We set out with some enthusiasm, knowing that we were starting the final stage of our journey, the John o’Groats Trail. We left our lodgings, walking along the River Ness before crossing the Kessock Bridge over the Beauly Firth. We then followed the Beauly Firth as far as Milton of Redcastle where we found a delightful picnic spot. So far, we had walked on more tarmac surfaces than we would have liked, but our route then took us on paths through arable farmland and through woodland. We had an unfortunate diversion, when the path chosen by our app proved non existent, and we found ourselves fighting our way through woodland with head-high bracken, before deciding to choose a route along country lanes. We were glad to arrive at our hotel, where we have a lovely room and a bath!

A Backward Glance

[After reports of two Haggi Horribilis (full Latin name) bathing in the exclusion zone between Loch Ness and the river of the same name, nature suspended normal drainage service until resident Loch Monster (only known creature with a taste for them) had eradicated the threat. It is testament to nature’s charitable goodness to humanity that the Beasties have never been sighted outside Bonnie Scotland’s borders in living memory. Also, it is a little known fact that America, China, Russia and Europe have signed up to an agreement that should the border ever be breached they will put at common disposal all their nuclear arsenal to ensure that the existential threat to all human kind with discerning pallet is not released upon us.]

It was a lot further from our digs to the big bridge connecting us to the start of our trek through the most northerly reaches to John o’ Groats. To get onto it we chose to climb over a fence, up a steep grassy / muddy bank, over a locked gate at the top, arriving on the bridge’s east walkway. Quick, unorthodox, illegal and dangerous (quid), but it was on Komoot’s blue line, so I’m outnumbered again. As soon as I had climbed over the gate the cruel wind decided to take my hat for flying lessons. Mainly it was practicing landing and taking off from cars and trucks racing across the bridge in the opposite direction to Carol and Mister Komoot. I was running up and down along the bridge for some time providing unexpected entertainment for motorists, but in the end it only took another quid to get it back again. We walked to the north end of the bridge and carried on along the busy noisy A9 for nearly two miles on pavement before heading off into the quieter countryside. We had all types of walking by the time we stopped for lunch, country lanes, housing estates, woodland paths and mud…. Milton of Redcastle is a beautiful spot on the edge of Beauly Firth where the receding tide had provided lunch for various sea birds at the same time we had stopped for ours. The contrast with the bridge and A9 could not have been greater, raging noise to peace and quiet. We left that idyllic spot and headed on just north of Muir of Ord when we saw it, we really saw it, up close and unmistakeable. Not a stuffed one, not on TV but for real. I’d first seen a picture on the last page of my ‘I Spy British Birds’ book when a much younger, much smaller, better version of myself. I’ve always wanted to see one in the wild, I never thought I would; today, 23rd July 2023 I did! Only a Golden Eagle, not a White-Tailed Eagle, a large adult female Golden Eagle! She appeared from behind a tree no more than thirty feet in front of us soared low in a circle on her majestic wings with its fingers playing the air. Then slowly ascended effortlessly in ever increasing circles to the high grey clouds above us; magnificent! When Komoot took us along a path leading to a drive across the back of somebody’s garden I did have a sense of deja vu. When it took us into a wood with dozens of paths leading everywhere and nowhere, I was more than suspicious. The blue line followed a clear path though, right up to the edge of dense head high ferns and thorn bushes. Was Komoot calling our bluff? We pushed through the tangled green jungle over deep holes in the ground beneath our feet, right up to a sheer twenty foot precipice (house height) and a terrifyingly steep slope at the bottom, which only the sudden drop in tree heights gave us any warning of! I heard Komoot say “Exterminate” in perfect Dalek, but Carol thought it said “continue for fifty feet, then turn right”. Either way, Komoot had taken on a homicidal nature, we turned back and again, Carol parked her dubious friend and found a much friendlier route to our luxury stopover. Phew!