Day 58 - Stacks of Fun

 

After yesterday's exertions, it was relief to see today's journey was a little shorter, on paper at least. The first mile or so was on the road, before we cut across country to rejoin the coastal path just north of Dunbeath.

We were on the cliff tops all morning and there was again spectacular scenery, with several sea stacks and numerous coves that either featured picturesque old harbours or evidence of what once were old herring processing sheds hidden between the rocks. It was perilous enough for Keith and I walking by the cliff edges but I dread to think what it would be like bringing the old boats around the rocky outcrops whilst the gale force winds were striving to catch you out.

Going was slow: there were plenty of ups and downs and you were often winding your way round the edges of the coves when all you wanted was a bridge to walk in a straight line across the tops. The grass was long, the paths just wide enough for one boot and often perilously close to the cliff edge. You could see where the ground was eroding and I am sure our path will be in the sea by the end of the summer. I am just relieved Keith and I won't be on it when it goes.

The guide book mentions that there are still access rights issues in this area and, whilst we were legally entitled to walk the path, farmers didn't have to make it easy for us. There were plenty of stiles to move from one field to another but they were often topped with barbed wire. Sometimes, there were no stiles at all and it was lucky we were both long enough of leg to progress relatively uninjured. We had a towel with us to drape across the top of the wire, which also helped. 

All this meant the pace was slow, something like four hours to reach Lybster and its pretty harbour, only 8 miles from where we started. Lybster itself was like a ghost town: plenty of houses on a big, wide main street and at least three buildings that were clearly pubs or hotels back in the day, just no people around, The houses had been built for workers at the harbour, where there would once have been plenty of small boats going out every day in search of a good catch. As finding fish became more difficult, only the bigger boats survived, as they could travel further and stay out longer. Ports like Lybster were too small to receive the big boats and the local industry died. Whilst people may still live in Lybster, they have to travel for jobs, hence why Keith and I had the place to ourselves.

The afternoon brought yet more sea stacks, hundreds of birds nesting on them or flying around from cliff to stack. There were too many to list, and I'm not just saying that because I couldn't identify half of them. You name a sea bird and we probably saw it. We had a couple of adventures across waterfalls, where Keith remained upright despite me recording his every move ready for You've Been Framed. I would have given him a percentage for just one comedy trip.

We also passed the most inaccessible waste tip you could ask for, where there was every bit of formerly white good you could ask for, now at the top of a cove (or geo, as they are known round here), along with a couple of tonnes of scrap metal. We were at least a mile from any road, surrounded by barbed wire and inhospitable farmers, with a 100 foot vertical drop no more than two yards from the dump site. There had to have been an easier option.

Only 17 miles today but we had still been out for 9 hours when Suzanne picked us up at Whaligoe Steps. We're staying in Wick tonight and tomorrow, so I am indebted to her motorhoming dexterity in transferring us up and down the A99. Two days and about 35 miles to go.

Lybster Harbour

Clythe Lighthouse

Birds