It was a chilly night and I did feel slightly exposed but had a reasonable nights rest undisturbed. I woke at sunrise, the light reflecting off the calm waters of the loch. It was cold but it was also winter. With no need to rush I made breakfast and packed my gear away.
Remembering the hand drawn map I headed back out of the village and took the junction next to the church towards a sandy bay. It was only a couple of miles before I found myself back in trek and hiking alongside the water of the loch hoolley and I had paddled across.
The tarmac road was soon replaced by a gravel, pot holed track. Ahead of me was a large forest of fir trees which reminded me that Christmas was fast approaching. I didn't even know if I'd be over the boarder or not on 25th December, I had no plans for Christmas. All I knew was that I would definitely be sleeping rough and most likely hiking that day probably somewhere in Scotland. Before I entered into the forest I had to pass through a gate. On the gate was a sign. The sign said "singing sands, beware of unexploded bombs" or something like that. I'd seen a documentary about singing sands a few years earlier, as you walked over the beach the sand squeaks. It was something to do with the perfect shape of the grains. I'd already crossed several beaches during the trek which also squeaked, which kind of diluted the special significance of this particular beach.
I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get much closer to the waters edge from here and decided to take heed of the warning on the sign. Sticking to the track I headed off into the forest and hiked the track. It was a nice easy and pleasant change to skipping across boulders and rocks. Nearing the other side of the forest a small track branched off taking me to the beach. The sand was damp and the singing fairly unimpressive. I was a little disappointed but figured that during the summer months when the sand was dry it would probably entertain children and families day after day during their holidays.
I left the beach and continued to follow the track up to the baron hills beyond the forest. There was a cold, chilly wind blowing across my neck and I began to feel a little under the weather. I hoped I wasn't getting pneumonia or the flu, I was also hoping I hadn't contracted lime disease from a tick which also produces similar symptoms. My head was aching, my muscles were aching and my bones felt brittle. There was nothing I could do about it though so I simply tried to ignore it and carried on.
Gradually the track lead me further away from the coastline between a valley of small hills. It was reasonably easy going, a little boggy in places but I'd had to deal with considerably worse conditions and felt quite happy continuing along it. After a few miles the track began to fork right and I noticed a hand painted sign, much like a typical motorway sign. A thick black pointed road marking showing the track forking right with a narrower black pointed road marking forking right. I looked ahead, I couldn't see any fork in the road. I looked back at the sign and noticed a faint narrow trail leading up the bank at the side of the track. On the sign above the right forked track were the words "no through road" and above the left fork was a small, faded arrow. It was obvious I was being directed left onto the narrow trail. I guessed the track ended up at the coast and you wouldn't be able to go any further so I followed the directions and took the narrow trail.
It was a simple enough trail to follow along the bank, boggy in places and narrowing even more further on. The trail gradually climbed higher and took me over the hills, around streams and passed small waterfalls. It was approaching 3pm now and getting colder. I hadn't seen much of the sun all day and now the light was beginning to fade. It was time for me to start looking for somewhere to sleep.
I carried on following the trail which gradually improved and eventually joined up with a gravel track that wound its way around the hills eventually ending up at a small farm and holiday cottages at a place called Ockle. I was now really feeling the cold and was eager to set up camp and climb into my cozy sleeping bag to warm up. My head was still aching , my shoulders were feeling the strain of the backpack and my neck was stiffening up as well.
Just passed the farm was a river and on the other side a bumpy grassed slope. It looked reasonably sheltered there and I decided to use a wire fence to fix the tarp to. It wasn't perfect but it was suffice for a temporary shelter. Thankfully I managed to get myself organised before it began to rain and the wind began to blow.
As the night progressed the wind got stronger and the rain fell harder. Feeling uneasy I found it hard to get to sleep. I hoped that the pegs holding the tarp down would hold in place.
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