It surprises me how much better we sleep when we find a wild camping spot as beautiful as the one we enjoyed at Lunan Bay! It’s not just the feeling of fatigue that can make us sleep through until the early hours, but the sense and feeling of what lies beyond the thin walls of our tent! Being parched high on the dunes, overlooking the beach, knowing we had come through Montrose and had enough food to last the next several days, helps calm the news and soothe the soul. We woke feeling refreshed and very excited for the day ahead!
Taking longer than usual to pack up the tent, mainly because Eve was doing cartwheels and disappearing onto the beach, we were slow to start walking. But that's the joy of hiking the coast like this. We're in no rush, and Eve should be allowed every opportunity to play, jump, twist, and risk getting a scratch or bruise in pursuit of a happy, carefree childhood!
I remember as a child wearing scabs and scratches as a badge of honour! Where have those days gone? Why are young people so obsessed with phones, the latest gadgets, or apps, and fixated on how they look or how others perceive them? But I digress… and I apologise for that!
The coast awaits!
We started walking barefoot. I had promised Eve the night before that we could begin our walk barefoot, as we had arrived in camp without shoes. Given the choice, Eve would never wear footwear. In fact, Eve wants to climb a Munro (a Scottish mountain) barefoot! For me, not wearing trainers while walking is something I have very mixed emotions about. On grass, I love it—it feels great! On sand, I don’t like it at all, and only go barefoot under duress. This morning, having made Eve a promise, we set off feeling the sand between our toes and the sea on our feet. Eve was in her element, running in and out of the sea, jumping the waves, and becoming dazed and entranced watching the sea wash in and out again. The gentle rhythm of the sea was as timeless as I wish these moments with Eve could be.
At the end of the beach, we dried our feet, put our socks and trainers back on (much to Eve's dislike) and headed under the railway bridge towards the small hamlet of Braehead of Lunan. From here, we walked down a quiet country lane, not passed by any motorists. We walked, looking out to sea and eating the last of our breakfast.
As we walked, in British style, the conversation turned to the weather. It was warm, the gentle breeze refreshing the sky's blue and the clouds drifting gently across our horizon. Eve and I felt confident today would be a good day and we would avoid the rain!
The road walking ended at a place called Boddin. Boddin felt like an odd place. It seemed as if different worlds were colliding, a mixture of new and old where time is forgotten or just misplaced. There's an odd mixture of new buildings, old semi-abandoned cottages out of sight, and the ruins of a building long forgotten perched on the edge of Boddin Point. We loytered just long enough for a photograph. Finding our path running along the tops of the cliff, we carried on walking.
The grass on the cliffs was tall and covered with morning dew. Our feet gradually became damp, but on a warm day, this is usually not a problem. In fact, it can often feel refreshing and cooling if it is very hot. Our feet would dry as we went on walking.
The cliffs were changing from the orange sandstone of Arbroath to a darker, almost menacing mixture of grey and black. The rock, worn into jagged edges over the millennia, created eddies and whirlpools as the sea's swell moves in and out, slowly grinding at the rock. That's the thing we love about walking the coast. The diversity, and how even subtle changes like this can catch you out and make you feel a million miles away from where you were only a few hours or days ago.
We didn't have to walk far before losing sight of Boddin Point and reaching the cemetery and Elephant Rock. A friend had told me about this cemetery and advised me to carefully examine all the tombstones to see if we could spot a strange anomaly! I knew what the anomaly was since I had researched it beforehand, but I didn’t tell Eve what it was. Eve knew there was something to find, and upon arrival, she immediately started studying the tombstones with enthusiasm. I could barely keep up with her and, not knowing exactly where the tombstone was, we made a competition to see who would find the ‘anomaly’ first. I fully acknowledge that I had a distinct advantage knowing what I was looking for!
However… It didn't take Eve long to find it; in fact, she found it surprisingly quickly—before I did! Eve had assumed it was connected to the dates but didn’t know how. She wasn't expecting a death before birth!
I have included a photograph, but just in case you can’t make it out, George was born on 24th November 1869 but died on 17th December 1840! Apparently, the tombstone was carved by mistake, but it was still erected with the error and has stood ever since!
We sat in the cemetery and had our first proper break of the day, snacking on dried fruit, nuts, and biscuits.
Leaving the cemetery behind, we carried on walking along the tops of the cliffs. Passing sea arches and inlets, we weaved in and out, up and down like a gentle ride, we felt alive and free. We walked, speaking of geology, math, farming and of course… food! Anybody who hikes as much as we do knows only too well that food is never far from their thoughts. Today was resupply day, and the conversation slowly shifted to ideas for dinners, lunches, and breakfasts! yum!
As we got close to Usan, a small village on the coast, we found ourselves walking around huge potato fields. We have never seen so many potatoes before. They were bursting out of the ground, like lava from a volcano. Red, swollen, and plump, rolling down the small banks of earth that covered the fields like trenches as far as the eye could see. It was a sight, filled with a tinge of sadness… no hedges, no flora or fauna, no bees buzzing, no bugs scampering, nothing… for miles it was lifeless! The cost of our modern, convenient, always-available lives… the demise of nature…
We walked through Usan, a small village dominated by a huge farm. Thousands of potato crates were stacked everywhere we looked. It made sense—the potato fields were enormous, and the crop was quite literally overflowing.
Reaching the edge of a field overlooking the coast, we saw a family sitting next to a fence looking out to sea. As we got closer, we realised they were not looking out to sea but at a gigantic bull standing next to newly born calves, with their mothers all around. Our route was to take us straight through the middle of their field, and our path, through the middle of the bulls, cows, and calves…
But we were in luck… the family of cows was moving away from our direction and into another field. At the same time, an elderly man arrived in a car and parked nearby. He got out of his car and walked towards us, beginning to reassure us that it was safe to walk through. The man owned a fishing boat, kept in the same field with the cows, bulls, and calves. He said he walked among them all, weaving in and around them to reach his boat, and had never had any issues. He wasn't bragging, but genuinely trying to reassure us! I think he could sense our apprehension. We stood there for about ten minutes, talking about his fishing boat, which he operates as a hobby but also makes a profit from! We have met and spoken to many fishermen on our walk along the coast, and nearly all of them do it part-time, as a hobby alongside a full-time job. Remarkable!
Walking around the field, keeping close to the coast, the wind was blowing, funnelled into the small bay near Scurdie Ness, creating occasional waves that sent sea spray all over us. Tasting the salt and smelling it in the air, washed away any concern for the family of cows a few hundred metres away. We found a patch of grass free of ‘deposits’ to sit, rest, snack, and drink. The sun was now high in the sky, and the heat was becoming stifling. Sitting in the field, feeling the spray was delightfully refreshing. We could have sat there for hours, looking at the sun reflecting off the sea if it weren’t for the lure of resupply calling strongly to us... we were running low on food!
The lighthouse at Scurdie Ness was impressive, as all lighthouses are! It stands tall and proud. Set against a bright blue sky and warm sun, it looked as striking as any lighthouse could.
As we walked around Scurdie Ness, passing the lighthouse, Montrose came into view.
Monrose is a large and imposing town. As we walked towards and into Montrose, we could feel an uncomfortable sense of anxiety and nervousness growing inside us. We walked past huge industrial ships, larger than most buildings, painted in bright colours; they commanded respect. The feat of engineering to build them is truly astonishing. And for what purpose... the deep-sea windfarms, I assume, are equally impressive. I know we would prefer to see coastal wind farms rather than the coast being littered with nuclear power stations, but that's just my opinion, and you might feel very differently.
Walking into and through towns and cities, we are at our most energetic. We walk quickly and with purpose. Head up, look proud and confident, even if we don't feel it. I put Tesco into Google Maps, put my phone away, and followed the directions, pausing only for the very occasional quick photograph.
We arrived at Tesco in Montrose, excited about what we might be able to get for dinner… and guess what, we ended up buying the same dinner we've been eating for several weeks. Trail pizza! A cold dinner consisting of flat or pitta bread with cheese, pepperoni, and tomato sauce! It tastes a lot better than it sounds! Honest. We also got a meal deal to eat in the park we walked through on the way to Tesco.
We left Tesco carrying enough food for several days, which, for two people with big appetites, is quite a lot. We walked back the way we had come and stopped in the park to pack our bags and eat lunch. Our biggest treat from Tesco was a milkshake each, which didn't mix too well with our all-day breakfast sandwiches, leaving us feeling mildly nauseous.
Completing any resupply is always a relief. I forget how stressful it can be for both of us. We sat in the park, and I took a couple of paracetamol to ease the pounding headache that was throbbing in my head. As nice as Montrose is, we were excited to be leaving; our place is in the wild. The narrow strip of wilderness between the sea and farmland is an oasis of solitude where we can be ourselves, where we come alive, and where we feel at home. The coast is our home. We left Montrose with a renewed strength and purpose.
Leaving Montrose, we walked straight onto the beach. A vast expanse of golden sand stretched as far as the eye could see. With towering coastal defences on our left, we were caught between a wall of rock and concrete, with the open sea on the other side. Climbing over boulders covered in sharp barnacles, we avoided deep puddles carved into the sand to prevent climbing the sea defences to walk along the top. It was a good decision, as we could hear the noise of traffic above.
The sound of traffic eventually subsided, and silence ensued. We were away from Montrose and felt relieved. My headache had gone, and Eve was once again running around happy. We were home on the wild coast, and it felt perfect… the beach, the sand, Eve, it was perfect, and we had a bag full of food! It really was perfect!
We walked along the beach for what felt like miles. In reality, we were zig-zagging, stopping to look, play and write in the sand. Watching sea birds and keeping an eye out for whales travelling along the coast.
Our only plan now was to keep walking. We would stop only if we got tired, it got too late, or we found somewhere to camp. We stopped because we were tired and it was late. We didn’t find a flat piece of land despite the vastness of the dunes!
I pitched the tent in a small hollow in the dunes to keep us out of sight of the golf course. I didn't check, however, how steep the sides were or how soft the sand was. By the time we had the tent pitched, we realised my mistake, but it was too late to do anything about it. We decided to rough it for the night, and in hindsight, that was my second mistake. It was one of the most uncomfortable nights in a tent I've ever had. My body wouldn’t bend enough to rest fully in the middle without backache, and lying on my side was impossible. Eve is still small enough (just) to curl into a ball and sleep in the middle in a fetal position. It was a long night for Eve, while Eve slept like a baby all night! I have learned a valuable lesson not to be too hasty in pitching the tent.
But not to end on a negative note, we spent the evening sitting on the beach, with a campfire (not that it was cold in the first place), watching the sun go down, the seabirds settle, and the sea drift in and out with melodic rhythmthm, while the flames of the fire flickered and died to embers that glowed well after dark. It was a perfect evening as we walked the UK coast!
Thank you for reading!
Ian & Eve
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