See what I did there? Who Dun…
Anyway, I arrived in Brough (pronounced Brock – see the Scots don’t just go about producing phlegm willy and indeed nilly) to be greeted by the lovely Brian at the UK’s northernmost campsite.
After some discussion about the ferocity of the wind, Brian suggested I put my stuff up in his stable.
It was just like the nativity – what with the…er and the…well there was a stable and, for the purposes of keeping sane, I am not Jesus Christ.
The other suggestion Brian came up with involved me taking a 7 mile round trip to Dunnet Head – the real northernmost point of the UK – shouldn’t the challenge be lands end to Dunnet Head then?
Well, yes, to answer my own rhetorical question – it’s accessible and it’s got a lighthouse – the absolute prerequisites as far as I’m concerned.
My 7 mile journey involved walking up the single track without the weight of Darth 2 pulling me back. No, I was able to stride out easily into the head on gale.
There are some opportunities in life that I regret not taking – and this particular opportunity was presented to me twice.
What’s the first urge you would get when you see an isolated campervan early one windy morning?
Knowing that the inhabitants had clearly gone up there because it’s one of the most secluded spots on our happy island?
No? Not one if you had the urge to bang on the doors and scream with your best scary monster voice?
Just me then.
Its kind of weird looking out at the Orkney Isles – they actually look like they belong to the mainland. It’s a stunning sight. I’m glad I’ve gratuitously ticked that off on my journey.
Brian tells me the wind will due down in a couple of days.
He seems a trustworthy sort.
Walk a mile