Rain was forecast for much of the day and so it proved. In full waterproofs I followed the John o'Groats Trail through an urban landscape along the side of the River Ness to the Beauly Firth. Cranes were unloading what looked like gravel at Inverness' port near the mouth of the river. I walked by various industrial premises to the Kessock Bridge. This was a substantial cable stayed bridge dating from 1982 which I crossed on the narrow pedestrian and cycle path as cars and heavy vehicles thundered north on the A9 (a road I will meet repeatedly on my walk north).
After following the dual carriageway a short distance the John o'Groats trail crosses the road. Although an official cycle crossing, I had to patiently wait for a gap in the traffic and then hurry across each carriageway. I was surprised a pedestrian route under the bridge had not been created to avoid such a busy crossing. Reaching the other side, the overgrown trail headed up a steep bank beside the road before turning into trees to join a forestry track. There were a few junctions, and although an octagonal John o'Groats Trail waymark pointed out changes of direction they were easy to miss especially where vegetation, which had no doubt grown since the waymarks were installed, hid the arrows. I had foolishly not encased the relevant pages of the guidebook in clear plastic, so the paper of the book soon became soggy when I tried to spot where I missed a turning. As it threatened to disintegrate I decided to rely on the trail loaded on my GPS when I was unsure if I was on the right track.
On a long initial stretch through coniferous forest there were a few views down to the Beauly Firth and the Moray Firth beyond (these first few days cross or pass a number of "Firths", which are wide estuaries). I exchanged greetings with equally rain drenched dog walkers and their wet dogs. Then it was across farmland and a lengthy walk, often between two wire fences with trees on my left and fields of cows and sheep on my right. The cows seemed particularly offended by my presence, bellowing a great deal. A road led me down to Munlochy Bay, a tidal inlet with orange seaweed and reddish rushes that would make a good painting. Various birds patrolled the waterline, shortly after there was a car park for wildfowlers (i.e. people who shoot birds). To reach it there was a rather difficult path, rough and uneven, on a slope, designed it seemed to avoid a water filled track.
In the village of Munlochy, the Inn, a possible lunch stop, was closed, so I continued through attractive woodland, with ferns, mosses and plenty of paths. I was led to the main tourist site of the day the "Clootie Well". Apparently if you dip a piece of cloth in the spring and tie it to a tree whatever ailment you have well be cured. As a result the surrounding trees are covered with an unattractive selection of rotting rags. While I wished to cure my knee I decided against adding more detritus.
The good news was that the rain had eased off apart from occasional light showers so I sat on a log and had a cup of coffee and a few things to eat. Afterwards it was on a series of straight tracks, roads and paths, over farmland and through forestry. Throughout today I admired the many red berries on the rowan trees. Many had fallen to the ground and randomly spread, brilliant red against muted greens and browns, as if a necklace had broken and the bright beads had been scattered.
The village of Culbokie was more spread out than I expected. My Bed & Breakfast was a little further beyond and my room has a view over the Cromarty Forth which I will cross tomorrow leaving the Black Isle. There is even a little sunshine.
Note for pendants, the Black Isle is not an island but a peninsula.
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