The railway line was no more than 10 yards from my tent so the first train at 6am rattled past and shook me awake.
Off across the next bridge this morning, but being close to the A9 on the way up to it was not much fun with so many HGVs belting past. Looking back I could see the Morangie forest covering miles of hills.
A nice new stile is in place at the other side of the bridge. A caravan owner parked in the layby got the shock of his life to see me get over the barrier and disappear down the steep embankment. There was a look of utter incredulity on his face
The walk along the coast was absolutely lovely for the sun shone, the butterflies flitted, and the grass was dry. John O’Groats trail markings appeared where they were needed and so I found myself in Dornoch without getting lost.
This is a pretty, tourist filled place with rather pricy cafes, so having purchased a take away hot chocolate,I sat and watched the world go by.
Finding the next path was less than easy. The various route instructions didn’t help,and in the end I simply followed the little road down to the beach carpark,and there was the path.
On this warm sunny day the beach could have been on the Bahamas. Unbelievably beautiful with only a few people using it. To my left was my pet hate in the form of the ‘Royal Dornoch Golf Course’, but not having to cross any part of it, I was saved any undue stress.
At one point I went down to the beach and walked along the fine white sands with only gulls and Oystercatchers for company.
Martin was picking me up from Skelbo castle,so I was saved from my planned stay at ‘Grannies Heilan Hame’ campsite. Serried ranks of white static caravans, 2 real vehicle roundabouts and a bleak exposed camping area. Possibly Grannies Heilan Hell, but I did notice that it did have a decent sized shop and a’pub’. I would not miss the ‘arcade’ though.