Day 43 - Braving a Hairy Herd

 

I was dropped off nice and early back at West Linton and was immediately faced with a short but steep climb to reach the Pentland Hills. The only injury I am really carrying at the moment is on the top of my left big toe joint, just where my boot creases into it. With a bit of poetic licence, it feels like someone has put a nail in the top of my boot and everytime I push off it sticks in my joint. I've tried a few remedies but have generally found after the first mile and half it settles down and is merely uncomfortable. Perhaps because of the uphill start, it didn't really settle down all morning, so I made the best of it by just feeling sorry for myself.

I was on an old droving route again and it was initially splendid walking, similar to the last couple of days. I have become a little braver when encountering cattle and met the lady above after three or four miles. My cattle passing method is to always say 'Good Cow' (should probably be Coo in these parts), to try and avoid eye contact and, crucially, make sure there is a nearby fence I feel I could vault in an emergency. Luckily, I have not had to put the latter to the test yet, particularly as my growing cattle confidence has been matched by my vaulting expectations. I may have needed Sticky to vault me over this one.

Soon, however, the mist came down and the path to the moors became narrower (and wetter), passing through heather and really making the moor indistinguishable from my recent Pennine Way experiences. Visibility had reduced to around 60 yards by the time I reached the summit at the evocatively named Cauldstane Slap, a wrestling hold I recall Kent Walton mentioning on World of Sport.

Shortly after, I was caught up by a fellow hiker, Mark Hammond, who was walking from Holy Island to Iona, a journey of around 300 miles (I think). Thereafter, he was sailing with his brother to Uist: not a bad holiday! Yet again, those miles roll by when you get to talking and, after an hour or so, I realised we weren't going to the same place and I'd missed my turning. I was able to re-route without turning back but only found out half an hour later that my diversion had missed out where I was due to be meeting Suzanne and Sian for lunch!

No matter, we were able to convene at a different spot and I had thoroughly enjoyed my time with Mark, so it all turned out right in the end. 

I took the lunch opportunity to change into my old boots that I had in the van in case of emergency. It was like wearing slippers and the toe joint was now completely painless. Unfortunately, the boots are so old, their grip is also like slippers and they are not too keen on wet weather either. Given I was spending the afternoon on B-roads making my way towards Beecraigs Country Park, just south of Linlithgow, this didn't matter and they coped just fine. The road stretch was around 10 miles and pretty boring, so I listened to a couple of podcasts (thanks, Sharon) and the Mickey Bradley Radio Show, a broadcast I always download from Radio Ulster on a Friday night. Mickey is the bassist in The Undertones and I can recommend his show - although anything improves a 10-mile road walk.

I walked over 23 miles today and I have a 26-miler tomorrow, albeit all on canal towpaths. I fancy wearing the old boots again, although rain is forecast all day. Decisions, decisions....

                Another one who had her eye on me, or would have done if she could cut her fringe

As well as the Victorian walkers being fit, Mark and I were considering what kit they would have had compared to our lycra-clad selves

The end of the world at Cauldstane Slap

                        Mark and I before we parted (and about 20 mins after we should have)