Day 51 Montrose to Inverbervie
We set out from Montrose fortified by a substantial breakfast. It has become obvious over the last weeks that BBC weather is interested in England and Wales rather than Scotland. Scotland wasn’t mentioned at all on this morning’s weather forecast and the map showed a massive England and a small Scotland hidden at the top of the map. As the BBC seemed to think that there was no weather in Scotland today we set out dressed for summer. Our own meterorological measurements, quickly taken with bare heads, told us that it was raining in Montrose. As a result out came the waterproof coats and waterproof kilts ready to combat anything that could be thrown at us.
Then onwards through a lovely wooded path which is the remanant of a dimantled railway.
The track crosses the old railway viaduct over the North Esk river out of Montrose.
Janet told me that she remembered, as a child so not recently, that there was a sort of toll house at one end of the road bridge. When we got there it seemed as though her memory was faulty but then she spotted a chimney covered in ivy and underneath the chimney and ivy? A round toll house just as she had remembered.
Our coastal track led onwards to St Cyrus where the track rose upwards into the village. We decided to carry on along the coastal trail as it was flat, by the sea and signposted passing a closed cemetary.
Strolling on sand is quite romantic but heavy going after a while. It can be a little daunting too when there doesn’t appear to be an easy way out.
After the climbing upwards to continue along the coastal path everything became much more difficult. The path shown on our map followed the line of a fence on top of a cliff. A notice suggested that this path was now closed due to a landslide. It was obvious that a path had existed but was now overgrown. I struck off down the path because sometimes local authorities err on the side of caution but, with a little care, one can get through. After 30 or so yards it became obvious that we needed a plan C as the cliff had collapsed and the only possible way through was to cling to the fence and pray for deliverance.
What a nuisance that we missed the sign advising the stroller that it was forbidden to cross the neatly mown grass and that instead they must force there weary way through heavy thistly nettled undergrowth.
Down on the shingly shore once more we came to a slippery track upwards. In today’s terms it was quite an easy task, if undertaken with care. At this point we both agreed that the Pennine Way was a doddle compared to this.
Finally. the Anchor Bar, Cullen skink
The last bit to Inverbervie was dead easy, compared to what had gone before. I have raced through the last bit as the internet has been up and down like any simile you can imagine so that’s it for tonight. See you in Stonehaven, rock slides permitting.