Next morning we woke to a brilliant red sunrise in the East and a big white bull with huge hard muscles in the West! The sky in the East promised unsettled weather, Red sky in the morning……… and the Bull promised to hurtle through the hedge and flatten the van, I wonder if Tommy Steele was right when he sang ‘Only Black Bulls fight’? We didn’t wait around to test it.

Johnshaven was the next lucky village to be favoured with our attention. A small village on the side of the cliff that looks as though it may tumble in at any moment. It’s another 2 basin harbour with lots of lobster pots and fishing nets lying around. A nice peaceful and quiet place for elevenses. The houses along the front of the harbour did not have either a front or back garden and the washing lines were strung from poles concreted into the harbour side. We decided that a fresh sea breeze would be wonderful for the freshness of the clothes but they certainly need strong clothes pegs because next stop is the Skagerrak between Denmark and Sweden!

Gourdon is the next village with the same kind of harbour and lobster pots and Patrick parked alongside the harbour close enough for me to jump out of the van straight into the water! He pleaded ignorance at the closeness to the edge (there are no barriers of any description, one step too far and you’re wet!). I decided the water looked a bit too greasy for swimming and foiled his plan by climbing over the back of my seat into the rear of the van.

We sat mesmerised by a piece of black and white flotsam that bobbed it’s way up the slipway, where it suddenly stood up, flapped it’s wings and wiggled about until it got comfortable right on the edge of the lapping water. It was a Guillemot and it looked tired, so tired that every time the water lapped around it’s feet it was washed onto the concrete slipway. I imagined it bravely battling through South Westerly winds looking for a safe place to batten down the hatches and weather the storm and Gourden provided the perfect place.

It rested throughout lunch, by now it was midday, and we left it happily floating in the sun at the waters edge, maybe dreaming of calm seas and shoals of sand eels.

After a night on a pleasant campsite we headed for Stonehaven. A beautiful village with a scenic harbour and a lovely row of old buildings on two sides. The oldest building in Stonehaven is the Tolbooth, now a museum but originally built at the same time as Dunnotta Castle as a storehouse. Parts of the castle date back to the 13th Century.
I had to have my obligatory walk along both arms of the harbour wall and at one point found a staircase that led up to the top of the wall. Despite suffering from vertigo (the wall was all of 10 ft high harbour side and about 20 ft sea side) I insisted on walking along the top. It wasn’t windy and I saw Eider Duck, Cormorants and lots of Herring Gulls out to sea, but my legs were still wobbly and at the other end, the steps were so narrow and worn that I had to have help from my knight in shining armour (slays all my ferocious dragons for me) and I safely negotiated the steps.

Before we landed on our friends back garden for the weekend we popped into a place called Muchalls pronounced as though the U is an O. The village is on a slope down to the sea cliffs and we followed the road to it’s bitter end where there was parking for one vehicle - ours!

It was a lovely sunny afternoon and we walked to the cliff top where the most amazing view both North and South awaited us. We were about 200 ft above sea level and there were stacks 100 ft high and the coast line was littered with rock outcrops against which the waves were crashing throwing up plumes of white spray. We just sat and watched. The water was crashing through a tunnel gouged through one of the stacks only to burst free our side, running in all directions, happy to be let free of the narrow confines of the tunnel.

The whole area was one huge frothy, white, beautiful mess and I loved it. The path wound North for a short way and at one point it traversed a 60 degree slope. It was close but we managed to traverse it without any climbing aids at all, completely freehand, only balancing with what nature gave us. We also trod very lightly.

The views were well worth it, again more rocks, craggy cliffs and stacks with the sea playfully running in and around them suddenly crashing up against the rocks, the waves splattering themselves into thousands of droplets that glinted in the sun.

Now I no longer have to live my life by an alarm clock or any clock come to think of it I sat and tried to remember W H Davies;

Leisure

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

It was getting close to teatime when we were to meet our friends and we directed Lady Jane (Tom Tom GPS) to direct us around Aberdeen. To cut a long story short, ‘she’ got us lost, I suspect we missed a turning on a roundabout but we’re not going to admit it. Anyway, we saw parts of Aberdeen that others will never see, housing estates, rows of semi detached and terraced houses built using local granite that, in the bright sunlight, looked sharp, clean and welcoming. Finally we shot out of the frantic city atmosphere into the lush green, welcoming countryside that to me is Aberdeenshire, plenty of huge beech trees towering protectively above us.

It was lovely to see Simon and Lynn again and that evening we all sat in the summerhouse, breathing in the scent of cedar wood, listening to the birds and catching up on 12 months of gossip. We certainly had a wonderful evening ending it with what I now know is a Drum Circle. We each had a different percussion instrument, castanets, tambourine, sticks, bodran, and drums and tried to keep beat with some drumming CD’s. Now I am not the best time keeper and the other three beat me hands down but it was great fun and as Simon explained, everyone who takes part seems to end up with a big soppy grin on their faces and we were no exception. It was ear splitting but great fun.. Trouble is, I think I had too much excitement ’cos I hardly slept at all that night, I kept trying to beat time with Patrick’s snoring!.

On the morning of the 20th we drove 40 miles through wonderful countryside, not mountainous but rolling hills and arable fields. The sun was shining and we enjoyed the journey although we couldn’t help wonder what we were missing down the lanes. Next trip I think.

The AA book of the Coast promised agates on the beach at Boddin Point and we spent a happy hour searching. We’re still not convinced we found agate but I’ve got a handful of very small specimens that I can check later. North of the point the sea has attacked the soft rock in the cliff eventually carving out a tunnel. The resulting piece of cliff is left jutting out and looks like an elephant with it’s front feet and trunk in the sea. I thought it had it’s back end in the sea at first, until Patrick explained it to me, but then I always seem to see things opposite to others. It has been named, wait for it, yes you’ve guessed, Elephant Rock.

The beach was mainly pebbles and the tide was in and every time a wave fell back over the pebbles it caused them to roll down the beach clattering against each other making a sound similar to that of a pair of hands gently stirring a bowl full of polished agates. So first there is the sound of the wave breaking on the shore followed by the clatter of the rolling pebbles, producing a sound that would be an asset to any percussion band.

Further North we visited the fish town of Usan, a disappointing end to the No Through road we took. It ended at the entrance of a fishery and the promised row of old cottages and Tower were now part of the yard and we couldn’t get a close look. The Tower was originally a watch tower and at one time housed the local lifeboat.

We were greeted at Usan by two farm collie dogs. They wanted to play and seemed to realise that they had found a mug in me. We only had stones to throw and fetch and they eventually left me for pastures new. We soon found out where they had been because a bird watching couple appeared from the sea shore accompanied by the dogs who had found a ball. It seems the female half of the couple (we females seem to have more of an affinity with animals than you males) refused to throw stones and told the dogs they needed to find a ball, so off they went only to return a few minutes later with a ball. Now she had no excuse and as she tired I took over her part in the game. The dogs loved us and the younger dog was kind to older by letting her reach the ball first. The older dog would bring the ball back and circle me in a clockwise direction and whilst standing to heel, drop the ball at my feet and we would begin a new game.

We left the dogs sitting on the bank, patiently waiting for the next mug and moved on to Montrose. The High street in Montrose is very wide, giving it a bright open feel with a lot of sky visible. The shops however, are much the same as in other towns. We noticed that the Church entrance was on the same level as the shops and we both commented on how unusual it seemed to have the Church open to the pavement. It seemed so close to pedestrians and dwarfed us. Having passed the Church we noticed a building with some iron railings across what appeared to be an archway and as you probably realise by now, I am a nosy person and had to investigate! These railings were preventing access to a mausoleum, it turned out that the Guildhall was built over the original graveyard to the church and rather than wreck the mausoleum some rooms of the Guildhall were built over it.

We didn’t get a good look at Montrose Basin, an area of 3 square miles of mud when the tide is out. Thousands of birds and geese feed here and it’s an important feeding ground. I’d like to think we can perhaps stop off here next Spring on our way to Orkney, but that’s for another day. Tomorrow is waiting for us to start yet another adventure here on the East coast.