No musak... just sounds of the countryside

Published: 28 July, 2010

PERHAPS my main reason for entering a long-distance running event is the incentive it gives to run further and more often. I have to build up the miles.

advertising

Some folk run familiar routes listening to their iPods, I much prefer exploring different places, enjoying the sounds, sights and smells of the countryside, rather than grinding out the familiar rabbit-run road miles to musak.

Cross-country, the rougher and steeper the better, is my preference, but when training for an event on roads, the roads have to be run - and at least there are some superb routes in the Far North.

Take the easy six miles between Melvich and Sandside, a road I've driven and cycled countless times. On foot, you appreciate how the road climbs up into high country from the Halladale, you have time to nod to the Split Stane in passing, you notice the wild flowers, the heathers and thyme, the eyebright and tormentil and bog ashphodel. The gulls, with chicks near the lochan, rarely see runners and dive-bomb, screeching curses; they ignore cars and bikes. Then a long, steady downhill into the fine trees at Sandside and on down the harbour road past the dunes.

Of course, to do the run you have to get to the starting point and this is where a sea-kayak comes in handy; by paddling round from Sandside to Melvich Bay you are nicely placed to run back to Sandside and then return with the car to Melvich to collect the boat. An added bonus is the opportunity to explore the cliffs and sea stacks of this fine stretch of wild coastline, to watch puffins and guillemots, and maybe even look at what are reputed to be some of the longest sea caves in the world (if the internet is to be believed). If the sea is calm, that is, which is rare on the north coast.

In spite of a lack of wind, the inevitable two-metre swell rolled in, bouncing off the cliffs to give lumpy conditions which meant that caves were out of bounds and the bird colonies had to be admired from a distance. But it was a nice easy paddle on a warm summer afternoon, with a tide to help me along. The swell meant quite a big surf coming into the river mouth at Melvich Bay, and a little mild adventure to reach the shore without capsizing - but I've practised often enough now in the surf at Thurso!

A week or two later I planned a similar trip from Portskerra to Strathy. This was my third go at kayaking that bit of coast - there always seem to be very choppy seas however calm the day, and on both previous attempts I'd turned back. Once again there was that white breaker smashing over the rocks just outside the little rocky bay which serves as a harbour. Once again, lumpy and bumpy going round the point to the west. But things looked manageable and there was a good spring tide to help me along, so this time I kept going.

It was early in the day, still calm and sunny but the wind was forecast to pick up later with showers. There had been a gale the day before, though, and a big swell rolled into the cliffs, meaning I had to paddle well out and admire the scenery from a distance.

Surprisingly soon - helped by a two-knot current - the sands of Strathy appeared round a headland. I could see figures of people on this fine beach, all I needed to do was land the boat and enjoy the run back to Portskerra. The wild flowers are at their best at this time of year and I was looking forward to the fine displays on the Strathy dunes.

Just one problem... that surf rolling into the beach looked huge. I didn't quite fancy it, especially with folk there to watch an almost inevitable capsize and undignified swim to the beach. Maybe I could land instead at one of the tiny harbours on Strathy Point.

The swell seemed to be picking up further as I paddled across the bay and at the first possible landing place I dithered, the water rising and falling by a couple of metres against the rocks. Perhaps the next bay would be easier... but the sea was becoming too turbulent for my liking on my own. I turned back across the bay, had another look at that enormous surf foaming in towards the beach and decided to simply head back for Portskerra. My run would have to wait till later, indeed quite a bit later as that two-knot tide was now against me and it took nearly three times as long to paddle back to my starting point. A porpoise arched out of the water a couple of times near the boat but refused to give me a tow.

A secluded stony bay near Armadale - probably only visited by kayakers and a good spot for lunch.

So on another day I chose a different section of the north coast, from Armadale to Bettyhill - a nice eight-mile run mostly along roads with perhaps a stretch on the sands of Farr Beach. I'd often walked round the coast along cliffs, passing the deserted village of Poulorouscaig, even camping there many years ago, but had never run the road or explored the coast from the sea. A day of light winds and slight seas looked just right for the paddling part of the trip, and the only place where the tide would be against me was the short stretch into the bay from Bettyhill harbour.

But there was still that inevitable north-coast swell, especially round headlands, and again the lumpy water where waves reflected off cliffs. I paddled out from the little pier at Bettyhill, rounded the headland and crossed Farr Bay. The sun was out and the wind offshore at force three to four - good paddling conditions with an experienced group but on my own I'd have preferred less wind and swell.

The headlands jut out into the exposed ocean and you really feel you are on the open sea as you paddle round them watching the Atlantic breaking white against the cliffs. I stopped briefly on the stony beach of Kirtomy before tackling the most exposed point.

I'd hoped to land in the little rock slot at Poulorouscaig, where a small waterfall tumbles over rocks below the abandoned village, but yes, you've guessed, there was too much swell. Out at sea a small boat was making steady progress eastward - I later discovered this was a group of women rowing nonstop round the British coastline.

It was good to reach more sheltered water and a fine bay just west of Armadale. It's probably only ever visited by sea-kayakers and is a good lunch spot. Off the shore a steep natural arch gave a good passage round the point and on through another rocky arch to the spectacular little harbour of Armadale. No place to land, though, not with a steep 200-foot slope up which to drag the boat. Instead I carried on past the salmon nets to the sandy bay where there is a much easier portage to the road. Armadale Bay is another glorious beach which deserves to be much better known, with the slopes to the east a natural garden of rare and local wild flowers.

Now for my run, having declined a very tempting offer of a lift back to Bettyhill by two foreign tourists! It's a lovely route, the road was surprisingly quiet and again on foot you appreciate how it winds high, high above the sea across empty moorland country under the big sky. The cool south-east wind was now most welcome in the hot sun. I took a short cut down to Farr Bay across flowery machair, jogged across the sands then found my planned route up to Bettyhill blocked by nettles - my legs were still sore hours later...

And at last a day with no big swell, just a short Saturday-morning paddle round Noss Head and a short run back from Staxigoe to Ackergill. Indeed the sea was almost like a mirror in the early morning as I paddled across the bay to safely look at Ackergill Tower - no danger of being accosted by three Rottweilers as happened to me once when running along the shore, the young lady owner being in no great hurry to call them off!

It almost felt like I was trespassing as I paddled gently along to Castle Sinclair Girnigoe, not because of Vikings but because this coast of friendly bays, little sea-stacks and caves is the patch of the Wick-based Caithness Kayak Club, where they paddle every Friday evening (why not go along at 6.15pm and try it or at 6.15 on Thursday evenings at the Thurso beach huts with the Pentland Canoe Club?). Already too hot, I tried a roll in one of the little bays to cool off and failed miserably. I righted the boat, clambered back in and paddled to the shore to empty out the water. More practise needed, should have learnt 40 years ago!

Noss Head can be wild but is perhaps the easiest of our big headlands and in good conditions gives a relaxing paddle while looking at the bird colonies and a few small caves. The little bays and stacks along to Staxigoe give nice easy exploring. Rounding a corner in a narrow passage between a small stack and the main cliffs I surprised a gull with fluffy chicks on a grassy ledge just above, it swooped over me, screeching. On round the rocks to Staxigoe and an easy landing below benches where folk were enjoying the morning sunshine across the stony bay, and an easy run along roads towards Noss Head and across fields and tracks back to Staxigoe.

One problem. The longest run had been about eight miles, and I need to build up to more than double that.