Westward Ho!
First, the obligatory photo at That Sign, free of charge, unlike the rapacious owners of Land’s End. The biting wind is a shock. The photographer, a small, wiry German man cycling round Britain, has also hiked the iconic 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail across America from Mexico to Canada.
“Do it before all the forests burn.”
That’s a bit of a downer before breakfast.
My new best friend refuses to share his marmalade sandwich, so I pop into Cafe Groats for a tasty cooked breakfast, my only hot meal of the day, having stocked up on rolls, cheese and smoked meats for tonight, delaying freeze-dried meals as long as possible.
The North Coast Trail is a work in progress, planned to run for 150 miles from Duncansby Head to Cape Wrath. After enjoying a clear path out of the village and a short road section, I return to the shoreline. There’s no path, laboriously pushing through the undergrowth, stumbling on the uneven surface and tripping over roots. Should I turn back?
One last push. Climbing over a gate, a welcome trail appears through the pretty heather.
The path soon vanishes again, so I drop down to a tiny beach and edge along the narrow shore beneath an old house looming over the crumbling cliff edge, surrounded by rusting vehicles.
The shore is hostile, not particularly attractive, and progress is snail-like, so I cut my losses and return to the main road through to Canisbay Kirk, the most northerly Parish Church in mainland Scotland and a landmark for sailors navigating the dangerous waters of Pentland Firth, between the mainland and Orkney. The graveyard is full of Dunnets.
An access road winds down to the ferry at Gills Bay — only one hour to Orkney — where I grab a coffee from the vending machine in the waiting room. Taking off my backpack, M&S Belgian chocolate peanuts cascade out of the hipbelt pocket and bounce across the tiled floor. There goes my high-calorie snack.
My OS app plots a route along the cliff from the harbour, but I can’t find a path, resorting to scrambling up a steep gully, to be met by fences, ferns and more channels.
I’m hot and tired. Reaching the open heather, I give up on the coast and cut across the field to the main road.
The road may be busy, but progress is swift, and there are fine views north to the abandoned island of Stroma and the cliffs of Hoy.
There are some things in life you can’t resist.
Unfortunately, the scones are courtesy of an honesty box, and I don’t have any change. A £20 note buys a lot of scones!
The road stretches straight into the distance. Now and then, the sun breaks through the heavy cloud to brighten the view.
The small harbour at The Haven sees my third attempt to hug the coastline, beginning with a walk through someone’s front garden, always a little uneasy despite the signposts.
The well-manicured path quickly reverts to the familiar long grass and heavy going, so I switch to the dramatic sections of flat rock, stepping carefully across sloping slabs coated with slippery algae.
A final road section brings me to the Windhaven campsite, something of a misnomer given the cold wind blowing in from the sea. It’s a simple yet wonderful campsite, with fantastic views from the clifftop across to Dunnet Head.
Phil, the campsite owner, wanders over with a beer to chat, soon joined by a father and daughter from Bavaria on a motorcycle tour of Scotland.
The site also hosts a seal sanctuary. A cute pup with only one flipper appears at the door of the shed. Photos are not allowed. I hope to see wildlife in their natural habitat tomorrow as I hike round Dunnet Head, the most northerly point in Britain.
Total distance: 5,292 miles.
Postscript
I use the blogs of other coastal walkers to plan future hikes. One of those blogs is by Charles Compton, who I met on 27 May 2022 at the Sands of Luce Holiday Park on the Rhinns of Galloway, where he worked after completing his coast walk. Charles had mental health issues, and his walk helped him to stay motivated and also raise funds for the Mental Health Foundation. We spent a lovely evening together, swapping tales and drinking too many beers. We had planned to hike and camp together the following day, but it didn’t happen.
On checking his blog for my next hike on the Morvern Peninsula in October, I was very upset to learn that he passed away recently at the terribly young age of 37. Please take a look at his website.
I’m glad I met you, Charles.
Some familiar sights there – love the view from the campsite across to the cliffs of Hoy.
I was very tempted to jump on the ferry to Orkney. I could see the top section of the Old Man of Hoy. I’ve already planned my walk round Hoy but that can wait for next summer when the midges arrive. 😉
The midges can be bad on Hoy, especially Rackwick Bay, but the rest of Orkney is largely free of them. South Ronaldsay and the west coast of Mainland Orkney offer some fine coast walking, can be scrappy elsewhere, trapped between farmalnd and cliffs.
Thanks Richard. I was planning to wild camp at Rackwick Bay. “Trapped between farmland and cliffs” — that could be a great tagline for my blog. 😂
Of course the “scone” wordplay only works if you’re from the North – why were you not allowed to take a photo of the seals? Sad Charles story.
Haha! Good point about the wordplay. Of course, I never gave it a second thought being from the North.
Not sure about the photo restriction. I would have thought all publicity is good publicity. Perhaps they just don’t want the seals disturbed.
So sad about Charles. He was a courageous young man, doing all that walking to deal with his mental health issues when the system had failed him.
A good idea to do the north coast from east to west as it only gets better! You’ve maybe done the Loch Eriboll stretch by now, but if not, I was going to challenge you to find the souterrain that’s close to the road at Port nan Con! It’s a perfect example and you can go down into it. I think you might have to walk along the road for a stretch there as the shoreline was tricky, but maybe you’ll find a way to do it.
Yes, I exchanged emails with Charles’ father and he said he had mentioned our night together. I meet a lot of people on my hiking journey that are trying to heal in some way. Sadly, often only temporary.
I think you are right about the direction. Apart from Dunnet Head itself, the north coast is a bit of a come down after the magnificant NE sandstone coastline. I was expecting it to pick up as I move further west. I had to look up “souterrain”. Still to come, so thanks for the fun challenge. 🙂
RIP Charles 🙏
A whole new world and maybe a path on the north coast.
Fairly sure when we were at John o’ Groats there was a photographer charging – but then, that would have been nearly 30 years ago!
I was pleasantly surprised. The other possible explanation is that I was early enough before the commercial system kicks in.
Ah, that’s perhaps more likely!