Keiss to John o'Groats: LEJoG Day 85

The final day of my walk from Land's End, along cliffs to Duncansby Head, then by beaches to the tourist destination of John o'Groats.

After an early bowl of granola at my Bed &Breakfast, I made my way via a field of turnips back to the John o'Groats Trail. Another day on cliff tops admiring the dramatic scenery. Wind driven waves, pounding every hour, every day had found weak joints in the cliffs, creating straight edged walls of rock, right angles, box shaped geos and tall sided corridors of sea. Other times the cliffs were ragged, slabs of rock dipping into the sea, or overhanging the water, threatening to collapse. Layers of rock, hard and soft strata of sandstone, alternated to create long parallel lines etched into the cliff face. Sea stacks and skerries, rocks and reefs, bridges over surging water, tall needles seemingly about to topple, all edged with white foam, they were my views today as I walked across boggy ground, the thin grass leaves turning a shade of autumnal red, among low heather still showing a few small flowers.

As on previous days a castle ruin (Bucholly Castle) stood on a cliff edge. An eroded, stone monument called Mervyn's Tower was also on the path, built to commemorate Sir Frances Tress Barry, who excavated a nearby broch. In a pause between cliffs an old tower house, Freswick Castle, stood beside a seaweed strewn, sea smelling beach. A sign warned against entering its grounds, but it did not stop me looking at where a water wheel was once housed or crossing a raging burn on their stone bridge rather than getting my feet wet.

Seaweed washed up on the beach, as I child I disliked its slimy surfaces grabbing me as I swam over, worried it would somehow pull me down, drowning me.

Gulls and black sea birds, maybe shags, perched on rocks by the sea. I had been on the lookout for seals during my journey up the coast, and finally on some small pebble beaches at the base of the cliffs, only accessible by sea, I saw them stretched out. They were so far away, and their camouflage so good, it was only because they moved slightly that I was sure they were seals.

Stacks with Duncansby Head, the far north east of Scotland, in the background.

Duncansby Head and its lighthouse on the far north-east of Scotland is more correctly the furthest point on the British mainland from Land's End rather than John o'Groats, but as John o'Groats has firmly staked its claim in popular perception I turned west. After grassland, another geo, a bay with a burn and another beach where the sand was made of broken white shells I reached my final destination. 

End (or start) of John o'Groats Trail at the collection of gift shops known as John o'Groats.

At John o'Groats an iron work arch marked the end (and start) of the John o'Groats Trail. A collection of gift shops, coffee shops and a brewery served tourists visiting in their cars and motorhomes. At a small harbour a fishing boat was offloading. However the main attraction was a signpost with the distances to Land's End and other places which people were photographing themselves in front of. They included a cyclist in a yellow tee shirt who had just completed a sponsored cycle ride from Land's End in 12 days, a bit quicker than my 85, but in addition to a bicycle he had a van with a support team of two who supplied a bottle of champagne to celebrate his arrival. No-one was around to celebrate my arrival so I contented myself to a latte, a slice of quiche and a very nice blackcurrant and white chocolate cheesecake (the tartness of the blackcurrant nicely offsetting the sweetness of the crisp chocolate pieces).

I wandered up to the Seaview Hotel where a sign said you could join the Land's End to John o'Groats Association inside. However the barmaid said no, you had to apply on-line, although she could give me a stamp. It is unlikely I would be accepted into this august association as you have to complete the journey in one go. She did however assist by telling me the best place to catch the bus to Thurso was by the car park near the harbour outside John o'Groat's knitwear.

So after a wait with another coffee and slice of the excellent cheesecake I caught the 16:50 bus to Thurso. After checking into my Bed & Breakfast, in an old house with high ceilings, I walked up to the railway station to make sure I knew where to go in the morning. I booked an early train so did not want any last minute confusion. As dusk fell the street lights came on, reflected off the streets, wet from a recent shower. Despite their greyness Thurso's streets had a warm and cosy feel.

Streets of Thurso.

Despite having finished my trek from one end of the British mainland to the other I did not feel elated, despite the malt whisky I was enjoying to celebrate (only a small one due to my early start tomorrow) instead I worried about whether my knee would allow me to complete any more such expeditions. 

Next day I endured a tedious, 15 hour trip home on four trains, although a lot quicker than when I walked in the opposite direction, looking through rain streaked windows it somehow did not feel that way. 

So how was my poorly, left knee on reaching John o'Groats? Much the same as when I started this third chapter of my "End to End" Walk. Each day there was some low grade pain. Persistent fluid build up, stiffness and an inability to bend my knee too far meant I climbed over stiles, gates and barbed wire fences in a slow, cautious, and at times clumsy way reminding me of how an old man moves. But I took a dose of ibuprofen only on two occasions, it was not so bad although at times uncomfortable at night. I wore a compression sleeve over my knee on many days, which may or may not have helped. Whether my daily glucosamine and cod liver oil tablets improved things I doubt, but who knows? Trekking poles certainly helped on up and downhills, although I worried that maybe my body would loose some of its ability to balance, as the poles were taking over, helping to keep me upright. Although I kept to lower mileages for most of the trip, in the last week I twice doubled up on daily stages, the option of hanging around camping on wet cliff tops not inspiring me. This meant overall I walked an average of 18 kilometres a day since Fort William, compared with 28 kilometres a day for my preceding trips from Land's End. Quite a reduction. My Jetboil stove was however successful in forcing a long rest sometime most days as I brewed up a cup of real coffee, however due to its bulk and the issue of finding gas cannisters (and not being quite sure how long they would last) I doubt if I would take it on a longer trip again.