Day 53 – Harrow to Brough – 12th July – 4.9 nm
“One thing about this trip, no achievement is cherished long, a new challenge always lies ahead.”
Team Manager Diary
We awake to see our John o’Groats campsite in all its daylight
glory. There must be some mistake, it appears we paid 20 quid to sleep in a
car park.
It’s breezy, from the west, the boats rattle and creak on
the roof but conditions don’t look too bad out there. All the same I want to
take a look from Dunnet Head. As we go I'm developing a rather finely-honed sceptical
outlook, and I have a suspicion that Dunnet Head may be hiding the truth from
us.
It is.
Never trust a headland.
From the cliff top it is obvious that life to the west of
the headland precludes kayaking with a future. The view is nice though, the
westerly wind has cleared the air and the strong updrafts along the cliff edge
makes for some impressively close birdy action (hmm...room for some sort of
joke there).
The dastardly Skuas patrol the updrafts looking for
unsuspecting victims, while the Puffins make great comical entertainment for a
mildly warped mind. I have not seen Puffins soaring before, we get the feeling
that the Puffins haven’t either. They seem constantly surprised by the whole
set-up, and just when they get the hang of things, they rashly go for a landing
and it all ends in cliff-top-ricocheting tears.
We wander up to the summit, only to time it as the cloud
arrives, we can see cock all, so we wander down again. Late afternoon we venture
into an empty hotel for a cup of tea. Tea, is that all? The manager lets out a
loud, disappointed sigh when he hears that we aren't booking into the penthouse
suite for the month.
It’s back to Harrow once again. There’s no chance of a
favourable tide now, but maybe I can sneak up the eddy, surprise the headland
and slog it across the bay into Thurso.
As I load the boat a handful of loud 4 x 4s arrive and
nosily clutter up the place. A paramilitary looking group clamber out, clad in
black Sea Shepherd uniforms. They swagger onto the pier to watch the seals. As I
continue to load the boat you can feel the atmosphere thicken, they don’t seem
too impressed that I'm launching here. I feel like a 1970 TV presenter at an
operation Yewtree convention. I put on my best ‘don’t ******* bother me’
persona and go canoeing. The seals follow me out of the bay. Wherever I go I
seem to upset someone.
As I sneak around the corner the wind hits, it’s a little
stronger than I expected. But what I really didn't expect was the tiderace
heading at 90 degrees to the shoreline, it’s not such big stuff but pretty
nasty all the same. I'm glad to finally get across and continue towards the
high cliffs.
It’s a real slog though and I have to get pretty close to
the cliffs to gain any shelter. If it’s still like this on the lee side then I
guess I'm not getting far on the other side. Instead I turn left and
reluctantly call it a day at the small slipway of Brough Harbour. It was a long day yesterday, it’s easier to wimp out when
you are tired.
It’s peaceful and pleasant here in the lee of the headland,
more seals follow me in and have a bit of a giggle when I trip over a rock in best daydream mode.
A gentleman wanders down from his hill top house, he’s
originally a Lancashire Lad, emigrating north 45 years ago. We have a long chat and he tells of the history of the
place. It’s a pleasant way to take the edge off another frustrating day.
Deja Vu returns yet again, as we find ourselves in Thurso,
camping about 6ft from where I stayed last time. Back then I was shocked to be
told that the chip shop had run out of pies, this time it seems that they have just run out of anything pleasant.
38 miles yesterday, 4 miles today – easy come, easy go...
