Thursday 24 October – Rosehearty to Aberdour

Weather: high level cloud but windy

The wind got up last evening, and Bertie was in an exposed location.

It was still blowing this morning, with Bertie rocking to the extent that I thought twice about whether I wanted to do my entire planned route. At one point I decided against, saying I would just do an out-and-back from Aberdour beach, as my purpose for today was to see if it was possible to stick to the coast E of there and I already knew it was possible from Quarryhead to Rosehearty.

I’m glad, for a number of reasons that I finally opted to do the whole stretch (which is only around 8km, so it’s not like I was heading out to battle the wind for hours).

With such a short distance to cover, I only picked up one cakey-bread-thing snack. A bit like a kid on a school trip with a packed lunch, I’d eaten it within ten minutes of setting out. I’d barely even left the tarmac of Rosehearty’s streets.

The coast up to the Quarryhead track was every bit as nice as I remembered, and fortuitously I caught up with a chap along that section who was out walking his dog. He told me he had kept to the coast all the way to Aberdour Beach a few times, which was good reassurance that I wasn’t trying something infeasible.

A blog I’d read from 2014 (the year that we didn’t try to get from Aberdour to Quarryhead) told me that there were multiple barbed wire fences to get over, but I found all of them to either have gaps or sturdy stiles now. The most difficult (relatively*; in the grand scheme of things it was a little rough, but not overly taxing) ground came between the stiles, as those enclosed areas haven’t been grazed, and there’s enough footfall to see the vaguest hint of a trod, but not enough to make it an easy stroll.

Where the map shows the historic remains of Dundarg Castle, in reality there’s a much more modern, grand house. I followed the todden line around the front of its land, then soon came upon the only really troublesome 500m stretch of this bit of coast. A couple of landslips would have been passable on the cliff side of the fence, but I wasn’t happy being so exposed, so twice I hopped over a fence into the adjacent field for a stretch (actually, the second time I walked the entire length, as it was a grazing field and thus the going was much easier than on the other side of the fence). At the end of the second field yet another not-on-the-map section of engineered coast path, running between two fences, was before me, and that led me not just to the little beach road, but adjacent to it for half a kilometre.

I’m impressed with all of the new sections of path that have been put in, but why oh why did they not put in an access point where the minor road meets the B-road, so that you can get onto the path that runs on the opposite side of the B-road? I thought maybe I’d just missed the access yesterday, but today I confirmed that it doesn’t exist.

Mick was once again waiting for me, with the kettle on, in New Aberdour car park and after an early lunch back to Newtonmore we headed, away from the sunshine and wind, and into dark threatening skies and stillness. 

It’s a pity that (through my own laziness) I didn’t check out the bit of coast E of Macduff, but I’m pretty confident that I would have found it still impassable. Even with that omission, it was a most worthwhile trip.  

 

(*The chap with whom I’d chatted also disclosed that he’d done the walk with his wife last year and she declared it as the worst walk she’d ever done. Given that he’s chosen to do it a number of times, which would be odd behaviour if it was a bad route, I deduced that she’s not much of a walker. Having now walked it myself, my deduction stands.)

Looking back to Rosehearty. The back of Bertie is in this snap.

Easy walking, but I feel like I'm being watched. 

The chap I met referred to this building as 'the Herring Bothy'

Sturdy stile.

Where the map shows castle ruins

Another section of engineered path. If it could just be extended to the house in the snap above, that'd be great!

Wednesday 23 October - Rosehearty

Where's Bertie? He's at the campsite attached to the Rosehearty Community Boat Club, where it costs £10 per night. Electricity is available (limited number of hook-up points) at £10 extra per night (£5 in summer).
Weather: Lightly overcast and noticeably breezy.

There were no youth-gatherings in our car park last night, so a peaceful night was had, until 0550 this morning when someone decided it would be a good lark to drive through the car park with their hand on their horn. That woke me with a start, and I stayed awake thereafter, even if I didn't get out of bed until 0740.

We didn't rush around getting ready and my gpx track tells me that it was two hours later when Mick abandoned me at the end of a track, around 1.5km before the turn to Gardenstown.

There I found that a network of engineered paths have been installed across the headland and down to the ruins of St John's Church. The latter is the route I took.

Engineered paths and benches!

And some signs telling you where the paths go.

In 2014 we thrashed around by the church for an age before finding our way down onto Gardenstown beach. Ten years may have passed, but I hadn't forgotten the route, so there was no hesitation today as I followed the path.

View over the church ruin & Gardenstown. See how close the front row of cottages in Gardenstown is to the sea? The settlement a bit further along the coast is Crovie.

Gardenstown is every bit as picturesque as I remembered, with rows of cottages gable-on to the sea wall. That sea wall only sits about 3 metres in front of them, and those cottages must get battered during northerly winds. Most of them sport sturdy wooden shutters on their downstairs windows. Further on there was a section of path covered in seaweed, confirming my thoughts about the reach of the sea; in strong winds stones must get hurled at the houses too.

The coast path between Gardenstown and Crovie has been repaired since I was last there, so I didn't have to ignore any 'path closed' signs.

Cliff-hugging concrete walkway between the two villages

Crovie is a tiny place, consisting only of the seafront cottages (the other villages I've been through have extended backwards from the sea), but there was no value in me walking past the dwellings there, as my onwards route took the narrow, twisting lane out of the village (hamlet, I suppose).

Looking down on Crovie

Walking the track over to Northfield, I came upon a gate and a map, telling me of some paths around Troup Head. The track I was on would have been the easier and shorter route, but surely the coast-hugging path would be more pleasing? It was! (And I can say that with certainty, having walked the track before.)

Engineered paths, complete with steps up and down the steepest rises, and with the occasional bench (a rarity on in-the-sticks paths in the UK), took me cliff-huggingly around the headland. Occasional gates in the cliff-side fence invited me to gannet viewpoints, but I'm afraid to say I didn't visit any (north facing cliffs in a strong southerly wind to see some birds that would have had me thinking 'yep, it's a sea bird').

A substantial amount of path has been installed where 10 years ago passage around this headland involved quite a number of barbed wire fences.

I thoroughly enjoyed that section, but hot on its heels was a troulesome section. In 2014 we managed to get from Northfield over to a track by Hell's Lum, but it involved gorse and barbed wire fences. I pored over aerial photos over the weekend, and decided on the approach I would take this time. As previously, I came upon a waymarker, but just the one. The route I chose: a) was only feasible because the crops have been harvested (the fields had clearly been cropped right up to their boundaries); and b) was also highly troublesome.

On the plus side, I didn't have to climb any fences, barbed or otherwise, but I thrashed around, wiggled about and back-and-forthed, until I conceded that I was going to have to descend into a rift/ravine/geo (not sure what the correct term would be) and climb back up the other side, where at least I could see a trodden line. On the plus side, I walked past Hell's Lum (Hell's Chimney - effectlively a pothole with a tunnel linking it to the sea). I resisted the easy-enough-looking path to descend into it, as no-one would have thanked me if I'd come a cropper there.

Hell's Lum from a short distance away

Pretty waterfall down in the rift too

I was mightily glad to finally thrash my way through and find myself on the track that took me up to the car park, and thus the road. As much as I dislike road walking, it felt like I'd had that car park within my view for weeks, without being able to reach it. (Incidentally, on one of my attempts to reach it I came across an unlawful 'Private Land - Keep out' sign that looked pretty recent. However, I came upon it from behind, and I cannot see how or why anyone would have approached it from the side it was facing. If there was a feasible way through, I would have taken it!)

There was nothing for it (or so I thought) but a roadwalk for three-and-a-bit kilometres then, and I gave thought to calling Mick and asking for a lift, as there seemed little value in doing the rest of the route to where he was parked, in New Aberdour. I'm glad I decided to continue, as, it turned out, there was value to be had.

(Small interlude to just mention that the reason I've been walking this coast this week is because I vetted quite a few TGO Challenge routes last year that went that way, and I was conscious that my knowledge from 10 years ago could well be out of date, so I thought I'd revisit it by way of research. And, because who wouldn't want to walk along a pretty coast when they've got a few days to spare?)

My recollection was that, once I left the B-road, the track via Bankhead was tarmac. It turns out that recollection was entirely false. It's a grassy track for much of its length(and quite overgrown on one section). However, before I got that far I saw a signpost suggesting there was a footpath to Pennan, so I took a detour back on myself to check it out. A little overgrown with brush and gorse on the between-fences initial section, but perfectly passable. Pity I'd not come across it when I was researching the route on the weekend (it's evident on Open Source Mapping), as it would have saved much of the road walk. An even bigger pity that these paths aren't on Ordnance Survey maps, as if people don't know about them, they won't be walked, and if they're not walked the gorse will claim them.

It turns out a path has also been engineered between Aberdour and New Aberdour, running adjacent to the road. Just before I reached the latter, I spied Bertie exactly where I expected him to be.

He was being a bit naughty. I'd seen the 'Max weight 30CWT' sign when I'd found the car park on StreetView, but, having absolutely no idea what CWT meant, I just assumed it was referring to HGVs. Mick has since educated me on the point. And I've also since Googled the weights of various cars and see that even a modern VW Golf is too heavy to use that car park.

There was no cafe visit to be had in New Aberdour. There's not much to the place and some of what there is is boarded up. So, after lunch in Bertie I gave Mick the options for where we could stay tonight, and Rosehearty is where he chose.

We are again sitting metres away from the sea, which is in the form of a low-lying bay here.

"Would you like electric hook-up" Mick was asked when he went to pay. He said not. "That's good" said the chap "as all the hook-up points are taken." Still a valid question, I suppose, as we might have chosen not to stay, had we wanted electric.

Tuesday 22 October - Banff

Where's Bertie? He's in a car park, next to the sea, on the edge of Banff.
Weather: Mainly sunny. A bit of a breeze, but westerly, so not a problem for me.

A delightfully quiet night was had in Cullen, but, per plan, we left this morning. You can stay at the Aire for a maximum of 48 hours, and you can't return for 48 hours without prior permission - even if your original stay was only 24 hours or less. It seems a bit odd to me (particularly as we might want to return on Wednesday night); surely a max 48 hours in any 96 hours would be more sensible, because why can you stay for 48 consecutive hours, but not 48 in 72?

Anyroadup, we left and 5km later Mick pulled over into a bus-stop and I jumped out. I had initially intended to return to Findlater Castle this morning, but having travelled the access road on StreetView, it looked like a detour that was potentially more trouble than it was worth (2km-ish on single track road with few passing places). So, I opted to miss out around 2km of the coast path and rejoin it in Sandend instead.

There's a good path/trodden line around to Portsoy, and Portsoy is a lovely fishing village. When we walked the coast beyond Portsoy on the TGO Challenge in 2014, we found ourselves trespassing through a working quarry, so I planned a slightly different route this time to avoid it, but involving the same bit of coast path as far as Cowhythe Hill. That bit of path had only just been constructed in 2014, and we chatted with a chap involved in its development. By appearances today, it hasn't been maintained since. For the final 300m before Cowhythe Hill in particular, I kept coming across bits of infrastructure (mini-bridges and stone steps), but inbetween them the path was overgrown and erroded. With a steep drop off on one side, care was needed.

After 3.5km on a quiet B-road, I took a track (that we didn't investigate in 2014, but I read a blog the other day from someone who had used it) back to the coast. There I made the wrong choice between the high path and the low; the high path dead-ended at fences around a rift in the landscape and I found myself thrashing, somewhat uncomfortably, through gorse to get down to the lower path.

Soon after I plunged a foot into a marsh-pool that, had I spotted it, could have easily been avoided, but a few minutes later I found myself sploshing through great swathes of unavoidable marsh, so no matter.

Whilst I was doing all of this, Mick had driven around to Banff, and at a suitable time he set out to run towards me. We met just W of Whitehills - another lovely fishing village.

I'd been planning on having lunch and a pot of tea in a cafe there, but on his outward leg Mick hadn't passed anywhere that was open and I found myself unmotivated to detour in search (Google would have been my friend; I now know that there would have been a choice of 1 establishment, and that we could have effected a shortcut if we'd gone there). So, we power-marched the final few km back to Bertie for lunch. That took us through the campsite where we camped in 2014, where they wouldn't believe that we didn't have an electric hook up cable and a heater in our small backpacks (or otherwise expected a sudden and huge rush of vans wanting electric hook up), and thus wouldn't let us use a pitch by the facilities block, sending us instead right back to the far end of the site, a fair distance from the toilets. Out of interest I looked how much it would cost for us to stay there tonight in Bertie: £35!!

I had intended for us to move over to the far side of Macduff (the adjacent village/small town) this afternoon, for me to take a little recce of the coast there (in 2014 there were crops right up to the field boundaries, and impenetrable gorse on the seaward side), but we got distracted and find ourselves still in Banff as the sun goes down, so it looks like we're staying here tonight. This car park has a reputation for youth gatherings & loudness at night, although if we do get disturbed, we'll be in good company, as two other vans have arrived this afternoon and I guess they are also staying the night.

Monday 21 October - Cullen

Where's Bertie? He's in the motorhome parking area at Cullen, where it costs £10 per night.
Weather: Sunny intervals and a bit breezy, with a few showers in the later afternoon/evening.

(I've a blog post missing. The one that tells the tale of someone trying to steal Bertie. It's how Bertie came to be in Scotland with us. It's languishing on my laptop, so I'll try to remember to post it in due course.)

A short trip that would have started yesterday, but for the weather warnings associated with Storm Ashley. We were due to wake up (in Newtonmore) to winds gusting to 55mph, strengthening to 70mph by the end of the day. That didn't sound like fun in a vehicle not built with wind-shedding properties in mind. So, we delayed by a day, and spent most of that day wondering if the wind was ever going to arrive. I walked up the Glen Road mid-morning in still conditions. Mick nipped out in the afternoon and it was still remarkably calm. The wind did eventually get up, but not to any unusual level.

Our departure on Monday was then slightly delayed as Ali had embarked on making her first ever loaf of sourdough bread and we couldn't leave until we'd seen (and tasted) the result.

The result was so impressive that many photos were taken.

Clutching half the loaf, we were on the road by 11 and by (late) lunchtime, we were in Cullen.

We've stayed in Cullen before, in Bertie's predecessor Colin. The car park we stayed in then now has a height barrier, but the local community group has enterprisingly turned the adjacent ground into a smart 14-pitch Aire, complete with water and waste facilities. As access is controlled by an automatic barrier, you have to book in advance, which I duly did, but that meant I had to pick a pitch without knowing their relative merits. I went for Pitch 1, which turned out to be just fine, being level and on the sea-side of the Aire.

View from Bertie's windscreen

Our late lunch was followed by much faffing and lounging until I declared that if we were going out we'd best get on with it, as these nights are fair drawing in.

Heading along the coast

We just took a jaunt along the coast path to Findlater Castle...

Findlater Castle Ruins. Quite a location!

... before turning around and retracing our steps. Had we made it into a circuit, too much of the return leg would have been on road.

With impeccable timing, we'd been back in Bertie for less than five minutes when it started to rain. We'd not expected that and were happy not to be out in it.