Thurso and whatnot

Yet another rainy morning greeted us outside the wee village of Halkirk, where we had wildcamped for the night.
We decided to splurt out on a commercial breakfast so I called the local hotel to check whether they serve breakfast to non residents. The bloke in the other end of the line had no idea about hotel policy since the phone number on the hotel website was incorrect. Bugger, him and me both thought.
We opted for the bar "Y-not" in Thurso instead.
Two eggs Benedict later the sun came out.

Cute teacup/pot -combo

We fought the throngs of people on the main shopping street for a while, visited a wee museum (more likely some old bloke with a hoarding problem), had a coffee and a piece of cake that probably clogged up the rest of my arteries, and went on our merry way. The girl who served us the cake had a *very* good singing voice.

The day the earth stood still on Thursp shopping street

Museum of wtf?

Museum of sad boats

Slightly happier boats. Must be a hard life for boats here - I've seen passenger ferries tie up with thinner mooring ropes...

Oh, and I amost forgot Portskerra! Don't miss Portskerra!

We saw a sign earlier in the day, pointing down to the Portskerra pier.

That sounds nice, we thought, images of ice cream and of victorian ladies strolling in the sunshine for some obscure reason going through our heads (ok, ok, *my* head).

Portskerra pier, in my mind

Portskerra pier IRL

No ice cream, no Victorian ladies. Just the smell of decaying kelp and concrete. Next time we see a sign that could point to something interesting, we'll follow it again. Because that is what we do, Carola and I.

The memorial for drowned fishermen we also found by Portskerra pier is a jarring testament to the life that has formed these people. Well done you all, for choosing to live here. Me, I'd go nuts in a fortnight.