Diary: September, 22

During this month I lived a little, and attained some meaningful rapport. I travelled along the North Western Highlands, up to wee city of Dornoch, big burn falls of Golspie, Helmsdale, Thurso, walking across rugged coastline to view panoramic Kyle of Tongue ascetic and white sandy beaches of Durness, and down to Kylesku.

30th

Woke up admist a storm rocking my tent which began around 3am. I have tick bites all over my body but feel two around my left forearm the most. I pitched my tent by the side of Kylesku Bridge.

Regardless of the horizontal spray if rain I spent time taking some pictures.

The first lift came quickly from a 4×4, male driver who was courteous. He drove me to Lairg, stopped at the petrol station I purchase a 50p (all money I had) bar of chocolate. The next lift came from a lorry driver who talked none stop to Invergordon, he told me he only stopped because it was raining.

I attempted to hitch unsuccessfully three times from this layby on the A9. First and second lift only went to… On the third lift, an old pervert stopped and grabbed me before requesting a kiss, how nuts! So I got his picture and registration plate number. The fourth lift took me to Inverness, the driver, an early 60s man from Dornoch on his way to purchase Xmas presents for his family. He asked me when I’d last eaten then gave me £30 to get supplies so treated myself to a large coffee in Starbucks and got a respite from the downpour of sopping rain. The A9 was blocked off due to two lorries colliding which resulted in a fatality I was told. The pervert driver (vocalised naked fantasies before asking if I shaved my public hair) gave me a lift, placing me on a road towards Granton on Spey but dropping me off at least ten miles before the town.

I was relieved to get out of this area when an atheist guy gave me lifts to Aviemore. I purchased some camping stove gas then walked to the A9 to get another lift. I thumbed another lift from a woman going to Glasgow, she dropped me south side of the city. After an hour waiting whilst the banana republic drove by (including a bubble gum car) pretending to get a “thumbs up” a Ukrainian stopped and gave lift to Bothwell services but stopped illegally on the M74 hard shoulder.

I am covered in sore tick bites, should really go to casualty (A&E) as I am feeling unwell.

29th

Woke up speaking my thought messages out loud, almost as if they are desperate for me to hear them, through my shattered comprehension and compartmentalised cognition.

I walked around Helmsdale Harbour.

And made a hot drink.

I walked south over the bridge and talked to a dog walker who gave me £10 to get something to eat. I hitched a lift to Thurso from an NHS IT consultant, and along the way, we passed a wind farm.

At Thurso, I walked to a cafe van and purchased a breakfast roll and a cup of tea. She appeared not to recognise me but I’d been and had breakfast there once before.

My mother was a geordie, from South Shields.

Walked into the port of Scrabster.

And found Holborn Light house.

Looking back from the emptiness I felt only chilling wrath projected at forgetful Thurso, disheartened by this morbid town of reprobates.

I asked and received a fill of my water flask from a wood carver before joining the main road to hitch a lift towards Tongue. The road was narrow and traffic travelled fast making this a dangerous endeavour. I was given a lift from a French NC500 tourist to Tongue.

Then given a lift from an Ayrshire NC500 tourist who drove me all the way to Kylesku Bridge, where I pitched my tent for the night.

28th

Thought I heard tent poles being put together in the vicinity of my tent during the unearthly early hours of this morning, at around 4 am. This is the time when the majority of patients die inside hospitals, in slumber from their projection. Took these early morning pictures whilst out of my tent for a pee, baring my ass to the cold north wind.

I am deliberating whether or not to return to Dornoch this morning, there is a local history museum I wish to visit. A man from the golf club came via 4×4 and said “I’ll give you half an hour to go, people play golf here”; I won’t be returning to Dornoch, my tent is by the edge of a beach, no problem to them.

As I walked away from the area, half a mile along the coastal path I noticed they sprayed the course boundaries with red paint. Expecting a lot of people to come by this way I thought. The walk along the beach was airy, with so much reflection and space.

I walked around the coastline turning into Loch Fleet.

I stopped at a bench to eat breakfast.

After enjoying a tin of Scotch broth I recommenced my journey across the shore of Loch Fleet.

A man bird-watching caught up from behind, we talked for five minutes about golf courses encroaching upon wild habitats. He told of a plan (by American businessmen) to create another golf course alongside Loch Fleet but, thankfully, had been successfully countered by local environmentalist groups. His group was named “not cool”.

Along the lane I met a man in a Viking van, he had the Vegvisir painted on the rear door; I popped my head around and said hi.

There were so many wild mushrooms along this trail.

I walked over a bridge running the width of Loch Fleet.

And then up a steep incline to hitch north from a T junction.

The first lift of the day came from a woman going to Golspie, she was on her way to an electric bike event being held at a local race track so I went there with her. Arriving, after signing a form I got to test drive some bikes.

There were many special bikes for people requiring extra assistance. I tried a three-wheeler, a tandem (the first time I rode one), an electric mountain bike, and a low-down racing bike. Bought tears to my eye to be doing something substantial. I walked through Golspie and stopped at a grocery and crystal shop. Along the seafront, a creepy man encroached on a custom-made electric bike. He had not been at the race track yet stopped, talked about Christianity, and then requested to shake my hand. He offered me his phone number but I refused it. He told of a castle further along the coast.

Towards the end of Golspie I came across the Big burn trail.

And after twenty minutes arrived at the Big burn falls.

I unsuccessfully tried to find Golspie Tower, but found more fungi.

Eventually found my way back to the A9 and hitched a lift north from a female estate agent. I don’t know. If she didn’t like me or just liked herself to much, but offered the used of a lawn adjacent to Helmsdale community centre where she said she was attending an AGM.

I was in my tent at 8 pm and fell asleep an hour later, my mind too tired and confused to write a blog entry.