Scotland - Day Fifteen John O'Groats

Day 15 has been epic!

You know how sometimes all the stars align and for no apparent, tangible reason, things are just great. Today was that day.

The rain cleared by about 9 and so we set off for our first stop, John O’Groats (JOGs.) I was excited for this as previously mentioned; I find a soothing comfort in places that are “as far as you can go” or “the end of.” I enjoy the finality of it. That it is a decision point. Stay, turn around, or get your feet wet. There’s probably some deep and profound reasoning behind that, but I’d rather buy handbags than therapy so I don’t know what it is, however my phone, keys and lip balm live in absolute luxury.

We sent a cheesy picture to the kids back in New Zeland telling them that we “weren’t in Kansas anymore Dorothy” next to the sign saying it’s 12,875 miles to Bluff in New Zealand. They were confused on many levels; why had we been in Kansas? Who was Dorothy? And what were miles? So then we just felt old.

I lived a while in Cornwall for my sins and visited Land’s End a couple of times. JOGs is 876 miles from Land’s End. So this felt like a symbolic moment and by far the easier way to do it, separately, over about 18 years, than in one fell swoop or, God forbid, waling it or running and pushing a pram or something.

John O’Groats reminded me so much of the other end, Land’s End. Almost 20 years ago Land’s End left me disappointed. Like something so vast was so lacking. It felt like a really impoverished Disney theme park. But now I look on it as perhaps it was me, perhaps I was looking for something that didn’t need to be there, because it’s not what someone else “puts on” for you, it’s what you see from what you are looking for. And in fairness, my life was very different 18 years ago and not nearly as joyful. Today I saw a raw openness, I saw a vast outlook, I saw space; an emptiness, an openness. Of course there are cafes, and gift shops and tour buses arriving. There are opportunities to relieve you of your money at every turn, but you can choose what you see, you can decide what you feel. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I’m also really pleased that we didn’t choose to stay at the colourful holiday units I’d looked at online. There’s nothing else at JOGs besides the craft and gift shops and cafes. You’d need to stock up in advance if you stay for a couple of nights. And you’d have to tolerate the likes of me, photographing your holiday home and squishing my nose up against the window, like a sweaty car windscreen toy.

I felt a tug of emotion realising the Shetland Isles are not that far away, which is where my late mum’s family were from. She’d have loved that we were doing this trip. And we vowed there and then, we will come back, we will do that trip.

John O’Groats is named after a 15th century Dutchman Jan de Groot, who ran a ferry to Orkney for 4d a trip, this coin is known as a Groat. John O’Groat's original house was believed to be in front of what was the original hotel; John of Groat, originally from the Netherlands, settled here with his seven brothers around 1489. Imagine the life their mother must have had, eight boys, I found one aged me rapidly. Imagine the mess and the dirty laundry, and the overpowering smell of boy. Anyway, the house was built as one room, an octagon with eight windows and eight doors, to admit eight members of the family. The eight separate doors also led to an octagonal table, thereby solving the issue of who would be head of the table. Genius. Or though had it been my house, I would have been at the head, I’d have shown those smelly boys.

From JOG’s we went to Duncansby Head Lighthouse, at the most Northeasterly point of the British headland. Built in 1934, the light was automated in 1997, thus denying me the opportunity to fulfil my childhood dream of living in a lighthouse tower, with a spiral staircase, alone, making nettle soup and knitting ponchos from my armpit hair. The real thrill from visiting Duncansby Head though, isn’t actually the lighthouse. Don’t be that person, who drives up there, takes a picture of the lighthouse and leaves. No. Get your walking boots on and head across the cliff. Across it, not over it. You will thank me later. You pass a massive slash in the cliff known as Geo of Sclaites. You may not even notice it because you will have already seen in the not too far distance Duncansby Stacks rock formations and on a day like today they are magnificent. In the front is Thirle door, a rocky arch, and then the stacks. This is one of those moments in time that you need to stop photographing and just look. A camera is never going to pick up the majesty that your eyes and your heart will.

I did say, “I love a moody sky” as we watched in awe. To which the Favourite Husband, emboldened by his improving health replied; “I love a moody woman.” I don’t know who he meant, but I will find her and I will kill her.

From here it was off castle hunting and Old Keiss Castle was up. Miss Leading suddenly started talking to us again. God only knows what sparked her into life but I felt weirdly warmed by her re-emergence. Like an old friend suddenly walking into the local pub in a flurry of snow and fresh excitement. Anyhow, she’d clearly been in the pub for sometime prior, as the road she wanted us to go down stated it was private property so we had to satisfy ourselves with photos from the road. Not to be defeated we decided we’d go the whole hog and head for Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, and were we glad we did.

The sun came out. We had the place to ourselves to run amok and explore like arthritic and cautious children. This is the stuff that is absolutely brilliant. (Apart from the individuals who decide to send drones in whilst some of us are trying to just soak up the history and the solitude.) It’s the best castle (ruin) I’ve been to yet, in my life, ever.

On the return to base the Favourite Husband suddenly (and randomly) says “we don’t have photos of the car!” Bizarre, considering he hates the car. Perhaps he’d been squinting harder and could now see the Porsche resemblance? “She kept us alive on Bealach na Bà, she’s been a trusty steed.” I assume his stomach bug has made him delusional and perhaps he was fitting, so I splashed him with my water to bring him round. He seemed cross so I figured he was ok.

A thought occurred to me on the way home. Writing this blog, diary, nonsense - whatever you like to call it, has made me braver. I was scrambling over rocks today like a mountain goat with gout to explore and report back. Do it people. Get out there and get stuck in.

It has been a really nice couple of days. I feel we needed to stop a while in one place and relax a bit. Tomorrow we move on again, and I’m recharged and ready now.