Day 15

Route: Crask Inn to Thurso

Distance: 62 miles

Time: 3h 30min

Some people write guide books with the intention of informing future readers of the best places to visit – such books highlight the hidden local gems, the tucked-away restaurants, the off-the-beaten-path hotels. I imagine the Crask Inn from last night would feature in such a guide book. I also suggest that there be a second genre of guide book. This genre should focus, instead, on places to avoid: places that not should be visited under any circumstances, places that should not be visited unless the integrity of the very fabric of space-time depends upon your presence at that given location. What would feature in such a guide book? I am currently penning such a book and it is, in fact, a 200-page monologue about Thurso. Thurso was founded in 1461 by a splinter group of the Benedictine Order of monks who set out northbound from Aberdeen, their intention to self-flagellate until they reached the sea, upon which point they would walk into the sea, letting the salt-water into their wounds, and then drown themselves in the icy currents. This was supposed to be the ultimate act of sacrifice. Upon reaching this most northerly point, however, the monks realised that they could perform an even greater act of self-annihilation: they would found the greyest city in the world and force themselves to live their till the end of their days. Thus, Thurso was born. Story has it that recently, in the ever-popular effort to “twin” British towns with European counterparts, the mayor of Chernobyl made a visit to Thurso. As the mayor stepped off his helicopter into the car-park of the Thurso Poundland, he looked at the sight before him. He gazed at the rows upon rows of grey pebble-dash buildings, constructed by the man who felt about architecture the same way Marx would have felt about Goldman Sachs. He looked at the piles of rubble inexplicably strewn across a town that has never seen conflict. Swallowing back the overwhelming urge to take his own life there and then, the mayor scanned the horizon further – there was a school of fish-and-chip shops specialising in deep fried confectionary simmering nearby, a gaggle of bookies nestling next door, then a herd of pawnbrokers glowering farther afield. What is that in the distance? Ah yes, the warm glow of a decommissioned nuclear power station that now specialises in handling radioactive waste. And, as it turns out, nothing gets a Chernobylian’s back up like the mention of uranium – for the mayor, this was the last straw. He thought back to his home town, with its friendly eight-legged lambs frolicking peacefully in fields of man-eating daffodils, made his apologies and stepped back aboard his helicopter. “My people have been through enough”, the mayor thought to himself, and to this day Thurso remains un-twinned. Anyway, with pride of place in this guide of where not to go in Britain is a certain hostel, “Sandra’s Backpackers”. Sandra, whom we have yet to meet, hates only one thing in life. Unfortunately, this thing is backpackers. Her hatred is manifested in various ways – having the reception in a chippie and ensuring the deep-fat fryers feed directly into the hostel air vents is one way, having sourced her beds and mattresses from the local prison is a second. Having doors wedged open so that people can walk off the street unimpeded, directly into your bedroom, is a thoughtful touch. And in a masterstroke of propaganda that would have made Goebbels proud, Sandra has managed to secure a four-star rating for her hostel. This is adds a crucial element, disappointment, to the whole experience. But today has not been all doom and gloom for we managed to spend quite a lot of time getting to Thurso and there we experienced the many and varied boons of existence – a relaxing coffee in the sun courtesy of meals on wheels a.k.a. Jerry Eccles; a filling lunch with Jerry and Sue in Roay; incredible views of the North Sea and Orkney enjoyed along winding picturesque country roads. Finally, Jerry and Sue also treated us all to a meal out for which I am particularly appreciative as I am very much enjoying burning an extra 3000 calories per day and hence eating a similar amount extra. Thurso did let itself down somewhat at dinner by giving us a very tasty and filling meal. Service, however, was more along the lines of the expected standard: it took an hour and a bit for us to get our food, but in the chef’s defence it seems that the first half-hour went on the actual cooking of the food and all the rest of the time went on letting it return to room temperature. Thank you Thurso.