8th March day 367

Althoughthe wind had been blowing hard all night when i woke it appeared everything was calm. The sun was even attempting to make an appearance. Whilst making my breakfast i took the opportunity to have a look at the satellite images of the day ahead to see if i could spot anywhere that would be suitable to cross the estuary in hoolley thus saving a days hiking. There were a few possibilities but it all depended on the tides.

Leaving the warehouse i walked through the town when it occurred to me just how many bookshops there were there. It seemed like every other store sold books. Some shops even boasting a coffee shop or cafe inside so you could relax while you browsed the pages of the literature you'd just bought or were thinking of buying.

Back hiking the coast I'd spend the morning crossing salt marshes and fields looking out at the water.  The tide was low and having been warned by megan from the coastguard that the area was prone to soft sand i decided not to risk finding out first hand. This left me with just one option, to make the long hike to the nearest bridge near the town if Newton Stewart. It was quite a hike and with my knee still in discomfort took me hours to get to. What was worse was also knowing I'd have to follow the river for miles back to the coast near the village of Creetown.

Other than a few light showers and a couple if gusts of wind the hike was pleasant enough. Reaching Newton Stewart a little after 2pm i decided to seek out a cafe for a lunch break. I was considering using hoolley to pack raft back to the sea but having seen a few dodgy sections of the river near the mouth of the estuary and a couple of possibly shallow corners i decided again to play it safe and stick to dry land.

Finding a cafe wasn't particularly difficult or time consuming however getting served was. The little coffee shop was somewhat laid back taking over an hour to cook a gammon steak and chips. It was filling though. As i wandered up the high street of this large town and feeling a little parched and in need of an orange juice i came across the black horse pub which where i met marcus, a well travelled local with many a tale of misadventure. After the 4th pint of tenants it was late, very late and time to call it a night.