Epilogue

Three and a half months have elapsed since my return home, and I’ve been reflecting on all that happened during my 1200 mile summer. The walk was truly one of life’s great experiences. Only someone who has actually walked a great distance over a long period of time can appreciate the physical and mental challenges encountered with each new footstep. A tourist driving a car is comfortably insulated within the car’s familiar interior even if traveling to new places. Not so the walker, who has no retreat into the security of a familiar environment.

For the walker, every second of every day yields a new, unfiltered experience. Except for seeing a few familiar faces along the trail as walkers’ paces ebb and flow during the day, and except for special events like my reunions with Roger and Pauline or with Bob and Pam several weeks after we first met, the solo walker deals with each scene, each encounter, each challenge, anew.

Those of you who followed my blog know that for me, making new acquaintances was the highlight of every day, and I treasured every new encounter. Only three times in 1200 miles over three months did I encounter anyone who I considered potentially unsafe. I didn’t write about them, of course, and perhaps my security senses were raised unnecessarily, but one learns never to leave home without those senses.

Nor did I write about one of my most delightful encounters – but for a very different reason. On the very last day of my 1200 mile summer, I was in the Sea View Hotel in John O’Groats finalizing arrangements for my return to Heathrow, when a wind-blown lady with a backpack larger than herself walked into the hotel’s reception area, dripping wet from rain. I knew instantly that I was in the presence of greatness. Charlie Lee was at that very moment completing her incredible five-month, two thousand mile solo walk of Britain’s eight points. I had been following her humorous mis-adventures on and off since April as she related them in her delightful blog, and I was more awestruck by her presence than if I had encountered Queen Elizabeth, herself. Summoning all of my boyish courage and assuming my characteristic lost puppy look, I timidly invited her to join me for dinner, and was honored that she accepted.

Of course, I couldn’t mention any of this in that day’s posting, because Charlie was much more conscious of her own security than I was of mine. (Her own blog postings were always delayed a week or two so that potential stalkers wouldn’t know her location at any given time. I wasn’t as concerned about potential stalkers as I was about whether they would buy me a beer.) But it certainly wouldn’t do for me to have disclosed her location in that day’s posting.

Nor can I post the picture of Charlie and me in the restaurant, because she hasn’t posted her picture on her own blog – again, presumably for security reasons. Even if that weren’t a concern, I wouldn’t post the picture anyway because it shows a lovely young lady, positively glowing from her 2,000 mile achievement, standing next to a bedraggled old man weighing 25 fewer pounds than he did at Land’s End, and looking totally exhausted from 1200 miles and nearly as many beers. No, it’s not a pretty image, but I’ll always remember having had my picture taken with one of my idols.

The following day the rain let up, but strong, cold winds continued to blow. No matter, because I was finished walking. I took the bus from John O’Groats to Inverness, where I caught a train to Edinburgh. After a relaxing day with my friend Ann of the Tartan, I flew to London.

My mingling with celebrities continued in London when I had dinner with Mark Moxon and his wife, Peta. Every End to Ender knows Mark Moxon as the webmaster of the premier website for walking from Land’s End to John O’Groats. Mark is also a world renowned travel writer, and I was delighted to meet him in person.

My third personal idol is Ernest Shackleton, the polar explorer of Endurance fame. “The Boss” (as Shackleton’s crew referred to him) and I have a lot in common. Several years ago I had the good fortune to retrace his footsteps on South Georgia, the Antarctic island he crossed in 1916 to rescue his men who were marooned on Elephant Island. In 1909, Shackleton had failed in his first attempt to reach the South Pole, turning around barely 95 miles from the goal, but still he had trekked more than 1200 miles across Antarctica. I, too, did not quite reach John O’Groats on my walk, but I’m sure Shackleton would understand. Yes, we have a lot in common.

The James Caird

Shackle-ton attended Dulwich College, a boy’s school near London. Mark Moxon gave me a quick lesson on using London’s underground and train system, and on my final day in London I made my way to Dulwich College. There, the James Caird, the lifeboat in which Shackleton sailed from Elephant Island to South Georgia on his incredible journey, is on display. The James Caird is encircled by a small railing designed to protect it from curious onlookers. I’m not exactly proud of what I did next, but I actually reached over the railing and ran my hand along the James Caird’s bow. I’m sure Shackleton would have done so too.

I flew home the following day. I continue to hike in Yosemite and Utah. I’ve resumed my role as a highly trained lawyer, although in a semi-retired mode. Semi-retirement has given me the time to prepare a slide show of my End to End walk and to publish a book entitled (what else?) My 1200 Mile Summer. If I can get the required permission to include the copyrighted music which accompanies the slides, I’ll add the slide show to my blog. The book will soon be available for purchase at Blurb.com, but I can’t imagine why anybody would buy it since it merely repeats the postings and images from the blog, which can be accessed for free.

I’ve already presented the slide show to several groups; invariably, the audience asks about my next adventure. I don’t yet know, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility of walking from John O’Groats to Land’s End. After all, I did fail to walk 19 of the final 20 miles of LEJOG, and it would only be right to try again. I think Shackleton would make a second attempt. And we DO have a lot in common.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 89 – Watten to John O’Groats, 0 miles

Sometimes things don’t go as planned. I had planned on not mentioning the weather again, but I’m making an exception. I had also planned on walking to JOG today, but that didn’t work out either. Yesterday’s walk to Watten was in very high winds, but it was dry. It rained and blew heavily last night, and continued this morning. Here’s today’s official weather warning:

     Issued at - 27 Aug 2011, 11:28

     Valid from - 28 Aug 2011, 00:00

     Valid to - 28 Aug 2011, 23:59

     A spell of wet and unseasonably windy weather is expected during Sunday.

     Persistent rain, heavy at times, will be accompanied by strong to gale force winds with a risk of severe gales in the most exposed areas.

     The public should be aware of the risk of localised flooding

What the forecast doesn’t report is the unseasonably cold temperature which accompanied the gale force wind and rain. With no refuge between Watten and JOG, I concluded that attempting to walk 20 miles in those conditions would be foolhardy. The risk of hypothermia was far too great.

I arranged for a ride from Watten to the Sea View Hotel in JOG. We drove along the same route I was to have walked. At one point, a downed tree partially blocked the road, but we were able to navigate around it. The road was heavily flooded in at least a half dozen places. Small Loch Watten had white caps and 18 inch waves.

Upon arrival at the Sea View Hotel, I left my pack and walked the ½ mile to the road end where the tourist shops and Orkney Ferry pier are located. That short walk was very difficult. The ferry was still berthed at the pier – today’s crossing had been cancelled due to the high winds and rough sea.

I browsed through the shops, took a few pictures, and had a cappuccino at the coffee bar. I then walked back to the Sea View, fighting the wind and rain all the way. I was very cold when I reached the hotel again. I could not have walked from Watten today.

Being a highly-trained mountaineer, I’ve developed a sense of when to abort a climb and abandon the summit. That sense came in handy today. I don’t want to be overly dramatic and say that my good judgment saved my life, but it certainly saved me the embarrassment of having to be rescued due to a bad decision.

Some readers may wonder whether I’m disappointed about not “completing” the walk. I’m not disappointed at all. One of the world’s top mountain guides with whom I’ve climbed commented to me that a climber never regrets aborting a summit attempt due to weather. You regret failing to abort the summit when you should do so. I have no regrets.

Flowering heather

Although the official description of this storm is “unseasonable” the storm shows that the seasons are changing. Summer is coming to a close in the Highlands of Scotland. Already there is an autumn crispness in the morning air this far north. Tree leaves are yellowing, and the mountain heather is nearing full autumn bloom  

The pink blossoms that my pictures have captured since June are now reaching their apex, confirming summer’s final days.


Just as nature heralds the end of summer in Scotland, my arrival at John O’Groats tolls the end of my 1200 mile summer. For the past year and a half, I have shared my anticipation, disappointments, challenges, joys and sorrow. We have shared new friendships, and re-bonded with old ones. I have tried not to dwell on the hardships, suffering and occasional exhaustion, because we all have enough negatives in our daily lives – but they were surely present more often than I like to admit.

The sun will rise again tomorrow here in Scotland, but my blog will not. My 1200 mile summer is finished, and it’s time to move on.

Thank you for following and supporting me along the way. Good-bye for now.

Land's End

John O'Groats

The End

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 88 – Lybster to Watten, 14 miles

Although the entire route today was on tarmac road, less than ¼ mile was on the busy A9. The balance was on a minor road through Lybster, and then a minor road that runs due north from the A9 to Watten. Once on the minor roads, I didn’t see more than a dozen cars – much more relaxing than walking along the busy A9.



Heather covered hillside

 The route to Watten left the sea and headed inland across the wind-swept moors. I bypassed a few forestry commission plantation forests, but most of the time I was surrounded by heather, grasses and sheep. The heather is flowering, casting the hillsides with a dull purple. The flowers will open in the sunshine and the colors will brighten considerably. But not today.

Aside from a few cars, I was passed by a group of three cyclists finishing their LEJOG. They were getting near to their finish line and chose not to stop, thus depriving themselves of everlasting immortality from appearing in this blog. Perhaps they have their own blog, but they can’t boast a readership as elite as this one.

If all goes as planned, I’ll arrive in John O’Groats tomorrow. How can I possibly be there already?






© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 87 – Friday, August 26, 2011, Dunbeath to Lybster, 6 miles

Today was another roadwalking day, but it was a short day I added to lessen the length of tomorrow’s walk, and to prevent me from arriving in JOG a day too early. Since the distance was short, I didn’t have time to get bored, and about the time boredom was ready to kick in, I met three End to Enders.




John and Stewart

John and Stewart are cycling, and left JOG this morning. They’ve already cycled across the U.S., and thought it time to do so in their own country. I hope they have as much fun as I’ve had.

Olishar

Like me, Olishar is walking the length of Britain. He started on the south coast some 54 days ago, whizzed past Land’s End and will reach JOG tomorrow. He’s camping, and covers about 25 miles a day. He and I walked together and chatted for a short time, but I couldn’t keep up with him. Well, hey, he’s less than half my age. When I was his age I could out-hike people twice my age. I still can.

 I arrived in Lybster around noon, dropped my pack at the hotel and walked down to the harbour for a crab sandwich. I’m still not talking about the weather, but my pictures came out well, don’t you think?



Lybster harbour



 



Lybster lighthouse



George, Lost-a-lot, and Roy
The 3 Must-have-beers

Before dinner, I went to the hotel's pub where I met George and Roy.  George used to be a commercial fisherman in Lybster.  When he found out I had walked all the way from Land’s End, he insisted on buying me a drink.  Roy is formerly from England, but lives in Scotland now.  I enjoyed meeting both of them, and when I told them I needed a picture for my blog, George referred to us as the Three Must-have-beers.  My goodness -- have I become that transparent?  It's time to return home.

 © 2011 Ken Klug

Day 86 – Thursday, August 25, 2011, Helmsdale to Dunbeath – 16 miles

I knew today was going to be a boring day of roadwalking along the busy A9. My expectations were fully met. For some reason the traffic today was far heavier than yesterday – perhaps the heavy traffic is in the morning, and I missed it by walking on the beach yesterday. There was no beach today – the sea came right up to the vertical cliffs, so the A9 was the only option.

The scenery from the road was still pretty – when I had a chance to look at it. Most of the time I was busy watching the vehicles headed in my direction. I tried to entertain myself by playing a license plate game, but the vehicles whizzed by so fast that I couldn’t read the plates. Finally, I decided to just pay attention to the road signs – it’s amazing how helpful they can be even for walkers.

The first sign I noticed reminded me that I had drunk more than my usual coffee this morning. The A9 is a long road in a remote area, and the pee post was welcome.  Another pee post appeared about a mile later. This was too soon, but OK, I gave what I had. When the third sign appeared, I was flabbergasted, until I realized that the blue color indicated convenience, not command.

Some signs weren’t very helpful, like the one telling me to give way. What else would you do when two tons of metal are hurtling towards you?

This sign was especially motivating. There’s nothing like the promise of a bottle at the end of the day to keep a walker moving. Funny, though, I would have expected another pee post afterwards, but there were none.







© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 85 – Golspie to Helmsdale – 17 miles

Once again I was pleasantly surprised to find that the day of roadwalking I had expected turned out to be half a day on a coastal footpath and beach and only half a day on the A9 road. Further, the A9 was not as busy as I had anticipated, so all in all it turned out to be a good day.

Dunrobin Castle

The coastal path out of Golspie was a nicely trimmed grass path. I didn’t see any sheep droppings, so the trimming must have been done mechanically. I could hear some traffic and an occasional train to the west, but they were mostly shielded by trees. To my east, of course, was the sea. The path passed beneath Dunrobin Castle, the home of the Earl of Sutherland, and reputed to be the largest castle in Northern Scotland, or maybe all of Scotland. Or maybe it’s the largest occupied castle. I’m sure it’s got something to distinguish it from all the other castles in Scotland. The castle is open for tours, but with 17 miles to cover today, I didn’t have the time or energy to spare for a tour.

Amanda and Wendy

Amanda and Wendy were sitting on a rock as I went by. Never one to miss an opportunity for a geography lesson, I asked them to point out some landmarks so I could orient myself. In the near distance was Dornoch on the other side of Loch Fleet, and beyond that, barely visible during the day but whose lights are visible at night, was Tain, across the Dornoch Firth. We couldn’t see Brora to the north, because an intervening point jutted out into the sea. John O’Groats was just ahead, still obscured by the curvature of the earth. Secure in the knowledge that I was heading in the right direction, I continued on.

Andy, Cheryl, Maia and Malachi

When the footpath ended, I moved down to the beach, where the wet sand was firm enough for easy walking. The receding tide had left exposed rocks, and seals balanced themselves on the rocks as they often do. Along came a family of seal hunters, armed with a camera and two children eager to see some seals. We had a nice chat, and they headed on to stalk their game.

Beachfront garden in Brora

Beyond Brora, the footpath climbed into the grassy sand dunes and ran along the perimeter of a golf course until the beach ended at a rocky shore. Rather than try to navigate through a long rocky beach, I stepped over a fence, crossed the railroad tracks, and stepped over another fence onto the A9 road. My intention was to walk the A9 until it rejoined the sandy beach shown on my map, but there was so little traffic and I moved so fast, that I passed the obvious point to return to the beach. As the beach receded farther and farther from the road, I just stayed on the road all the way to Helmsdale.




© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 84 – Dornoch to Golspie – 11 miles

I can’t compliment the staff of the Dornoch Castle Hotel too highly. From the time I checked in with my upgrade until the time I checked out the entire staff treated me as an honored guest, despite the fact that I carried a backpack rather than a golf bag. It was a lovely place to stay, but I still have to travel north.

Low tide at Loch Fleet

Today’s walk started out on a minor road through farm fields and pastures, and then along the shore of Loch Fleet, a tidal estuary. Scores of shore birds scoured the low-tide shallows searching for breakfast. I saw three blue herons and lots of those funny little birds with the curved beaks who were probing the sand shallows.

Eventually, though, I had to join the busy A9 road to cross the estuary. There was very little verge to walk on, so generally I walked on the road’s fog line. I was walking against the traffic of course, and every time a vehicle came my way I stepped off the road and onto what little verge there was until the vehicle passed. After a short time a policeman on a motorcycle drove by from behind me with blue lights flashing, and at least ¼ mile ahead of me stopped all the traffic coming in my direction. Wow!! This was great. King Arthur must have notified the police to escort me.

When I finally reached the line of cars which had been stopped ahead of me, I asked one of the drivers if he knew why he had been stopped. With as much humility as I could muster, I was going to explain my role if he didn’t know.

But he did know. Approaching behind me were three extra-long lorries transporting windmill blades – they were so long that they needed both sides of the road when taking curves. Although I was a little deflated that the traffic stop wasn’t in my honor, I took advantage of it and crossed almost the entire bridge before traffic started moving again.

Balblair Wood

After the bridge I would have still faced 4 miles of A9 road-walking before reaching Golspie were it not for brilliant wayfinding by Jack Frost.  His route turned the dreary road walk into a lovely walk through the Balblair Wood and then along a little used golf course lane.

Upon arrival in Golspie, I stopped for a cappuccino and my eyes fell upon a headline posting at the news agent across the street.

I didn’t know they were following my blog. Maybe I need to go under cover. I better buy that bicycle and a helmet, and get one of those funny shirts with words written all over it. With a new disguise, I can get to JOG before they know it.




Puzzle of the day:  Identify this car:

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 83 – Tain to Dornoch – 10 miles

Dornoch Firth Bridge in distance

Dornoch is only a stone’s throw from Tain, but on the other side of the Dornoch Firth. Getting across the firth requires a long walk west to the bridge, then a short walk north across the bridge, and finally another long walk east to Dornoch. Thus, I covered 10 miles to gain perhaps a mile north.

The walk out of Tain started along the busy A9 road, but there was a wide grass verge to walk on – at times 30 feet wide. Because the road parallels the Dornoch Firth, I had nice views. The verge disappeared at the Dornoch Firth Bridge, and I was relegated to walking on a sidewalk adjacent to high-speed traffic.

Peter

Just after crossing the bridge, I met Peter, who is cycling from John O’Groats to Land’s End. He left JOG yesterday. It will still take me a week to get there. I really need to think about exchanging my boots for pedals.



Fantasy garden on
road to Dornoch

 A short way beyond the bridge, I found a gate and a footpath which allowed me to leave the busy A9 roadway and cut over to a minor road leading to Dornoch. I decided to stop in Dornoch today so I wouldn’t arrive in JOG a day too early. I’m not sure what I would do with the extra time were I to arrive at JOG a day early. Dornoch is a lovely village in a nice setting, so it seemed to make sense to stay here with my extra day. Besides, I had a little experiment I wanted to do.

The Dornoch Castle Hotel is an elite property – or at least that’s what the hotel rates would suggest. A single room in the hotel is £121 (approximately $200). But they have several “very basic” chalets outside of the main hotel building that are £51 (approximately $85). When I was in Tyndrum I reserved a chalet, and today I intended to try negotiating a complementary upgrade to a room in the hotel. After all, I had walked all the way to Dornoch from Land’s End, and if anybody deserved an upgrade, I did. I wanted to see if the people in the village where Madonna recently got married treat us commoners as well as they treat celebrities. I stayed awake most of last night practicing my upgrade request.

Upon checking into the hotel, I had no sooner begun my upgrade pitch when the desk clerk volunteered that she could give me a free upgrade to a hotel room. Somewhat taken aback by how the clerk shortcut my prepared remarks, I almost refused the upgrade. Fortunately, my background as a highly-trained lawyer kicked in, and I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I’ve regained that lost puppy look – but more likely, King Arthur put in a good word for me.

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 82 – Alness to Tain – 13 miles

It didn't even register

After a good night’s sleep and a full Scottish breakfast, I was ready to walk to Tain. I thought I started out very well, but I was disappointed when the speed sensor didn’t even register. Maybe the breakfast wasn’t as carb-loaded as I thought.

The road out of Alness climbs a small hill, and then continues on through farmlands. I had good views of the Cromarty Firth to my right, and of the colorful farmlands to my left. As I passed a driveway, I was intercepted by a local resident. Although the road on which I was walking is part of the national cycleway, he hadn’t seen many walkers, so I was an oddity he wanted to meet. That was a nice switch, because I’m usually the one initiating the dialogue.

Sean and Rosa

Sean owns a small farm and a couple of horses. He mentioned that his son is temporarily working in California, and believe it or not at the very time Sean and I were speaking, his son was preparing to hike to the top of Yosemite’s Half Dome. Climbing Half Dome is a great experience, and I hope he enjoys it.

JDB, Jack and Maurice

As I continued on, I met a cyclist from Holland who was just returning from John O’Groats. He hadn’t cycled there from Land’s End, but he’s been cycling all around England and Scotland, and was now headed south. While we were talking, two other cyclists came by heading north. They left Land’s End 13 days ago, and hope to reach JOG tomorrow. I left Land’s End 82 days ago and hope to reach JOG next Sunday. Maybe I should re-think this walking thing.

Olga

The cyclists continued on and disappeared over the respective horizons, and I was once again left to plod along, step by step, inch by inch, towards my destination in Tain. But I wasn’t alone for long. A cyclist who had swept past me earlier in the morning as she headed south came by again, heading north. This time she stopped to talk. While it took me all morning and part of the afternoon to hoof it from Alness to Tain, she rode from Tain to Alness and back – without even looking tired. I’m really going to have to re-think this walking thing. Maybe I’ll buy a bicycle tomorrow and pedal to JOG. I wonder if cyclists can trigger the speed sensors.








© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 81 – Dingwall to Alness – 9 miles

Cromarty Firth

I had expected another day of dreary road walking, but was pleasantly surprised. The minor road out of Dingwall climbed to a ridge that paralleled the Cromarty Firth, so most of the morning I had nice views of the firth. Overhead, a buzzard serenaded me with its characteristic screech for almost 45 minutes. Both the bird and its call remind me of the golden eagles I’ve seen over Yosemite’s Illilouette Canyon. With its noble appearance and call, the bird deserves a better name than a buzzard.

Flowers in Evanton

After the village of Evanton, the view of the firth temporarily disappeared, but a footpath that paralleled the road wound through a nice wooded area for approximately two miles. Although the footpath was never more than 50 feet from the road, the road had virtually no traffic, so the sights and sounds of the woods made for a pleasant walk.

Beyond the wooded area, the road and footpath passed through farm country. Wheatfields, which had been dark green in June, have turned golden brown, and ripple in even the slightest breeze.

As I approached Alness, huge oil platforms came into view. Alness is an oil town. It used to be regarded as a “tough” town, but has revitalized itself into a very pleasant place to live. It’s not a tourist town by any means, but now has a beautiful town commercial center. The pub which once counted more fights than beers, now caters to families with children. At lunch I sat next to two elderly ladies who had come in for a bowl of soup. Alness is a real success story. I’m glad I stopped here.

Highland steer

© 2011 Ken Klug

Day 80 – Wester Kirkhill to Dingwall – 12 miles

Today I had to head west a few miles to get around the Beauly Firth, but once I did that, I headed straight north. The entire day was spent along roads.

Rare Scottish Sunshine

Road walking is hard on the feet, but with a sidewalk alongside the road for most of the day, and a route that was never in doubt, it was a relaxing, mindless activity. I wouldn’t want to do it every day, of course. But, of course, I will be doing it every day until I reach John O’Groats. Maybe I’ll be lucky and find a few footpaths to follow. Jack Frost found a few, and provided the details – I’ll just need to be sure I'm not daydreaming when I get to them.

A small network of roads gave me several route choices. Naturally, the longer route (longer by 5 miles) provided better scenery. Remembering what happened to my feet the last time I had a long day of road walking, I opted for the less scenic shorter route. That took me through the villages of Beauly, Muir of Ord, and Conon Bridge.

Beauly is the smallest of the three. It has an attractive town center, bustling with people. Virtually all of the people were elderly – white haired elderly. There wasn’t a bus in sight, so I concluded that most of the people were residents rather than a tour group. The butcher shop and the bakery seemed to be the busiest stores. I didn’t notice whether the candlestick maker had many customers.

The next town north was Muir of Ord, which had a completely different feel. Several of the buildings were boarded up, suggesting a town in decline. I saw no elderly people, but rather six or eight young mothers pushing children in strollers. It was about noon, and I was passing the library, so there may have been a library function for children. There were also a number of young men about – either walking down the street or accompanying mothers pushing strollers. Were they on their day off, or are all of their days off?

River Conon

I didn’t pass a commercial center in Conon Bridge. I was walking on the main road through town, and saw very few people outside of their cars. The homes were nicely maintained, though, which suggests there is some bit of affluence there. Perhaps it’s a commuter town.

Garden near Conon Bridge

So, there you have my very unscientific observation of the demographics of three villages, done at different times during the same day, and reported from my frequently faulty memory. If you are planning to buy property in any of them, you should perform your own due diligence.

High Street, Dingwall

I liked Dingwall when I arrived. High Street is a bustling commercial center during the day. I went back in the evening for dinner, and everything was closed. High Street was deserted. The hotel I went to for dinner was also deserted, except for me. Now that I’m away from the trails, I won’t be meeting other walkers, but I would expect either other tourists or locals. Perhaps that will happen as I get farther from the city – right now, Inverness is still only a short distance away.

I’ll be interested to see what develops over the next 10 days. Believe it or not, that’s all I’ve got left.


© 2011 Ken Klug