We walk out of our Thurso hotel in the morning into a blue, cloudless day. We walk to Scrabster, which is the port near Thurso that is the departure point for the ferry to Stromness in the Orkneys. We begin by following the very busy road out of Thurso, but eventually find our way to a clifftop walk with conveniently placed seats where we can look out on Pentland Firth, one of the wildest waterways in the world which today is flat calm, blue and benign.
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| Pentland Firth, Dunnet Head in the distance to the right |
Scrabster Harbour has boats ranging in size from small wooden fishing dories to a big trawler. Looking for a coffee, we find a Tapas bar which has the usual Spanisg tapas offerings like patatas bravas, with a touch of haggis thrown in for local colour (haggis balls with cheese filling). They do know how to make proper coffee, and I enjoy the first decent long black I've had for days, along with bread, olives and aoli, and delicious eggplant fritters with nuts and honey.
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| Scrabster Harbour |
After a bit more pottering round Scrabster, we set off on the return journey, clifftop almost all the way. Peter and I have an argument about whether land we can see beyond Thurso is Dunnet Head (part of the mainland) or Hoy (the southernmost Orkney isle). We are equally certain (I think it's Dunnet, Peter thinks it's Hoy) and neither can convince the other. We appeal to a man mowing the lawn in front of his house which looks out over the Firth for an expert opinion. I win - you can just see Hoy in the hazy distance if you squint a bit.
We take advantage of the occasional seat on the walk to enjoy the view. We see dark shapes surfacing not far from the shore which we first think are seals, then as they come closer to shore we realise are divers in wetsuits. It's such a glorious day that everyone that greets us in passing comments on it. There are people with dogs on the beaches below the cliffs, and as the afternoon warms to 19 degrees they are sunbaking and one brave bloke goes into the water in swim shorts. Not very far, not quite waist deep before he returns to his family on the beach.
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| Beach day in Scotland |
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| Strange rock formation |
Everyone warned us about midges in Scotland, and when we arrived in Inverness I bought maximum strength insect repellent to take on the canal boat, but it never came out of the suitcase. Now we are enjoying our first really summery day, yes, there are clouds of midges, but no, I haven't thought to bring the repellent. We keep them at bay with constant arm-flapping. They're only bad for the last part of our walk and disappear as soon as we reach Thurso. We stop for a much-needed iced coffee, then head back to the hotel to collect our bags, with plenty of time to then walk to the railway station.
Consternation! Hotel is closed, not re-opening until 4pm. We will still have enough time to get to the station for our 4:32 train, provided the hotelkeepers do return at 4pm as the notice promises. We are still standing about in front of the hotel when a delivery van pulls up - the driver is equally put out to find the hotel closed. After a couple of attempts we finally raise the hotelkeepers on a mobile, and they give us the code for the door. We let ourselves and the delivery man in, collect our bags and then the delivery driver offers us a lift to the station. So it all works out perfectly, we are there in plenty of time and we don't have to drag our bags along the rough pavements of Thurso.
The return train trip is lovely all over again, even nicer in bright sunlight. The ticket collector warns us that we may have a noisy crowd of soccer fans join the train for the last half hour as Aberdeen are playing Ross County at Dingwall, which is two stations from Inverness. I figure that the behaviour of the fans may depend on the result, so I find a website that provides a live score. As we pull into Dingwall, the game is in the equivalent of "time on" (whatever that is in a soccer game) and the score is nil-all. So naturally the crowd is still in the stands and hardly anyone joins our carriage. Instead the worst we have to put up with is a bit of noise and singing in very doubtful taste from some rugby players who boarded a bit earlier.
We realise that we have a wait of over an hour when we get to Inverness before we catch our final train to Inverness Airport, where we are staying in an airport hotel. We use the time to dine in a very nice restaurant just outside Inverness station, then return in good time for this last trip. But then it all goes pear-shaped. First we find that there has been a person found on the tracks (no further details of the circumstances) and nothing will happen until the track is cleared. But after they announce that this has been done and things can return to normal we realise there is a more confronting issue: the train to Inverness Airport goes on to Aberdeen, the next train from Dingwall will arrive just before it leaves, and Aberdeen finally scored a winning goal in the last 60 seconds of the game. The train arrives from Dingwall and dozens of shouting and singing Aberdeen fans pour off and line up for the train we were planning to catch. The noise is deafening, and even though we would only be on the train for one stop, 10 minutes, it's more than we can stand. We retreat from the station and take a cab to the Marriott hotel. Thirty quid is a small price to pay to retain one's hearing and sanity, and we don't have to drag our bags from the Inverness Airport station to the hotel, which is welcome as we've already walked miles today.
We're now safely at the airport, ready to catch our plane to Nantes via Amsterdam tomorrow.
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