Fishermen (and women) and Gold.

Phew! 

We had abandoned number one plan of heading for John O Groats and opted instead for plan one hundred and six. Get the hell out of the fierce coastal gales and travel inland to a sheltered valley.

The Gillie turned in and parked just in front of us. His two clients and their posh cars with fishing rods neatly stashed on magnetic bonnet and roof brackets also turned in and parked. 

"Uhh ho" thinks me. "Am I in bother for parking here in this lovely sheltered riverside spot in the River Naver valley just below Bettyhill?" 

I need not have worried. Both Gillie and fishermen/women were not in the least bit concerned about my presence. They were in fact quite happy to chat as they busied themselves preparing to fish for more Salmon on this stretch of the river. Seems like it was not the best of days as the water level had dropped seven inches overnight and the bright sunny sky was also not ideal.

The area is very popular with the fishing and over the next few days I got quite used to pulling in to the frequent passing places on these single track roads to let the numerous, and mainly Mercs and Range Rovers pass by, complete with their obligatory magnetic fishing rod carriers.

Oh! The calm, NON 'rock n roll' night of sleep enjoyed at that first delightfully sheltered stop was bliss indeed.

Tanya, next morning, found half a dead sheep and gorged at it for nearly  ten minutes before I found her. Not quite so blissful but thankfully no re-gurgitation inside Motorhome either!

"Wow!" I said. "Is that really proper gold from this river?" 

Ian assured me it was and showed us all the other small vials he had with differing amounts of gold in them. All were dated to show when he had panned it. I was in the Goldfields, as they seem to refer to them up here, above Helmsdale on the Suisgill and Kildonan Burns. Ian regularly panned this area and it soon became apparent that many hours and many tons of riverbed had been moved and painstakenly panned to yield up the small amounts of gold we were looking at. No matter. I had never seen raw gold before and was mightily impressed.

The three tents and parked motorhome on this bend in the road had grabbed my curiosity and seeing as it was late afternoon I pulled in for the night. I was soon in awed conversation with this small group of real characters who were regular visitors to this 1868 goldrush site. Another curious couple on holiday from Essex with their tent soon joined us and a very pleasant evening and next morning were spent swapping stories and lives. Bill, a Scot with Australian roots entertained us in his motorhome in which he lived fulltime with his cross collie dog named Robby. Bill had a murky past attested to as he eagerly showed us his ankle tag explaining that was why he could only travel areas local to Peterhead. What a pair of characters they were. I still have Robby's 'playfully administered' teethmarks on my arse to prove it!

It never ceases to amaze me how, within a very short space of time, all the rawness, tragedy, richness, tenderness, violence and nonsensical humour of life is laid out for witness by a group of people who, only a few hours previous, were not even remotely aware of each others existence. I hope, pray even, I never lose such humbling a gift as 'being amazed and awestruck'. To me that was and always is the Gold.