Embo to Brora: LEJoG Day 78

A morning walk around Loch Fleet, followed by an afternoon beside empty beaches.

While I was visiting the campsite toilets for my morning ablutions, heavy rain began to fall. Unfortunately I had not brought my rain gear and the tent was several hundred metres away. In the hope that the downpour would ease I waited a few minutes, but if anything it became heavier. I made a run for my tent, my knee reminding me it was poorly half way there, my warm jacket becoming distinctly wet. After grabbing my waterproofs it was then a matter of decamping in the rain, packing away a very wet tent.

Although the village of Golspie was not far away in a straight line, Loch Fleet is in the way. This inlet of the ocean or "sea loch", meant I spent all morning walking around it, although not without some enjoyment. The route was initially along a track. Although surrounded by hillocks of rough grass and vegetation, someone had helpful mown down the gorse where it had encroached onto the trail. After joining a single track road, an old ruined castle appeared on a hill between trees. With the grey clouds behind and the intermittent rain the remaining walls had a brooding, gloomy presence.

The road ran close to the loch's shore and as I walked along a heron rose into the air. Disturbed by my passing a gaggle of geese flew off honking in annoyance. Oyster catchers sounded the alarm at my approach. Notices promised seals but there seemed none around today.

Loch Fleet looking inland with rain in the distance.

At western end of the loch I joined the A9 road, which ran on a raised bank or causeway called "The Mound" over the far end of the water. Shortly after I turned off on tracks and paths through forestry and several fields beside the railway, at one I was warned about the risk of cattle but there were none in sight. Entering another field a white haired farmer farmer opened the gate for me, explaining it was held up only on one hinge. He helpfully pointed out where to head for next.

Entering a second forest I was impressed by the tall pines, the columns of trunks each side of the path and the "roof" of arching, needle coated branches reminding me of a cathedral in the "perpendicular" style. Beneath the arches, among the heather, blaeberry and soft, green moss there was a fine collection of fungi in off white, brown and orange, a sign of autumn.

Balblair woods.

Fungi.

I walked into Golspie, the rain having finally abated, and lunched at the "Coffee Bothy" before starting the next stage to Brora. I exchanged my waterproofs for some of the clothes that were damp from this morning's rain, so that they could dry out as I walked along. Shortly after Golspie I saw Dunrobin Castle appear above the trees. A fairy tale building with ridiculously, pointy spires. In my youth I had visited it with my parents on a holiday during which it rained every day, recalling some expensive "Old Masters" on the walls.

Dunrobin Castle.

After the castle I walked sometimes on the beach, sometimes behind it. In places the route was squashed between the pebbly beach and the old sea cliffs, clothed in trees or vegetation. 

At Brora I stocked up on food at the local Coop (after being told off for entering via the wrong door), before walking between the sandy beach and my second golf course of the day to reach my campsite. Tonight it was a quiet affair, the only entertainment being the flock of sheep moving up and down the golf course just beyond the campsite fence.