Day 281: Tain to Golspie

I’m the only person stepping down from the early morning Wick train onto a wet platform at Tain. Arctic showers are forecast to sweep across the Highlands, and light rain is already falling so it’s on with the waterproofs.

There’s no avoiding the A9, although a wide verge and sweeping views compensate for the traffic. I’m keenly aware of my mortality when two tons of metal roar past at 60 mph only feet away on a wet road. I hope the tyres passed their MOT.

A rainbow points the way over Dornoch Firth Bridge, piercing the ominous dark cloud.

Buried treasure lies all round — did I pack my metal detector? I’ve only recently caught up with Detectorists. I can’t remember a more joyous TV show that resonates with my hiking life. The Guardian reviewer captures it perfectly:

If their gentle exploits haven’t made your heart sing and your stomach go fuzzy then, well, we can never be friends.

The bridge is exposed to the full might of the icy wind and rain. Reaching the crown, my hiking poles strain against the gusts threatening to push me into the road.

As suddenly as the squall arrives, it vanishes, replaced by a sunny blue sky. I’ve had enough road walking so hug the water’s edge round Cuthill Sands and Dornoch Sands.

Rain clouds drift past.

The high tide constrains me to pick my way across rocks and through long grass breaking up the sandy beach. This is an unexpected wild place — the lapping of the gentle waves, the sun on my face and not another person in sight.

I’m thwarted by a deep drainage channel and turn inland, which is a challenge, clambering over several barbed wire fences, the last to avoid a herd of cows with young calves.

Reaching the road, a drove of cute pigs run squealing across the field, hopeful of an apple or two.

The impressive thirteenth-century Dornoch Cathedral is the most northerly on the British mainland. The Milk & Honey cafe sits opposite and serves delicious parsnip and apple soup with a wedge of bread. Browsing my phone for local history, this was the last place a witch was burnt in Scotland in 1727. On that cheery note, it’s time to layer up and head out.

It’s just as well the soup has warmed me up, as the biting wind and rain return. There’s something comforting about staring out at sheets of rain from the protection of the trees.

Ten minutes later, blue sky returns — crazy weather.

An old railway track curves round to join the minor road circling Loch Fleet.

The loch seems to go on forever.

I’m forced back onto the A9 to cross The Mound causeway. The modern bridge overlooks the original bridge by Thomas Telford, complete with sluice gates to control the incoming tide, now used to manage the movement of salmon.

Darkness descends and a John O’Groats Trail sign points into a forest. I don’t recall researching this path and I’m not taking a risk in the gloom. Headtorch on, angled down to avoid blinding oncoming drivers, I spend the next four miles hopping on and off the verge or squeezing against drystone walls to let cars pass. At least the views are nice.

Golspie arrives at last, with the luxury of a pavement to walk on.

I’m staying at the Rosedene Airbnb for two nights and John, the host, is very welcoming, showing me up to my cosy room. I look forward to putting my feet up tomorrow, as Sunday transport restrictions mean a short walk. Today had too much road walking for my liking, but the rainbows are a good omen for what lies north.

Date of walk: Saturday 16 November 2024.

Walk distance: 21 miles.

Total distance: 4,701 miles.