Alyth to Easter Lednathie
(17 miles/573 metres ascent)
I made a flask of coffee, packed my things together, and, at about 9.25am, left the campsite to walk back towards the town. On the long road back in I passed a very nice looking bread and cake shop, and so I went in to buy some sandwiches for later on. I chose 2 cheese and chutney baguettes for later (with the possiblity of one lasting until the following day), and a smaller roll to eat for my breakfast as I continued up the road.
The woman in the shop was very friendly, and as she was making my rolls I had a little look around at the vast selection of cakes and other interesting things. On some shelves at the back of the shop I noticed semolina, tapioca and other milk puddingy stuff, which was interesting, I thought, as I didn't think people were cooking milk puddings any more. The woman confirmed that there was a demand for it locally, though, and even amongst the younger mums, as well as for the lentils and other interesting looking pulses on adjoining shelves.
I left the shop and continued to the cashpoint in the square, where I took out some money. After that I consulted the map again, and set off in what seemed likely to be the right direction. All seemed to go quite well in navigational terms, and it wasn't too long before I left the road behind me and emerged onto the open hillside. I was still on the Cateran trail at this stage, as it continued towards Glen Isla.
Not long out of town the path climbed a hill, and near the top I decided to stop for an early rest and a coffee. The day had brightened considerably, and it was very relaxing and comfortable sitting in the sunshine half way up the hill, looking down in the direction of Alyth below me.
I'd sent some texts to friends the day before when I was feeling a bit tired and lonely, and I had one in return now, from a guitar building pal in Derbyshire. I rang him back, and it turned out that he and his wife were on holiday somewhere in the south of England. The three of us chatted for a while, and then I decided I'd better press on.
As I was gathering my things together a man with a small dog came into view not far below me. They seemed to be coming up fairly rapidly, but when the little dog saw me it suddenly refused to advance any further, and the man had to go back down and pick it up. I must have looked even scarier than I'd imagined... Anway, I put away my flask, settled Little Peewiglet back into his side pocket on the rucksack and set off up the hill again.
Some 10 minutes or so later it occurred to me to get the map and compass out and try to work out which way I should be descending, as there wasn't an obvious path. At that stage I realised that unfortunately I'd been walking across the hill on a southerly direction when I should have been going north. Uh-oh... a closer look at the map revealed that I wasn't supposed to have climbed the hill at all - it seemed that I'd just followed the path up, with brain in neutral, on the assumption that if there was a hill then I was meant to go over it. I walked over to the side of the hill, and when I looked down I could see where I was supposed to have been. I could also see a fairly robust fence, though, separating the land on the hill side from the path to the right, and so it seemed that the only way to put things right was actually to retrace my steps to the base of the hill and start again. What a pain... So, I made my way back down the hill and back across the field to the point at which the paths had diverged, and this time took the path which was going in the right direction.
I thought I was sorted now, but not long afterwards the path diverged where a fence began. I looked very carefully to see whether there was any indication of which side of the fence I should take - the Cateran trail had been marked very well the previous morning, and I was surprised there wasn't a little marker here - but there was nothing that I could see. I therefore set off along what looked like the more clearly defined path, which went to the right down a tussocky, sloping hill.
Perhaps it was inevitable that when I got to the bottom of the field some 15 minutes later I would find that I was now trapped on the wrong side of the fence, and unable to get back over, but at the time it was one of the most frustrating experiences I'd had for a long, long time... I checked the fence very carefully to see whether I could climb over, but I couldn't see a way and so I had no choice but to start back up again. By now the sun was really quite hot, and I was sweltering in the jacket I'd put on a little earlier when passing through a windy bit of path. I just pressed on, though, unwilling to stop again until I'd reached the point at which I could get onto the correct path.
Eventually I was just too hot to blast on up any further, and so I did stop to remove my jacket and take a further look at the fence to see whether it might be any easier to get over at that point. I decided that it was just low enough for me to drop my rucksack over, and so I took it off, fastened LPW up in his pocket, heaved the pack up and managed to heft it over the fence. Although the fence was probably no more than 4 feet high, it was topped by two strands of barbed wire, and I was a little worried that I might have a nasty accident if I wasn't extremely careful. I was extremely careful, though, and possibly a bit lucky, and so I managed to squirm up the post and straddle the top without injury either to me or to my trousers.
By now the morning was far advanced, and I seemed to be facing the prospect of yet another late finish. I pressed on as quickly as I could, though, and was soon passing pretty sights along the way.
Cones 
About 3 miles after I was finally established on the right path, and as though to compensate me for my nightmareish earlier navigational trials, fate suddenly presented me quite unexpectedly with an oasis, in the form of the Peel Farm coffee shop. I went in, sat down and ordered a mozarella and basil sandwich (interestingly, it didn't come with tomato) and a 'bottomless coffee'. I wasn't exactly hungry, and I had a flask of coffee with me, but I was still in need of some kind of psychological fillip after the particularly trying time I'd had in attempting to leave Alyth earlier in the day.
Just as I was about to settle down to my sandwich an old friend rang for a chat, and so I went outside into the courtyard in order not to disturb the other visitors. After that I went back in and tucked into my delicious sandwich and coffee, and they were so good that afterwards I decided to push the boat right out and also have a piece of extremely gooey and yummy chocolate and caramel shortbread, my favourite cakey/biscuity thing. Mmmmm :-)
I couldn't really linger as I really did need to get on, but on the way out I stopped quickly for a look into the farm shop too, where I fell into conversation with the proprietor and a customer. They were both familiar with the Challenge, having seen many Challengers pass through over the course of several years, and the customer said he thought he'd actually seen another Challenger earlier on in the day. I was quite excited about that, and wondered where he was heading for, but after a moment's reflection it seemed unlikely that there'd be anyone else going to Easter Lednathie - which no-one but Colin had ever heard of, it seemed! - and so I consoled myself with the likelihood that I'd see plenty of people on arrival in Edzell the following day, collected my things together and moved on.
I'd spoken to JD back at TGO Control a little earlier in the day, to tell him how I was getting on, and I'd told him I felt ready to finish now. My feet felt they'd walked far enough, and I'd spent long enough without the chance to chat properly with other people. He'd told me I could expect to see plenty of people in Edzell the following night, and that was very reassuring.
My route went via Loch of Lintrathen, and it wasn't too long before I found myself passing it. I stopped to take a photograph...
...and at some stage in the process of staring at the loch through the gorse bushes it occurred to me that I should have been on the other side of it... my intended route went round to the west, but I was passing the loch to the east! I whipped out the map and took a look. I saw that the road I was now on would still get me to the top of the loch, but it appeared that I'd added at least 1 more unnecessary kilometer to my route for the day. I began to feel as though there was some sort of divine conspiracy for me to make every conceivable navigational mistake today, and decided that perhaps I needed to pay closer attention to where I was going. Navigation seemed much easier up in the hills!
On rounding a corner I encountered a warning from Scottish Water about the presence and dangers of thin ice on the water. Hmmm...
...and just around the next corner there was a similar sign, but this time warning against the risks of sinking in soft mud. It seemed pretty clear that Scottish Water were not keen for people to approach the loch, and that they were intent on covering all the options...
As often, when the walking seemed interminable and I needed a break, I amused myself playing with the self-timer on the camera.
Persistence finally began to pay off, though, and at the top of the hill ahead of me the magnificently Gothic-looking Balintore Castle came into view. I half expected to see a vampire swoop out of a bedroom window and come flying down to meet me at the bottom of the hill!
After that the route led up into the hills again, and an hour or so later I sat down to contemplate the wonderful variety of browns and greens apparent on the hills surrounding me.
This was Glen Quharity, I think, and a little later I found a small bridge across the Quharity Burn.
The patchwork effect on the hillside was even more apparent as I looked back at it from further along the path.
The path through the hills was really extremely beautiful - one of the prettiest walks I'd encountered in almost a fortnight filled to overflowing with beautiful places - and although I was tired I was very glad that Colin had suggested Easter Lednathie as a potential wild camp.
At one stage as I passed through a field of sheep a small lamb suddenly darted out of the flock and ran straight towards me, stopping in the middle of the road about 6 feet away and bleating at me urgently, several times! It then darted back to its mother and tried to butt in underneath, in search of a comforting drink.
As I got lower the path wound along above the valley floor on the side of the hill...
...and the late sun illuminated the branches of a small silver birch on the hillside opposite.
I noticed what ancient geography lessons suggested to me was a beautiful hanging valley high on the hillside...
...and not too long after that I passed next to the garden of a small farmhouse, where 3 tame lambs ran frisking down the garden to see me. They were gorgeous and allowed me to rub their little noses, although they appeared to lose interest a bit when I got out the camera, and after the photograph the little one on the right agreed to take a bluebell from my hand and eat it; the little darling :-)
Further down still I came across a seat, which appeared to have been thoughtfully erected to await my arrival. I sank gratefully onto it, rucksack and all, and Little PW jumped down to take a photograph.
The path became a small road, and continued on its beautiful course.
I managed to get a photograph of one of the lovely birds wheeling about above my head, although I'm not enough of a bird person to know what it was. Any ideas, anyone?
I passed through Wester Lednathie, and eventually, about a kilometer later at 8pm, I passed a sign which confirmed that the day's walk was virtually over. At last!
There really isn't anything at Easter Lednathie at all, except for a very small and profoundly peaceful and beautiful settlement. On my way through, and with an eye open for a wild camp, I passed another magnificent tree in a field full of happy and contented looking sheep. Have all the really beautiful trees been transplanted to Scotland, I wonder?
Just on the right after that I spotted an idyllic place for my tent, over a fence and next to the stream. I nipped over the fence, cleared the ground of branches under the tree and soon had the tent in place.
I wasn't quite sure whether it was ok to camp there or not, but I hoped that no-one would mind. Once again, though, I was a little anxious that a passing car might spot me and that I might be asked to move on.
Then I wrote up a bit of my notebook, and once my food was ready I settled down with it inside, and ate it as I read my book.
Before settling down to sleep I took out the map to look over the following day's route. The walk to Edzell was going to be 21 miles, and I knew it was going to be very hard work, not only because of the distance but also because a great deal of it was going to be on tarmac roads. What I was particularly concerned about, though, was how to identify the route from my campsite over to the bridge on the river that I'd intended to use when I first planned the walk. Now that I was there, it looked to me as though the route would go through a farmyard, and I was concerned that if I attempted to walk through at 6 o'clock in the morning then I might attract the attention of some sort of ferocious dog. I could see an alternative route to the south of the river, but it looked as though taking that option would add up to a couple of miles to what was already going to be a very long day. I wasn't at all sure what course to take, and I was still turning the matter over in my mind as I fell asleep, anxious not to have to waste time thinking about it when I woke up in the morning.
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