Despite a night in the cold and damp the Carina started on the first turn of the key. I shouldn’t be surprised, but little dependable touches like that feel reassuring when you are a long way from home.
- Rigs in the calm of the Cromarty Firth
The run up to John O’Groats is an easy one from a navigational point of view as there is only one road. The A9 unfolds along the eastern coastline, the North Sea always visible to the right as we drive. Oil rigs are just visible on the horizon, some burning off gas, the only spot of colour against the greyness. Smooth, flowing and in better condition than most roads around Surrey, the route offers some unique sights, not least deserted cottages (surely not remnants of the Highland Clearances?) and oil rigs moored up in the inlets, a few seemingly huddled together for warmth. The laws of physics dictate they will float, but it is still hard not to wonder at how such enormous steel, bar stool shaped things can sit on the surface.
- Nimrod!
As we near Wick, the last recognisable town this far north, we are treated to the sight of a RAF Nimrod taking off from the nearby Leuchars air base. It circles low and our last sight of it is almost head on, landing lights ablaze as it makes a pass over Wick. Built to detect incoming Cold War Soviet bombers, it predates all the cars on the Bangers4BEN run by decades. Old is a relative term even for machines.
When we reach John O’Groats the sense of anti-climax is unavoidable. A grey sky covers grey buildings surrounding an almost empty car park. Souvenir shops, visually indistinguishable from the (not free) toilet block are inviting only in contrast to the icy looking sea only yards away. Commercialisation means the once famous road sign is only brought out for a fee. No one here today is inclined to pay.
- The drab reality of John O’Groats
Weather transforms this place. In summer sun it has a rugged beauty, the nearby islands appearing to be much closer than they are: In heavy winds, the sea is whipped up to all sorts of drama. Today it is cloudy and still and dank, urging us to head south again as soon as possible. However, the needs of media hold us a while longer as the photographer tries to shepherd a bunch of over caffeinated car dealers into some sort of photogenic array.
Christian pleased to be in John O'Groats - and pleased to be leaving soon
Then it’s back the way we came, literally, and on down through the glens to skirt Edinburgh and on to England – just. We overnight in Berwick-upon-Tweed.
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