A challenging 23 miles lie ahead. The Angus Coastal Path is incomplete and other hikers experienced difficulties following the coastline.
The Arbroath Cliff Trail to Auchmithie is a dramatic start to the day. I’m quickly distracted, descending for a closer look through the Needle’s E’e.
The gorgeous red sandstone rock formations and coves carry evocative names such as Seaman’s Grave and The Deil’s Heid.
Climbing down a boggy slope to Cove Haven, I’m surprised to find a cave, only just cut off by the incoming tide. Mason’s Cave is 70 metres long and formerly used by local Freemasons for initiation ceremonies. A missed opportunity to explore.
Walking across the headland overlooking Castlesea Bay, a dark shape arcs through the water — a dolphin! They swim along this section of the coast, feeding on migrating mackerel. Sadly, despite scanning the sea for the next ten minutes, the surface remains still.
I head inland after Auchmithie, following tracks round to Red Head, where I rest against a crumbling stone wall and admire the spectacular view.
There’s a rough clifftop path to Lunan Bay. Black soay sheep are scattered across the path at Ethie Haven. They start to panic and run down the cliff. Alarmed, I back off and cut across the headland. I need not have worried, as “the breed is extraordinarily agile, tending to take refuge amongst the cliffs when frightened”. I can vouch for that.
A small collection of beach huts shelter at Corbie Knowe, quiet apart from work on the sea defences.
Lunan Water looks too deep to wade across, so I climb up to Red Castle. Even this tiny ruin is fenced off, presumably for health and safety reasons. Oh for the days of a simple warning sign, allowing people to manage their own risk. Too many lawyers making claims I expect.
It’s a super spot for lunch though.
There’s no alternative to a few miles of tarmac walking along quiet lanes, although Lunan Bridge is pretty.
The roads lead to the windswept lime kilns on Boddin Point.
Signs warn of the crumbling building, evidenced by the large cracks snaking down the walls, so just a quick peek inside from the doorway.
The small graveyard at Elephant Rock, with two mausoleums to explore, marks the end of the path.
It’s possible to walk along the side of fields to Usan without much difficulty, where a private fishery forces me inland for a few hundred yards until an open gate allows access across a field to a rather stormswept rocky shore, strewn with debris.
A locked gate and barbed wire fence require a short scramble across wet rocks into Mains of Usan, watched by Scurdie Ness Lighthouse, the marker for the turn to Montrose.
Approaching a farm, the ground is a swamp of mud and slurry, several inches deep. After much hopping about, watched by a chap sitting next to the barn, I finally make it to a gate, only to face cows blocking a narrow lane filled with more mud and slurry. Not wishing to provide any further amusement to the farmer, I retreat to the shoreline. This turns out to be the better route, quickly passing the farm to a signposted footpath for an easy walk into Montrose.
Train ticket purchased, I head over to Tesco’s to buy a sandwich, only to discover I’ve left my phone on the station counter where I took it out to show my Senior Railcard. I’ve not sprinted a quarter of a mile so quickly since school sports day. To my relief, the couple behind me in the queue handed it in.
Despite a few miles of road walking and the odd obstacle, an excellent walk, full of character and variety.
Next month, the tent emerges after its winter hibernation and I return to the West Coast until the midges send me fleeing.
Walk distance: 23 miles.
Total distance: 3,983 miles.
At the rate you’re going up the coast I didn’t think it would be long till I was reading about John o’Groats! Looking forward to your return to the west though.
I think the West Coast will slow me down a little. All those mountains to explore. 😉
We’ve done most of that but in several sections! (Though, to be fair, always out and back, but still nothing like the distances you do).