April 2022

15th

Located approximately two miles east of Durness, between the Dunes, the locals asserted that I was on MOD land; however, there were civilian residences in the vicinity. There were only sporadic showers, and the weather was generally pleasant for Durness. This morning, breakfast was lentil soup, which happens to smell more pungent than French onion soup! Enjoyed before leaving the shelter of my tent.

Bunnies were running up and down these dunes, and there was a lot of sheep poop on the ground. This smell got into my tent, and my clothes smelled bad for hours afterward. After putting away my gear, I walked down to the beach to wash my cooking pot and take some pictures with my phone.

I found the walk to Durness to be prolonged and more time-consuming than I had anticipated. Despite its exorbitant price tag, the general store maintained an adequate inventory of necessities, as well as a health food section. I have selected three items with a limited budget and energy in mind.

While walking past Durness village hall, I observed a memorial garden dedicated to John Lennon. I was informed by a roadside café van that Lennon had a holiday home in Durness. Some people think that famous people are great, but they're actually bad, they take advantage of everyone, and no one should look for "wisdom" from them.

I walked for a minimum of seven miles before a car stopped to provide me with a ride. I stopped at a café van and consumed a modest breakfast. An Asian man who was touring the NC500 stopped and provided me with a ride to Tongue. The views along this section were breathtaking, and in many ways, I regret not having had the opportunity to walk it.

I exited Tongue and was given a ride by an individual who was employed by the NHS. He assisted me in reaching Betty Hill and subsequently directed me to a location on the coastline to the east of the village where I could pitch my tent.

After looking around, I decided not to stay in that area, so I walked another two miles and this time got a ride from a van full of Italians. After some pidgin English, they agreed to take me to Thurso.

14th

Pitched by Loch Broom in a small public park. Yes, dog walkers did wake me up.

Given my knowledge of Ullapool, I was not particularly interested in staying in the town any longer.

I walked northward, ascending a steep hill, after which I hitchhiked out of the town, a departure from the previous day.

The first lift was provided by an elderly man who was en route to a rock face. He disclosed that he had taken up rock climbing during the pandemic lockdown. I was transported to Scourie by the second lift, which was provided by a man who had purchased building supplies (timber) for his residence in Ullapool. He collected his wife, who formerly worked at the Rock Stop Geopark Café near Unapool.

It was at least two hours before a woman intervened and transported me to the Kinlochbervie turning, as I was stranded in Scourie.

So, I walked up and down the hill until I reached what I found to be a hydro-station. The person who constructed it was outside when I called out to him, and he approached to talk. He discussed how tense it was to live there all winter long, with constant wind and rain, and how lonely it was for him.

Not that we met on his last hydro-station project or that we had both been alone, but the fact that he was from only a few miles away from where I grew up was the strangest thing. He said he was feeling so alone that he gave up and stayed at the Kinlochbervie hotel, but it was empty because of the COVID-19 pandemic. Like the shining, I thought. This day's last lift came from a Bohemian woman with black teeth. h. She stated that she was travelling in her van and was from the Shetland Islands, where she would be returning tomorrow morning. "I work for a theater company," she said, adding that the Shetlanders were more influenced by Viking culture than by Scottish culture. Later, she dropped me off west of Durness, just before the MOD land started. I decided to turn around and set up my tent on a cliff half a mile from a MOD lookout post because I had no interest in walking to Cape Wrath.

13th

After a restful night's sleep, I observed my tent erected with a view of Loch Garten this morning. The student who picked me up at Dulnain Bridge was sleeping in his Honda 4x4. He is now picking me up to go to Inverness.

After arriving in Inverness, I discovered that I had misplaced my debit card while packing up my equipment at Loch Garten. I subsequently visited my building society to report the loss and make a substantial deposit before continuing my journey north, as there are no branches north of Inverness. It required only three minutes to secure a ride to Ullapool from the Longman roundabout in Inverness, where a van driver was transporting art to the Isle of Lewis. He had a pair of Spanish Bag pipes resting on the dashboard of his van, and his stereo was playing a medley of world music.

I was dropped off near the harbor by Loch Broom, and I proceeded to the center of Ullapool to visit Ceilidh Place for a beverage and a meal. In this establishment (which I have visited once or twice before), I observed a family seated a few tables away, wearing Stewart tartan. I recognized the family from numerous locations throughout the UK; it was a peculiar sight, I thought.

I paused to prepare some bean soup by the loch, which has the most beautiful restaurant view.

That night, I sat far west of town and watched part of the sunset until the midges biting my thighs got too much to bear.

This town had nothing for me—no one to talk to, no one to make friends with, not even an apology. I felt like I wasn't seen. I walked east to set up my tent after sitting alone on another bench until nightfall, unconcerned by a group of six people laughing whilst their fire twenty yards away.

12th

I spent one more night at the house after being invited, but I left the village early the next day. I slept next to the man on the bed, but I wouldn't have sex with him because he had recently had a heart attack and had received a startling four vaccinations.

An amazing outdoor agricultural museum is located at Dulnain Bridge.

I walked south out of Dulnain Bridge and onto the A95 where I managed to get a lift of a guy driving a Honda 4/4 into Aviemore. Myself and the guy, an ecology student from Inverness, decided to get breakfast, but the menu was so bad that we only got a couple of lattes. While we were eating pizza at a restaurant called the Balavoulin, we had to deal with some rude men sitting across from us. They had the TV on to watch football, but they spent most of their time yelling at each other while talking to the waitress. Hey, I asked where I could set up my new tent, and the guy said he knew a good spot, so we left Aviemore to go there.

11th

When I woke up, I had slept on a bed in a semi-detached council house in Dulnain Bridge. The guy who had slept on the sofa had graciously given up his bed for me. He prepared a delicious breakfast for us and then called a cab to take us back to Aviemore. Furthermore, it was delightful to enter Black's leisure shop and acquire a new Banshee 200 tent. However, it was less enjoyable to peruse each hiking store searching for a pair of walking leggings, as none were available in the town. I could tell my new friend was getting tired of shopping, so we went back to the pub for another pint. We arranged to purchase fish and chips an hour later, as all the restaurants in the town were fully booked. He then stopped at Tescos to purchase two bottles of Jameson Whiskey before boarding a taxi to return to Dulnain Bridge. He consumed the takeout in his living room but failed to consume the two bottles of whiskey.

10th

I was sleeping in my sleeping bag outside under the stars by the River Tay on a green in Birnam.

Everything but my sleeping bag was covered in a thin layer of ice due to the river's mist.

Call out these sad, disturbed places where I've slept on the ground like a graveyard because I feel like a part of me has died there.

As I was walking toward Dunkeld along the River Tay, I came across the Birnam Oak.

The river took me back to the A9. I got a ride from a Polish woman who was going to work as a therapist at a hotel in Pitlochry.

As I looked over the river, I saw that the town had a dam.

I chose to walk to Moulin because that's one of my family names. My path took me to a standing stone, then to a path that led up to a beautiful view point.

Even though the picture on my phone didn't capture the beauty of the scene as I saw it, I'll still share it.

Sat down on a bench and took some time to do TLC, apply moisturiser, CBD oils, lip balm, brush my hair, and put on clean underwear and socks.

To demonstrate my ability to overcome any imposed situation, I grinned and snapped a picture. I walked back into Pitlochry and out of town the way I came in. Though I can't recall it, I managed to hitchhike to Aviemore.

As I walked south toward the pub and bought a pint of Guinness, I think I looked around the train station to remind myself that I was actually there.

I had a great time drinking that outstanding pint of Guinness, and it tasted as good as it looked, my love. It is remarkable how much a little TLC can help someone feel better. Anyway, less than an hour later, a well-known man offered shelter, to spend the night at his cottage. I accepted because I felt secure, as he was a well-loved character and I had been observed with him. After the pub closed, he ordered a taxi, and we departed Aviemore for Dulnain Bridge, having consumed at least seven pints and a few small sips of whiskey.

9th

Woken, underneath the sky, early in the morning, just a few miles north of Perth, near Kinnoull hill.

Since I had seen Kinnoull hill on my way to Balthayock, I chose to climb it and enjoy the view from the top.

Still enjoying the view, runners were worried and asked if I was okay. It's so strange, almost like I can't believe people really care if I live or die.

I took many pictures with my DSLR, but none of them turned out clear because it got wet a few days ago. I felt calm enough after an hour of rest to walk downhill into Perth.ⁿ

I crossed the east bridge and left the city by walking west along the river path. I occasionally ponder whether the most bizarre things I see on the road are there out of some kind of twisted logic. Following the success of the Olsen Brothers' single, the image below was captioned "fly on the wings of love."

I took this photo of myself in the mirror as I continued on the river path until I reached Almondbank.

I begged for tap water from a couple a few hundred yards up the road, and they were also talkative, and the man in the Almondbank general store was friendly. I stopped by the side of the road outside Almondbank to prepare a late lunch. A woman who walked by me and then stopped told me that there was a better spot for me to rest on her village green.

We walked to Pitcairngreen. I sat on the village green and cooked, then left via a road north of the village. Half an hour later I was picked up by a man in a mini, he took me to the outskirts of Birnam. I walked over Inchewan burn via a small bridge and noticed a plaque.

After becoming paralysed by anxiety on the Dunkeld Bridge, I sat on a bench until nightfall and continued to cry as the river's cold caused my hands, wrists, forearms, and especially my ankles to hurt.

I returned to Birnam by walking down a lane and onto a green near the river bank after distancing myself from Dunkeld. I removed my sleeping bag and roll mat, rested my head on my hard rucksack, and endeavoured to alleviate the discomfort in my bones by warming them. I am uncertain whether the night was sleepless; however, I am aware that the morning was freezing.⁣

8th

It was a chilly night with stars above the road near the edge of Kintillo, an old village. Perhaps some of the oldest houses in Scotland, the red brick houses on Kintillo Road were reported to be hundreds of years old. I made my way back into Perth via the Bridge of Earn and continued walking there until the evening, when I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to visit my ancestral home in Balthayock. So I saw and followed the signs to Balthayock.

The moment I sighted this castle, I felt a thump in my chest; this is the location where my ancestors first established themselves in Scotland.⁣

The castle's walls are a staggering 10 feet thick! As I walked away from Balthayock, I saw a stunning sunset that turned the road into a golden glow. I attempted to contact the major, but I was provided with an ineffective number.

7th

I awakened in Kinross, shivering, inside a wrecked tent that was propped up by my walking poles. The wind had swept in rain from Loch Leven, soaking all of my belongings.

Loch Leven exhibits a melancholy atmosphere.

I got my wet things together, walked into Kinross, bought a French cake, and sat down on a bench.

6th

I went east from Blairforge and came across a lovely loch called Loch Ore.

Mary Colliery was discovered a short time later.

Swans came.

And the end of a rainbow.

I don't mind a little rain.⁣

I strolled around the lake and back to Blair Forge. Despite my extreme fatigue, wetness, and cold, I tried to walk the B996 to Kinross. A woman in a van inquired whether I was OK with exiting a gypsy site. She did not wait for my response, as if she felt compelled to ask the question. A Kinross crescent had fallen into a roadside puddle.

I dragged my ankles through Gairney Bank and into the town of Kinross, leaving a trail of excruciating pain along a poorly lit and dangerously creepy B996 due to the increasing cold. Upon my arrival at the heart of Kinross, I was too fatigued to seek out a place to rest. I discovered a police van that was occupied and inquired about a safe place to sleep. The officers directed me to the park by the loch.

5th

Early in the morning, around 5 a.m., I put my sleeping bag and roll mat away and went to a village bakery that was open at 6 a.m. It had been a long, cold night, and a warm drink was just what I needed. The wind had blown the cold through my sleeping bag most of the night. As I was leaving Kincardine, a Ranger rover and a work van stopped at a layby and swiftly pulled off as I approached. A workman who had been laid off provided me with a ride to Dunfermline, which was located approximately half a mile away.

4th

My tent was not photographed this morning; I recall taking them, but I am unsure as to why they are not on my phone. Nevertheless, I pitched my tent in an open field adjacent to a bustling main road. The frequent passing of loud vehicles kept me awake for the majority of the night. While being observed by a neighbor from their front window, I organized my possessions.

Walked back along the canal until I reached a town whose name I can't remember. I bought breakfast at Greg's. I was seated across from a woman who was holding her child. She introduced herself and engaged in conversation. I made an effort not to roll my eyes when she mentioned that she was from a nearby church before turning down her offer of a beef pastry.

I was beginning to experience sleep deprivation, and I was compelled to capture a photograph of a peculiar face in the trees. Can you perceive it? On a bridge, I noticed a man fishing calmly. He moved forward before I could take a picture of him, but I was still able to get the picture on my phone.

I strolled through and out of the town, passing by a cemetery that was extremely well-maintained and down a closed road that was in dire need of resurfacing. I saw an odd-looking mound of dirt and thought it might be some kind of old earthwork or burial mound.

I pulled into a bar to charge my phone and rest my tired head. The barmaid was pleasant, but the setting unnerved me; everything seemed tense, even the torn flag outside.

After purchasing some supplies in Iceland, I resolved to travel to Fife. It required several hours to traverse the Kindcardine Bridge. I snapped a few pictures on my way across the ridge because it was so rustic.

I crossed over into the Kingdom of Fife.

Scotland has Masonic halls in practically every town, but I won't be shopping in Kincardine's Spar or using the public restrooms, which used to be a house.

After looking around for half an hour, I went into a bar called the Auld Hoose.

Although they had a beautiful open fire, their clientele wasn't good. Upon the village green, I slept in my sleeping bag under the stars.

3rd

I woke up at 5 a.m. in the doorway of a house, shaking from the bone-chilling cold.

I didn't want to stay in Glasgow any longer, so I left and headed north out of the city center. It wasn't long before I came across a canal.

As I went west along the canal, I stopped at a park to eat breakfast after seeing someone walk by carrying a full Tesco bag.

Decided to traverse a more direct path north from the canal's twists and turns, traversing an estate, ascending a hill, and passing through a park.⁣

I got a message via Signal Messenger that a friend on the internet in America had sent more than £34 to support me during my journey. Subsequently, I embarked on a quest to locate a Western Union location to retrieve the funds that he had generously sent to me. This journey led me two miles in the opposite direction to a small newsagent. I spoke with the female store worker while buying some necessities. Then I left and walked uphill and through a park, staying in a northeastern direction until I found my way again. I was able to reconnect with the canal half a mile north, passing a café that was closed because it was a Sunday. Even in the face of adversity, I will not be hindered by a simple existence.

Around Possil Marsh, I discovered a section of the canal that was quite stunning.

I was in a state of slumber and my steps were heavy, so I moderated my pace as I approached these two walkers who had joined the towpath shortly after Possil Marsh and were approaching Cadder.

I paused my stroll in Cadder to snap some wildlife photos because I didn't want them to believe I was pursuing them.

Swans are admired by many, and while they are lovely birds, I find them to be obnoxious. They are present in the lake, where they spread their wings and fend off anyone who tries to visit and enjoy the water. This bird is very obtrusive and intrusive, in my opinion.

In order to get some rest, I chose to leave the Canal at Cadder Wharf and walk a lane before crossing several busy roads to Torrance, where I found a pub called The Rambler of Torrance. Although accommodating and amicable, the clientele shifted when a prearranged party arrived. I was kindly asked to relocate to the far corner of the pub to accommodate them.

They all watched the Rangers vs. Celtic match, which the Rangers lost 2-1. A guy at the bar wearing a blue and brown jumper was friendly when he left the pub changed. I concluded that I was not "the" rambler "of" Torrence, as I was the sole rambler in the pub and was requested to separate from the patrons. I grabbed my backpack and quickly headed east on a footpath, leaving the pub, village, and surrounding area. I soon reached the town of Kirkintilloch.

After a long and arduous journey, I reached a wharf on the canal in the town of Auchinstarry, where I was greeted by a chilling wind and a steep ascent. I walked along the canal until I came across a boat named Indi. I watched a woman feed the ducks before continuing my journey. The canal towpath turned dark, and I could feel the pain leaking from my weary feet onto the grey crunch of gravel.

“My ankles and starting to freeze up during cold nights, walking spurned on by anxiety delivers incredible pain, I am suspecting the beginnings of arthritis.”.

Frogs were the first to be observed; hundreds of them had assembled on the pavement to celebrate. I switched on my torch to cautiously walk around them so as not to crush them underfoot. I turned off the towpath and started walking again, mentally tired from staring at the point where the canal disappeared. I was looking for a place to set up my tent. LED lights lit up the way ahead of me, and after another mile, I saw a village called Banknock. This is where I set up my tent. Despite being too exhausted to worry about my safety, my tent pitched 500 yards (0.46 km) from a busy road.

2nd

I arrived in Buchanan Bus Station, Glasgow in the early hours of Saturday morning. The National Express I took from Manchester just after midnight had its heater on full blast and its air conditioning turned off, probably to stop the spread of COVID-19. Regardless, the coach driver crammed every seat on the bus with travelers (except the seat next to me), and many of them bought tickets from him. The trip was miserable for me because it was full of people I would never hang out with. In Queens Square, the Communist party was demonstrating, and I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow's center, engaging in an argument with them. When I informed them that Marx had never worked a day in his life, they responded that neither had I. I responded by glaring at them and stating, "All of my family were fucking miners." They all took a step back and didn't know what to say. I turned my back and walked away. They despise those who are aware of the horrific history of Communism because they are powerless to deny it. I also asked them if they were planning to carry out another Red Terror, but they remained silent. I also discovered a free Gazza from Hamas. I spoke with these white left-wing radicals, who appeared sincere and honest but unaware of the issues facing their own country.

While walking north out of Glasgow, I passed by the Bristol Bar, which is the most popular hangout for Rangers supporters. Members were distributing a variety of Union Jack flags, including the red hand of Ulster, and posing with an elderly man who was wearing an abundance of war medals. I decided against crossing the threshold and entering the boisterous atmosphere after taking a look inside the bar that day.

I departed the area and proceeded north, passing through an industrial estate and a park. A man greeting me from outside a bar up the road then invited me to join his friends for a drink. He claimed that the bar was his local after purchasing me a Guinness (not on draft, but in a can). I conversed with his friends before they departed. An elderly man and woman, both of whom claimed to have been drinking in the bar for years, claimed that they had never seen the man who had invited me in before.

1st

I awoke at the beginning of the month in a ruined tent, soaked and freezing. I set up my broken tent just a few feet from the Transpenine Way footpath, but half a mile outside Edale. The main pole is broken in two places, and it is lying on its side.

I left Edale and headed north west along the Transpenine Way toward Kinder Scout Peak, so upset by such an uncomfortable night that I threw the remnants of my tent onto a barbed wire fence.

Inevitably confronted by sheep.

Along the Pennine Way, I stopped to cook breakfast, which was mac and cheese from a can.

When the path became more picturesque after passing a National Trust farm house, I pulled out my DSLR camera from my backpack and started taking pictures.

The trail up Kinder Scout was short, steady, and easy to find my way around. I would recommend this peak to any hiker who is just starting to climb mountains. Below is a view of the mountains that line up with Mam Tor; Castleton and Hope are just over the horizon.

There is a train line that runs between Sheffield and Manchester near the mountain, and I got on the train to Sheffield at Edale station. Because any shelter is better than none, I carefully took my tent down from the barbed wire fence and put it in my backpack. none. I used my debit card, which wasn't working today, to pay for some food and drink at the Pennypot café before boarding the train.

After arriving at Sheffield, I exited the station, only to return to the station to discover the Sheffield tap. The selection of real ales was truly exceptional. After each other, strange people came in. One guy had a teddy bear and a laptop with him, and another was a woman I knew from a Facebook friend request that I wrote about in a blog post not long ago.

While at the pub, I purchased a National Express ticket to Glasgow, unaware that the journey would be quite busy until after I had already made the reservation. I had planned to travel to Sheffield in order to avoid Manchester; however, the ticket directed me to Manchester via Leeds in order to facilitate my connection to Glasgow. I had to spend three hours in the pub before my first connection arrived at Sheffield bus station. The Sheffield bus station was teeming with monsters who were harassing individuals who refused to acknowledge their intimidation. The national express stand was deadpan, being there was no way to check if a bus had arrived or one had just left. The Manchester bus station was impolite, and Leeds bus station was uncomfortable. When the coach finally arrived, the driver packed it out, taking nearly every seat. The coach heater was turned up full blast whilst the air conditioning was turned off (I presumed these measures were to dry out the air to prevent transmission of COVID-19, but why pack out the coach so much?) I slowly roasted with horrid people, through the early hours of the morning until I arrived at Buchanan bus station, Glasgow.