I didn't particularly want to leave the comfort of the bed but i was also eager to make tracks. As i ate my breakfast also courtesy of the Monreith arms i gazed through the windows at the skies. It looked pretty grey out there and not at all like the fantastic day I'd had walking to port William.
Taking it all in my stride i left the port following the road south. A couple of miles from the village i came across an information board that not only gave details about the area but also showed the location of an unusual monument dedicated to Gavin maxwell an author who I'd been introduced to the works of when I'd gone through Glenelg at the end of October. He'd lived in a cottage near to Glenelg whilst writing one of his more famous works "ring of bright water". A map on the board showing the location of the monument along the coast looked as though i was to pass it by following a short coastal path just ahead of me.
Sure enough after hiking downto the small stony bay below and then back up onto the cliffs i came upon a life size bronzed sculpture of an otter standing on a large boulder looking out to sea. I was impressed at how, like the green man, life like it was. Deciding that once i got back to Southampton i would have to obtain a copy of the book i set off towards the golf course that sat on the coast.
Descending down a track towards the golf course i had a good view of the terrain ahead. It was particularly overgrown with gorse bushes and some steep slopes looked impassable especially at high tide. Deciding not to risk injury or further agrivating my knee injury i turned around and headed back up the track towards a field. A break in the dry stone wall gave me the perfect opportunity to climb up and jump over the barbed wire fence and into a field, this i hoped would make my day slightly easier and my destination for the day was to be the isle of Whithorn, 11 miles by road or approximately 18 following the coast.
Back to hiking undulating landscapes jumping dry stone walls, barbed wire fenced and occasionally getting electrocuted it would seem would now be the extent of the challenge at least until i reached England again.
After a couple of hours of hiking, clambering and electrocution i was beginning to have enough of this coast line. It seemed that if i wasn't attracting the attention of herds of cattle or startling sheep and their lambs i was having to trudge through gorse bushes or avoid touching electrified fences which it would appear were armed in these areas.
After the fourth electric shock of the day I'd pretty much had enough. If I'd wanted electro shock treatment i could check myself into a mental hospital back home. The icing on the cake happened a couple of fields later, whilst climbing over yet another dry stone wall my right trouser leg snagged on some barbed wire sending me crashing to the ground, my face planted firmly in the grass and my pack crushing my chest as i landed. That was the final straw and once again twisting my left knee i decided this route was too dangerous and made my way inland towards a gate and nearby track.
It was particularly painful as i hobbled along but i wasn't ready to call it a day just yet. With determination in my eyes i focussed on the road ahead hoping the tarmac would make my journey a little easier. Granted I'd have to stop for a five minute break every twenty minutes of hiking but nothing was going to stop me from at least Reaching my predetermined destination.
I probably walked about four miled before arriving in the village and I'll be honest i was nearly in tears. Seeing st Ninians community coffee shop lifted the spirits though so i thought I'd treat myself to a panini and mocha whilst enjoying the views. Whilei was relaxing and tucking in to my tucker i was approached by one ofthe waitresses who'd seen details of the trek on Facebook. She'd had a word with the manager and arranged to cover the cost of my lunch in exchange for a quick photo op. It seemed like a fair deal to me.
Before leaving the coffee shop i mentioned to the girls I'd been having problems getting reception on my phone and that i needed to contact the free press to arrange an interview, as it turns out all around the area phone coverage is weak at best but being typical lovely west coasters they offered me the use of the office phone. Finally being able to touch base with the reporters i arranged to meet at the coffee shop the following morning which meant my day was essentially over. A welcome thought and a time to rest my injuries all i needed now was somewhere to set up camp.
Again i asked the locals if they knew of somewhere sheltered i could set up my tarp. Nothing sprang to mind other than a few trees behind the isle of Whithorn coastguard hut which I'd passed as i limped into the village. Megan, the extremely helpful waitress, as it turns out was a member of the local coastguard.
While i gathered my bits together megan had run off to find her chief who, upon hearing about the trip instructed megan to offer me the use of the coastguard hut for the night. I'd stayed in many odd places over the past 12 months but never in a coastguard hut.
The hut was essentially two garages put together with a kitchen, toilet and shower room attached to the back. It was perfect and there was even a small square of carpet just big enough for me to sleep on. After having a couple of coffees and a shower i headed over to the community hall to join the locals for a game of carpet bowls, a game i didn't even know existed let alone how to play. The outcome was that both teams i joined lost but for a first go i don't think i did too bad. It was a lovely break from my normal nights under the tarp and i was made to feel extremely welcome. Its times like these that make the trek extra special and you forget about the pains and instances of electrocution.
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