If this day was a song, which it definitely wasn't, it would be Wet Wet Wet doing a cover of B*Witched's Blame it on the Weatherman. Yep it rained. All day. Very occasionally the weather mixed it up and threw a brief flurry of hail or refreshing sleet my way, but overall it was rain. Scottish rain. The worst kind of rain there is.
However before I braved the weather, there was a cooked breakfast to critique. I had the dining area of the small, but charming in that faded-seaside-glory kind of way, Nether Cliffe Hotel. I was the only person enjoying a breakfast that morning, so I sat amidst fields of well laid but empty tables feeling a bit like the king of Wick, but also like a significant financial drain on this local hotels admittedly meagre resources as a revolving door of paid staff tended to most of my breakfast needs.
So intense and unceasing was the deluge that I was forced to leave my phone in my waterproof bags so there are no photos of the trail today. But if you imagine a long stretch of A Road with a tiny verge and huge lorries racing up and down you have a pretty accurate image of how I spent these 18 gruelling miles. I had planned to seek out the dreadfully equipped cliff top 'path' again, but given the conditions I opted for the safe, but sorry, route of tarmac instead.
I could go on but it was depressing enough living through it once, so I'll save my words for a more interesting day.
The major positive was Lybster's Portland Hotel. I was the only resident and was thus afforded the nicest room and a splendid 3 course meal. Venison, Veal and Cranachan in case you were desperately wondering.
Oh, you guessed it, the rain stopped as soon as I arrived.