We departed DFC at around 1715 and got the good luck message plus the offer of a lift from Caff and Prunty. We trudged up the road, our bellies full(ish) of the dinner-time ale and Half Time pies, and headed out of town along the Clepington Rd. Several cars beeped their horns, which was probably due to ITN’s interview on the BBC Radio . Nice one.
The troops soon became well spread out as the effects of crossing busy roads out of town took its toll on the formation. Other hold ups ensued as we tried to grab a sarnie en route from Colin in the bus.
The main drag to Coupar Angus was quite busy for a while but at least there was a footpath for the first two or three miles or so. When this petered out it became a single file order for the troops and dodging traffic was the order of the day. However, the road did quieten down a bit as the evening progressed.
Sergeant Doz had an enforced hold up near Muirhead as a change of footwear was needed to cure aching toes….this only after about five miles on the first day….something wrong somewhere!! By this time the advanced party was very well advanced and out of sight to the stragglers.
This main road has a few dodgy tight corners and extreme care had to be taken in trying to get around them without being knocked over. Other hazards of the road included trying to avoid treading on dead animals. One of these was a young dear which was just shoved to the verge and decomposing quite strongly. Who’s eating a steak now?
The Yomper team ahead took the opportunity to cut a few miles off the walk by taking a track off to the left after around 10 miles in. TG also took this and became lost in the woods as the track doubled back on us to leave us going in the wrong direction. Calls to the Yomper crew to blow horns to give us a clue as to their whereabouts failed to impress. No choice now but to head back from where we came. However, a slight yomp across the fields ensued as we headed back to the sanctuary of tarmac. This cost us dearly and left us feeling deflated with the thought of losing a few miles off our target. Never mind ay.
We left the main road near Ashley and followed the back roads towards Campmuir. Our sense of humour was regained when we went past a field full of frisky heifers (cows without udders if you like) and, on seeing us, charged over from the other side of the field. Their charge was suddenly halted when I started to sing “Come have a go if you think you’re hard enough” – was it my threat or my singing that stopped them in their tracks. They were taunted even further by shouts of “Call yourselves beasts? You can’t even break down a flimsy post and wire fence”. Pussies.
Time was now getting on and we knew we had no chance of reaching the intended finishing point so we decided to call it a day at 2130. So, with the sun sinking lower in the sky giving a glorious pink sunset over Coupar Angus we called it a day on the exit of Campmuir, some 6 miles or so short of target.
