Day 103: The Stacks of Duncansby to John O’Groats

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