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Day 15 Friday _ A day at the seaside

It was nice to wake up beside the seaside in the sunshine and not have to rush off anywhere. The Challenge would finish this afternoon, and although most people finish on the Thursday I’d originally planned to finish this afternoon. Fifteen days holiday sounded better than fourteen days holiday to me, but if you remember, back in Glenfinnan on the second day, the bad weather had made me take the easy route which had put me a day ahead, which meant I now had a day in Montrose.

I pottered around the tent for a while and then Chris Townsend came over and we chatted for half an hour or so. Chris is the very respected gear reviewer from TGO magazine, and it was very enjoyable talking to such a knowledgeable and modest person. I have a couple of his books.


montrose campsite


Chris left to catch a train home and I went for a wander around the town and then down to the harbour area. I was reminded of Teignmouth in Devon where I spent a lot of time as I child. Both towns are built on sand spits at the mouths of estuaries, both have a rather run down feel, both have small commercial docks and both face east - the morning sun sparkled on the sea just as it used to at Teignmouth. I went across the bridge in the hope that Ferryden would have a bit more charm like Teignmouth’s Shaldon does. It did, just. The houses seemed to have their washing lines over the sea which was a novel idea.


ferryden 1




ferryden 2




ferryden 3


A few clouds sailed across the blue sky, trailing curtains of rain beneath them. I sat on the beach beneath some shed type buildings eating a few things I’d bought. Obviously Ferryden had once had a connection with the sea, but that seemed to have gone now. Except as a place to dry washing.

Back at the campsite I had a second lunch. I was curiously hungry. Not a ravaging, overwhelming hunger, but a persistent nagging feeling that I should eat something special, but I didn’t know what. I had some fruit pie with custard and still felt hungry. Perhaps the dinner tonight would put me right. In fact, at home I found I’d lost four pounds, and it was two weeks before I stopped feeling hungry. Obviously I hadn’t eaten enough on the Challenge. I thought I’d taken too much food, but I think I’d just taken the wrong stuff. I think next time I’ll try and take a lot of food similar to the food I eat at home. It’s probably a mistake to suddenly switch diet at the very time when your body needs food the most.

I went back up to the town again and had a look in a bookshop for a book to read on the way home. I’d had to start reading my last book from the beginning again, and I found a Darcy Sarto to replace it. Montrose high street is quite nice, and the enormous church speaks of past wealth. Then it was back to the tent for a bite to eat before the evening dinner.


montrose museum




montrose b and white


Dinners aren’t really a spectator sport, and if watching yesterday’s dinner had seemed a bit like the school end of term dinner, it was now great to sit down and share experiences with other Challengers over an indifferent meal. I say “indifferent” and the food at the Challenge dinner does come in for a lot of criticism, but it was all good calories to me, and not at all bad compared to some of things we Challengers had been eating over the past two weeks. Beware the veggie option though......

Patrick who I’d met at Tarfside invited me to join his group and we all swapped stories of things that had happened to us as if we couldn’t quite believe it. There’s something about a shared meal that makes it special, and we said our goodbyes hoping to see each other next year.





Saturday _ Home

I was at the station in good time and was surprised to see on the departure board that the train after mine was going all the way to Plymouth, presumably through Taunton, whereas I’d had to book a train to Edinburgh and then a train to Taunton. I enjoyed the ride to Edinburgh. I had a seat on the seaward side of the carriage and liked the look of this coast very much. It was also fun crossing the Forth Rail Bridge.

At Edinburgh I found myself boarding the train which had been following me and found myself sitting next to fellow Challenger Caburn Chamberlain, who had cannily booked the train all the way from Montrose to Cheltenham. I had been looking forward to ten hours of reading my book, writing up my notes and staring out of the window, but this was much better, and the five or six hours between Edinburgh and Cheltenham, where Caburn got off, flew by.

The remaining couple of hours to Taunton were spent reading, looking out of the window and listening to fellow passengers who unsuccessfully tried to astound me with the latest news.

Familiar sights appeared out of the window and I left my seat to rescue my rucksack from the luggage rack so as to get off the train as soon as possible. The train slowed down to a crawl as it pulled into the station, and I saw Helen and Jack looking into carriage windows. I’d promised to help an elderly couple with their suitcases, but on hearing a tiny voice shouting “Daddy! Daddy!” I left them to it and found myself trying to hug two people of very different heights whilst suitcases angrily bashed into me from behind. Engines roared, people shouted and doors slammed. Home again.



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