, alignment, connection – whatever you might call it. It was a feeling that stayed with me most of the day and I know it has some part to play in my future.

It was almost hard to keep walking at first. If it had been a shorter or easier day I might have sat on a rock there and then, and stayed all day! But I knew I had a challenging walk ahead and I did not want to be caught out by the light along a pathless coastline! I thanked myself for booking Orkney – where I’ll have time to sit on endless beaches – and carried on. A lot of the path merges into one in my memory, but the first two or so miles were reasonably straightforward as the path between Golspie and Brora, although not waymarked, is known and used. It was still quiet though, I didn’t see anybody else out, despite it being a Saturday! I wasn’t alone though – at one point I looked more carefully at some of the small rocks just poking out of the sea, swearing that they’d moved, wondering if my mind was playing tricks with me, when one of them disappeared completely, only to reappear again a few metres to the left. Seals! My first up close seals! There they were, just bobbing along in the sea, watching me curiously. Once I’d worked out what they were they were easy to spot – they bob along with their noses pointed up at the sky, then look around, then sometimes take a quick swim. They always look so happy, just floating around! I was thrilled to have seen them, but when I was a bit further along it got more exciting – there were a whole group of seals on the beach! At this point the path ran inside a field so I wasn’t on the beach which I was glad of, it meant I didn’t disturb them too much but also I got closer before they realised I was there as the field dipped out of view for a bit. As I drew nearer they saw me and some eyed me warily, some grunted and “oomfed” their way into the safety of the waves. They move pretty fast, for creatures without arms or legs! They are amusing to watch when they are lolloping their way into the sea. Is that a word?! Lollop? I don’t know, but it suits seals very well!

All this in about two miles. Today was going to be a glorious – if slow – day! I reached the seaside village of Brora which seemed incredibly sleepy for a Saturday but there was a nice little cafe open so I decided to stop for a coffee and some lunch as there was nothing between there and Helmsdale. The ladies in the cafe were so friendly, and even though they see many End-to-Enders they still showed a lovely mixture of admiration, interest and encouragement. The panini and coffee were delicious too, and set me up well for the next section.

The next couple of miles were easy and beautiful, along the edge of a golf course on a path through the sand dunes. The sky was a mixture of colours from grey to white to blue and the colours reflected on the sea. It was incredible to clearly see half the sea blue, half grey. Along the northern coast ahead of me the hills rolled into the sea with the sun and clouds dappling their bracken covered slopes. A light shower passed over me and headed towards the hills, momentarily veiling them in grey, and then, the most beautiful rainbow I have ever seen. It poured out of the clouds and into the sea, colours shimmering vibrantly. It grew brighter over the next few minutes and I kept stopping to watch it and to try to capture its brilliance on photo, expecting it to disappear any moment. It shone there for well over five minutes though, a beacon signalling my onward path!

At the end of the golf course the railway line, a near-constant companion throughout the day (although only about four trains a day I think) drew near to the beach and I had my first burn crossing. It looked narrow and easy. Unfortunately it was just wide enough that it was un-jumpable and just deep enough that potential stepping stones were submerged or dangerously slippery. After a few minutes of trying to figure out how I could get across without taking my boots off, I resigned myself to having my first enforced paddle of the day. I wasn’t bothered about getting my feet wet, it was quite nice actually, but it’s a real palava, taking the gaiters and boots off, rolling up waterproofs and trousers, crossing (literally in two steps) and then drying feet off properly and ensuring no sand is left to irritate my toes then putting everything back on again. It’s a lot of effort to move forward less than a metre!! Boots back on and feet feeling a little refreshed after their chilly paddle, the path crossed into a field on a small rustic stile, with white paint splashes on fence posts marking the way – always reassuring to find waymarkers, even when it’s reasonably obvious where you need to head….keep the sea to your right….! Out of the field the other side and across another small burn – this one small enough to half tiptoe half jump across.

The path then gets incredibly squeezed between the railway and the beach, and with the tide being mostly in there wasn’t much of an option to walk on the sand so it was a bit of boulder hopping along a rocky embankment beside the railway (with a handy fence in between to cling on to where bits got a bit narrow). There were small sections of grass covered bank too and as I walked along these I instinctively stepped over something in my path. I turned around to see what it was and to my amazement saw an adder curled up in the grass, sunbathing. I’ve never seen a live adder before! I didn’t get too close, adders being venomous (not quite your Aussie killers but can still do some harm!), but it was beautiful with its olive and black zigzags. Hard to tell how big as it was folded up in a concertina, but probably no more than two thirds of a metre, and much more slender than I expected. I left it be and headed on, a warm fuzzy feeling at having seen a little bit more of nature’s magic. A little further on was burn crossing number three, this one wider than the other two, a couple of metres from bank to bank. I spent a few moments looking for the best place to cross. The beach end was relatively shallow if I could dodge the incoming waves, with just one slightly deeper section that looked like it would require boots to come off. In the middle it looked like there could be some stones to hop across but the burn was flowing just a little too quickly – I didn’t trust my balance enough and envisioned an unwanted bath. I opted in the end to cross just under the railway bridge, where there was a slight ledge over which the water fell. It looked just about shallow enough to cross with my boots on (yes, I was getting lazy already!), although there was a small scramble down to get to that section. I made it across no problem, but I can tell my boots aren’t as waterproof as they used to be – or the morning’s wet grass had soaked them enough that they were just letting in any old water now – as although no water went over the top of my boots I still ended up with one slightly wet foot. In hindsight I probably should have just climbed up into the small railway bridge as I don’t think there was another train for ages, but somehow I preferred to face the water than a train!

The next section of path went through (thankfully cow-free) fields and was fairly easy to follow, with another rainbow showing me the way, this time a full arch right over the path ahead! When the path dropped back more or less to the beach I noticed movement in the flat sea beside me. I watched for a while, and a head popped out of the water, looking at me curiously. The seal dove under again, emerging a little closer this time, and then I noticed two others a little further away. They swam closer, inquisitive, and I watched them for a while before heading on along just above the beach. They swam along with me for a while, following me along the coast, and it felt nice to feel like I had a little bit of company! The path ventured up some bracken covered rough ground for a short while but although overgrown there were definite signs of a path which was promising – the trail is obviously being used at points by someone! Along here I saw yet another incredible rainbow, the best one yet, full, bright and a double, pouring into the sea. They are magical things, rainbows!

The day had gone well so far and I was coping well with the “rough” path. Then I reached Loth Burn! Yikes. The developers of the trail stress heavily that the trail is mostly unfinished and challenging in many parts, with a rating given to each section (red/amber/green) giving an overview of just how challenging/unfinished it is. This section is currently marked amber, and I think it’s probably all down to Loth Burn! I followed the instructions in the guide through fairly well beaten down vegetation to the edge of the burn just beneath the tall bridge over which the railway runs. My heart sank. The burn was wide – about 4 metres – and was flowing fast and deep. The guide suggested wading using a weir as a handrail and I could see the paint splash markers on the other side, but that river did not look remotely safe to even try to cross. I looked back at the guidebook, confused. It did say that it was the second biggest river crossing on the whole trail, and it had an alternative crossing suggestion at the beach, so I decided to try there. It was wider at the beach which meant the current looked much less fierce, and it wasn’t so deep. At least the bottom was a bit more obvious! It was cross here or retrace my steps and find an alternative…which definitely wasn’t ideal as the road had veered away from the coast a mile or so back. I looked at the river again and decided that it would be cold, but safe, as long as I took it steady. So it was boots off again, rolling my trousers etc to above my knees, getting the walking poles out and into the water I went. Brrr! It was chilly and quickly went calf deep, and it was uncomfortable and slow going on the pebbly bottom, but the flow wasn’t too strong and as long as I went steadily it was ok. There was a deeper section two thirds of the way across where the water went over my knees up to mid thigh, soaking the bottom of my rolled up trousers. I had to take a deep breath and remind myself to go slow – wet trousers were better than a full dunking! My patience paid off and I made it safely to the other side, where I rested (and recovered my nerves!) on a rock while rewarding myself with chocolate and jelly babies while my feet dried off a little in the faint sunlight. I’d made it! The river crossing had certainly made this section a little more intrepid though, and it took me a while to get back into the happy place I’d been in earlier on in the day, not to mention a little while for my feet and ankles to warm back up again! Brrr that water was fresh! I’d changed into my waterproof socks though, which were nice and cosy after my somewhat damp other socks.

[Edit: I spoke to the trail developer about Loth Burn and showed him some pictures of that river and a couple of the others. He said he’s never seen them that high before! Which explains why it has usually been relatively safe to cross Loth Burn beneath the bridge. They are currently trying to get a contractor to look at the crossing and provide a quote for a bridge, so hopefully the crossing will be much easier for future walkers!].

Thankfully the path took an easier route again after the river crossing, up into a sprawling, peaceful (and slightly eerie!) caravan park at Crackaig. It looked like people either left their caravans there or you hire a permanently-placed caravan. They were dotted along on top of the cliffs, with stunning views! You can camp there too. It was practically deserted, which I think is why it felt a tad eerie. It made for pleasantly easy walking on grass tracks for a mile or so though, which was nice but not fully appreciated until I came to the next section – a couple of miles pushing through long grass in sand dunes with little more than intermittent sheep tracks to follow. At least I knew what general direction I had to head! It was hard work but not unpleasant walking, with more deserted beaches and more seals. I didn’t spot this bunch until they saw me and noisily made for the water, from the safety of which they turned to watch me warily. There were at least twenty, possibly thirty there, all shapes and sizes (I’m assuming a mix of common and grey seals), and some of this year’s pups.

The last kilometre or so was a mixture of scrambles along narrow rocky escarpments and walking along the beach or sections of grass above, picking my way through on an increasingly well defined path. The sun had turned into that gorgeous golden late afternoon colour and bathed the sand and the rocks in a warm glow, silhouetting the coastline behind me and creating colours in the clouds on the horizon that reflected onto the sea. Once again I could have sat on the beach for ages, watching the colours change, but I was conscious I had a couple of miles to go before I reached Helmsdale and I definitely didn’t want to be caught on the coast path as dusk fell! Thankfully the path leaves the coast for the final stretch of the day, cutting across the railway at a level crossing and heading up a good track into the little village of Portgower. From there it follows a track inland and uphill to cross a burn then takes a back lane through Gartymore to drop down much closer to Helmsdale, crossing the bridge over the Helmsdale River with the A9. Daylight was fading as I walked through Gartymore and the lights in the town and around the harbour down below looked incredibly inviting! It started to drizzle as I headed down the hill and I was definitely ready for a cup of tea and a good sit down!

I am staying in a beautiful old house which is an Airbnb but I have the house to myself which is a treat. After the obligatory cup of tea I headed back out into the tiny town to find the one food shop, a Spar. This shop was amazing, it sold everything! I passed a couple of pubs and restaurants on the way and part of me was sorely tempted to duck in for some food but I also was very keen on the idea of having a hot shower, cooking myself something simple and healthy and curling up for an early night! I just about had enough brain power left to buy some sensible food for the next few days while I was there, without buying toooo many cakes and other such sweet treats…!

Today has been epic. I’m so grateful the weather was good as it would have been a lot tougher in the rain. The photos, while amazing, don’t really do it justice! I’m loving this trail. I didn’t realise quite how spectacular it would be. And river crossing aside, it hasn’t been all that bad. It gets less easy from here though, with most days except the last couple marked as amber or red. Tomorrow (a rest day, yay, my final one!) I’m meeting Jay Wilson, the trail developer, to pick his brains about the onward route. Watch this space…!

[For more photos from today, visit my Facebook page: @jlemarinel.lejog]

Total miles: 11.8
Elevation gain: 327 ft
Time walking: 12pm – 5pm
Miles to date: 1,290.4

Oh what a delightfully short and easy day! It felt like a real treat, if a little strange, to be able to slow down today and not rush or feel overly tired. Definitely a good thing, after the last week. My hips and gluts were really tight and aching during the night which, combined with the cold and the rain, woke me up several times. I still seem to not feel too bad once I’m up and moving though, it just seems to take a little longer each day to ease my muscles and joints back into action!

The morning was dry and semi-sunny so I made the most of it by having a leisurely breakfast while the tent dried out a bit after the rain. Then I met Jay, who is the guy who is heading the development of the John O’Groats Trail and gave me the draft guidebook to trial. He lives further north but was driving south and had a few more pages of the maps to give me. It was great to actually meet him after exchanging several messages and emails and he gave me some more tips about various sections of the trail further north.

I finally headed off about midday, just as it started to rain, and was pretty much straight onto the long Dornoch Firth Bridge. The A9 wasn’t as busy as I’d expected but it was windy and there was lots of spray from the rain (which stopped when I got on the bridge thankfully), both worse when tall lorries barrelled by. I was glad of the very secure barrier/fence as occasionally the wind would nearly push me into it! Halfway across the bridge my rib started to hurt again and I sighed. Each day when I start out it is fine, and I have a brief glimmer of hope that it has magically got better overnight. Then a mile or two in the pain hits with a vengeance, and continues on and off for the rest of the day. The first few pangs always seem to be the worst, throughout the day the pain eases slightly (or maybe I get more used to it?). I try to breathe through the worst of it, which isn’t easy as it hurts more when I breathe…! Ah well, only a week and a bit left now…

Reaching the end of the bridge took my mind off the pain for a while as I had to step over the barrier, climb down a grassy embankment and then climb a fence, to join a track which ran at the water’s edge. Definitely worth the slight scramble, suddenly the road was a distant memory and the calm of the shining water, ruffled by occasional gusts of wind, breaking around the rocks and seaweed at the shore, had an instant calming effect. The sun came out and it was perfect! I suddenly had a huge sense of happiness and gratitude, and realised I was looking forward to the next week or so, walking along the coast. How lucky am I, to be out here, up here, doing this?!

The track wound inland slightly after a bit and then headed into fields. All fine, until I spy in the field ahead two very large looking black cows with massive horns. They were possibly bulls, I’m not sure (due to the fact they were right at the other end of the field…not a lack of basic bovine anatomy knowledge!) but they were not your average cow…they looked something like a cross between a Highland cow and a buffalo. Whatever they were, I wasn’t convinced they would let me through the field without showing some sort of unwanted interest in me so I scouted out another route. Thankfully there was a semi-decent path the other side of the fence (maybe lots of other people also didn’t fancy their chances against the horned buffalo cows) so I did a bit of fence scaling and took the slightly less daunting route.

One more field, this one with good old sheep, and I was back to the safety of the road, this time a nice quiet back lane, and then into the pretty Camore Wood. Loads of funky mushrooms and toadstools in this wood! Big ones, small ones, bright ones, spotted ones. There were some flat-topped creamy brown mushrooms that looked just like creme brûlées! Sometimes I wish I knew more about mushrooms, but I’m not sure I’d actually ever dare to forage for them. Just too many deadly lookalikes! The wood was over far too quickly and it was back to the edge of a field and then a mile of pavement into the pretty little town of Dornoch.

I stopped for a few cereal bars and snacks (and bananas, yay!) in a gorgeous little shop-come-deli that seemed to sell everything, then headed down past the old castle and beautiful 13th century cathedral to a little cafe in a shop-come-gallery. I had plenty of time so I had a nice rest there, enjoying lunch and one of the most delicious banoffee pies I have ever had! After two cups of coffee I figured I probably should make a move, especially when they started to prepare to close!

The sun was out again and I had a nice walk through the remainder of the town and out towards the golf course. This was on a slight hill so there were lovely views back across the Firth and out to Tain and beyond, and then as I rounded the corner the sea was there and I was properly on the coast! It was beautiful. Classic golden late afternoon sun bouncing off the sand, the sea, the rocks; patches of blue sky reflected in rock pools, dark rain clouds and black rocks contrasting with silvery water and the white froth of breaking waves. From time to time a rainbow would appear out to sea, and the light breeze brought the delightful taste of salty air. An instant feeling of contentment came over me. I love the sea. I always forget how much, until I’m by it again! I was suddenly really glad that I’d decided to head to Orkney when I finish, up until now I still wasn’t entirely sure if it was the right idea. But the instant I saw the coast I knew that a few days by the sea just relaxing, walking along the beach, watching the waves, would be just what I needed.

The last bit of the day followed the path between the golf course and the sea for a couple of miles, the weather constantly changing from sun to cloud to rain, which made for beautiful, ever-changing scenery. Soon I could see my destination ahead, the holiday resort/camping and touring ground at Embo, right on the coast. As I neared, and passed, all the static caravans I wondered whether I’d chosen the right place, it was very “resort-y”, but when I had checked in and went down to the non-electric tent pitches I was definitely happy. I’m on a little section just in front of the sea (far enough away that there’s no chance of getting wet!), away from all the cars and caravans. I think I have the best view of the whole site! And I’m the only tent here. It’s my own little patch of heaven, I can see the sea from my tent and I can hear the waves rolling up onto the beach and crashing on the rocks. Tonight, when I came back from the restaurant (where I had dessert again…talk about sugar overload today!), the full harvest moon was up and its reflection was shining like silver on the sea. I stood gazing at it for ages, watching the lighthouse far away steadily mark time with light, the silhouette of the rocks and the waves that broke on them. I could have stayed watching that beautiful scene all night, but even wrapped up in multiple layers it soon grew chilly and I retired to my tent. It’s very peaceful, listening the waves and the gentle breeze. It’s nice too, to feel both away from the crowds but not too far from civilisation. There is something comforting about knowing there are people nearby!

Tomorrow is a little longer but nothing like previous days. I’m looking forward to it, it’s pretty much all along the coast or around Loch Fleet, and I go through the little town of Golspie and past the huge Dunrobin Castle which I can see from here. Maybe I’ll even catch a sunrise in the morning…