We left our shepherd’s hut and crossed fields to rejoin the trail, in sunshine once more. The trail was again on the seaward side of the fence, and as it was windy and the paths were narrow, we eventually succumbed and crossed into the field to continue our walk. Soon the signs ended and we found the route as confusing as fellow walkers had warned us. We had been directed inland at one point, but gorse bushes and brambles blocked our way, and then there were high deer fences with no gates or stiles. We eventually decided to walk along the road for a while, until we found a lovely path leading back to the coast at Latheronwheel, crossing a river. The next stretch was easier, until we had to walk round a ravine, then descend to cross the river. From there it was a bit of a roller coaster, and we finished our walk alongside the A99 rather than along the cliffs.

A Backward Glance

Today the sky started under a clear blue sky then gradually became cloudy and grey, our route also started clear and pleasant but became cloudy and grey much more quickly than the weather. Carol’s good at jigsaws where no instructions are required to complete, I’m better at IKEA when the ability to follow instructions meticulously is paramount. So, starting the walk this morning between the ‘trail’ signs was like turning the pages in an instruction manual, completing each stage in order. Unfortunately the ‘trail’ manual had several pages missing, which made me very angry and frustrated. Carol on the other hand was putting the pieces of the route together quite happily in her own way and hardly needed ‘trail’ signs at all. Early in our walk the ‘trail’ signs lead us into a cul-de-sac with no obvious route through. Carol hardly blinked and with homing pigeon like navigation headed straight for the road, saying, “we can use it to circumnavigate the next inlet and pick up the ‘trail’ once past it”. Where’s the instructions I protested, but she was getting away and I’m left looking anxiously across a double line of barbed wire fencing for a reassuring ‘trail’ sign or evidence of a faint path – none. When a child my comfort blanket must have fallen from the pram because those feelings were being reawakened on this walk. Without instructions I’m lost, Carol though audaciously took us over locked gates into fields of beet, down the drive of a farm house, through a car braking yard, over more gates across a field with a single bull in the far corner, down a steep slope of clumpy grass to a barbed wire fence. “Trail’s somewhere near here”, she said as we followed the fence away from the coast. No way I thought, we’re going in the wrong direction for starters. Fortunately I never said a word because five minutes later we both came to the ‘JoG Trail’ sign on a fence post. How the trail planners knew where Carol’s short cut would end up will forever be a mystery, but instructions found, so calm restored. The route eventually took us back to the coast and a gruelling walk along majestic coves. The continuing climbing of barbed wire fences and negotiating recurring ravines we either had to climb in and out of or around was taking its toll on us both. The final couple of miles we completed on the main road which had good wide grass verges and was mainly flat compared to the coast path alternative.