We went in to breakfast this morning, overseen by the night porter, who had apparently made all the preparations, cooked breakfast, now festering on the hot plate, making the tea, and waiting on. They weren't very busy, but the food was good with a particularly well stocked cold buffet (happy mum). When he brought our tea, he asked for the room no, and said he had a receipt for us in respect of our bill. Ma and pa looked a bit vacant because they hadn't paid the bill, and off the man went to retrieve said evidence. Whilst he was away, they got quite excited, thinking that maybe some kind benefactor (they didn't run to who that might be, because this was a late booking and nobody knew where we were) had seen to the bill, and they amused their little minds trying to guess. Needless to say when it came, the receipt was on dad's credit card that had been swiped on arrival. A bit sharp, we thought, but maybe they have been caught by pesky end-to-enders in the past.
Anyway, our taxi duly arrived on time and off we went, back to where we finished yesterday, to walk the 14 miles to Watten. We happily left the A99 (which is what the A9 turns into) to join a quiet single track road that services a few crofts and a very large wind farm.
We weren't very far in, when our farming correspondent noticed a group of Charolais (that's a breed of cattle) heifers (young cows) who came to their fence to say hello. I must admit, I don't know much about cattle, but they did look a picture. Mum said wouldn't it be nice to meet the farmer and congratulate him. Be careful what you wish for. About half a mile further on, a four wheel drive vehicle pulled up, out jumped the driver for a little chat (as you do). Dad managed to get the conversation round to farming (as he does) and it turned out they were his cattle.
5 miles in and we came to the Grey Cairns of Camster. Although they have been rebuilt, and there is some debate as to there authenticity amongst the experts, the cairns are fascinating. They are burial chambers from 5000 years ago and although the provenance of the building might be in doubt, there is no doubt that, they were indeed burial sites, evidenced by excavations.
During the course of the last 3 months, we have done really well at finding places to stop for a break; some of them as ordinary and comfortable as a bench, a pretty dodgy stone seat put together by dad, a cricket pavilion, a horse jump, a plank of wood (that dad lifted to make sure there were no skulking adders, just a vole - nearly got him too!) etc. alas today, there was just nothing, the choice was wet grass or Tarmac. So they decided to practice being D of E candidates and spread themselves all over the road. I pretended not to be with them and turned my back on them to eat my Burns.
Just as we came in to Watten. A gentleman tending his garden engaged us in conversation. Part of his garden housed a Cold War bunker. He told us that the MOD stripped all the contents out during the time of the first Gulf War, and apparently, sent the bunk beds out to our boys in Iraq. How apt it is to be thinking about that, when once more we are concerned about terrorist activity in that country, and our thoughts inevitably turn to the troops who lost their lives, and wellbeing in the previous conflicts and how we might be able to assist.
Tomorrow, we head up towards the top in readiness to make the final assault on John O Porridge (just love that name Mr T) on Monday morning. Please please please keep logging in - it's another long Tarmac one tomorrow.
M
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