I woke to a definite drop in temperature. I changed into cold-weather gear and set off up Glenshee, the north wind getting stronger all the time, discouraging when your route for the day is due north all the way.
I had to get off and push for the final approach to the summit where the hurricane was shooting road grit into my face. Hard to stand up.
The ten miles to Braemar were slow and blustery, downhill against the wind.
And I knew at that point that, against this wind, I hadn't the reserves of energy to get through the next 30 miles of big ascents and descents to Tomintoul, my stop for the night.
So I had to make a decision.
I dropped in to the Braemar Tourist Office. No public transport link to Tomintoul. My only real option was to skip a day and get myself to Inverness. A bus was leaving in twenty minutes.
And so here I am in Inverness. No longer a genuine End-to-Ender, but I know I made the right decision.
The bus journey (via Aberdeen) had its compensations: friendly drivers, bizarre overhearings (you don't want to know what happened to the eight-year-old boy as a result of a couple of visits to Disneyland).
Should have taken snaps at Aberdeen - you'd have thought it was January.
Picture: Word for the week here in Inverness.
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