The beginning of the end...

Sat 27th & Sun 28th June - The "Great" Glen Way Part I & II

I'm blending these days into one as that's exactly what they've been; a blur that I'd rather not linger on for too long.

The fun began when it took over an hour and a half simply to get out of Fort William. Even cutting corners did very little to help as the Great Glen Way (GGW) takes you all around the houses without seeing a single attraction or landmark. However, once I was out of town the feeling was great and I was steaming along the towpaths in glorious sunshine.

Soon enough the smile was wiped off my face as the GGW has an ugly trait of teasing you with short simple sections, before forcing you to backtrack a few miles. If the route of the backtracking was exciting, I'd have been all for it, however when you walk 2 miles up a hill to get a half-arsed glimpse of a rock that for years has been blocked by overgrown bushes... the excitement is pretty diluted.

The only real highlight of day one was the lovely sponsorship by the campsite owner who not only let me stay for free, but gave me £10 to boot! Shame the only positive thing of day one had nothing to do with the walk though.

Day two began equally as frustrating as I was swamped by midges upon opening my tent. I walked and walked and walked, until I reached Loch Ness but even the beautiful weather couldn't lure Nessie out of her watery home. By early afternoon I reached Mark Moxon's destination for the day, but pushed on to what I thought would be a simple yomp down the hill... WRONG WRONG WRONG!

After about 4 more hours, I realised I hadn't eaten a single thing since 12pm and my stomach was reminding me by growling louder than the music on my iPod. Taking a second by the roadside, I reached into my bag and pulled out one of my remaining ration packs. I'd been saving these for emergencies, but this seemed a good a time as any so down went the lamb and dumplings.

With a bit of fuel in my feet, I marched onwards and soon came to the road which would lead me to the campsite for the night. I had very little drive left by this stage as I'd been walking for nearly 14 hours, so when I reached the ridge over the campsite, I pretty much rolled and bounced down the hillside until I came to a slump at the bottom.

After about 10 minutes of laying in the grass, I finally stumbled to my feet and got my tent up and my gear squared away. Stupidly I sat on my pillow and was met by a loud bang, however at this late stage I couldn't care less so my waterproofs and clothes bag took the role of bedding for the night.


Mon 29th June - Great Glen Way Part III... Return of The Glen...

Well after walking 32 miles yesterday, I was in no rush to be darting off early. As I emerged from my tent and began stretching everything back into place, a voice sparked up behind me.

"Aaah, finally caught up with me then I see!", said Patrick. He was the other end-to-end walker that I'd met on the West Highland Way and it was great to see a familiar face.

It was also refreshing to hear someone else moan about how boring the Great Glen Way was too! It was clear that we were happy to be finishing it today, even if there's still 18 miles remaining. Patrick then headed off to the café, so I packed up and headed into town to get some gifts for my little brothers and nieces.
Once I'd posted them all, I waved Patrick farewell and got a head start as I knew the walking machine that he was would catch me up in no time at all.

The route itself began fairly simple, but was soon back to winding through forest, making no progress towards Inverness. It's so painful on both the legs and the morale when you know that not taking the road option would be twice as slow - the price I pay for not wanting to get run over I suppose.

After an hour or two, the route opened up and I saw two familiar faces taking a break on the side of the path. These two Scottish guys had also been doing the GGW and we'd had a chat on a couple of occasions along the way. I could see Patrick hot on my heels, so I bid them farewell for now and steamed on up the track. By this stage I as at DEFCON 5 of boredom so I took 5mins to explore a forest picnic area. As I sat there I saw all 3 of my fellow walkers pass by, so I guessed I should do the same. However a sign for a café next to the way caught my eye and up the path I ambled.

I could only laugh as who should I see sitting around a small table? Patrick and the two guys who'd just passed me. It seemed like all of us were taking any chance we could away from the way today. We easily let 40mins slip away as we chatted over some coffee in the world's weirdest café. It was a campsite that sat in the middle of some nasty marshland, with a sign labelled "Gents" that clearly pointed to a pile of crap sitting on a load of hay. The woman who ran the place was lovely, if not a little nuts - but her crazy antics passed the time before we all realised there was walking to be done.

Refuelled and ready to go, I teamed up with Patrick and to my surprise, managed to keep up with him. He explained all the events he'd done, including desert marathons which really put today's heat into perspective.
Deep in chat, we seemed to reach Inverness in no time, before I shook his hand farewell for what seemed like the 100th time and headed off to find a B&B for the night. John O'Groats, you're in my sights...


Tues 30th June - Inverness to Evanton...

Well today began with a smile as I knew that I'd no longer be on the Great Glen Way. Over an odd breakfast of Weetabix, yogurt and a slice of toast (yum), the Chinese owner of the B&B got into an even odder heated tirade. Out of nowhere, she exploded into a rant about how Indian and Pakistani immigrants who hate the western world but still live in the UK should sod off home. I had no idea what to even say to the maniac as she was blabbing for a good 30mins whilst I was trying to eat my "breakfast".

I could only laugh as when she offered me fresh coffee, a sachet of Kenco was placed on my table with some luke warm water. I assumed she thought fresh coffee meant that it was made with a newly bought sachet, but was more glad that by now she'd finally finished her monologue. Quickly making a break for it, I thanked her for what little there was of the food and headed off to pack my stuff.

After leaving what could barely be called a B, let alone a B&B... I joined the A9 which would take me all the way along the Scottish east coast to Wick until the A99 takes it place. Even though I was road walking, I was so happy to be making good progress towards my destination rather than winding up a hillside (I'm clearly still bitter as you can see). The pavement running out didn't even seem to bother me as I pounded away at the miles.

After a while, I gave the Dingwall police station a call (thanks Dad for the phone number) to check if the Cromarty Bridge had a footpath. Once I knew it did, I was off like a rocket and crossed it by 2pm, cutting out a big corner of the coast and putting an even bigger grin on my face.

A sandwich later, I made the final push to the campsite at Evanton and set up the tent for the extortionate price of £9. I wanted to take the owner's pulse to check if she had a heart, but I guessed I already knew that I'd find nothing.

To celebrate the fact I was on the beginning of the home straight, I headed to the shop and picked up a couple of Millers, a BBQ and some fish... quick the evening ahead I think you'll agree.
An hour later a familiar voice popped over the top of my tent...

"Who's smelly old boots are those then?" said Patrick. I should have had a wise crack ready and waiting, but was too busy stuffing my face with BBQ goodies to reply.

I just can't seem to shake this guy off my tail !!!


Wed 1st July - Evanton to Dornoch...

After a midge free solid night's sleep, the lack of breakfast didn't even cross my mind as I made the FINAL farewell to Patrick.

By the time I was passing Alness, my stomach had other ideas and was beginning to make some insane noises that couldn't go unnoticed. Giving into its demands, I headed into town and wolfed down a bacon and egg buttie. I also managed to pick up some new headphones for £1 - albeit each song sounded as if it was being played underwater, but still... quite the David Dickinson!

I made the decision to take the slower, windy roads up towards today's destination as I really wasn't feeling the A9 with its insane drivers. This decision paid dividends as there was next to no traffic to speak of, allowing me to enjoy some great views of the surrounding countryside.

By early afternoon, I was nearing Dornoch when a guy pulled up ahead and stood there by his car, waiting for me to catch up. "Dya wanna lift?", he asked kindly. I explained what I was doing and he told me that he'd spent 13 years with the Highlanders before the gov' mashed all the regiments into one. It was a shame to lose all the history, but I guess that's what happens when the people upstairs need to save some cash these days.

I thought Pete was kind enough to hand over a bottle of Red Bull to keep me fuelled, but I was knocked for six when he reached into his glove compartment and whipped out £50 in sponsorship! That certainly covers the lack of donations in Scotland and some!

The kindness didn't stop there as an ex RAF engineer told me to stop a few houses up and was waiting with an ice cold Magners by the time I arrived. His house was opposite an RAF bombing range which was totally surreal to watch as the Tornadoes ran wave after wave of bombing exercises, ready to deploy for real in Afghanistan.

Once I arrived in Dornoch, I headed to the local SPAR and was even met by a donation of £10 there too. True enough, my luck had to run out soon enough, as upon arriving at the campsite I could see there was nothing there to speak of. The grass was knee high as I waded into the middle of the field, only to be met by a call of "Oi, over 'eer".

The feral owner wasn't much help, but pointed me to a field in which I might be able to pitch a tent. I ambled over and picked the best of a bad lot, but I suppose it was free after all. I should be happy, and I would have been if it A: didn't sound like a war zone outside... and B: I didn't have every species of insect in my tent with me!


Thurs 2nd July - Dornoch to Brora...

Well today began with a record breaking beginning, seeming as I wanted to get out of the jungle-esk piece of land that I called home for the night.

By 7am I was a few miles outside of town and came across a hotel that looked like a safe bet for brekkie. Luckily the owner said she would let me have cereal, toast, fresh coffee and porridge for only a fiver - so I snapped up her offer. It all went down a treat and by 8am I was back on the road, enjoying the delicious energy inside my belly... yum!

Yet again I was on the A9, but for some reason today it didn't bother me one bit. I could only chuckle at the fact that my limited edition £1 headphones had only lasted one night... of which the "limited" must have related to the time they'd last.

By 11am, I'd made it to Golspie and headed into the nearest shop for some supplies. As I emerged from the door, I was met by an older couple standing over my bag with smiles ready and waiting. They were lovely enough to not only sponsor me a few pounds, but hand me a fiver and tell me that they were treating me to lunch. They told about a lovely little café nearby, so taking their advice, I headed straight there and plonked myself down to a £5 feast.

The midday sun was now in full effect, so on went the bush hat and in went the fluids.

Between Golspie and Brora, the walk was pretty dull until the trees cleared and out jumped the North Sea with its blissfully cooling breeze. However, this breeze turned out to be the wind before the storm.

I had just set up my tent and was returning from the shower when I heard the first of about 3 thunder storms all rolling in side-by-side. No more than 5mins after I squared away everything inside the tent, the rain began and didn't look like stopping any time soon. Still, I guess that means a cooler night for me, which I won't be complaining about.

p.s. I've just managed to set fire to my tent... maybe this citronella candle was a bad idea after all... whoops!


Fri 3rd July - Brora to Helmsdale...

Well you'd think that I'd have learnt my lesson by now, but clearly you'd be wrong... very very wrong indeed. This morning I woke up with a killer headache after the couple in the caravan next to me invited me over for a few glasses of red once the storms had cleared. They were a hilarious pair from Warrington (I passed through there and was flashed by the B&B owner... remember?), but were now living in a caravan after regrettably moving to Helmsdale.

According to them, upon moving to Helmsdale they experienced massive racism from the local Scottish residents and were tarnished with the label "FEBs" (f****** English Bastards). Thank god I'm only staying there one night, I thought!

Back to this morning, I was soon on the road trying to ignore the urges to give in to my headache. After a while I heard the all too familiar sound of trekking poles clicking on the tarmac behind me. For a second I had a feeling it was Patrick come back to stalk me, but as I turned around I could see it was a younger guy closing fast.

I slowed down until he was close and asked, "End to End?". A smile and a nod came as the reply before we exchanged the usual facts and figures of each other's journeys. Brendan had started around the time of Easter and was luckily enough to have his girlfriend joining for the last week of his journey, which no doubt would have put the icing on the bun. Alas being a singleton, I don't have that luxury... my tent's too small anyway :P

We powered on through the miles and reached Helmsdale in next to no time at all, before exchanging numbers. This was the destination for me, but Brendan said farewell and headed off to his girlfriend Jenna and their car a few miles down the line.

As for the town, it was a bit of a dump but that was the least of my concerns. I finally found a B&B for £17 and settled down to the Andy Murray match.


Sat 4th July - Helmsdale to Dunbeath...

After a hearty breakfast that contained enough cholesterol to fell an ox, I was back on the road in glorious sunshine. There's sod all that can be said about the route as this last stretch is a dull yomp along the A9 and A99 to John O'Groats.

Even though the route was dull, the weather conditions weren't. Within the space of two hours I'd gone from blazing sunshine accompanied by light winds, to sea mist so thick that no single driver had a clue as to what was 5m in front of their noses. Because of this, I strapped my Maglite to my arm and stayed as far away from these idiots as humanly possible.

In a brief lull from the mist, I was met by a series of tuneful honks as a Ford Ka pulled in and out jumped Jenna, Brendan's girlfriend. Brendan had walked on further yesterday so she was returning from dropping him off a few miles up the road. Kindly, she invited me to join them for a whiskey or two at John O'Groats as Brendan was planning to finish on Monday as well. With a big smile on my face, I accepted their offer and hit the road.

A few hours later, I arrived at Dunbeath - yet another painfully isolated village with only a SPAR and a campsite to its name. Luckily for me, that's all I needed so I stocked up and set up the tent for the night just in time for the sun to burn away the sea mist.


Sun 5th July - Dunbeath to Wick...

I can safely say that the thought of finishing tomorrow made this day a complete and utter blur. I can't even think of one thing that stuck out and became news worthy the whole day!!

The night before however, was a different kettle of fish.

I crashed out about 9.30pm and was looking forward to a solid nights sleep, ready for the 21 miles I'd have to walk to Wick tomorrow. After an hour and a half, this plan went right out the window as I was woken up by two dutch sounding morons who thought it would be a great idea to set up their tent within about 20cm of mine.

They were so loud that there was no chance I was going to get to sleep, so as a last resort I popped my head out of the tent and made it clear I wanted them to shut the hell up. It didn't help one bit as this caused them to talk even louder in whatever language it was they were speaking, clearly making every effort to wind me up no end.

It was the coup de grâce when one of the idiots managed to walk straight through my tent! It wasn't even remotely dark which made it obvious that it was no accident. With an almighty roar I let out a torrent of language that could have toppled a building in one fell swoop. It seemed to work to some level as soon after, they got in their tent and went to sleep... snoring just as loud as they had been nattering.

By now it was about 1:30am and I was in dire need of some solid sleep. Two German bikers returning from the local pub however, had other ideas. They were right at the other end of the campsite, yet with the wind blowing towards me, their drunken voices carried as if they were being spoken through megaphones. This went on for hour and hour until by 5am I'd had enough and decided to cut my losses and leave.

Like a spiteful child, I decided now would be a fantastic time to play the always fun game of... "How loud can you pack away your tent"... so come on down Ed - it's your turn to spin the wheel of fun!

It's amazing how much noise a single zip can make, as well as finding ANYTHING metal to throw on top of each other in order to make loud clanging noises as close to the tent next to me as possible. In all honestly I could have easily packed up within the hour, but it was more fun to stretch the process out to two slow and torturous hours especially for the morons in the tent next door.

By 7am, they emerged from their tents with faces like thunder and were met by a huge morning grin from me... reap what you sow you noisy europeans! I was then back on the road and it was equally as foggy as yesterday, but within a few hours the sun had cleared a path for me and on I plodded towards Wick.

By around 4pm, I'd arrived in the grey "city" of Wick and tracked down a cheap and cheerful B&B right next to the station that would be taking me home on Tuesday morning. Like a sly fox, I booked in for two nights which would allow me to leave the heavy stuff at the B&B and walk to John O'Groats with a light bag... a feeling that I hadn't enjoyed once since leaving Brighton back in late April.

With this thought in my mind, I vegged out in front of the tele with some nibbles and drifted off to sleep.


Mon 6th July - Wick to John O'Groats...

WOOO HOOO my last day has finally arrived, but before the celebrations began I needed to wait around for the train station to open. It had the stupid hours of 10:10am - 5:14pm ... no doubt because someone needed to catch their bus. I was supposed to be meeting Brendan, his Mum and Jenna around late afternoon and seeming as I had to wait until 10:20am til I was finally off, I doubted they'd still be there by the time I arrived.

What I hadn't accounted for was how fast I was able to walk with this light pack! It felt like I was pretty much jogging down the road, a feeling that was completely and utterly alien to me. I'd also managed to pick up some headphones that would last more than 24 hours, so on went the iPod and out came the singing.

I'd left Wick miles behind and was belting out some songs at the top of my voice to the amusement of the cyclists that were passing me on their way to John O'Groats... however I was certainly not stopping, IT'S MY LAST DAAAAY!

Two motorbikes soon bolted past me, both giving me a thumbs up before roaring on down the road towards my destination. Within a few hours I'd made record time to the outskirts of John O'Groats and could see the outline of where I needed to head towards.

As I arrived at the entrance to the end of my walk, I saw the two bikers who'd given me the thumbs up a few miles back and a call of "congratulations! well done you!" came from their group. They'd got talking to a woman who was waiting for her partner to finish it himself as he'd been cycling the route. In her hands she had a bottle of champagne and a couple of glasses, ready to crack open when he arrived.

"Well, seeming as you've walked it... it seems only fitting that you get a glass", she said as she opened it even before her partner had got there. I couldn't help but laugh as I wondered what he'd think, but it was champagne after all so gracefully accepted a glass.

He soon came coasting down the home straight towards us and looked totally bamused as to why the booze was already flowing before he got there, but could only laugh when he realised I'd walked it and added "bastard, you're showing me up here!"

I then made sure the challenge was offically over by signing the End-To-Enders book and getting my time sheet stamped. Once this was done, I got my offical photograph done by the sign to an audience of on lookers, all of which looked confused as to why anyone would be mad enough to walk it.

After a few more hours, Brendan, Jenna and Brendan's Mum Michelle pulled up in the car and we all squeezed in before heading to the nearest hotel to celebrate with a few Whiskeys. It was great to share the highs and lows of the challenge with someone who'd done it too, especially now it was over.

Soon enough, it was time for them to head off to dinner and time for me to make my way back to Wick and the comfort of my B&B for the final night in Scotland.

It's an odd feeling to finally be finished. I was sat on the end of the bed, just thinking about each and every day that's gone past and how mad I really was to have walked all this way. Even now as I write this, a couple of days after finishing, it doesn't feel real... like I'm simply taking a rest day and I'll be back to walking tomorrow.

I guess the end was a bit of an anti-climax seeming as in your mind you have this fantasy about fireworks and dancing girls waiting for you at the end. I was certainly expecting to be a bit more emotional once I'd finished it - but that's not really me - I was just happy to be done.


The End... sort of...
I'm not even going to write an official end to this blog as it feels like this has started something for me that I don't want to come to an end. However, what I will do is thank everyone who made this possible - be it via their sponsorship, taking me in for the night when I had nowhere to go, or simply passing them in the street and receiving a thumbs up... I couldn't have done it without you.

A special thanks needs to go out to my Dad David, for his continued support along the way. This isn't just through him taking time out to drop me my next set of maps in Bath and Lancaster, but also the well timed phone calls when I felt like sacrificing myself to Nessie on the Great Glen Way!

A massive thank you also goes out to the rest of my family, who from the moment I left Brighton I missed no end.

The final thanks goes to Ian and Lynn for firstly saving my life with a well timed BBQ near Newchurch Common, but more importantly becoming people I'm proud to call friends for life.



... Right I've got itchy feet from sitting down writing this blog for so long, so you should all get back to work!

Thank you all for reading, I hope you've enjoyed following my moans and rants all the way from Lands End to John O'Groats.
Ed :)