Edzell to St Cyrus
(12 miles/222 metres ascent)
The warm wash was lovely, and breakfast was delicious. The eggs were free range, and so I was able to have eggs with mushrooms and a potato cake after my cereal, as well as a pot of great coffee. Andy and David were there, and also a Dutch man working in Montrose, who'd been forced this week to look for accommodation a little further out because the visitors to the golf tournament in Montrose had filled up all of the accommodation there. Andy and David were finishing in Montrose, and we all wished each other good luck and agreed to meet again at the dinner, later that evening.
I tried to make good progress, but it appeared that I was slipping back into my earlier, slow morning ways, and it was almost 8.30am by the time I virtually ran out of the front door and down towards the Post Office, anxious not to miss the others. I got there just after 8.30am but there was no sign of anyone else, and about 5 minutes later I began to worry that I might have missed them all. It seemed unlikely that I could have missed Jean, though, as she's just about as slow as me in the mornings, and so I sent her a text and crossed my fingers. 5 minutes later she replied, and I made my way to her B&B, which was literally just around the corner.
It was a relief to find Jean, and to learn that Barbara was also there. I left my pack in the porch and went in, and sat in Jean's room as she got her things together. A little while later Barbara went out to tell the blokes that we were all on our way, and a bit after that I went out to confirm that it would just be 5 minutes more. They were all waiting outside, and it was already yet another lovely morning :-)
Jean was there a couple of minutes afterwards, and we all stopped for pictures before we set off.
The walk was shorter than most that I'd done over the course of the previous week, and I wasn't expecting to feel particularly tired or sore. We walked on at a good pace, swapping places in the line from time to time to talk to other people. It made such a great change to be able to chat with other people as I walked - the miles just disappeared behind me, and I settled back to enjoy myself.
It was also nice to be relieved of the responsiblity of checking the route, as the others all looked like enormously competent navigators to me, and I was more than happy to leave all the navigation to them :-)
We passed a donkey wearing a midge net, and stopped to chat and feed it a little grass. It seemed a happy and energetic little thing, and galloped off around its little field, kicking its heels up as we moved on.
The place that had been planned as a lunch stop was the Marykirk hotel - in Marykirk, as you might expect - and as we began to draw closer we all began to look forward to the opportunity to sit down with some sort of drink and maybe a snack to eat. Jean and I had dropped behind a bit as we approached Marykirk. We both had sore feet, and they were slowing us down. That wasn't all bad, though, as the slower pace enabled Jean to spot a beautiful combination of colours in the pink of flowers against the background of the ploughed field, and we stopped to take a picture.
We were keeping a close eye on the map, though, and knew we weren't far from salvation, and so we were very surprised and disappointed to see the rest of the bunch walking back along the road towards us and shaking their heads, as we walked up the road to the pub...
There was a bit of a cow byre at the side of the road, and we gathered in there to see what was going on. It turned out that the others had arrived at the pub at 11.40, only to be told that under no circumstances would they open until 12 noon. That was disappointing, although not the end of the world, but the pub had also refused to allow Barbara to nip in quickly to use the toilet. Bearing in mind that there was nowhere else to go, and Barbara was really desperate, that seemed unnecessarily mean. Perhaps they thought Barbara had a secret plan to steal all the loo roll and rifle through the optics on her way back to door? Anyway, Jean said that she would go up and have a word, as she was from Aberdeenshire and was confident that she'd be able to persuade the proprietor to be a little less inflexible.
Jean set off up the road, and the rest of us stood around chatting in the byre for 10 minutes or so. After that we followed Jean up the hill, but the prospects still looked rather bleak when we saw her standing outside on the pavement. It turned out that the bloke Jean had spoken to inside the pub remained adamant that they couldn't open 5 minutes early, and equally adamant that Barbara couldn't be allowed to use the toilet until after 12 noon. Apparently walkers weren't high on his list of valued customers, because he said he'd found that they often wanted only a soft drink and a bowl of soup. It sounded as though walkers aren't regarded as worth the hassle at the Marykirk Hotel... Anyway, there was nowhere else to go, and Barbara still needed the loo, so we decided to wait until 12 noon - it was about 11.50am now - and then go in.
We stood outside by the window, watching the man at the bar doing something important to his optics for the next 15 minutes or so. 5 minutes or so after noon he finally opened the door, and immediately told all of us that we'd have to take all of our walking kit off before we could go in. It's hard to see why, because it was dry out, and nobody was wet or dirty. I wonder whether customers there are normally asked to take off their shoes and coats at the door? Hmmm... what d'you reckon? Anyway... at that stage we decided not to bother, and set off back down the road towards the cow byre.
It turned out that there are actually friendly and helpful people living in Marykirk, despite initial impressions, and a woman living across the road from the pub very kindly allowed Barbara to go in and use her toilet. (In recognition of this kindness, Barbara restrained herself from nicking all the loo roll and roughing up the house on her way out, although knowing Barbara it was probably a close-run thing...)
The four of us then stood around chatting for a while, and we explained what the Challenge is all about. It may be that tea and biscuits for Challengers will be available there next year - I certainly hope so! - but in the meantime we'd all like to say a very big thank you for the kindness and common decency we found over the road from the pub.
The loo stop over, we three girlies made our way back down to the byre, where we found the blokes waiting for us, and still thinking about lunch. By an enormous stroke of good luck it turned out that I was still carrying the bottles of gin and the tonic from the night before, and the blokes just happened to be carrying a couple of bottles of red wine, and so we all decided to picnic there. It turned out to be the most fun lunch stop I've ever had, and a million times better than any pub stop would have been :-)
We turned out all our food, and discovered bananas, pistachios, flapjack and an amazing - although entirely inedible - emergency ration of some description. It transpired that gin and tonic tastes even better than usual in a smart titanium mug, and red wine definitely tastes better from the bottle :-)
As we were picnicking we were joined by Alan, who at 77 (!) was the oldest Challenger on the crossing, and he stopped to party with us :-)
All my earlier experiments with the self-timer finally paid dividends, when I was able to prop the camera on a fence post on the other side of the road and sprint back over to join the group for a group piccy!
Reluctant as we were to move on, it was finally necessary to think about doing so, and so we began to get our things together. By a cunning ploy, Lawrence and Ken somehow managed to swap rucksacks with Jean and me, which was extremely kind and enormously welcome (to me, at least!)
A slight mist descended on the fields as we grew closer to the sea...
...and as we got closer still I began to see steam rising from the fields themselves.
The sea finally came into view over the brow of a hill (well, sort of...) and I stopped to record the historic moment!
After that it was just one last push up a small hill...
...and one more misty field...
...ok, so I lied: it was two more misty fields...
...and finally we were there!
We stopped briefly to catch our breath, and then we made our way down the cliff side to the beach below :-)
The blokes had been speaking intermittently about swimming during the day. I wasn't sure whether they were serious, but I was keen to join in if they were going to get into the sea. It turned out that they were serious after all - I immediately experienced great excitement at the idea of how cold the sea would be! - and so we all made our way over to some conveniently located rocks and began to get our kit off.
The first was soon changed, and ran off down to the water...
...but the rest of us weren't too long after him, and we soon followed him in :-)
It was some of the coldest water I've ever experienced, and after I'd run screaming into the water and dived into a wave, I leapt up - horrified - and tried to run out again. My legs wouldn't work properly, though, and so I kept tripping over and falling back in again. We all joined hands and ran into the waves together, and then we turned round and began to make our way out. Malcolm, Jean and Barbara were on their way in as the rest of us were picking our way back up the beach, and Jean took a piccy of the shivering creatures emerging from the sea :-)
Afterwards we all felt much warmer when we'd got our dry clothes back on again...
...and there was time to play a bit of frisbee on the sand.
Steam was rising from the beach, now, in the way that it had risen from the ploughed fields earlier on...
...and the heat of the sun was beginning to come through.
We made our way back up the cliff face - our final climb! - and then stopped by a seat at the top for a group photo. Ken persuaded a young man from a parked car to take some pictures for us, and just at that moment the sun came right out. It was perfect :-)
We stayed just a little bit longer, taking photos and reflecting on the beauty of the place...
...and finally we set off back down to the road, to start our journey to Challenge Check-in at the Park Hotel in Montrose.
I heard people talking about buses as I wandered down with the others, but in my slightly distracted state I assumed that they were joking, in the way that people sometimes do on long walks when no-one feels like walking any further. I was a little surprised when everyone actually stopped and sat down at the bus stop, and it was only at that stage that it occurred to me that the Challenge was finally over! I'm normally quite emotional at the end of a long walk - I think it's relief to put all the slog and exhaustion of it behind me - but I'd had such an utterly brilliant time down on the beach that it hadn't even crossed my mind that the thing was now done! I was certainly relieved to realise that we could legitimately get a bus to Montrose though!
We found Alan at the bus stop. He'd been down to the beach with us, but had set off up again while we were still dressing after the swim. Once again the self-timer on the camera came into its own, as I was able to perch it over the road and get back into the photograph :-)
Waiting at the bus stop, it occurred to me to ring my hotel in order to see whether the room I'd booked was a double or a twin. If it was a twin then Jean and I had agreed that Jean would stay there too, as her accommodation was miles out of town, and likely to be a bit of a hassle to get to and from for the bash. I rang the number and embarked on a slightly confusing conversation, explaining that if my room was actually a twin then I now had someone to share it with me. The person at the other end didn't sound like the sharpest knife in the box, though, and didn't seem to be able to work out what I was talking about. Several minutes must have passed before the penny finally dropped that I'd actually rung TGO Control rather than the George Hotel, and that the confused sounding person on the other end of the line was actually John Donohoe, valiantly trying to work out what on earth I was on about. (Blush.... :-)
The bus to Montrose eventually arrived, and the journey didn't take long. We disembarked and made our way to the Park, where we left our packs in the porch and made our way upstairs, to finally check in. Jean and I walked up together, and it was exciting finally to meet John and Roger, with whom I'd been chatting on the phone and in email for so long!
There was tea and biccies too - (one of the books I'd been listening to on the crossing was Bill Bryson's "Notes from a Small Island", and I was horrified to hear myself react instinctively with, "Ooh! Lovely!" when told there were tea and biccies for me on the table! Whoops...) - and after I'd collected my certificate, T-shirt and sweatshirt I sat down on the floor with Jean, and we both took off our socks and stretched out our aching feet under the table. It was bliss :-)
The post-walk bash was due to start at about 7.30pm, and we'd all been asked to get there at 7pm for 7.30pm. The 7 of us decided we'd love to sit together, and agreed that the first one back would bag at least 7 seats in a group, to make sure we weren't separated. We all went our own ways at that point, to off-load our packs in our accommodation, and get a wash and change before the bash.
The George Hotel wasn't difficult to find, and it didn't take me long to get a bath and change either. I'd collected a parcel of clean clothes at the Park Hotel - many thanks to Baa for sending them along - and it was really wonderful to finally have something other than my trail shoes on my feet, as well as a clean T shirt to wear... I left the George again about 6.15pm, and after a quick diversion to the cashpoint I made my way over to The Links, which is where the bash was going to take place.
I got there about 6.30pm, and had no trouble in bagging a table for us at the other end of the room. Perhaps 15 minutes later the blokes arrived, and not long after that there was Barbara. A few Challengers that the others had met on the way came over to share our table, and we kept a place for Jean, who'd been delayed getting back in by being stuck out in the wilds somewhere. She arrived just in the nick of time, and settled in across the table.
The atmosphere was wonderful right from the start, and by the time Roger stood up to welcome us all everyone was in very high spirits. The meal was punctuated by contratulations to various groups of Challengers, and a special award for those who'd completed the crossing 10 times. 10 times! As I sat and watched them going up to collect their awards, I began to think that maybe that was something I'd like to aim for...
I was finally able to track down Colin Tock - the vetter who'd given me such great route advice and more than a giggle or two in the course of our various exchanges in email. Many thanks, Colin - you're The Best Vetter In The World, and your help was very much appreciated :-)
Various people had taken their cameras, and there was great hilarity in all quarters of the room at the pictures of our post-swim aftermath on the beach at St Cyrus, earlier in the afternoon :-) When the food was over we chatted further for a while and then all went next door to a large room with a dancefloor, and bagged a table.
Live music was provided by author and TGO editor Cameron McNeish (guitar) and John Jocys (melodeon!), and so naturally a bit of Scottish country dancing broke out. Not being Scottish, I was pretty clueless at the country dancing, but I was very keen to learn. Jean and The Boys knew all about it, though, and Lawrence and Ken very kindly and patiently attempted to steer me through some of the moves before the chaos began :-)
The dancing was an absolute blast, and at least twice as exhausting as the entirety of the walk! My favourite bits are always the twirly ones, where you whizz round and round in small circles clinging to someone else's arm, and there seemed to be lots of those. I was quite dizzy by the time the first dance was over, and nearly had to call for supplemental oxygen! Fortunately sustenance was available in alcoholic form, though, and so I was able to make do with that instead.
After the dancing came singing, and in retrospect the whole evening developed into one great haze of laughter, wine, dancing, singing, more laughter, wine, more singing, lots more laughter, more wine, a wee dram or two and a great deal of twirling, whizzling and stamping out rhythms on the floor. It really was the best time I've had as far back as I can remember, and quite possibly unrepeatable! (Hopefully not, though... hehe hehe...)
In accordance with a pattern established earlier in the walk, we seemed to be the last to leave the hotel.
It did eventually have to be done, though...
...and just after 3.30am I set off to wend my way back over the short walk down to the George. It was misty and possibly even a bit drizzly outside, but the quiet Montrose streets looked very atmospheric to me.
The George was all locked up when I got back, but the night porter kindly let me in. I think it took approximately half a nano-second for me to fall asleep once I'd undressed, and I'm really quite surprised that I actually managed to remember to set the alarm on my watch before lying down on the bed...
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