Day 325: Dunnet Head

Finally, a glorious morning. The German father and daughter are already up and enjoying breakfast before biking over to Orkney for the day. I try to explain the Old Man of Hoy, despite our language barrier, eventually resorting to hand gestures, honed over years of playing charades with the children.

I’ve the whole day to walk round Dunnet Head, deliberately leaving plenty of time to enjoy the wildlife and scenery. Some days you want to crunch the miles — others are for lingering.

This section of the North Coast Trail is well-signposted. The path is overgrown at the start, but soon opens up, a narrow ribbon across hillsides painted with colourful heather and ferns.

A dark shape breaks the surface of the water. Dropping my backpack, I pull out my binoculars and dash across to the cliff edge. A large mammal surfaces twice, moving more slowly than the dolphins I normally see. It has white or grey markings. What is it? I’m excited, and the walk has barely begun. I later learn from the Caithness & Moray Firth Cetacean Sightings FB Group that this is a Risso’s dolphin, the largest dolphin species.

An old boat lies marooned on the hillside.

A road runs through the middle of the headland up to the lighthouse, but I can neither hear nor see the traffic. It’s so peaceful out here on the edge of these magnificent cliffs, refreshed by a cool breeze, fulmars gliding past.

The top of the Old Man of Hoy is visible across the Pentland Firth behind the island cliffs.

Approaching the lighthouse at the most northerly point on mainland Britain, a man runs across the grass towards me.

“Did you see the pod of Orcas?”

He saw them on the other side of the headland, swimming in my direction. We scan the sea with my binoculars, without success. He shows me a video on his phone, but all I see are grey shapes. They could be anything. Best not to dampen his excitement.

The car park is busy. I hear the jingle of an ice-cream van. Am I imagining things? No, a colourful van appears over the hill and stops in the car park where a queue rapidly forms.

I buy a cone and move away from the crowd to find a quiet spot. Walking with poles in one hand and the ice cream in the other, to my horror, the cone snaps and the large blob of ice cream plummets to the ground. Undaunted, I pick up the ice cream globe, brush off the grass and stick it on top of my right thumb as a makeshift cone to lick on the way to the cliff edge. This takes a few minutes, and by the time I sit down and remove my backpack, my thumb is throbbing. Lifting off the ice cream, the top inch of my thumb is frozen solid! Bloody hell. Can you get frostbite from an ice cream? I suck my thumb to bring the blood back in. This is unbelievably painful. I have no feeling on the tip of my thumb. Probably destroyed all the nerve endings. Ho hum. Possibly one of the most stupid things I’ve done. Stunning view though.

Leaving the crowds behind, the west side of the headland is more boggy, but has a surprise up it’s sleeve with a gorgeous bay at the end.

A lonely house perches on the top of the moorland.

The final descent into Dunnet Bay reveals another beautiful beach to be hiked tomorrow.

I turn back towards my campsite, stopping off at the Northern Sands Hotel for decent fish and chips and a pint.

A fantastic walk with stunning views and the luxury of a path, which you are likely to enjoy all to yourself.

Date of walk: Saturday 23 August 2025.

Walk distance: 11 miles.

Total distance: 5,303 miles.