21^st Aug 2014

Back on the road I headed along it stopping occasionally to see if I could get back closer to the coast along the clifftops. As I approached the valley that had hindered my progress earlier and crossed the bridge that spanned it I saw an overgrown track leading away. I hoped this was going to be the path that could get me back on track. Just after the bridge was a junction peeling off to the left so I figured the track most probably passed under the bridge and down to the cliffs. A small brown sign indicated a picnic area and public walk which to me was enough evidence to support my assumption. It was still raining hard but I figured I had nothing to lose and followed the road off in the direction of the sign. Sure enough it took me passed a picnic area and down to the beginning of the track I'd seen from above. Despite being soaked to the skin my spirits lifted and I made my way down to the underpass. As I entered the long concrete corridor the wind picked up and the rain fell more heavily, driving its way into the tunnel entrance. I couldn't see the point of getting any more wet than I was already and my boots were seeping too, the waterproofing eroded due to the salty waters I'd walked through a few days before. I put my pack down and took a breather and waited for the rain to pass. After about half an hour it did indeed lighten up, it didn't stop completely but I couldn't stop there so picking up my pack I set off down the track through the wet overgrown grass full of hope. Hoping is simply not enough on this challenge, as I reached the end of the track I realised that it would be impossible to go any further. Half a mile later at the end of track was another lookout similar to the one I'd stopped at earlier that day. Surrounding it were high banks covered in wet slippery ferns. I began to beat my way through the ferns but eventually decided that even that would lead me only so far to the clifftop beyond that it was a shear drop back to the sea. I'd gotten no further than I had at the bottom of the cliffs whilst walking along the beach that morning. It was extremely disheartening and what was worse was I knew I'd have to walk all the way back up the track to the top and back to the underpass. As I made my way back I thought to myself "its just like the walk of shame" and what made it worse was having the winds pick up again driving the rain down the back of my jacket.

The wind was now constantly beating me down head on as I got back up to the road and set off along it, the rain hitting my skin like needles and my hands numbing in the cold. It was almost like I'd missed autumn and it was now winter. My good fortune with the weather had now truly expired but I couldn't justify complaining about it as I'd been so lucky up until then. I did however find myself looking up at the clouds, raising my hands and shrugging my shoulders whilst saying "come on! Ease up just a little". I don't think they heard me though as the winds continued to blow at an unprecedented force, often strong gusts knocking me back onto my heels whilst the rain fell in waves of misery. Mother Nature was not going to make my day easy, not one bit.

Following the road as it snaked through the hills higher and higher, the wind getting stronger and the rain still relentless I was still determined to try and get closer to the coast. High deer and adam proof fences, bogs and gorse prevented me satisfying my need and will. Beaten down I continued, a bend through a gorge finally putting the wind at my back, to say it was a relief was to be honest an understatement. Now with light feet my pace increased. I was still unable to find a route back closer to the sea and although I hadn't lost sight of it at anytime, my desire to get away from the tarmac was always on my mind.

Ahead, the baron, gorse ridden boggy landscape began to fill with fir trees. I was soaked to the skin and my socks squishing in my boots. It was also getting late and although I hadn't covered the distance I had wanted to I began to start seeking shelter from the elements.

21^st Aug 2014

Due to the deer proof fences, bogs, marshes, gorse bushes and impassable valleys I was confined to walking along the A9 main road towards Thurso and wick. Compounded by the wind and rain I was not feeling too happy, in fact I was feeling down right unhappy but I wasn't going to stop me enjoying myself. I put all the problems of the day aside and began to face my next challenge. In a bleak environment under such conditions my priority was to seek out reasonable shelter where I could camp up for the night and hopefully dry out my kit, especially my boots. On such a long distance endurance challenge you must look after your feet, after all it'll be your feet that'll carry you across the finish line and nothing else. Keeping focused I put my head down and marched on along the road every so often looking ahead to see if I could locate anywhere that would suit my immediate requirements. After a few miles, dripping wet and cold, I saw a forest. It was enclosed in a high 7 foot wire fence so when I spotted a gate ahead I began to feel hopeful that I'd found a potential site to camp, the thickly packed fir trees forming a natural wind break. Granted there'd be no shelter from the rain but that was ok, just getting out of the wind was enough to bring a smile to my face. I headed over to open the gate, not looking at where I was treading I stepped straight into a deep puddle at the entrance. "Hmm" I though maybe even muttering it. Now it wasn't a good sign but it was the entrance and beyond the gate it appeared much firmer. Opening the gate I walked through, the ground was a bit squidgy but again I shrugged it off in hope that closer to the trees I'd find a small patch just big enough to pitch the coffin and hold up for the night. As I got closer to the trees they did indeed shelter me from the wind, and quite noticeably too, but also as I got closer to the trees the ground became squidgier and softer. It was no good. I found small raised patches of grass but all in all the ground was sodden. I kicked my heal in to the ground to see what was lying beneath the grasses, as I'd started to suspect it was peat. One of the worse grounds you could possibly hope for during the rain. It soaks the water up like a sponge and is slow to release it. During dry months peat however can be nice to camp on forming a soft bed upon which you can be assured of a good nights sleep. I put my bag down and sat. At least I was out of the wind and I needed a rest and to take the weight off my feet for a few minutes. Still looking around me I deeply wanted to find a small piece of ground to camp but as much as I wanted my wishes to be granted I simply couldn't find a suitable spot. There was no other course of action but to pick up my pack and set off once more into the fury of mother nature in the hope I would eventually find somewhere better, no matter how long it took or how far I had to hike.

Back on the A9 I kept the forest to my left. I'd now completely lost interest in the coast and merely wanted to get out of the wind and rain, undress and climb into my sleeping bag. I hiked a few more miles before spotting another small forest on my right. This forest was slightly above me and studying the terrain appeared to be planted in good old, solid soil and rock. Things appeared to be looking up, all I needed was a way to get into its enclosure. It wasn't long before I came across another gate. Well I think it was once, now held together with string, rope and old pallets. I untied the string and squeezed through a tiny gap into the forest. It wasn't as good a wind break as the first forest, the trees not so tightly packed but the ground was nice and solid. I investigated the area thorough looking at the potential of different areas before settling on a raised, level and flat area beneath one of the larger trees. The light was beginning to fade now so I set up the tent, took off my jacket and waterproof trousers and laid them on my bag, removed my wet socks and hung them inside the flysheet and climbed into my sleeping bag. Snuggly tucked up I made a nice hot mug of coffee and went to sleep.

The following morning I woke, the sun was trying to break through the clouds but it was soon blocked again by the clouds, the wind doing its best to keep the sun from warming the air around me and dry my kit. I reached out from my cozy little shelter to check the state of my boots. They were saturated still, and what was worse was they were ice cold too. The worse possible combination. There was absolutely no way I was going to be going anywhere that morning, I needed the boots to at the worse be damp but wearing saturated was completely insane and could cause all manner of problems. I checked my socks as well, they were also still very wet. I needed to get things dried but looking around the forest I failed to find any wood even remotely dry enough to get a fire going and would have to hope that my kit would dry naturally under the shelter of my tent. Short outbreaks of rain preventing me from laying my wet clothing, boots and socks out in the sun. I was going to have to be patient and with little else to do I decided to stay in my sleeping bag and catch up on my blogs which I was at least four days behind on.

23^rd Aug 2014

Whilst chilling out for the day, couped up in my little tent I merrily tapped away on the phone busy catching up with the adventures I'd experienced over the last few days. It was mid afternoon by the time I finally got everything up to speed. Trying to keep the blogs up to date has been proving to be one of the greatest challenges on the trek. Generally when I first wake I have breakfast, pack up and head straight off on the days hike. Stopping during the day only for short breaks and generally not in great places to write short stories. By the evening and after setting up camp, when I finally crawl into my sleeping bag and after having my evening meal writing a blog is quite often the last thing I want to do. With limbs and muscles aching I more often than not simply want to lie down, relax and sleep. Getting into the routine of authoring short novels is quite simply not happening so taking a day out or morning off seems to be the only way I can find to spend the time stepping into my charles dickens guise as one of my followers eloquently put it.

Now satisfied that I'd adequately described what had happened and too late on the day to really continue I decided to check the cached images in Google earth to try and find my current location and plot the next days walk. To my surprise all the images had been lost. I had no idea where I was or what I could expect ahead of me. That meant walking into blind situations and posed several questions. Would there be anywhere to find shelter from the weather, how far was my nearest drinking water and where would I be able to return to the coast from where ever it was I had camped. To make the problem worse still, I had no network coverage which meant no data signal either. In fact I was in a dead zone so I couldn't even call emergency services if I'd needed them. I knew that situations like this would become more regular the closer to the north coast I got and once hiking along the coast it could possibly be days before I would be able to connect to a mobile antenna. Laying there, inside my little home I began to wish the day would pass, eager to get going but finding it hard to get to sleep.

The following morning the sun was once again shining, there were a few clouds but at least it wasn't raining. My gear was still damp but it was good enough to put on and being eager to set off even though my boots were still damp I got up. I didn't have any water left which meant I had to skip any kind of breakfast and hope I would be able to fill up somewhere along the way. Leaving the shelter of the forest I noticed darker clouds on the horizon and felt the force of the wind. It was really quite strong and carried a bit of a chill. Following the road along I eventually found myself near the cliffs and could see the sea a little further out. I then began looking and planning how I would be able to get closer to the clifftops whilst also hunting for water. Ahead of me I saw a sign. As I got closer I could see that it read "badbea", this was the remains of an 19th century village that had been formed during the great Highland clearances. The Highland clearance is a dark piece of history that pre dates human rights. The rich English landlords collectively decided that grazing sheep in the glens and reforesting in order to breed grouse was more profitable than collecting rent from the local villagers. The landlords ordered the destruction of the villages and forced their inhabitants to the coast. That is one of the reasons why there are so many villages perched high up on the cliffs around the outskirts of Scotland. Badbea was just one of these settlements. It was a truly bleak location and must have been incredibly tough for the villagers. There wasn't much left of the village now, only a few ruins and a monument to those that had moved there. I'd been told that when the village had been inhabited the villagers used to tie there children and animals to stakes in the ground to prevent them from being blown over the cliffs to their deaths. Having now visited the site and experiencing the conditions first hand, even though it was only for a short time, I decided that maybe walking the cliffs here with a giant wind breaker strapped to my back probably wasn't such a good idea. So after having a quick look round I headed back towards the road, a safe enough distance from the clifftops. Whilst up at the village though it had begun to rain, it was now beginning to rain more heavily now so I decided to put my wet weather trousers on and prepare for another wet day but at least I knew now where I was.

Several times along the trek, starting with the crazy scotsman in Northumberland, I'd been told that I would never forget Berriedale. Many folk had told me that it was a really steep hill out of the village, naturally I was looking forward to this challenge, would it test my stamina to the point of breaking and would I find myself struggling the ascent to the top. I carried on along the road anticipating a hard days hike made even harder by the weather and this infamous hill. As I approached Berriedale the road began to drop from above the tree line into the valley below. Sure enough the way down was fairly steep but nothing more than a steep slope. I began to wonder if the climb the otherside would be as formidable as I'd been lead to believe. Reaching the bridge at the bottom that crossed the fast flowing river that ran through the valley I found myself stood looking up at the road zigzagging its way back to the top. I'll be honest it wasn't as steep as I'd been lead to believe. Sure it was going to take a while to hike up but in all honesty I'd climbed much steeper hills earlier on in the trek as well as scaling near vertical cliff faces. Berriedale was simply no challenge at all. Slightly disappointed I began the climb, following the road as it first went right then left and so on. At the top I continued on my way, the sun was now trying to break through and a beautiful rainbow formed ahead of me. Always mesmerized by these natural phenomenon I paused and followed it across the skies ending up over the sea below. Although I was on the road and not on the clifftop I wasn't far from the coastline I was attempting to follow.

After my brief stop I continued on, keeping the sea close, following the tarmac off into the distance and beyond the visible horizon. Even here I still found interesting sights and unusual landmarks. A few miles before I got to Lybster I noticed a whale bone gateway. It looked very similar to the one I'd seen with darren overlooking whitby. The huge jaw bones forming an arch over the entrance to a small field. They looked old, very old indeed. Moss had well and truly rooted itself and large cracks and breaks in the bone had meant additional rope was needed to hold the structure together. A few miles later I passed a couple of very old bridges, one looking so old I certainly wouldn't have even attempted to cross it with my enormous back pack for fear that it would crumble underfoot.

Lybster was now only a mile or so ahead of me and as I climbed the hill towards the town I decided that I would call it a day, find a pub or cafe with wifi and re cache the satellite images I'd lost from my phone. Lybster was also probably the last place before reaching john o'groats where this would be possible. Entering the small village I kept an eye out for possible places to camp up. Passing the local community centre I saw a small quiet corner of grass next to some picnic benches. It was partially sheltered from the wind by trees and the centre itself so I figured that it would most likely be my home for the night.

The village itself was unusual in its layout. A single main street lead through the center of the village to the harbour. There were two bars, two shops, a bank and a cafe. Turning the wifi on I wandered to each of the bars till I picked up a signal. Finding a strong signal at the second pub I went in and ordered an orange juice and lemonade and asked for the wifi code. When I first went in the bar was empty but as the evening progressed it filled, became more lively and almost suddenly empty once more. With the bar quiet I chatted with the publican who'd moved up from London to take over the bar, the tv was on so we both sat watching it while I finished my drink. After catching up with my social networks and caching the images I needed to happily proceed in the morning I headed off back to the community centre to setup camp and settle in for the night.

Under the shelter of the trees and protected by the centre I had a good nights sleep. It wasn't as cold as it had been the previous nights so I hoped the weather would be more pleasant the following morning. I woke around 8am feeling quite refreshed. I opened the tent and peered up hoping for a beautiful clear blue sky. It was cloudy and overcast. Wondering if it would stay dry I packed up and set off towards the harbour.

The harbour was much like many I'd seen before and less interesting than most. Surrounded by steep slopes I decided to turn around and start the day by leaving the village by a narrow lane next that I'd seen next to the cafe. Knowing I would have problems getting right up against the cliffs and fearing that the skies would once again open up and drench me I set off. Following the lane I made sure I was able to at least see the coast, I simply couldn't afford to damage anymore gear and certainly wasn't going to risk ripping my clothing unnecessarily on barbed wire if an alternative, albeit, longer route was available. Thankfully the road ran parallel to the coastline and in most places a mere couple of hundred yards away. Deep inside I longed to stand on the the clifftop looking down at the shores below and across at the views ahead and behind but common sense somehow managed to overall my desires and keep me away from the barbed wired fences, bogs and long wet grasses.

24^th Aug 2014

Checking the maps I'd cached the night before I decided my next way point would be blackness and now with a good idea of the distance and terrain I'd be covering I put my head down and ignoring the intermittent weather I set off determined to get there as quickly as possible. I hiked all morning, for moments the sun shone but the rest of my time was spent either in the rain or stopped gazing at Rainbows. I'd walked a fair few miles when I spotted a printed flag ahead. I was feeling hungry and hoped I would find a cafe somewhere along the way. The flag had the words "whaligoe cafe" printed on it. Coincidence, fate or sheer luck. What ever it was I didn't care. I stopped and pulled out my phone wondering how much further darkness was. To my surprise and also delightment I'd passed the village a few miles back and didn't even realise.

The cafe was .4 of a mile down a short road, as I walked along it I couldn't help but feel this was a place I'd been told about before. A nagging feeling that there was some significant reason I should stop and look around. Then I remembered, Whaligoe was a small fishing village where the wives and children of the fishermen used to climb a huge set of steps with baskets on their backs full of fish. The steps were situated beside the cafe, which was perfect. My phone hadn't charged properly the night before so I connected it to the backup battery I had in my pack and slid it into one of the side pockets. I figured that I'd treat myself to a small breakfast, have a coffee by which time I hoped I'd have enough charge to shoot some video and get some nice photos. I then went into the cafe, inside it was very modern and expensive looking. I started to get the feeling that this was no ordinary cafe but in fact some kind of fancy alecarte restaurant. Asking the waitress if they did all day breakfasts she looked at me in an odd way and disappeared into another room. When she returned she presented me with a posh looking menu. This certainly was not what I was expecting from a remote greasy spoon cafe in the north of Scotland, quite the opposite in fact. I opened the menu and started reading the items within the pages. Starters, mains, tapas and deserts. No sign of breakfast, wait, I went back through the pages, did I see tapas! Then I noticed the prices, I took another look round and decided the sign I'd seen from the road was a little misleading. This was no kind of cafe I'd ever been in before, in fact it was more like a restaurant. Well obviously I handed back the menu, thanked the waitress and told her I'd keep walking till I found a cafe. I left the cafe and set my bag down a little perplexed and confused and started to make my way down the steps. I figured the bag would be safe at the top of the cliffs and although going down the steps would be easy I didn't fancy lugging it all the way back up once I'd seen what ever it was I would find at the bottom.

The steps were extremely old looking and zigzagged their way to a grassy platform at the bottom. It was a lovely place to explore the remains of a small building on one side which I guessed was possibly an old ice house for storing the fish once they'd been brought ashore. The water was quite a way below me and pictured the women and children after descending the steps having to climb further down to the boats over the rocks to collect the fish their husbands had caught. I reached into my trouser pocket to get my phone out, rehearsing in my mind what I was going to say on the video. It wasn't there, I checked my other pockets and then remembered I'd put it on charge in my pack, which I'd left at the top of the steps. My eyed slowly followed the steps back to the top of the cliffs way above me. Chuckling to myself and shaking my head I rubbed my forehead and eyes I couldn't believe it. There was absolutely no way I was going to climb up there to get the phone, walk back down, take a couple of photos and then have to climb back up and continue with the trek. I turned and sat myself on the bottom step and gazed out to see to absorb this particularly unique harbour, locking it into my memories. This would be my special place, a place I would only share through the writings in my blog.

After a short while I decided I'd make the climb back to the top and remembering I was hungry found myself eager to reach the top. It was quite a climb, about half way up a ledge served as a break point before tackling the last drive back to my pack. Arriving at my pack I reached into the side pocket abd pulled out my phone. It had indeed got a reasonable charge so I took a photo looking down from the clifftops to the water below and returned it to its rightful place, in my trouser leg pocket. Throwing my pack on I turned around and started to walk away, in my mind battling with the decision to go back down. My mind wanted to but my legs and lungs didn't. Convincing myself that I still had a bloody long way to still walk that day I kept walking. I got back to the road I'd came in on and began to make my way along it passing a row of cottages now on my left and the coast quite rightly on my right.

I was about half way along the row of cottages when a man who'd been working on a car parked in the street stopped me. David had lived in the cottages all his life and for the passed 40 years looked after the steps. He invited me in and offered me a coffee and some biscuits. It was fascinating listening to his stories and finding out more about the history of the steps. Apparently there were originally 365 steps, one for each day of the year but thieves had removed a fair few from the top. His grandfather was also one of the last fishermen to use the harbour and showing me a very old photo pointed out his grandfather's fishing boat explaining how they used to have to winch the boats 60 feet from the water against the side of the cliffs to make repairs. The old building I thought was an ice house was in fact used to salt the makrell before being carried by the women and children to the top of the cliff where they would be carted off to eithet Lybster or wick. I also learned that the name Whaligoe meant "whale inlet". Whales were often found washed up at the bottom of the cliffs after they had died so the villagers would winch the carcasses up the cliff face to the top and cut the whales up using whatever they could. This explained why I'd seen whale bones the day before. Before I left david asked me if I could ride a bike. Of course, I replied. A small smile, possibly a smerk appeared on his face. "I have a bike, want to see it?" He said. I was a little intrigued expecting to see some ancient penny farthing or something. He disappeared into his shed and pulled out a mountain bike, but this was no ordinary mountain bike, it was a trick bike where the handle bars work in reverse. That means if you turn them one way the wheel turns the opposite. I had to give it a go but no matter how hard I tried to ignore my natural instincts I kept falling off. David then showed me how it should be done, quite literally running circles around me. This was most definitely an encounter I would never forget.

24^th Aug 2014

Leaving whaligoe now knowledgeable about its history I felt like I should really have made the effort to go back down the steps to film a piece for the video blogs but I needed to also get a move on and get myself to wick to pick up the much needed supplies I hoped were waiting for me at the lifeboat station. A huge black cloud hanging in the sky ahead of me also urging me to kick it up a gear and get a few miles in before it decided to let go of its payload. Once again I put my head down and marched on.

Approaching wick it felt like I'd stepped through a time warp, the town appeared much quicker than I had expected and thankfully all but a few droplets of rain had fallen. Descending down the hill following the road into town I wondered where I would be able to camp, towns not being the ideal place to stop overnight while wild camping. I crossed over the bridge and spotted an open area of grass lined with trees. It was early evening now and there was little point of going directly to the lifeboat station so I headed over to the trees and found a nice little spot under the canopy of leaves. The weather was still looking grim as I pitched the tent and climbed in. I was feeling quite tired and couldn't be bothered to hydrate one of the remaining pouches of rations instead opting for a couple of energy bars I had in my pack. Settling in to my sleeping bag it began to rain. All night it poured and I found myself waking more often than not as the rain drops from the leaves in the tree high above me fell heavily onto the tent. Each droplet landing with a thud and shaking the poles.

The following morning I woke feeling as tired if not more so than the moment I'd climbed into my sleeping bag. It had stopped raining so I decided to take the opportunity to pack up quickly and head straight for the lifeboat station which was in the harbour back on the other side of the river. Crossing back over the river I headed for the orange boat moored up near the harbour entrance. I knew the lifeboat house wouldn't be that from the lifeboat and as I got closer spotted the building and the very familiar RNLI flag hoisted high and blowing in the wind. The station mechanic was at the door and as I approached he instantly knew who I was. Welcoming me into the station he mentioned that I had literally just missed the rest of the crew. We climbed the stairs to the crew room and there on the meeting table were two packages with my name on, and I mean that literally. The first package was a small envelope, it contained the new leads and solar panel power traveller had sent to ensure I'd be able to continue the trek with no more power worries and the second very familiar parcel was the foot cubed box of supplies that always lifted my spirits. I removed the contents eager to see what jo had sent this time. I knew there would be less in it than normal as funds were low but at least there would be enough food for a few days. Counting the orange ration packs out I found I had enough food to last me four days and enough coffee and chocolate bars to see me through a few more days. If I was canny with what I had I felt sure I'd be fine for probably a week and then see what happened.

Before I left the station I was handed two hot cans. They were pretty heavy, 400grams a piece and for some reason my pack felt considerably heavier than normal. I couldn't get my head round it, I had trouble packing everything away and the bag was heavier but since leaving Southampton I'd ditched clothes and gear that I wasn't using in order to make the pack lighter. I had no luxuries and was quite simply down to the bear essentials. It was a pleasant stop off none the less and the sun was attempting to shine through. It hadn't rained either so now reloaded I headed of away from the station and crossed the bridge back to the other side and set off along the harbour wall and out to the headland. Around the headland I found myself heading back to the road I was desperate to avoid but a small housing estate backed up right to the cliff edge and I didn't think it would be polite and certainly frowned upon if I clambered through peoples gardens.

On the other side of the estate the land opened up, fields as far as the eye could see so from the road I decided to take a track which ran between two fields and parallel to the coast. After climbing a few fences and crossing a dozen fields I passed a lighthouse and a bit further on a castle ruins. I stopped to get a photo of the ruins but realised the phone had once again not charged the night before. Not charging once is fair enough, maybe I'd knocked the cable out whilst fidgeting during the night, but not charging a second time that rang alarm bells. I connected up the backup battery, nothing happened so I removed the cable and reinserted it. This time it worked. It appeared there was a problem with the cable or connection and would be something I'd have to keep an eye on. Putting the phone and charger in my pocket I decided to carry on, I wanted to get as close to john o'groats as possible and had my heart set on a place called duncansby. I wasn't sure I'd make it that day as the back pack was feeling particularly heavy but felt that if I found a nice spot a half wayish I'd be content.

From the ruins I could see an unusual tower about quarter of the way along a beach would be descending down to an hour or so later. I'd been told that I would be passing what used to be the queen mothers Scottish home and began to wonder if this was the place. As I got closer it certainly looked like the type of place royalty would live in, towering over the landscape as if it ruled the land. I then began to imagine the queen mum having stanner stairlifts installed to allow her to get to the top of the building. And what a stairlift that would have been, the building having many floors much like a skyscraper but built in times gone by before lifts had been invented. My phone had now had time to store a reasonable charge so I entered the grounds and took a couple of photos. It now appeared to be a hotel so its possible I had mistaken the property but I still couldn't help but imagine the lizzy visiting her mum during the summer way up here in the farthest northern regions of the country.

I carried on passed the tower along the nicely cut grass in front running along the rocky shore and up into the dunes on the other side. My pack was feeling really heavy now and dug into my shoulders. Wondering if the weight of the two hot cans were more noticeable than I had imagined and finding a nice pitch of grass overlooking the sea but not much else ahead of me, I decided to call it a day and pitched up. I unhooked the carrier bag I'd put the cans in and following the instructions carefully I waited for my dinner to cook itself. Well to say I was a little disappointed doesn't quite sum it up. The hot cans were quite frankly "not cans"! After a good 15 minutes the cans, although warm to the touch, had not heated there contents one bit. I took out my trusty pan and stove and decided to heat my food up that way. The first can was beans and sausages and the second can pasta in a sauce. After finishing the two cans I still felt hungry and decided that because of the weight and size and due to the fact they quite simply didn't work I would not be recommending them as an essential piece of trekking kit. Quite the opposite.

That night the temperature dropped quite noticeably. It reminded me of some of the first nights of the trek back in March when it was so cold I decided to sleep in all my clothes. Naturally I didn't fancy getting cold during the night and opted to once again sleep fully dressed. During the night I felt the need to uncork so ventured out of the tent to water the plants. It was freezing with vapour emanating from my breath. The skies were completely clear though and as I looked towards the heavens I could see more stars than I had ever seen before. Was I looking at part of the milky way, just a small part. There were hundreds of thousands of stars forming a kind of starry cloud above me and I remembered that in ancient times some of our ancestors had believed that each star was one of their ancestors. It was amazing to say the least, but it was also very cold and even though I wanted to sit outside gazing at the heavens I also wanted to climb into my sleeping bag and wrap up warm.