Day 71- Dunbeath to Wick 22 miles

  I woke up with trepidation this morning, gingerly crawling from my tent and lowering my feet to the ground. Nothing. No pain just a little tenderness. Hoping this would last I packed up and collecting my EasyAcc battery from reception before leaving camp. For the first mile or so every part of me was focused on the slightest twinge from my foot. As the boots hadn't helped much yesterday I wore my sandals from the go, took it very slowly and swallowed two ibuprofen.

The A9 no more, A99 from now on

  The road from here is straight and even, farm houses drifted by but no other landmarks to break up the day. I pushed through Latheron onto Lybster before stopping for supplies. The town is off the main road my a kilometer or so and walking down towards the sea stopped at the post office and bought a supply of bourbons and crisps. The crisps proved a mistake, far too greasy. I wondered back towards the A9 along a parallel side lane till Mavesy. Then the roads goes ever onward, still straight with just a few farms. I didn't mind so much, my foot was fine and I could walk without too much effort.
  At one point a couple of lamps came running up to the farm fence across the road, they did it with such open command that I crossed to see what was up. The boldest raised himself up on its hind legs, its front hoofs on the fence in an effort to get close. I stroked it uncertain of how you're meant to stroke a lamb, its friend joining in with enthusiasm, I felt rather honored by the encounter.
  Later a flock of young calves chased me from the other side of the fence, making me grateful for the barbed wire. That was it in a way of nature. I got a thrill as a joined the A99, the A9 curving inland to the north coast. The sign with John o'Groats only had Wick and Thorps left, 35 miles to go!
  Wick came into view as a welcome relief, and following the signs I found my way to the Wick Caravan Campsite, paid their extortionate fee and set up camp. The showers were small and scruffy, but the lawn flat and even so it wasn't so bad.
In town there is meant to be the Northern most Weatherspoons and I was tempted to go find it and have a proper meal (well as broad a term as that is when it concerns Weatherspoons). The walk into town was more than worth the effort, the camp along the Wick River, the path crossing it before reaching the center.

River Wick

  With all the bad things you can say about Weatherspoons they are usually in grand old buildings, they don't blast loud music at you, you can sit for hours without been bothered, quick internet and cheap drinks. You wont gleam much about the local culture, or leave with an 'experience' as such but for a tired walker it was just what the doctor ordered. I downloaded a load of things on my Spotiffy account for the next day and talked to my brother in America using Skype. I left at the shockingly late time of ten, been treated to an even more stunning view while recrossing the river. 18 miles tomorrow, 22 when if I walk from John o'Groats to Duncansby Head and back.