14^th Aug 2014

I looked around, there were no red flags and the air traffic control tower that monitored arial activities was unmanned. I really hoped I was right about the raf not working weekends.determined to make it out of the range that same day I walked at a faster than normal pace along the sandy beach and around the headland along the way keeping an eye out for military debris whilst firstly looking across at inver and later looking back at Portmahomack wondering why I hadn't used the pack raft to make the crossing earlier. After a few hours walking I then turned around the far end of the beach, I was still on the range but could no longer see the village. Ahead of me more sand and at the far end a small sentry post, the end of the range, the finish post. By the time I passed the sentry post it was nearing the evening time, 8 o'clock. Ahead of me was a pine forrest so I decided it would probably make a good place to pitch up for the night. Heading into the forrest I came across a small grassy track that didn't seem to have been used for quite some time. The long grass appealing to me as it would makr a comfortable natural matress. After setting up the tent and laying out my sleeping bag I boiled some water and prepared my dinner, rice, flavoured with tomato and basil cuppa soup. It wasn't much but tasted good and filled a gap. Climbing into bed I switched on my phone to receive a text from jo, the rations had arrived. I checked Google earth and sent a reply giving the name of a town I thought I would be near a few days later.

The following morning it was dead quiet, not a sound, not even birds chirping, no wind, nothing. It was quite eerie. Usually you would expect to at least hear the trees rustling or a gull calling out. I had nothing for breakfast except a packet of boiled sweets I bought so I evicted the black beetles from the tent and packed everything away but before I set off I took my hunting knife to a sapling and fashioned two new pegs for the tent and stowed them in my pack.

Leaving the woods I saw a red flag, not exactly the best thing you could hope to see first thing in the morning whilst camped just outside a bombing range. I stopped and listened, I couldn't hear any bombs or guns. Maybe they hadn't started yet, to be honest I wasn't going to hang around to find out either. I followed the edge of the forrest along the tree line and next to the shore, ahead of me a golf course, that was good as it meant I was now nearing civilisation. The town was only a few miles ahead and I still had 4 pounds in my wallet. Along the bank I was following I picked up a path which lead through a bush lined corridor to an unusual suspension bridge. It was an old footbridge that in my opinion had seen better days. As I got closer and about to cross it I noticed a warning sign advising that only two people should cross at once. I stepped onto the bridge and began to make my way across. As I walked I felt the bridge bouncing and swaying, two people, I thought, thats a little optimistic. Arriving in the town I located a supermarket and bought some donuts and a milkshake for breakfast. As I sat in the entrance to the store it began to rain heavily.

I waited for the rain to slow down to a patter before grabbing my wet weather gear and setting off on the days trek. I headed back to the bridge I'd crossed and keeping the water to my right I followed the grassy banks as far as they would take me. Once I could go no further I turned and climbed a slope into a field occupied by three horses. As soon as I stepped into the field they came over to investigate me. Standing right and in my way and surrounding me I was a little unsure what to do so I calmly spoke to them reassuring them that I was no threat and patted their noses. It seemed to do the trick. They left me to go back to munching on the grass and I figured I'd better get back to doing my thing, walking. On the other side of the field I could see a narrow stretch of shore that I would be able to walk along so I climbed over the barbed wired fence and began to make my way towards the top of the slope and head down to the shore. As I did my left jacket sleeve snagged on the wire and ripped. It was still spitting with rain and there was nothing I could really do there and then so I unhooked my self and continued to negotiate the bank. The rain had made the bank slippery and the overgrown plantlife obscured my view, feeling my way and carefully placing my feet I gradually made my way down. I was nearly at the bottom when an overly confident step landed me flat on my backside. The bank no longer sloping but instead a sheer vertical drop. Thankfully only a few feet, none the less i could have given myself a serious injury. I picked myself up and beat my way through the remainder of the weeds across to the stony shore.

The ground beneath me was slippery and slimy from the kelp and seaweed which made walking along it difficult. Eventually though I was once again cut off, a solid wall of boulders met the sea and I could go no further. I had to climb the wall at the lowest part up to the grassy bank above. It was now raining hard and with a huge rip in my jacket I decided to find shelter. Walking along the bank I saw an old garage with a new roof, it seemed like the ideal place to hold up and make repairs so I headed over and took shelter from the downpour.

Inside the garage and now under cover I took my pack and jacket off and lay them on the floor. I unpacked my stove and mug and made a nice hot mug of coffee before seeking out my sewing kit. I wasn't sure how I was going to repair the rip but I knew that what ever I did it would surely be an improvement. Turning the sleeve inside out I married the tears together and began to sew. Once I'd finished I put the jacket on and inspected it, I must admit I was particularly pleased with the effort. It didn't look too bad at all. The rain outside had also stopped so I packed up and headed off wondering where I'd be able to pick up the shore once more.

Among the long grass surrounding the garage a clear path had been mown. I didn't really have any other choice but to follow it and see where I'd end up. The path took me below the railway that ran along this coast and towards some large buildings. It was a whisky distillery and apparently it was also home to the largest stills in Europe. Again I had no other choice but to follow the tarmac road between the buildings up to the main road at the top. I could see the Dornoch bridge, but unable to cross the fields that separated me so decided to follow the road ahead alongside the coast to the bridge. Before crossing the bridge I noticed a road sign giving the number of miles to various towns such as Thurso and john o'groats. I was less than 100 miles from the north coast, it was quite a surprise.

The bridge had a fair span, I'd say almost a mile, and crossing it was just as hard as walking along stony beach. Winds blowing in from the coast across the water were extremely strong. The rain was holding back though which helped immensely. On the other side of the Dornoch Firth I'd finished crossing the bridge and decided I'd find somewhere sheltered to camp up. I needed to dry my kit out. Looking along the coast I couldn't see any trees nearby, the closest being near Dornoch point, a spit of sand that essential marked the beginning of the Firth. I set off along the shore keeping my eye on my destination as well as the weather. After about 4 miles I saw the roof of the Dornoch church a mile or two inland and knew that I wouldn't have much further to go. The light was beginning to fade as I approached the woods I'd seen from the bridge. Except it wasn't a woodland more a row of trees tightly packed to obscure a water treatment plant. Looking around I couldn't find a gap large enough to pitch the tent so I wandered over to the shore. Nearing the shore line I stopped and looked around. I could see a single tree standing amongst the heather and gorse. It wasn't large but I figured I might get some protection from the wind at least. I doubled back and went to investigate further. Sure enough there was a small patch of grass, it was level and the tree was doing a great job of breaking the wind. That was good enough for me. I was only planning to stay one night after all. I pitched the tent and got out if my sodden trousers and soaking socks and made a pan of golden vegetable flavoured rice. It wasn't much but filled me up none the less. Settling in to my sleeping bag the wind started to really pick up and the tree started failing at its simple task of sheltering me. Then it began to rain. The weather had turned from a dreary day into a full blown storm. I attempted to get some sleep but was unable to, the tent poles doing there best to stay ridged but twisting and flexing under the force of the gails. Around 4:30 am I'd pretty much had enough, rain had been blown in under the flysheet and the bottom of my sleeping bag was getting wet. I curled up and hid hoping the end of the earth would happen quickly and thinking to myself how exposed I would be along the northern coastline where I'd been told even trees couldn't grow. Around 6:00 am I finally managed to nod off, I'm not sure how but I expect it was purely down to sheer exhaustion.

The following morning I woke around 9am. I was knackered. I took a look round the inside of the tent sure enough there had been some leakage. The matress was wet, the sleeping bag and my trousers were wet . I put my hand inside my boots, they were ringing too. It was cloudy outside and the wind was still blowing hard so I prepared myself for another storm. I organised my kit to try and dry what i could, checked my water, which I had enough just to last me the day and decided to stay inside the tent, catch up on my blogs which were now about 4 days behind and see if I could get some extra rest. The wind continued to blow hard and it occasionally lightly rained. By the afternoon nothing had really changed so I made the decision to stop there for another night and hoped things would improve. Hoping for a calm day the following morning I rested and relaxed my muscles ready for a long hike. Lying in my tent that evening I found it hard to sleep I just wanted the night to pass quickly so I could get a move on the following morning. I'd used up all my water so had no way of making a meal of rice before retiring so my stomach was rumbling and I couldn't help but wonder how I was going to last the next few months.

I woke to the sound of rain lightly patting the outer fly sheet. My trousers still damp I quickly got dressed. Hastily I packed up my kit and threw the pack on my back. I didn't fancy getting caught out again. With no water left I headed down to the shore and on to the beach. Being back on the sandy path gave me some comfort as I headed towards a golf course ahead. The rain subsided and I could see a road leading to the town. I had to refill my water bottle and hydration bladder and while in town withdraw my weekly funds of £12. Locating the atm I pulled up my balance. There was only £8 available. Not even enough money to withdraw £10 being the minimum. Things were now going to become even tougher. Although I desperately needed to buy some gas, food had to be my priority. I figured that to preserve what little gas I had left for a time I really needed it I would have to build fires to heat my water whenever possible. This would become more difficult as I crossed the northern coast due to the lack of trees. Food such as edible plants would also become few and far between too, I was now truly in the position where by I would have to rely on my survival skills and sheer determination if I was to complete the challenge alive. A small superstore in the town square provided me with a few basics and I set off back along the road and back to the sandy beach.

Although the skies were cloudy the rain had managed to refrain from falling. A few miles along and soon within sight I could see a break in the beach, it was the mouth to an enormous loch. In order to get to Brora, where I hoped my rations donated by sharon and a couple of other supporters would be waiting, I knew I would have to cross in hoolley the alternative being at least a three day hike to get around the lake. The tide was coming in and the current was extremely strong. It was so strong that I likened it to the force of the Severn bore I'd surfed in my play boat a few years earlier. As I watched the flow of the water from the sea enter the mouth of the loch I noticed that even the seals that were in mid flow where having a tough time of it. A small whirlpool also meant that this crossing would probably be the most treacherous I'd experienced so far. I decided to head in to the loch a bit to see how the water behaved. It was indeed going to be a tough paddle as I calculated a possible place to land further down flow. Looking along the other bank I then took into consideration other possible hazards and there were plenty. My next task was to check the weather conditions, I turned to look down the loch as the wind began to pick up. On the horizon I could see a very dark storm cloud. I waited to see how it also behaved. It was coming straight towards me, a curtain of rain clearly visible. I had to make the decision to either go for it or wait till the storm passed over. Then the rain approached, much quicker than I'd expected. It was a simple decision to make, I would have to wait it out.

Looking around I spotted a small woodland behind me, I needed to take shelter and this seemed an ideal place. Not only could I hide under the trees from the rain and wind but also build a fire for warmth and also to make a cuppa soup for lunch. I headed over and thankfully not too far. On entering the woods I spotted a young deer grazing in a clearing amongst the silver birch. I tried to sneek up behind it to get a photo but the deer was too alert and bolted at the first sense it had of my presence. I'd seen plenty of deer since being in Scotland but had yet to get a photo, I was a little disappointed but hoped I would have other opportunities later as I made my way down the west coast.

There was plenty of cover for me here and quite literally stacks of old wood lying around. I found a good spot to hold out and set off gathering a small pile of wood for the fire. The trees gave me ample cover while I made my soup and waited for the rain to pass. While waiting I checked to see if I could get a data signal and retrieve the tidal times for the loch. Surprisingly enough I could. I checked the time, 14:50 was high tide. I checked the clock on the phone 15:30, I'd missed the slack water by 40 minutes, which would probably have been an ideal time to cross. I put out the fire and headed back to the loch to see whether i would still be able to make the crossing. As I approached the waters edge the water was racing out to the sea. There was also a very strong wind heading the same way churning up the loch as it went. There was very little chance I'd be crossing and seeing a second dark storm cloud approaching I decided I'd camp up in the woods and try again first thing in the morning.

Arriving back at the woods I set about making camp and preparing some rice for dinner. While I waited I checked the tide times again but this time for the following day. 8:20 am, it would have to be an early start and I hoped a calmer day.

15^th Aug 2014

I woke around 6am after having some very bizarre dreams about walking on slippery kelp and seaweed covered stones and boulders. I looked at the clock on my phone and decided I'd try and squeeze another half hour in. Just as I'd managed to nod off again the alarm started to sound. I lay there for a moment and realised that although I could hear the wind howling through the trees the outer flysheet wasn't moving an millimetre. The woods were completely protecting me from whatever mother nature was hurling around. I had an hour and a half to get packed away, choose a place to launch from and unpack and prepare hoolley for her crossing. Without stopping even for a coffee I collapsed the tent and packed everything away. This was made quicker as I'd made sure most of the gear was already packed the night before. Slinging my pack on my back I set off to the edge of the woods. I looked up at the skies, thick black clouds hung as if they were waiting for me, I stepped out from the shelter the woods had provided and immediately the wind came down. It was pretty strong. As I hiked towards the shore I thought to myself, well at least its blowing in the right direction the pack strapped to the front of the boat should act like a small sail.

The mouth to the loch wasn't far and I arrived on the banks in good time. The water was running like a freight train passed me. Was I sure I wanted to make the trip, surely a few days hike around the loch was the more sensible strategy. I studied the flow closely and seeked possible landings on the other side. I could do this, I convinced myself. All I needed to do was get in where the water was calmer, head out into the torrent in flow that was racing through the middle, ferry glide across paddling like a steam engine, keep an eye on what was behind me and land somewhere adjacent without getting sucked through the mouth and out into open waters. Simple. I stepped down onto the stony shore which had been deeply submerged the night before and headed along with the flow until I found calm waters. The mouth was slightly wider here so it wasn't running so quickly, granted I was alot closer to the mouth of the loch but I estimated my preferred landing place and if things went wrong my secondary landing, although I hoped it wouldn't come to that. Satisfied I'd done all I could to hatch a workable plan I unpacked hoolley and prepared myself for possibly one of the most dangerous crossings I'd attempted so far. It was a fast flowing current and it was heading out to sea.

I set off, that went to plan ok, I was now heading for the middle a funnel of extremely fast flowing water. It was running much more quickly than I could paddle so as I entered the torrent I turned hoolley in to the flow and started paddling sideways against the current. No matter how strong a stroke I made the current was going to push me towards the sea. Keeping one eye on the far bank and one on waters towards the mouth behind me I spoke to hoolley assuring her we were almost across. A seal, fascinated by this insane solo kayaker also had a job fighting the strength of the current, dipping under the water to the bed where the current would be massively reduced in order to keep its position, and keep an eye on me. It was easy to see where the worse part of the crossing was due to the ripples being calmer along the edge a deep channel funnelling the water through it always causes more chop. Now out of the danger zone I was able to relax, I was almost perfectly positioned for the primary landing zone so turning hoolley about I paddled a short way towards the mouth and beached her. By all accounts everything went perfectly to plan.

Packing hoolley away I glanced up at the skies, they'd begun to darken. The wind had started to become a little stronger too. Quite simply put I had the horrid feeling it was going to be another wet day. I headed off up to the point and onto the beach the otherside. Eager to leave the bad weather behind me I kept up a fairly quick pace all the way to Golspie. Unfortunately even at my increased pace I couldn't outrun it.

19^th Aug 2014

Arriving at Golspie I made my way directly to the local conveniences to fill up my water containers, while I was there I decided I'd wait a little to see if the rain would pass over. I boiled some water and prepared myself a cuppa soup. I'd not had anything to eat that morning and was feeling a little peckish. Although the rain didn't stop it did ease up a little so I ceased the opportunity and decided to crack on. I headed back to the coast and followed the coastal path out of the town. The path lead me to a small river that ran through a small wood and out to see. I couldn't see a bridge nearby so decided to use the stones and boulders the water was running over as stepping stones. Carefully I balanced myself and one by one I slowly made my way across. It was a little hairy in places the stones slippery with thin green seaweed and slime. On the other side I then had to climb up a small grassy bank and follow it away from Golspie. The grass was wet but the rain had now subsided. Ahead of me, towering above the tree line I could see a fairy tale castle escaping the woodland. It looked majestic and magical like the castle at disney world I'd seen while holidaying with my parents in florida twenty years earlier. As I was stood looking at the stately home I pondered as to whether or not walt had taken his inspiration from the architecture, the turrets where almost identical.

It then began to rain heavily so I put my hood up and carried on walking. Next to the grounds leading away from the castle was a quaint forrest, a path running from one end to the other between the trees. I couldn't go round the forest and had decided to take shelter anyway so I headed in and looked for a large tree with a dry patch beneath it. Sat on my pack I waited for the rain to stop or at least lighten up somewhat. Since being in Scotland I've noticed that heavy showers tend to come in waves. It'll rain hard for a bit and then pass over with a light shower. Sure enough this was no exception. The rain eased off and I headed out of the woods into a field, a small sign welcoming walkers pinned to a post just beyond the gate. I could see ahead of me a reasonably well used trail that ran the length of the field and directly parallel to the shore. It was going to be an easy hike and the sun had begun to shine. Along the way I met a couple hiking towards me. Intrigued by my backpack they stopped me for a chat. They'd just come from Brora where I was to collect my rations donated by sharon and contributed to by other followers of the trek. After our delightful natter the couple continued on their way as did I. The small cliffs and banks that had been yo my left were now rising up overhead and I was funnelled towards a sandy beach as the fields narrowed. Alongside the beach was a bank of stones, a natural sea defence and behind that a small trail that was easy to walk on. I followed the trail until I heard the usual moaning of seals. I turned towards the stone bank and began to climb up. Just behind it was a small family of seals, they looked like they had been feeding well with the young pupd fattening up nicely and the bull seals also quite large. I figured they had been storing up the fat ready for leaner times during the winter. I stepped back and removed my pack so that I wouldn't look so intimidating and crouching down I moved in for a closer look. As I moved towards the funny creatures, basking on the beach and having a good scratch I began talking to them calmly. They didn't seem to mind one bit, in fact they were quite intrigued by my actions and a couple moved closer as if they were actually listening to me. I'd gotten quite close and decided not to push my luck so stopped to watch them.

After spending about half an hour there I decided it was time to make a move, I slowly moved back and picked up my pack. The seals were not bothered in the slightest and carried on scratching and basking so I made my way off behind the stony bank away from them and down onto the sand. I'd walked a little way when I spotted an amazing little waterfall, it was about 15' high with water cascading in two columns over the rock and vegetation into a small pool below. It was incredibly picturesque and by far the best waterfall I'd seen so far on the trek. I stopped for a photo opportunity and couldn't resist a quick selfie. Ahead of me the beach curved right and finished at a headland that I was sure would be hiding the mouth the the river and harbour at Brora. I set off feeling hopeful and excited about retrieving the parcel that was to be awaiting me there.

Once at the headland I headed up over the sandy bank littered with rocks and into a small car park. This had to be the place. Sure enough a small information panel at the far end of the car park confirm my suspicions. I checked my phone for the address jo had sent me and looked on the town map to locate the post office. It was quite near the river so I set off out of the car park allong the road and up the hill. I've found that the majority of post offices appear to be on the main road through towns and almost always up a hill. I could see the now very familiar round, red and yellow sign and started stomping towards it. Entering the post office I said to the chap stood behind the counter "you must be andrew", with a smile he disappeared to the back office and replied "I have something for you, I don't know what it is though". "Food" I replied. As he handed me the box I smiled and gave it a hug and a kiss. To say I was delighted was to be frank an understatement. Somehow I managed to squeeze the lovely bright orange pouches of freeze dried meals into my pack and headed off out of the post office and across the old bridge to the other side of the river, taking the first right and back down the hill towards the golf course at the bottom. Passing through a gate I immediately noticed something particularly odd about this extremely unique golf course. There were cattle and sheep grazing on the grass between holes, with golfers happily playing there game, striking their balls so as not to hit these unusual independently mobile obstructions. Very bizarre. Slightly amused and also intrigued I made my way along the course and met a lovely couple, Gunnar and Carin. Gunner was Danish and married to Carin who was Swedish. They were on holiday travelling around Scotland in a caravan, luxury in comparison to my one man tent. In their youth they'd been avid adventures spending every summer kayaking the European rivers. Fascinated by my story we chatted about surviving great Britain, the adventures I'd had so far and what a contrast it was with me hiking thousands of miles whereas the golfers were using petrol powered buggies to move from hole to hole. Whilst chatting the weather started to turn once more and it looked like it was going to start raining once more. We said our goodbyes and set off in opposite directions, both heading for the beach below.

I followed the beach away from the course and eventually found myself getting cut off, the beach narrowing and a rail track above me on the bank. I wasn't able to go any further and had to make the decision to climb the bank and cross over the track to the road on the opposite side. Looking both ways I could see a fair distance and made my wat over the broken fences safely to the road. About a mile later I saw a sign pointing towards the coast saying Broch 200m. I went through the gate and wondered what Broch was. Was it a small fishing village that wasn't listed on google earth or something else. I passed through the gate and headed down the track. It was still spitting and starting to get colder. Ahead was what can only be described as a huge pile of stones covered in grass with a sheep grazing on top. I think it must have been a ruin of something but what I couldn't make out. I carried on down the track and crossed back over the rail tracks to the stony shore below. Following the shore I could see some white box like objects ahead. I surmised they were possibly caravans, three of them sparsely dotted along several miles. As I got closer to the first I could see it most definitely was a caravan and wondered if they were maybe used by fishermen or possibly the land owners as little holiday retreats. I couldn't see how this first caravan had been placed where it was as there was no obvious track leading to it but figured there must be one somewhere. I continued along on my way and spotted an arched bridge to my left that crossed the valley that was now between me and any roads or civilisation. This was going to either be a good or a bad sign. Good if a tracj lead under it, bad if it was a river. I carried on until I was stopped in my tracks by a very fast flowing river complete with rapids, the bridge had been a bad sign. I needed to find my way across but the water was running too quickly to simply paddle across. It would have been fun to get hoolley out for a play but I had to face reality and accept that there was absolutely no way I'd be able to cross safely, especially without a brain bucket to protect my bonnet should I capsize amongst the rocks.

After making a thorough appraisal of the river and deciding that even at the shallowest part near the sea, the water was flowing far too quickly and running far to deep I had to head back to the caravan to try and work out how it had got there. They most certainly did not simply float it across the river. Climbing up to the caravan I decided to knock to see if anyone was home and maybe ask for advice. There was no answer. It was getting late now and the sun had begun to set so protecting myself from the wind which by now was blowing extremely strongly I pitched my tent up in front of the caravan and decided to seek out a track in the morning. Once camp had been established I pulled out one of my orange bags of loveliness, custard and berries, and boiled some water.

The following morning I got up, the wind had died down and I made myself breakfast, porridge with strawberries. Just behind the caravan I spotted a gateway that lead to a track. This was how they'd got the caravan to this isolated field. Myster solved. I packed up and made my way along the track, over the railway. On the other side I decided to follow the railway along hoping to discover a bridge or possibly stepping stones to help me cross the river which was still flowing extremely fast. I found a narrow trail that lead up a hill and made my way along it. I figured with a higher vantage point I'd have a better chance of planning my next move. At the top I scanned round but couldn't see any small bridge or safe passage across the river other than the road bridge about half a mile away. I climbed back down the hill to follow the river back up towards the road. On my way passing through a bog remembering my last bog encounter, this time I paid better attention to the ground beneath my feet.

Safely back at the road I made my way along. There waa a reasonably steep hill ahead with an off road parking place alongside. I decided I'd take a small break there before starting my ascent. While sat on my pack a car and caravan passed, turning into the siding. A couple climbed out of the car and began walking towards me. It was Carin and Gunnar. What a lovely surprise. They asked me what I was doing there so I told them about the mini adventure I'd had since seeing them the day before. Before we parted company for the second time they graciously filled my water bottle and hydration bladder. Without further ado I decided it was time to get moving and climb the hill hoping I would find a track that would allow me to get back to the coast just the otherside of the river.

At the top of the hill I found a small tarmac road that wound its way to the bottom and through an arched railway bridge leading up the next hill into a field. Dotted around the field were several caravans. Most of which looked like they'd been stationary for some time. I headed across the field and back to the coast and a sandy beach. Following the beach I soon found myself cut off once more by a small river. Thankfully this one wasn't too deep and ran at a slow pace. Using large rocks and shallow islands of shingle I crossed over to continue with my hike. As I carried on along the beach I spotted a seals head bobbing in the water watching me. As I continued to walk the seal followed. A little further along I came across the rest of the colony but with no bank to quietly pass behind i had no choice but to walk directly towards the seals laid out on the sand. As I approached one by one they scurried for the water, trying to keep my distance I moved as far away from them as I could but by the time I'd passed all but obe was left on the beach. The rest, inquisitive ad they are begun following me from the safety of the waters they were truly masters of.

After about half an hour though they left me to return to their beach and I, once again found myself cut off. The railway had now joined the coast and the tide had come in blocking my progress along the shore. A bank of very large boulders was shoring up the rail track and it appeared the only way I could get across was to clamber across the rocks up close to the railway and a little above the sea. While I stood planning the safest and easiest way across a train came towards me, the driver opened his window and waved. I don't think it was very often he saw anyone along this part of the coast, as remote as it was. I waved back as the train passed and set off. The rocks were dry and the grip on my boots made for a simple traverse over to the beach on the far side. A bit further along the beach tge sand quickly became replaced by large stones and made for a tougher terrain to walk along, then it began to rain. Remembering how lucky I had been with the weather till now I soldiered on, spotting a large white object ahead of me. As I got closer I could make the object out a little clearer. It was the skull of a horned beast, most likely a highland cow or possibly a minator from greek legend. I'd truly entered the dead zone, a place I knew I would eventually have to pass through. The dead zone was a section of the trek where mobile phone signaks, power and food would be difficult to find. It was also a place where if I hadn't made contact with anyone within three weeks then there was a high possibility that I too would not be found should anyone take the time to look. I wasn't expecting to be in the dead zone so early though and had predicted that it would most likely be further on nearer Thurso and across the northern coast. Although I had no signal on my phone I was happy in the knowledge that at least I had food and a solar charger.

Portgower was ahead of me and stopping of nearby I decided to hydrate a ration, asian chicken and noodles before carrying on towards Helmsdale where I would stop the night and fill up my water containers before heading off the following day.

After my impromptu dinner and a well deserved break I continued alongside the railway, crossing two more small rivers on my way to Helmsdale. Upon arriving at the small village I climbed up off the stony beach and onto a grass bank which lead on for another mile to the town. It seemed like a perfect place to camp, a hill behind me protecting the tent from the high winds blowing. There was also a small spring nearby which I figured I could boil up in the morning for breakfast before continuing on to the village. I set up camp and climbed into my tent to get myself out of the cold and enjoy a nice hot mug of coffee. As I was sat there, crouched up a lady passed by, walking her dog. She stopped and said "you look cozy in there". We began to chat abd I told her about my challenge. Before she headed home Claire asked if I needed anything, I'd mentioned that my boots and socks were wet and that a boost on the solar charger battery was required so she took them away and said she'd be back early the following morning. After she left it soon got dark, which when you consider a mere month or so before the sun never seemed to go down, getting dark before ten at night was really quite noticeable and messed with your head.

The next morning I woke after a cold but pleasant sleep. As I slowly came round a voice outside the tent called out. Claire had returned, she'd put tge boots in the airing cupboard, washed my socks and stuck the battery unit on charge. The boots were still damp and for some reason the battery hadn't charged but my socks were lovely and clean and soft. Claire had also brought a litre of water and a bag with some fruit in. She couldn't stay long for another chat as she had to get to work but I was extremely thankful for what she'd done.

The sun was shining and there was a calm breeze in the air as I packed up and set off for the village. At the end of the grass bank there was a river, but a path lead me round to an old bridge that took me over to the village centre. Just along the main street I found the village community centre and decided I would pop in to see if they could help me by giving the battery unit a quick booster charge. The hospitality I received was outstanding. Valerie was quite obviously in charge and delightfully allowed me to charge my batteries up and made me a cup of coffee. I took a good look at the solar charger. It had stopped working when attached to the solar panels and was definitely not charging from the maind. I figured it was probably the cable at fault so Valerie started to make some calls to see if she could find someone in the village that could help out. Luckily though in her office box of bits she found a mobile phone charger that fitted the unit so I was able to get the unit on charge while I waited. With not much else to do I called the product manufacturer and told them about the problem and arranged for a replacement cable to be sent on to wick lifeboat station, the lovely lady I spoke to also said she'd send a new solar panel too after we tried charging my phone directly from it but had no luck. I was then introduced to Paul, paul was the community projects manager. He'd heard about what I was doing and had called Margaret, the local rnli fund raiser, and arranged for me to meet her that evening in the Bannockburn inn. It looked like I'd be staying there another night and was offered a spot in the community centers garden and use of the showers in the morning. I went out the back and pitched up the tent before heading over to the pub that evening.

At the pub it became apparent how quickly news spreads in such a small community. The chairman of the Helmsdale Highland games was there and asked if I'd like to stay for the games that were being held the following day and organised a complimentary ticket. I also met loads of the locals who plied me with pints and drams. In the lounge at the back of the bar and adjoining the inns restaurant I also met a truly inspirational woman, Jennifer Bodek, who'd almost died due to being massively overweight. Her story was amazing and to see the photos of her then compared to now was astonishing. One photo in particular caught my eye. It was of her coat, it had a 7 foot waist. Well as is the case and as it was back in Orford, I was the last to leave the bar that night and quite literally fell into the tent.

Although I had intended to get up at a reasonable time tge following morning I eventually crawled out of my sleeping bag around 10:30am. I had a lovely shower, freshened up and packed my gear away before heading up to the main street just in time to see the local pipeband marching through to officially start the games. I never thought in my wildest dreams I would ever get the chance to see the Highland games and I'd missed many a celebration on my journey, often arriving a day or two afterwards. Yet here I was, I followed the band up to the games field and wandered around, looking at the stalls abd watching burly men in kilts throwing hammers and tossing cabres. The night before I'd also met Jan and Arlene, they were providing refreshments for the band and had invited me up to the club house for broth and sandwiches. Once the games had finished I too had a go at tossing the cabre, it was like lifting a telegraph pole onto your shoulder and extremely heavy. I did manage a throw though although it didn't go all the way over. I had a wonderful day and was even invited to attend the kaylie that evening. I'd left my bag with Margaret who insisted I stopped in her garden that night before setting off the following day.

The next morning and despite not leaving the kaylie till about 4am I was up surprisingly early. Margaret treated me too a fried breakfast and I helped fix her ageing laptop. It was raining hard and I had a feeling it wasn't going to stop. Nonetheless I had to make tracks. I headed down to the harbour and began a hike along the stony beach and passed an old fishing cottage. It was in ruins but as with many of the old cottages I'd passed while in Scotland the four walls were still standing proud and as solid as the day they were built. Further along the beach I could see the cliffs climbing higher and higher, as I continued on I kept looking above to see if I could find a track or trail that would take me up, the shore line ending with an impassable headland. As I walked I passed a huge waterfall, about 30 - 40 feet high, the water literally falling the entire length. It was pretty impressive. I kept walking but couldn't see anyway to reach the clifftop. Eventually, after a couple of mile hike and simply ran out of places to go. The ferns and vegetation completely taking over any potential routed to the top and what they didn't cover was sheer rock faces and with my enormous back pack I wasn't even going to try. I had no other choice but to head back to see if I'd missed anything. As I made my way back along the coast I hoped that from this different perspective something would stand out or that I would spot something I'd missed. It than began to rain, and not just a mere shower but a torrential downpour. The temperature dropped quickly and the wind began to howl. With nowhere to hide and take shelter I kept going. As I approached the little cottage I noticed an unsual break in the ferns and what appeared to be a small track leading up alongside the cliff. It made sense, after all the residents of the cottage would have needed access especially when building the property in the first place. It was certainly worth investigating further. I climbed up off the shore and went behind the stone walls to take a closer look. It was slightly overgrown but none the less I could just about make out a gradually inclined trail that lead round a slight bend. Without hesitation I decided to at leasy try. After all if it didn't lead anywhere I would always be able to turn round and continue my search. Thankfully though it did in fact lead to another track at the top of the cliffs.

At the top of the cliffs the track had widened and ran in front of some fields along the clifftop. Maybe this was what I was looking for it appeared to run for quite a distance and with both fingers crossed I hoped it would run all the way to the next town. I set off with hope leading the way. The weather being a little unfriendly didn't deter my efforts but the fact the track ended at a deep valley I'd passed below was a little disappointing to say the least but instead of going back once again I decided to try and negotiate this new obstacle. I followed the valley along until it shallowed and crossed the small stream that ran through the middle, probably feeding the waterfall I'd seen earlier. I carried on up the other side and found a small trail to follow. The trail lead me to an old wartime lookout post. I was getting soaked and all though I had new boots they were now leaking and not very waterproof. The trek was taking no prisoners. I also noticed the stitching on my waterproof jacket was now alos warn away on my right sleeve. Wondering how I would finish the challenge and what equipment I'd have left at the end I decided to take shelter in the small concrete building and hope the rain would either pass over or at the very least ease off. Inside the lookout it was damp but at least it sheltered me from the wind and driving rain. I was sure I'd be here for a little while and feeling hungry I rehydrated one of my rations and made myself a coffee.

I waited for nearly an hour for the weather to change but unfortunately it didn't. I couldn't stay there at the shelter so I got myself ready and headed out. The wind was almost knocking me off my feet and the rain was quite relentless. Beyond the lookout I came across a high fence, it must have been at least 7', there was an old gate cut into it. Gates generally meant paths that usually lead somewhere so with lifted spirits I headed over. Well whomever installed the gate must have been vertically challenged because I couldn't get through, even crouching down my pack caught on the fencing above. This wasn't going to stop me though. I climbed over the fence and dropped down into the ferns on the other side. Looking around I couldn't see any paths or trails so decided to carry on and make my own. I aimed for the cliff edge, pushing the ferns and thistles aside. There I found a definite track. It lead along the clifftops, once again I found myself hoping it would take me to the next town but once again I found myself stopped looking down at a valley the track leading up the hill and towards thick gorse bushes which would most definitely hinder my progress. I had no choice but to follow the track along and see where it would lead me. Nearing the gorse bushes it turned left and headed back parallel to where I'd just come from. Passing the lookout below I knew that I had tried everything I could to stat close to the coastline but the only option now available was to head for the road now only 100 meters away but in order to get to the road I would have to follow the track now lined with my prickly nemesis, gorse. It was a good miles hike before I found a break in the bushes that would allow me to get on to the road.