Day 284: Helmsdale to Berriedale

It’s a beautiful morning, the sun shining on the fresh overnight snow.

Despite the forecast of a clear day, an early snow flurry adds to my load. Hardy fishermen work on their boats.

The John o’Groats Trail follows the shore before climbing steeply at a ruined house onto the clifftop.

Although the trail is well signposted, I lose my way in the snow, backtracking to descend a deep gully, with a comedy banana-skin slip, legs sliding away under me, toppling backwards into a bank of snow. Two deer enjoy the show before bounding across the hillside, stark against the white snow.

A WW2 lookout post, the second I’ve passed, offers a brief respite. There are remnants of a fire.

A seal pup cries out on the stony shore far beneath the cliffs, sliding to its mother for warmth.

Rounding the Ord of Caithness, I discover where the Arctic wind was hiding, picking my way across rough moorland, scattering small herds of deer before reaching the fine remains of Ousdale Broch.

A series of steep wooden steps wind down through the trees to Ousdale Burn.

There are advantages to hiking alone.

The remains of Badbea, a clearance village, dot the hillside. A bleak place, occupied from 1792 to 1911 — how could families survive on this hard land?

There are occasional marker poles, but I lose the path and take advantage of a track that arcs round the hillside.

Despite the dark clouds, the light is wonderful again, creating swirling patterns over the sea.

I need to revise my mileage for the rest of the trip as I’ve only covered nine miles in just under six hours. The snow makes everything more difficult.

I’ve no idea where the trail is, but I have plenty of company.

Berriedale, a tiny collection of houses, nestles at the bottom of a valley. Only two buses remain for the journey north to Wick, my base for the next four nights, and the next one is not due until 5 pm, another two hours. Even wearing four layers, I will feel the cold as the sun sets, so I’m grateful for the warmth of the River Bothy cafe. It closes at 4 pm, but the lovely women running the place kindly let me stay for 15 minutes after closing time while they clear up. Huddled over hot soup and a savoury pastry, I feel like a stray dog warming by the fire, claws in the rug to resist being forced into the snow.

A tiny stone bus shelter has a recess from the wind that can fit one person. I can’t see a single light in any of the houses. If the bus does not turn up, I have a miserable three hours to wait for the last one scheduled — the downside of not camping. I watch through the trees on the sharp bend for large headlights approaching and dash out twice, only for lorries to pass. On the third go, the bus turns up. I almost hug the driver.

Sitting on a warm bus, watching the dark landscape pass by. Bliss.

The Harbour House Airbnb gives me a room overlooking the harbour. It’s been another wonderful day, but my plans need to change. I’d intended to catch the bus back to Berriedale tomorrow and continue walking north. However, the weather forecast is grim. Given my experience today, I can’t risk being stranded in freezing weather in the middle of nowhere if a bus is cancelled, given how infrequent they are. For the next two days, I will catch buses north and south of Wick and walk back to town, constrained only by my two feet.

My hike round Scotland is turning into a join-the-dots affair. The more I read about the Highlands, the Rough Bounds, and the Hebrides, the more I want to explore. There is no doubt now that I will mix my coastal walking with inland sorties into the mountains. Thankfully, I have all the time in the world, ageing bones permitting.

Date of walk: Tuesday 19 November 2024.

Walk distance: 9 miles.

Total distance: 4,728 miles.

Postscript — Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition at the National History Museum

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

The wildlife photographer Larry Taylor is a biologist and biology professor. Check out his website for more stunning photographs.