Between Dunnet Bay and Castletown there is a stretch of high
sand dunes that look as though they have been covered in green fur. They look
really odd. It is grass growing in tufts – Marram grass in all probability.
There are two sorts of walls round the fields and houses round here too. One is dry stone construction like this
And the other looks very like tombstones! Neither use
mortar.
There are more concrete buildings here that have an MOD feel
about them too.
My unruly Sat Nav unreliably informed me that I could fill
up with petrol in Castletown. Wrong! There is a garage but it has no petrol.
I hoped that meant there was a shiny Tesco
lurking on the outskirts... but no Tesco. Luckily on this occasion there is one at
Thurso, so I can breathe again. I noticed that those in the know were all filling
petrol cans to go in the boots of their cars.
Got to Forss but saw no trace of any 18th century
drugs racket, and just a few miles on I came upon Dounreay Nuclear Power
Station. I had seen information about it in Thurso yesterday.
It stopped working in 1994 and has been largely
de-commissioned but something is still going on there. Look at all the cars.
And I may be wrong, but there seemed to be some sort of police or military presence
there. Lovely beaches nearby but I would be a bit wary of swimming there or
drinking local water.
Reay is a pretty village and the local shop seems to have
solved the petrol problem They have their own pumps.
Several towns in this area are advertising their upcoming
Town Gala and are putting up jaunty bunting. I am looking forward to finding
out what it entails. I assume it’s a sort of village fete and I will come
across one soon and find out for myself.
As I drove into Sutherland I saw another stone sign
welcoming me to 'Mackay County'. According to Erin and Richard at Thurso library,
everyone in this county is called Mackay, Sutherland or Munro. When the Mackays
put up the stone calling it Mackay Country, the others took umbrage and their
stone was defaced and other signs with other names on them appeared. Not today
though. Today the prize goes to the Mackays.
From here it is, 27 miles over the peat bogs and on single
track mountain paths, interspersed by little villages and fabulous little sandy
bays and the added hazard of sheep wandering across the road smiling.
With the roof down on Gloria, the air is full of the scent
of gorse, smelling like coconut and vanilla.
I am not the only one on this road. There are cyclists.
I have come to the conclusion that the cyclists doing this
road in their lycra, helmets and sweat
pouring down their agonised red faces, are totally mad. This road from Thurso
to Durness is tortuous. I am doing some of it in first gear on the way up and
only second gear on the way down. I can only assume that the ghastly going up
is compensated for by the exhilarating freewheeling down.
Exhilarating but
scary. Some are even towing small trailers behind them with tents and luggage.
I bet the concept of electric bikes is looking rather attractive.
This is
simply one of the most spectacular roads I have ever travelled along and is up
there with the Garden Route in South Africa.
Exquisite little coves and beaches and no-one on them. What looks like a vast expanse of dry rocky
acres of mountain is also misleading. There are pools of water in the peat
everywhere. Some are as small as twenty foot across, others half a mile. No
idea how deep.
After seeing nothing but mountain and free range sheep for
miles on end, Bettyhill was eye candy and the views got better and better. Very
glad to have asked Visit Scotland to try to find me accommodation for the next
couple of days. There are no buildings here at all, let alone hotels or Bed and
Breakfast. Where there are places they are sporting No Vacancy signs.
I stopped for lunch at one of the very few cafes on the
route – The Weaver’s Cafe.
They had lovely homemade soup and sandwiches and a selection
of crafts. Some were from Harray Potter of Orkney. This is not a deviation of
harry potter for effect.
The potter is actually Andrew Appleby from Fursbreck
Pottery in Harray Village. He is well known and elderly and ready to retire so
if one doesn’t take advantage and buy his work soon they won’t be able to.
Filling up with petrol still a serious concern for lots of
people. Thirty bikers came through here last Sunday unaware that the village
pump was only open for an hour. And not that hour they were there. The owner of
the Weavers thinks it is red diesel that the locals are using. She is even
considering getting a pump on her premises. Good idea. She could charge whatever
she wants. People would pay gladly.
I crossed the beautiful causeway on the equally beautiful Kyle
of Tongue
Then back on to A838 and into the mountains once more. About
four miles outside Tongue I spotted what looked like peat – masses of it – cut
into blocks and lying drying at the side of the road again in the middle of
nowhere. Peat is a deposit of impacted plant material, mostly sphagnum moss, that is unique to certain areas of the country
and the World actually. This is one of those unique areas. It forms in
waterlogged areas hence all the pools and lochs everywhere.
But who cut it? There is no house in sight anywhere - just a ruin of one. And is it for their personal use or for sale as heating fuel?
Durness is minute and spread out. I found the MacKay hotel
and the bunkhouse where I am to stay tonight and tomorrow, easily. It is a
purpose built hostel housing about 20 people and I have a private room which is
a blessing otherwise I would be sharing a mixed gender room with the cyclists.
I went a bit further along the road to the Balnakeil CraftVillage where there is a artisan chocolate workshop. The centre has an
interesting history having originally been an RAF military camp during the cold
war. Now it is a collection of private homes and small craft businesses.
One of which is Cocoa mountain a chocolate making company.
They have a cafe where they sell hot chocolate naturally, tea coffee and
snacks.
Is this the best drinking chocolate in Scotland? Quite
possibly.
Took so long drinking it that I got back to the bunkhouse
after the only shop in the area had closed. No supper for me then.
Off to bed in my two bunk room which is literally smaller
than a two man prison cell and is possibly against the Geneva Convention on
human space. The only other two bunk cell, I mean room, has a Australian couple
in it and they snore - loudly and not in unison.
Now why did no one suggest taking a pair of ear plugs on
this trip?
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