Day...er fer gawd's sake, does it matter?
Onward to Lunan Bay
I went from Glen Shee to Glen Prosen and then to Kirriemuir and Friokhem and then Lunan Bay. It were fab. I did some plodding.
Cateran trail next for a bit, then on to Monamenach where I irritate friends and family by ringing them up and telling them that I'm on the top of a hill and can see the North Sea. It's at this point I discover the tragic loss of my special offer Wagon Wheels.
I celebrate this by camping wild at the top of Glen Prosen with the extra special delight of putting me tent up facing into the gale that's blowing off Driesh. Or was it Mayar?
Anyway, cooking is undertaken by holding the tent flaps out of the way of the stove with one hand and stirring the curry with the other. All done in a crouched position, guaranteed to bring on the most painful attack of cramp in both feet at the same time.
I listen to the hissing from the radio for a bit and then fall asleep before it goes dark or anything.
In the morning, a simple walk down Glen Prosen takes me to a motel at Cortachy, where I fail to locate the shower in my bedroom.
I met another Challenger at Cortachy who's partner had just been removed to Aberdeen by a big yellow helicopter, due to a slip on Jock's Road and the poor lad now has all the gear for two and is twenty miles off route.
I sympathise and detail the sad loss of my Waggon Wheels. He looked a bit blank and went to bed just after that. I think I detected a gasp just before he left. He was definitely muttering anyway.
Next day the plan was to walk to a village called Letham and then finish the walk on the Wednesday. The route now enters Strathmore. This is pretty flat, and as I was on back lanes, the going was very easy. So, with good reception on the radio, I marched off towards the sea, by-passing Kirriemuir and Forfar, and frightening an old lady on the way, who obviously thought I was a burglar or something.
One particular path into Letham had been strimmed and planted with trees and in the middle was a bench and an information board about the battle of Nechtansmere which took place between the Northumbrians and the Picts. The Picts won 3 - 0 and so went on to the champions league, but lost in the final against the Scots. The Northumbrians went home and invented Newky Brown, Gregs stotties, Leek competitions, singing about the Blaydon races and incomprehensible shouting..
I arrived at Letham at 2:0 p.m. So I went to the tea shop for soup, toasties and rhubarb tart. Then I visited the pub where I intended to stay. It was still only 3-ish and I was feeling good, so I decided to carry on to the next village - Friokheim (pronounced Freeeekam, with lots of "E's"). As I entered Friokheim, I was accosted by two old ladies.
The conversation, which took place in the middle of a busy road junction went roughly like this:
"Ah ye'll be doin the walk then?"
"S'right".
Ah 'spect ye'll be looking fer a bed fer the neet."
"I was hoping..."
"Wayle, they're awa tae their holidays".
"?"
"Ye'll nae get a bed the neet, An' there's naewhere else in the toon."
"D'you think we should move". (Referring to our hazardous position in the middle of the road).
"Ach nae".
"We'll get knocked down".
"Ach nae. They'll aw ga aroon" (i.e The traffic...)
And sure enough, the traffic went around us. We became a temporary de facto traffic island. (or roondaboot as they like to say in Freeekham).
"Ye'll hae tae walk aw the way tae the sea. It's a bonny neet onyway..."
Shortly after I met another challenger who'd tried the pub but found it locked. He'd heard about a camp site a few miles North and said he was going to go there. I decided to check out The Star and drink beer.
The Star was open, but the lass inside said they couldn't do B&B and that there was nowhere else in the village. A young lad outside said I could camp in the park, but refused his dad's lawn, though he did seem more interested when offered cash. I decided to walk to the coast and sleep on the beach.
So aff tae the Friokheim Co-Op to buy celebratory beer for the finish, a sandwich and a pie for supper and more Eastwards lane-walking. After about a mile or so, I came across a nicely wooded area just next to the road and decided to camp there, discreetly. Turned out to be a "wildlife sanctuary and high amenity area" just next to the crematorium. Reports that I slept in the crematorium are quite inaccurate as clearly, anybody found lying about would be in extreme jeapordy of being scorched.
So I snuck off behind some gorse, lay in the grass and waited for time to pass and the traffic to die down and stuff like that. A wood-pigeon cooed a bit, and I fell asleep.
An hour or two later, I woke up surrounded by small rabbits and put the tent up, feasted on beer and butties and fell asleep again.
Today was the longest walk - 21 miles covered.
A few miles later, after a breakfast of absolutely nothing, I was on the beach at Lunan Bay watching a wee doggy chase a kite. And the waves going in and out. And some seagulls. I seem to remember seagulls.
I stayed there in a pretty catatonic state for about two hours Eventually, I finished the walk with a five mile lane walk into Montrose for congratulations, tee shirt, badge, and whisky.
Bob and Janet turned up Thursday and we all went to the challenge dinner at The Park Hotel where Davina was displaying her blisters and we met challengers from previous events and all had a jolly time. Bob, who's a Geordie, spent the journey back from the hotel to Montrose campsite shouting incomprehensible things at people and cats and milk bottles and trying to get a communal rendition of Blaydon races going...
Home Saturday after spending Friday eating smokies and reading a book in Doric dialect.
"His mither's nae jaikin weel ata. She took a turnie this aifterneen".
"Fit wye?"
I wonder what it means...
The End
