I’d previously looked at tours that’d take me out here, but didn’t understand how tourist seasons work, so I just took the Saturday bus from Thurso instead.
And thanks to Doktor Hobo, I now have the idea that Thurso is an Australian abbreviation of Thursday stuck in my head, so thanks for that.
Breakfast at the hotel came with the assistance of Sally, who let me know that she’d be only too happy to help with any bacon or toast I couldn’t finish. Dogs are so giving in that way.
The #80 bus did pass right by the end of the road, but I had plenty of time, so I wandered down to catch it at it’s starting point; Partially so that there’d be no chance of missing it, and partially so that I could ask questions like “is there a return ticket?” without holding everyone up. Yes, there was a return ticket.
The bus was surprisingly nice, set up like a tour bus; Even had seatbelts. There were only two passengers the whole trip, including me, and the other person got out at one of the towns along the way. ( as I wrote this a more regular #80 bus went past, so maybe the tour bus edition is just a Saturday thing )
With the gap between buses I had plenty of time, so I followed a path which seemed to go along the coast; It got more & more informal as you went along, and eventually became ‘walking through a field’. Kind of reminded me of chunks of Oxfam Trail walk training.
The end of the path, or at least where I stopped, was this rock covered beach.
As the pictures sort of show, the weather was good, or at least good for Scotland in March. Cold, and a bit windy, but no rain, and there was sunshine.
I almost went back on the next bus, but at very much the last minute decided to get a pint at the local pub, making it my most Northerly beer ever. That said, the Golden Ale wasn’t my favourite; Should have gone with the lager instead.
Things I didn’t photograph were the campground & motorhome area, or the luxury holiday lodges, or all that much of the hotel, which is all white & traditional looking near the sign, but gets more colourful at the other end of the building. I didn’t think of it at the time, but I now wonder whether it could have been a spot to visit on my working tour of the UK, if only for the ridiculous pose of doing a morning call from right in front of the signpost.
I got back to Thurso in time to go to the visitor centre, in the hopes of finding a postcard or something. No luck there, but it turns out that the centre is also a museum with a roughly 50/50 split between;
- Thurso history from the iron age onwards
- The local nuclear reactor
In conclusion?
I enjoyed John O’Groats more than I expected. Good weather & off-season probably helped, because it wasn’t crowded; I’m not sure there were even enough people there to count as ‘populated’.I
It was a good day.
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