I’m falling asleep in my room at the Park Hotel in Montrose, on Scotland’s east coast, tired but exhilarated after this long-awaited Challenge. Headandlegssay“Hooray, youdon’thavetowalk tomorrow, it’s done, never lift that heavy pack again”. My heart says: “Not walking tomorrow? Think what you’ll be missing…”
A slideshow of the last two weeks randomly plays in my head as I drift between wakefulness and sleep. Huge open skies. Stony track under my boots, stepping on stones through burns, forest paths, dried-out peat hags, squelchy off-piste bits. Glorious flowers in profusion, a June bonus – glowing banks of acid-yellow broom, white frothy Queen Anne’s lace, tall grasses, masses of fragrant pink wild roses. Flower colours mingling by the path – blue, white, pink, yellow. In the damp places, starry butterwort, sticky red…
