Day 50 - Newport to Thrumster

The Pics: Dunbeath Castle; The way buildings were around here in Caithness; Typical coastal view.

Day 50 - Sunday May 24th. It was a lovely morning; clear and sunny with whispy clouds. We had been staying in a holiday-let place in Tain for 3 nights, so cleared everything out and set off before 9am. We drove back up the A9, 46 miles to the spot where we stopped yesterday above Berriedale and were underway before 10. Our goal today was a pub called The Old Smiddy at a village called Thrumster. Many of the place names in this region end with 'ster', which comes from the old Norse for homestead. Apparently Thrumster means 'homestead on the hill'.
The second from last day is not the last day, so ends with another day to go, so it was something to be got through before we could finish. We are both pushing our bodies in order to finish earlier - we really should have taken a rest day at Fort William or Drumnadrochit, but we will manage 2 more 20 mile days. The countryside gets flatter from here, so the walking won't be difficult but it is all on the road, and will become less interesting, but we have the end in our sights.
The views all day were pleasant, with rolling green fields containing cattle or sheep leading to the expanse of the North Sea, and the huge sky to our right, and to the left, fields leading to brown heather-covered hills, the foreground usually dotted with houses. Settlements were becoming smaller and more and more remote. Life up here must be very hard in winter: I'm told that, in fields on the cliff tops children minding the sheep were tied to stakes in the ground so they didn't blow away during storm.
We came across another large castle, hanging onto a cliff at Dunbeath, but there really was not much else of note. But at least it was sunny, so what we saw looked its best. I have been surprised, and a bit disappointed, that we haven't come across any other End-to-End walkers going the other way: in fact there have been no walkers, but lots of cyclists on the road.
I reached the Old Smiddy at 4:30pm, greatly relieved and pretty tired, and John arrived a bit later in a similar state. The pub is homely but a bit run-down, but it has an atmosphere and in the bar a few local men were drinking, listening to the football results and also getting into little arguments about odd things: whether Sunderland was south or east of Newcastle (it is both), or whether the Harris accent is stronger than other Hebridean accents. We had supper there before Yo collected us at 7pm. I found it rather dispiriting to drive the 21 miles to John O'Groats to our hotel as we now know what is coming tomorrow - it gets flatter. When I got to my room I felt too tired to do anything but go to bed and watch the TV till I went to sleep.
One day to go.