As with the earlier sheep and my high-visibility jacket, there are again three main groups.
1. Those who peep their horns and give an aggresive gesticulation. There have been virtually very few. I don't know if they think they have a divine right to the road? It is fascinating just how hard some guys can be, when they are heading at 70 mph, in the opposite direction!
2. Those who peep and wave, as a sort of "wind-up." Also, a rather limited number again, in more than one sense! I actually wave back. The trouble is that they haven't a fraction of the cerebral capacity to realise that I'm winding them up, by my response!
3. The vast majority who are giving support. I guess many are also walkers, themselves. Many farmers, and "country-types" wave. Lorry drivers, do so, as well - especially, on narrow routes, when I step off the road, so as they don't have to change down. Of course, there is also the mixed motive of self-preservation!
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Fame at last??
Mon 11th
It was a damp and cold start.
I was greeted at the Cromarty Firth bridge with the sign: "No pedestrians, phone ... " arghh!
However when I phoned, I was told it would be OK, and to walk down to the traffic lights. When I got there the civil engineer in charge asked if I wanted a lift over. I said that I'd prefer to walk, if possible. He said that it was no problem. So they held up the traffic, both ways, as he and I sauntered across, discussing my exploits, so far. It wasn't the whole bridge-length, but a few hundred yards of the road-works. We didn't quite get to the "reciprocal waving stage." In fact, to be honest, it was a trifle embarrassing.
Spent the night in a "hotel" in Alness. it was a cold damp afternoon, and I had had enough.
It was a damp and cold start.
I was greeted at the Cromarty Firth bridge with the sign: "No pedestrians, phone ... " arghh!
However when I phoned, I was told it would be OK, and to walk down to the traffic lights. When I got there the civil engineer in charge asked if I wanted a lift over. I said that I'd prefer to walk, if possible. He said that it was no problem. So they held up the traffic, both ways, as he and I sauntered across, discussing my exploits, so far. It wasn't the whole bridge-length, but a few hundred yards of the road-works. We didn't quite get to the "reciprocal waving stage." In fact, to be honest, it was a trifle embarrassing.
Spent the night in a "hotel" in Alness. it was a cold damp afternoon, and I had had enough.
Mr Grumpy becomes Mr Happy
Sunday 10th
I got an early start, on another sharp, but dry morning.
I've tried to keep off the A9 [I may comment more fully later!] by following cycle-paths. However, the ones in the vicinity of Inverness were particularly circuitous. I knew that I was well off the beaten track when I came across the site of the Clava Cairns - I'm sure that they are quite authentic, but I do know that many so-called "standing stones," appeared in reasonably recent times, due to some farmers' sense of humour- and then the Culloden Battlefield.
I was really getting hacked off, and short of food and water, yet again, when suddenly out of nowhere, the Culloden Moor Inn appeared like an oasis. I was fully replenished, and once more my faith in humanity was restored when the landlady [?] gave me a donation for my charities.
I was too tired, and it was too dark, to cross the Kessock Bridge, so I camped in a wooded area beside the round-about, before the bridge.
I got an early start, on another sharp, but dry morning.
I've tried to keep off the A9 [I may comment more fully later!] by following cycle-paths. However, the ones in the vicinity of Inverness were particularly circuitous. I knew that I was well off the beaten track when I came across the site of the Clava Cairns - I'm sure that they are quite authentic, but I do know that many so-called "standing stones," appeared in reasonably recent times, due to some farmers' sense of humour- and then the Culloden Battlefield.
I was really getting hacked off, and short of food and water, yet again, when suddenly out of nowhere, the Culloden Moor Inn appeared like an oasis. I was fully replenished, and once more my faith in humanity was restored when the landlady [?] gave me a donation for my charities.
I was too tired, and it was too dark, to cross the Kessock Bridge, so I camped in a wooded area beside the round-about, before the bridge.
Easier couple of days
Fri/Sat 8th/9th
Friday was a cold start but another bright day, later on. I made the decision to walk a little less - today and tomorrow - to rest the ankle and relieve the blisters, and to build up strength for the final push. Spent the night in the "Crofter's suite" in a lovely hotel, where we had a meal about 5 years ago.
Saturday morning, I started off quite early, heading towards Aviemore on the quiet B9152. It was a marvellous early morning walk, as the glorious sunlight and gentle breeze played with the autumnal colours, to produce ever-changing, dancing, mosaics. Unfortunately by 9:30 this quiet idyll was shattered, as the road turned into a rat-run. Had a good lunch in Aviemore - it was very busy, on a lovely sunny afternoon.
Accommodation was not forth-coming, so I tented towards Slochd Summit.
Friday was a cold start but another bright day, later on. I made the decision to walk a little less - today and tomorrow - to rest the ankle and relieve the blisters, and to build up strength for the final push. Spent the night in the "Crofter's suite" in a lovely hotel, where we had a meal about 5 years ago.
Saturday morning, I started off quite early, heading towards Aviemore on the quiet B9152. It was a marvellous early morning walk, as the glorious sunlight and gentle breeze played with the autumnal colours, to produce ever-changing, dancing, mosaics. Unfortunately by 9:30 this quiet idyll was shattered, as the road turned into a rat-run. Had a good lunch in Aviemore - it was very busy, on a lovely sunny afternoon.
Accommodation was not forth-coming, so I tented towards Slochd Summit.
Friday, 8 October 2010
Squiggling all over!
Thurs 7th Oct.
Again had an early start, and had a lovely cup of coffee and date slice, at the Bruar Centre - it is well recommended.
I was going to stock up on supplies at Calvine, as it is a long haul to the next amenities, and I also don't like to carry things any longer than I must. However, there were zero services, even although they were sign-posted, so I had to survive the trek on six digestive biscuits and a pint of water.
I finally arrived in Dalwhinnie - where again multiple services were indicated - only to find a small shop still open [thank goodness], and no accommodation available. I will have to write a strong letter of complaint to those who are responsible for these signs, to update them, as these two instances were certainly not only ones, by a long way, in my experience, so far.
My good old tent played its part, yet again, and it was a dry, although cold, night.
I broke out my survival bag, this time. It is basically a big, overpriced, bright orange, plastic bag, with some writing on it, into which you insert yourself. The procedure, within my small one-man tent, is a bit like reverse metamorphosisis. You squiggle into your sleeping-bag, and then you squiggle again into your plastic bag. I must admit it does do the job rather well.
Again had an early start, and had a lovely cup of coffee and date slice, at the Bruar Centre - it is well recommended.
I was going to stock up on supplies at Calvine, as it is a long haul to the next amenities, and I also don't like to carry things any longer than I must. However, there were zero services, even although they were sign-posted, so I had to survive the trek on six digestive biscuits and a pint of water.
I finally arrived in Dalwhinnie - where again multiple services were indicated - only to find a small shop still open [thank goodness], and no accommodation available. I will have to write a strong letter of complaint to those who are responsible for these signs, to update them, as these two instances were certainly not only ones, by a long way, in my experience, so far.
My good old tent played its part, yet again, and it was a dry, although cold, night.
I broke out my survival bag, this time. It is basically a big, overpriced, bright orange, plastic bag, with some writing on it, into which you insert yourself. The procedure, within my small one-man tent, is a bit like reverse metamorphosisis. You squiggle into your sleeping-bag, and then you squiggle again into your plastic bag. I must admit it does do the job rather well.
It's a cracker
Wed 6th Oct
It was a rather cold, damp, and dark morning, as I wanted an early start. So I donned, for the first time, my high-visibility jacket. It's a cracker with a bright orange and yellow profile, with silver stripes - the type you used to have as kids, as armbands, only those were probably radioactive!
Anyway, there was a three-way response from the sheep as I passed through a large estate: some ran off terrified; others simply rolled about in hysterics; whilst others - the more avant garde - inquired where they could purchase such a garment for the dark winter nights, yet to come.
Passed through Pitlochry to Blair Athol where I couldn't find suitable accommodation. So I pitched my tent on the river-side, devoured, a - by now - cold fish supper, and spent a reasonable night.
It was a rather cold, damp, and dark morning, as I wanted an early start. So I donned, for the first time, my high-visibility jacket. It's a cracker with a bright orange and yellow profile, with silver stripes - the type you used to have as kids, as armbands, only those were probably radioactive!
Anyway, there was a three-way response from the sheep as I passed through a large estate: some ran off terrified; others simply rolled about in hysterics; whilst others - the more avant garde - inquired where they could purchase such a garment for the dark winter nights, yet to come.
Passed through Pitlochry to Blair Athol where I couldn't find suitable accommodation. So I pitched my tent on the river-side, devoured, a - by now - cold fish supper, and spent a reasonable night.
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
"Yer nae sound" [Part 2]
Tues 5th
As I set off on a cold and dreich morning, I’m greeted – yet again - with this accusation. This time, by an old chat walking his dog, with whom I engage conversation [deliberately ambiguous]. This time he is, erroneously referring to my cerebral capacity :{
Anyway, he has this gorgeous golden retriever. Emma is an eleven-years-old, retired guide dog. She has got this facial expression: which, on the one-hand, plays the sympathy card, “I’ve done my bit for society, yes and I worked very hard, in doing so;” whilst, on the other hand, coyly requests, “Now I want all the attention in the world. Please stroke, cuddle, tickle, hug, as appropriate!”
I really wanted to spent the night camped in Birnam Wood, but it was cold and wet, and it actually kept moving away from me!!
Stayed in the hotel – very posh and comfortable. She was asking £79, but I “sweet-talked” the price down to £45 – if I had a “brass-neck,” I would have managed £40
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