Walk 201 -- Littleferry, via Golspie, to Brora

Ages: Colin was 66 years and 141 days. Rosemary was 63 years and 284 days.

Weather: ‘Fair-weather’ cloud. Some sun. A cool wind got up later.

Location: Littleferry to Brora.

Distance: 10 miles.

Total distance: 1780 miles.

Terrain: Clear and open grassy paths. Firm sandy beaches. Flat. LOVELY!

Tide: Going out.

Rivers: No.151, Golspie Burn at Golspie. No. 152, River Brora at Brora.

Ferries: None.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: No.167 as we left Golspie. No.168 near Dunrobin Castle. Nos. 169 & 170 further on.

Pubs: The ‘Sutherland Inn’ in Brora where we both had ‘Skyelight’ from the Isle of Skye brewery because it was the only real ale they had on.

‘Historic Scotland’ properties: No.20, Carn Liath Broch.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We were staying in a holiday flat built into the roof of someone’s house in the countryside about three miles from Dingwall. This morning we got up early, put Colin’s bike on the back of the car, and drove to Littleferry where Colin dropped me off. I watched a cormorant fishing, admired the scenery and did my puzzle book — at least the weather was pleasant today — while Colin drove on to Brora and cycled back.

At the end, we finished at the car. We had our tea and scrummy-yummy caramel squares, and returned to Littleferry to pick up the bike. We drove back to Dingwall — it was fifty miles! –where we bought fish’n’chips and took them back to the flat.

The next day we started our long journey home to Malvern — it took two days and rained nearly all the way. We are both extremely tired.

Our last Walk this session was a great Walk! (In fact this is the last Walk this year because we’re not going to risk the Winter weather in Scotland.) The weather was good, the terrain was kind, there was no road-walking, there was lots of sandy beach walking, Colin’s knee behaved better and we saw SEALS. Couldn’t ask for more!

Apparently Littleferry was ‘a bustling port’ in medieval times. It was also very much in use during the Victorian era. A notice dating from 1859 told us about the ferry service there at that time. It was advertising the ‘Splendid New and Very Fast Steamer’ called the Heather Bell which would take you from Littleferry to Burghead, stopping off at Portmahomack weather permitting. There was ‘first-rate accommodation for Carriages, Horses and every description of Live Stock’ on deck. A first class cabin would cost you five shillings, and a second class one three shillings. The notice went on to describe how this ferry service connected up with buses and trains so you could get from Golspie, and to places like Inverness or Aberdeen.

I looked around what must have once been a busy ferry terminal — today the stone slipway is still there and one fishing boat was tied up alongside one other tiny boat with an outboard motor. But no people, except me, for the whole hour-plus that I had to wait for Colin. Nothing except the view, which was delightful! There are few colour-washed houses, a building with a turf roof which reminded me of Iceland, and a big stretch of water with mountains behind. Silence, except for the gentle lapping of waves. I kept a good lookout for seals, dolphins or otters while I was waiting, but only saw cormorants. It was sunny and not cold, so I didn’t mind waiting in this beautiful spot.

When Colin arrived, he chained up his bike and we started walking across the dunes. It was a well-grassed path so the going was easy. This track, as far as the golf course, was marked on the map. We stopped at a picnic site to eat our pasties, and paused momentarily on some tiny wooden seats further on.

After a couple of miles we came to a go-kart track and Colin got very excited. Noisy things! He took a few pictures, also one of a classic lorry with a split windscreen. Then I persuaded him to move on.

When we got to the golf course, we went down on to the beach.

The tide had just started to go out so we were able to walk along firm sand, which was nice. Further on we climbed up to avoid a rock pile, but subsequently discovered that this wasn’t necessary and we could have stayed on the sands.

We soon came to Golspie where we sat on a bench to eat our sarnies. We then walked along the pier to which were tied a few small boats.

High on a hill behind the little town is some kind of monument. We found out later that it is a statue of the first Duke of Sutherland. It stands at a hundred feet high, and was erected in 1834, a year after the Duke died. It says it was put up by ‘a mourning and grateful tenantry to a judicious, kind and liberal landlord’. Since this same Duke of Sutherland was responsible for the displacement of fifteen thousand people during the infamous Scottish ‘Clearances’, this is somewhat difficult to believe. 

I wonder who was really responsible for erecting this tribute to a greedy dictator, and what were his motives? Feelings still run high in the local area, even today. Some folk think the statue should be blown up and the remains scattered over the hillsides until it is completely obliterated — or even scattered through the grounds of Dunrobin Castle, the home of the Sutherland family. Others think that it should remain as a memorial to those who suffered so much brutality during the Clearances.

We returned to the beach where we saw lots of birds, including gulls and a hooded crow. Along the top of the beach was a row of sacks filled with seaweed which someone had collected. I wonder what they were going to use it for.

Soon we had to go inland because we came to a river. After about a hundred yards we came to a weir, a ford, a wooden footbridge and a a lodge with a tower. It was very pretty there. We crossed on the footbridge and continued towards Dunrobin Castle.

This castle is all very ‘pseudo’ — it looks like a fairytale castle, not a real building. Apparently there has been a castle on this spot since the thirteenth century, and the original square keep is still inside this Disney-type construction! 

It was added to in succeeding centuries after it was first built as a fortress, and in the 19^th century it was turned into a family home by building lots of round towers with points on the top. The architect was inspired by Queen Victoria’s new home at Balmoral, so he said. Apart from a few years in the 1960s when it was a boys’ boarding school, the castle has been the home of the Earls and Dukes of Sutherland since medieval times. With its high surrounding wall and big gate, to us it looked very private.

Beyond the castle we walked through a pleasant wood alongside the seashore. In the middle of this we came across a walkers’ signpost telling us it was four miles to Brora, our destination for today.

That was the first we knew that we could definitely get through without having to divert to the road, the path marked on the OS map stops and starts all the way along. We both breathed a sigh of relief! All the so-called fords marked on the map proved to be dry.

The path came out of the wood on to a grass sward which was very pleasant to walk. High above us was Carn Liath Broch, an ‘Historic Scotland’ property which we didn’t have time to visit. (When we finished today’s Walk we had to drive fifty miles back to our accommodation near Dingwall. Then we went home. When we returned the following Spring, we had to drive fifty miles back from our accommodation in Castletown to get to Brora and start the next Walk.) So we just had to glance at it as we flew past on the road on our way back. It is an Iron Age broch (a prehistoric castle) and the surviving walls are twelve foot high.

After passing through a kissing gate, the path took us along the top of the beach. The going got a bit rough and stony, also a cold wind got up so it was not nearly so pleasant. We sheltered behind some tussocks of grass to eat our chocolate.

The tide was going out fast revealing lots of lovely firm sand, so we went down there to walk. We noticed some seals resting on the beach ahead, but then a family with a dog came towards us and the seals humphed themselves into the sea as quickly as they could.

I reckon they might well have stayed if that dog hadn’t been there, barking its head off. Wretched thing!

The seals stayed nearby in the sea, and seemed to be following us along.

They were as curious about us as we were about them!

The beach was opening out with the receding tide, and it was beautiful!

We passed interesting rocks,

and also a waterfall tipping down the cliff between some trees.

We saw some more hooded crows picking food scraps out of the seaweed.

We came to some more seals basking on rocks, looking like overgrown jelly-beans.

The family with the dog were at least a mile behind us now, so there was nothing to upset the seals this time.

They eyed us from the safety of their rocks, just off-shore. We also observed a curlew picking at the seaweed with it’s long curved beak.

We spoke to a lady who was older than us, and striding along the beach (in ordinary shoes) so fast I had difficulty keeping up with her as we conversed. She told us the seals are always there, and are not usually fazed by dogs or anything else, not even motor bikes ridden along the beach by the local youth. She also told us that the big building we could see at the top of the cliff was a listening post for GCHQ, but was no longer used for this purpose so it was safe to let the secret out. She knew, because she used to work there. Also she told us (she was a mine of information) that there used to be a coal pit nearby and that you used to find coal on the beach — but no longer. She bemoaned the passing of these things because there was little in the way of employment left for the youngsters in the area so they were all moving away.

At that I had to let her go because I was out of breath and couldn’t keep up with her any more!

We continued on the beach round the end to the river mouth. There it became too rocky underfoot, so we went up a ramp and along the river bank into Brora. We passed a couple of old boats which had been turned into gardens full of flowers — what a delightful idea! We also came across another turf-roofed building that reminded us of Iceland.

Three bridges cross the river at Brora, all practically in the same place. There is the railway bridge which is up high, the old road bridge and the new road bridge.

But before we crossed, we turned left into town to find the pub!

After a ‘quick-half’ we looked at a very fancy lamp-post in the square which had obviously been erected in honour of Queen Victoria because her picture was on it.

Then we passed a rather nice clock tower on our way back to the bridge.

We crossed the river on the old road bridge because that was nearer the sea — except for the railway bridge which we couldn’t get on to. We then went under the railway bridge and followed a path called ‘Jubilee Walk’ which led to the river mouth on the northern side. Our car was waiting for us in the car park there.

That ended Walk no.201, we shall pick up Walk no.202 next time in the car park on the northern side of the River Brora at Brora. It was quarter past five, so the Walk had taken six hours. We had our tea and caramel squares, then returned to Littleferry to pick up the bike. We drove back to Dingwall — it was fifty miles! –where we bought fish’n’chips and took them back to the flat.

The next day we bid ‘Goodbye’ to the flat in the roof which had cost us a small fortune feeding the electricity meter even though we were hardly ever in. We voted this ‘cottage’ one of the most uncomfortable we have stayed in, and with relief started our long journey home to Malvern. It took two days and rained nearly all the way. We were both extremely tired.

We are proud of the fact that, despite taking three days ‘off’ to attend my nephew’s ordination in Edinburgh, we have added exactly a hundred miles to our total distance these two weeks!

Walk 200 -- Tain, via Dornoch, to Littleferry

Ages: Colin was 66 years and 140 days. Rosemary was 63 years and 283 days.

Weather: ‘Fair-weather’ cloud. Quite warm. No wind.

Location: Tain, via Dornoch, to Littleferry.

Distance: 14 miles.

Total distance: 1770 miles.

Terrain: Much road-walking, some on main roads and some on very quiet roads. Down steps from the big bridge and over a fence. Some grassy tracks. A lovely section of firm sandy beach. Rough path through overgrown dunes where we got lost. Found track, but that deteriorated to nothing. ‘Escaped’ to road through two gates. Pot-holed lane to ‘ferry’.

Tide: Going out.

Rivers: No.149, a massive bridge over Dornoch Firth. No.150, the entrance to Loch Fleet at Littleferry.

Ferries: No.15 across the entrance to Loch Fleet — though we really cheated over this one because there hasn’t been a ferry there for very many years! So we made up a new rule to cover ourselves.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: No.166 where we exited a track on to a minor road soon after the bridge.

Pubs: The ‘Castle Hotel’ in Dornoch where we enjoyed ‘Nimbus’ and Three Sisters’, both from the Atlas brewery.

‘Historic Scotland’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We were staying in a holiday flat in the countryside about three miles from Dingwall. This morning we got up early, put Colin’s bike on the back of the car, and drove to Dornoch where Colin dropped me off. I had a wander round this very interesting little town while Colin drove on to the end of a lane opposite Littleferry and cycled back. He was in good time for us to catch a bus soon after nine to Tain. There we bought our pasties in a local shop (and discovered the toilets were free for pensioners and children, 20p for everyone else!) before walking down to the park where we finished the Walk yesterday.

At the end, we finished at the car. We had our tea and rich-tasting caramel squares, and returned to Dornoch to pick up the bike. We drove back to Dingwall — it’s an awful long way now, and quite dark by the time we got to the flat.

We ate our pasties in the park before we started the Walk. We had only just bought them in the town, but they weren’t very good — far too much pastry and too little filling.  The first three miles of today’s Walk were very dull. We walked up through town and left it on the main road to the west. On the outskirts we passed a Lidl store, and Colin couldn’t resist popping in to buy some more caramel shortcake! 

Soon we came to the bypass, the main A9, and from thereon our tedium was only relieved by views of the Tain Bridge ahead. A train rattled past between us and the Firth, and further on we passed the Glenmorangie Distillery.

And so we came to the Tain Bridge. A plaque told us it was opened by the Queen Mother on 27^th August 1991. Also, at 890m, it is one of the longest bridges in Europe to be built by the cast-push method, whatever that is. Was there a ferry before 1991, or did everyone have to drive approximately twelve miles up to Bonar Bridge to cross the Firth, then a similar distance back the other side? We were just glad we didn’t have to walk it!

It felt good striding across a big bridge like that, also quite breezy! When we got to the other side we could see the track we wanted to be on running through the bridge beneath us, but we couldn’t see a way down to it. So we went down some steps leading to maintenance sheds sited underneath the bridge, scrabbled down a steep bank and then climbed over a fence (not barbed wire, thank goodness!) to get on to this track. 

Under the bridge we came across two abandoned bicycles. One was lying on the stones beneath one of the pillars, and the other — missing it’s front wheel — was hung on the fence next to a gate we had to go through. 

Neither of them looked in too bad a state, apart from the missing wheel, and we wondered how they got there — and why?

The track followed the shore for a little way, then went inland to meet up with a tarmacked lane. Four miles of this took us into Dornoch. Being an estuary, we guessed the “sands” were really mud. With a stoney shore we didn’t think it was walker/friendly, so we plumped for the lane. On our way across the marsh to it we were plagued by flies — it was most unpleasant.

We passed a cottage that had a garden full of toys! Full-size scarecrows, toy sheep ‘grazing’ on the lawn, a wire bird on top of a bird-box, etc. It was delightful!

We sat down near a forest notice to eat our sandwiches. Colin’s knee is still being a problem — it is not in the kneecap itself he gets the pain, it is at the side of his knee. He couldn’t make up his mind whether the knee support was helping it or not. In the end he removed it and took some painkillers.

We carried on. We kept passing a postwoman delivering the mail, then she would get in her van and drive to the next group of cottages where we would catch up with her again. She was very cheery, and waved to us every time we passed each other. It was a bit like the hare and the tortoise! When we caught up with her for about the fourth time, I asked, “Do you get the feeling you’re being followed?” She laughed and replied, “Only as far as the post office, then I’m finished for the day!”

We could see the water through some teasels.

We passed some honeysuckle in the hedge which smelt very sweet.

Then we came across the most perfect fly agaric we have ever seen! (We looked around for the fairies, but didn’t see any!)

And so we came to Dornoch. We made straight for the pub! I had had a good look round Dornoch while I was waiting for Colin this morning. I had been to Scotland’s smallest cathedral where, in 2000, the pop singer Madonna had famously had her baby son christened the day before her wedding to Guy Ritchie at nearby Skibo Castle. The door was locked today, so I couldn’t see inside.

The cathedral was built in the 13^th century by Bishop Gilbert of Caithness. He also built himself a palace, now the Castle Hotel in which we were at present relaxing over a drink! But I’ll give it to that old bishop — he used local stone for both buildings, therefore presumably using local labour, and he paid for it all out of his own pocket. A bit more honest and magnanimous than some of our present-day businesses and MPs!

Next to the graveyard I came across the medieval market cross. Weekly markets and county fairs took place in Dornoch for many centuries. Over the wall, in the graveyard itself, is the a plaiden ell. This stone was used as a fixed measure for plaid or tartan cloth, and the punishment for selling short measure was a spell in the stocks — there was no excuse for dishonesty!

The markets reached their peak of popularity in the 18^th century. But there were complaints that roaming pigs were digging up the graves, so causing disturbance and distress. In the early 19^th century the town council built a wall to keep them out. Unfortunately this wall, still there today, cut the market place in half and it just wasn’t the same anymore. The markets declined in size and frequency, and today just a farmer’s market is held twice a month.

I also had a look at a 19^th century monument to Kenneth Murray who was Provost of Tain. (Why was his monument put up in Dornoch then?) It was paid for by public subscription because of his “estimable character and public usefulness”! I expect he was a jolly good chap, don’t you? Surely the money could have been better spent relieving the plight of the poor?

Finally, we were amused by this notice from the local funeral directors, pleading with everybody to “keep clear at all times”. Nobody had better die while they are digging up the road!

We noted Colin’s bike was still there, locked to some railings in the square. Then we left Dornoch on a road going south towards a caravan park. This part of town is called Littletown, and the row of cottages here have an interesting history. During the Highland Clearances, families were cruelly turned out of the homes they had lived in for generations and sent towards the coast. A few families ended up on the beach here and built turf huts for shelter. Gradually they replaced this temporary accommodation with stone hovels which they built themselves. As soon as they had turned the buildings into cottages that were anything like decent to live in, their former landlord, the Duke of Sutherland, came and demanded rent because they were still living on his land!

Today Littletown is a pleasant row of modern cottages, probably owned individually by the people who live in them.

We decided not to go down to Dornoch Point because all the paths which led down there were dead ends — that was our excuse anyway! So we came out on the beach at the caravan park and turned north. It was lovely to walk along a firm sandy beach again (the tide had just uncovered it), even though it was only for a little while.

Soon rocks sent us back on to the inevitable golf course where we were able to walk along grassy paths for the next couple of miles, all the way to Embo. There we came across a seat, so we stopped to eat our chocolate.

We wondered if Embo was also a ‘Clearance’ village, with its neat rows of houses and all by itself on the coast. But a pipeline is also marked on the map, so it may have had something to do with that. It certainly isn’t a fishing village. We were soon through the hamlet as it is very contained, and started on the path northwards across the grassy dunes.

We thought the last two miles of today’s Walk would be easy because the paths were well marked on the map. But we were wrong — this is, after all, Scotland! Footpaths marked on OS maps and actual footpaths that exist in the field only bear a vague resemblance to each other, if any at all. We were about to enter a navigator’s nightmare!

First of all the path petered out. As we bumbled on, the bumps, thorns and holes got bigger, more frequent and distinctly menacing. It was practically impossible to get to a high place in order to get a ‘fix’ on a landmark and work out where we were. The potholes hidden in the undergrowth were increasingly treacherous, the ground got steeper, the thistles got spikier, the nettles got stingier and we had to admit that we were completely lost! We even saw some sika deer, but they were no help in leading us out of this maze of overgrown dunes.

Colin kept whooping with delight every time he saw a hairy caterpillar, but I just wanted to get to the car and eat my caramel shortcake! Our compasses were of little help because we knew we were making our way north, and they didn’t tell us where the path was. We tried to make our way towards a small copse which we knew we had to pass on a track, but that was easier said than done. As soon as we went down into the next dip we lost sight of the trees, and our wiggly route to avoid humps, prickles and hollows had the effect of completely disorientating us. We were also very tired of course — this has been a long Walk, and a long two weeks of walking.

After what seemed an age (it was actually an hour), we suddenly came across a decent track — the track we should have been on all the while! This track was so good we suspected it was the route of an old railway line. So we couldn’t believe it when this, too, petered out about a mile further on! Were we ever going to reach the car?

Eventually we rounded a number of fearsome gorse bushes and escaped to the road by climbing over a couple of gates. This meant we had to go a long way round in order to get to the derelict jetty opposite Littleferry where Colin had parked the car this morning. But that was preferable to trying to find the ‘short-cut’ across the dunes which was marked on the map.

We turned off to walk down a pot-holed lane, with water-filled hollows so frequent it had required an act of great skill for Colin to drive along there this morning! Yet there were caravans down there — families doing a bit of wild camping in a very lovely place. For the views across Loch Fleet were surreal in the evening light. The entrance to the loch from the sea is very narrow, only about a hundred yards across, and the houses of Littleferry on the other side were beautifully reflected in the water.

The pot-holed lane was three quarters of a mile long, but in our weary state it seemed much further. At last we arrived at the derelict wooden jetty, for the ferry at Littleferry stopped functioning a very long time ago. But it seemed ridiculous to us that we should have to walk ten miles around Loch Fleet for the sake a hundred yard stretch of water. So we made up a new rule — that we could count it as a functioning ferry because it had the word “ferry” in the name of the hamlet on the other side!

That ended Walk no.200, we shall pick up Walk no.201 next time on the slipway at Littleferry, the other side of the entrance to Loch Fleet. It was quarter past six, so the Walk had taken eight hours. The tide was coming in fast through the narrow entrance to the loch. While we were drinking our tea, there was a lot of splashing in the water between us and Littleferry. This continued way up the loch until whatever it was swam out of sight. They moved too quickly and the light was too poor by then to see exactly what had swum past, but we reckoned it was either otters or seals. There were lots of herons and some cormorants on the loch too. 

We drove carefully up the potholed lane, returned to Dornoch to pick up the bike, and then drove back to Dingwall — it’s forty miles now, and it was quite dark by the time we got to the flat.