Our reputation, built through hard (ahem) days on the Scottish mountains, was in danger of collapse. As we stumbled out the car we took stock of our individual infirmities.
My legs were goosed, totally! The right leg ached from bum to toe, the sciatic nerve plucking the various muscles like some demented harpist. One mile? Two miles? I had no idea how far the legs would take me today.
Cap’n Jack was struggling with a bad back, our outward journey in The Tank being interspersed with groans and curses in equal measure.
The Fatdog, having disgorged her breakfast in a lump at the back door a couple of hours earlier, was probably the least decrepit of the three…if only because she complained less than myself and the Cap’n.
As a mark of respect for the battling qualities shown by us indomitable (if somewhat pathetic) adventurers the RAF had arranged a fly past by four Leuchars bound tornados. The earth shook as they roared above. Surprisingly FD managed to remain calm throughout the salute. On the other hand it took 5 minutes to coax Cap’n Jack out from his hiding place under The Tank. Never mind…the sun was out with the blue sky only marred by a scattering of light cloud…and we were at the seaside! Yes, the seaside! No big nasty hills for us today (which was probably just as well all things considered).
Remember to click on the photos for sharper images. 😀
It was a return to the Fife Coastal Path for The Fatdog and I, and a first visit for Cap’n Jack. I’d opted for the Elie to St. Monans section as there are numerous opportunities for photos…not to mention a few geocaches I abysmally failed to locate on previous visits.
The outing involved a fair bit of hobbling, whining and complaining but, to our surprise, proved to be a grand day out! As I clambered over rocks and rummaged in the ruins of old castles looking for caches, Cap’n Jack concentrated on improving his posture by sitting bolt upright, trying to ease the dull ache in his back. We travelled at a sedate snail pace, taking 3 hours to cover 2.5km!
It was just as we reached the viewpoint looking down into St. Monans that Cap’n Jack asked that we call it a day. His back had had enough. Just as well really as my legs were finding the going hard every time we hit a rise in the path. We plodded back along the coastal path back to where we’d parked the car at Elie, taking only a third of the time of that taken on our outward journey.
Here’s the photo diary of the walk.
And so another escapade came to en end. A much shorter day than normal but thoroughly enjoyable. For those who missed the previous “Tail” here’s a link. “Rubies, Ruins and Redshanks”