Still on a train, after 12 hours plus. We’ve just waited 20 minutes for a late train coming the other way and we now have around 4 hours to go. Jesus Blade Almighty. I might get out and walk. It’s nearly 8 pm. 

This is a nice shot of me and Chip.

  
And when we built a bonfire and cooked the fish we caught.

  
It doesn’t get much fresher. Anyway I’m going to sleep now and they can leave me on the train at Wick if they like. I’m too weary to care now. It’s all too much for me. 

Night night.

Perth, still ages to go.

  
As you can tell from my train tickets!

  
I fell asleep and missed the Cairngorms. I’ll catch them on the way back. The ambient weather gave way to cold rain before I arrived in Inverness. It’s just getting ready to punish me again for being English. It’s ok guys, I’m pure African like us all if we go back far enough. Six hours at the moment before I get to Wick. The landlady is leaving the key to my room in the porch. Breakfast at 8.30 and a bus to J O’G at 9.45. I’ll be happy to get walking. I’m tooled up with waterproofs and stuff. Including second hand boots identical to Chas and Dave, but in much better nick. 

  
I didn’t tell them I was going away. Didn’t tell Wilson either but I think I’ll need a tent and Wilson would let midges roam freely over my exposed bits. My sister has a theory that they will bite my old scrotum and lay eggs which will burst their way out as pupae. Charmer. 

This is a normal person in Inverness. He’s called ‘the Accused’.

  
OK voice of reasonableness – only a joke. Jesus.

This was parked in Perth. Antonia. Drool over it.

  
I was in Cornwall with my old mate Bow Chip last week. What a time we had, it was great. He is awaiting some medical treatment, not mentally-related surprisingly enough, so we said we’d do summat again when he gets that out of the way. Circumcisions are never easy things at his age.

  
He’d never caught a fish in his life. Bless. Then he copped a load of em on a boat we took out for a full day. Good old kid.

  
I stopped at Bristol on the way down and got a ticket for Rovers’ last match of the season. They had to win and Accrington had to draw and then the Gas would get promoted to League One. In the 92nd minute the Gas scored. The place erupted but I kept quiet as I could only get a ticket in the away end. I slipped out and joined Bavs, Chris and Rob, my Gashead mates. The news came through. Accrington could only draw. What a day! Gas are up!

  
Still here in Inverness.

Laters.

Well there isn’t. It’s being negotiated by people who want to secure rights of way for walkers like me so they can benefit the area by increasing tourism. It will be a route from John O’Groats to Cape Wrath which will run close to the remote northernmost coast of the British Mainland. On the map below you can see John O’Groats on the mainland top right and Cape Wrath is the furthest point northwest beyond Durness. There is a road most of the way but I won’t take it for too long. 

  
We’ll take a look at Dunnet Head en route – the most northerly point of mainland UK. I want to camp this time, although it’s a B&B tonight in Wick after a 16 hour journey on four trains. Let’s see. Edinburgh was beautiful an hour ago with the piper drawing a few tears from my eyes. I can’t help it. The Cape Wrath Trail did me in physically and mentally last year until I couldn’t do it any more. The biting cold, permanent wet clothes, soaked boots on badly blistered feet and I hated it, but I had to go back. I have to go back again. It’s beyond appreciation of the stunning views, when the mountains choose to emerge from the clouds. It’s a genetic thing. I can understand Glaswegian émigrés in bars in Australia, slaking their thirst in the warmth of the Sydney sun, singing of their longing for the Highlands. Covered in sleet with nobody there, and then warming up for ten seconds of a summer that draws out billions of flesh biting midges to fill your days with pain and misery. 

Anyway. Edinburgh was lovely.

  
  
The piper played with the dignity of a man with history and destiny on his side. Rocking backwards and forwards. Both purposeful and ethereal. Over the top? I’m right behind you. 1000 pipers died in world war 1. 

Let’s sing another song boys, this one has grown old and bitter.

The Scottish craft shops do good business near the station. I wasn’t surprised to see the history pamphlets of each Clan on display. Equally unsurprising was the beermat representing the Smith Clan. We’ve worked hard for that accreditation.

   
 The next journey to Perth was beginning to look a lot like Scotland. 

Laters.