Thurso to Strathy, The Ultimate Adventure!!!

Well it wasn’t really, it was just a walk. A 22 mile one with a heavyish rucksack but still just a walk. I thought I’d embellish the title a bit. Three exclamation marks always make something feel sudden and exciting. Jesus Blade last night was cold again. I ended up with my gloves, hat, scarf and jacket on in the sleeping bag, on top of my normal clothes which are unchanged since Tuesday. In fact I’ve not taken them off since Wednesday morning!!!

I got up at 7am and packed everything away, including a very wet tent. By 8am I was on the road, stopping only for a sandwich from a small shop on the way out of town!!! It went down a treat as I sat on a step by the pavement outside. I must have looked like Bilbo with my hat on, sat on a step eating breakfast in the street. People avoided eye contact. 

It was overcast and showery but nothing heavy. The road turned westwards and so did I. West is Mike and Susie, West is where I love, West is refugees’ home.

Walking out into the open countryside I came across an abandoned church looking very sad in the dreich. With a bell intact. Must be worth a few quid in cast iron.

  
It was a long road walk, but not as busy as the coast road I had by-passed. The weather was showing signs of clearing a wee bit. Us in Scotland say wee instead of little. Especially when we’re walking the glens in the dreich. Och aye. The weather even gets to the footpath signs. This one is relatively new!!!

  
The road eventually, after many turns and several showers of rain, joined with the coast road and began to climb and fall as we got further west. Another existential statement – ‘as we got further west’. I’m walking alone but not on my own. And every cloud has a plutonium lining. This is the nuclear power station Dounreay, being decommissioned over the next 30 years. More police patrols than in Brixton. It’d be a problem if ISIS got in for a few hours instead of Balfour Beatty.

  
The weather was improving and I was leaving the busy east and the Orkneys for the remote west. Bye bye Orkneys!!!

  
And hello Sutherland. 

  
There are two distinctive sensual experiences this time of year. The sound of the cuckoo. Singing away in every valley. It used to be a common sound in Spring in Sheffield. Not any more. It’s a rarity to be cherished in England and to be adored for its ubiquity up here. Second, the scent of masses of gorse flowers, drifting down valleys. Heaven scent. The most beautiful aspect is that it would still smell so heavenly if mankind were not on the planet. It’s not there for us my dears. None of it is. We’re temporary tenants not owners. 

  
I cut off the road and down a shortcut path on the advice of a guy roofing a cottage. Great advice. I came across this valley view.

  
And towards the sea was this rather grand lodge.

  
I needed to get across the river and the only bridge was signed as dangerous and was blocked off. 

  
What a load of crap. Whenever you see this type of rubbish then do what I did. Climb over and ignore it. The road went ever on and on and the views became clearer and more lovely.

  
Finally, after 22 long miles the Strathy Inn came to me. Soup, lamb pie, hot shower, early night.

  
Night night!!!