Well I arrived for the ferry 3 hours early, but when I told the guy manning the gate that Thurso was really boring, please don't make me go back there, he laughed and let me park in my ferry lane early - he was even sweet enough to go and get my ticket and bring it to the car as well. I guess he thinks Thurso is boring too.

So now I'm sitting in lane 3 with a van and a lorry next to me in lane 2 and 1 respectively. We're all bored and reading and occaslsionally nipping to the souless closed ferry terminal for a pee and a machine coffee before getting back into our cabs again.

The van and lorry drivers are chatting to each other through their open cab windows now, trying to duck the heavy rain. I've took the opportunity to eat some austrian smoked cheese with the rest of my brioche, and read an Orkney guide book.

Mesolithic and neolithic Orcadians - most of 'em were under nourished, arthritis ridden and dead by the time they were 25. Looking out at the weather, I can see why. Imagine years of this and just seabirds and fish to eat. Also imagine a neolithic equivelant of 'Heeeeere's Johnny!' with him bashing the door of the roundhouse down with his bronze axe then grinning maniacally through it...I can see this, I definately can.

There's all the evidence that Orkney was a backwater even then, for instance mainland Scotland had Bronze around 2700BC. When did someone think to tell Orkney about it? 2000BC, and even then it was just to tout their stuff to them and not tell them how to mine and make their own.

Ancient Orcadians did, however, do a good line in hot baths. There is loads of evidence of large stone tanks of water that were heated by hot stones out of the fire. Again, looking out at the weather, I can sort of see why hot baths might be more important to them than a pretty looking axe...

Ah, a few more cars are starting to arrive and the rain is undergoing a slight lull. I think I'll nip to the terminal and have a shufty around, see if anything is occuring like. Mix a bit. Maybe I'll even get to see the ferry coming in, somehow, through the rain.

There's the middle of nowhere, right? But in a wierd sort of way, I suspect the middle of nowhere is actually quite busy because at least people have something to aim for. I think I've just been through the other bits of nowhere, which aren't even anywhere significant on the map like the middle or corners or edge. Now those places *really* don't get any visitors.

The road out of Durness towards Tongue was one of those places. I think I've got my head around the 'dead stop in the middle of the road' people now though - basically they are going too fast. They are zooming along thinking they are on a normal road then suddenly they see a car and panic and sling the brakes on. Only then do they realise that they didn't take any notice of where the last passing place was so they freeze and hope the other car knows what to do. The answer is, yes I do know what to do - I sit there and fold my arms, and sometimes I even point behind them to the passing place they just skidded past to make sure they know they have to back up. I ain't taking no shit anymore. And as ever, you can just zoom by locals - if you time it right you barely even need to slow down.

Just outside of Durness at a turnoff to Rispond there is a lovely beach and wild camp...Sangomore beach I think - and Sango Sands Campsite is also ok (did I mention there is also a Fangomore nearby and every time I see the name I think of Lord of the Rings for some reason...?).

Loch Eriboll is quite a nice drive, if still thick with idiot drivers looking for Smoo Cave. Then there is a bunch of white space before you hit Tongue (Kyle of) which has a pub and an attempt at civilisation, but I wouldn't stay there.

Borgie is about the next thing of note, if only for its silly name. Then there is some more white space before Bettyhill which has a spectacular set of sand, though the campsite is frustratingly far away from the beach making it not worth the stay. As I drove by, two people were racing horses across the beach (their fetlocks blowing in the breeze...). It looked great for Sandcastles...

Beyond Bettyhill it all went down hill rapidly and I'm not sure why. The houses in the villages ceased being whitewashed stone and started being pebble dashed brick with nasty 70s adornments. The locals ceased being windblown farmers and started becoming more Chav-like. By Raey (the village associated with Douraey) I could have been in Stockport and Thurso is just about as scruffy and forgotten as well. Also - because you can turn right at Tongue and at Bettyhill and get A roads to John O'Groats/Ullapool/Inverness, I don't think many people bother with this stretch so its left to the locals. I guess even scenic countries need somewhere to keep their working class and dole claimers...

Now I'm just killing time until the Ferry comes in. It's raining. The beach is surrounded by crumbling concrete and inhabited by those wierd sticky sandflies that don't fly off if you wave your hand near them, and you almost have to scrape them off to get rid. All the shops are either shut or run down giftshops with bleached dusty toys in the windows. I'm going to have a look in tourist information but after that, I fear I have exhausted the place of entertainment and may have to drive to Scrabster terminal to sit and read a book for the next couple of hours - maybe even wash some smalls in the ladies toilets. Oh and there's a co-op as well, maybe I can find something more appropriate to go with these brioche rolls other than Spam.

Too tired to drive to John O'Groats and pick up some cheap tat, even though that's what all the sensible tourists are doing...

Well I'm taking a break at Durness. Glanced at myself in the mirror for the first time in days and I'm already taking on a Scottish appearance i.e. ruddy cheeks and raddled hair. Same jeans and top for three days. Same knickers for two.

Yet again, the road from Achnahaird to the A road was great - only me and the locals whose driving skills fall into two catagories. 1 - they aim at you at high speed and expect you to ceed the road (usually 4x4s and trucks). 2 - they potter along at a steady 40 and indicate when they are going to stop at a passing spot so you can see ahead of time what to do. That last bit makes so much sense. Unlike Devon and Cornish single track roads, Scottish roads are usually over moors with high visibility for miles around. If you're not careful, you tend to pause at far too early a passing place and so does your oncoming friend, and you get into a situation where you are both sitting staring at one another waiting for the other to do something. If you can see ages ahead that your oncoming car is turning off, you can continue pootling and barely need to break pace to pass them. I started using this later on the Scourie to Durness road and it works very well with locals, though as I closed in on Durness the idiot tourists started to wake up. This resulted in an increasing amount of infuriating incidents like people screaming to a dead stop in front of you and then not shifting, presumably expecting you to drive round them somehow - saw that twice and wondered how, considering they were coming from Durness which can only be got at via single track road, they still hadn't worked out how the road system worked yet.

Another interesting perk about driving early - you get to see all the wild campers before they pack up. Had no idea how many there were but there were enterprising uses of lay-bys everywhere you looked at 8am. Some took the gung-ho approach and simply off roaded to a flat bit and pitched. Tourers pretended they were 'just parked to look at the view officer'. Tents pitched in all kinds of wierd and wonderful places including the gravel of the layby itself. I'm getting tips for Shetland...

Scourie is a hub of the far North. Excellent looking campsite overlooking a cute bay, and a well stocked Spar. There seems to be some residential houses nearby of the modern and even Council variety, and all the locals sport bad perms, dodgy home hair dyes, and two or more three year olds in pushchairs.

Scourie to Durness is a wilderness, but a very lovely one and rich in really nice wild camp spots on lush green grass. All along the shore of the Kyle of Durness aches to be camped on, and even Durness campsite looks ok - so I must come back here sometime and do this area including the ferry to Cape Wrath and a wild camp on the tip.

Am now resting at Smoo caves. I'd forgotten about the 'graffiti' on the hillside and refreshed my name in the grass. I also had my lunch. I'm sure a tin of corned beef is meant to be for two people on nice white bread sandwiches, and not for one and eaten with a brioche roll and a spork, but needs must. I think the Durness Spar is the last til Scrabster - either was I'm taking no chances.

Now - time for a nosey about in Smoo cave...

Well it's nearly half eight and I'm already disassembled and ready to go. I must have lucked out with the weather, it turned bad overnight and now the pretty mountains that are such a draw for this place are all obscured by squalls of rain. I don't think this will be such a great place to stay in this weather.

Oh well - it's just as well that I discovered I'd got the date slightly wrong and my ferry to Orkney is today and not tomorrow, thus I've now got a long (140 odd miles) drive to John O'Groats ahead of me. 3 ish hours Google time, which means I can take the scenic route and stop at places for a look and still be in good time for the ferry at 7pm. Lets hope the crossing isn't too fiesty because of the weather.

Bye bye Achnahaird, probably for good. I wonder how long my sand sculptures will last...?