Metres ascent: 471
Time taken including 1 hour 35 min stops: 9 hrs 55 mins
No of Challengers encountered: 2 at Scurdie Ness. Then lots!
Total Distance walked: 333 km
TotalMetres ascent: 12,400
Time taken including stops: 118 hours
First, a thanks to all who have commented on the previous entry, and thanks to Eileen and Andrew, from Bodmin, on their first Challenge, for being at Scurdie Ness and taking photos at the finish.
It was a hard day, mostly on tarmac. We succeeded in finding some soft green lanes, but the shortcomings of Scotland's footpath system hit home when we strolled for nearly a kilometre up a 'please keep dogs on leads' path, only to find the next couple of km, linking two 'tarmac' sections, had been blocked off with barbed wire and ditches.
With over 40 km to walk today anyway, the additional mileage wasn't welcome, so as we neared our destination we 'ironed' our route and went directly for the lighthouse rather than fumbling our way via Braehead of Lunan. That route can wait!
A friendly local, walking his soft, leathery Dalmation down a tarmac lane in an area that in England would probably be riddled with public footpaths, agreed, telling us how much he appreciated his visits to the more 'walker friendly' Yorkshire Dales.
You just can't tell from the Scottish maps what is public and what is private - it's really confusing, and difficult to plan a route that avoids tarmac as you reach the coast, without hitting annoying obstacles. Yesterday we were highly successful; today, by the end, we had more or less given up.
But today's compensation was the fine, sunny weather, following yet another frost free dawn. For the first time in a week the waterproofs remained stashed all day. The oil seed rape glittered, bright yellow under the beaming sun, and, clad in t-shirts, Tilley hats and daubs of sun tan cream, we enjoyed fine aspects both back to the hilly interior and towards the coast and the Montrose basin.
An early start enabled us to reach our finishing point by 2.30, via our final alfresco brew and lunch spots. Our progress was monitored by stonechats and pheasants as we passed hedgerows increasingly filled with garlic mustard, vetches and forgetmenots. Lanes lined with gorse meant that we could enjoy its coconut scent almost until the east coast seaside smells took over.
From the Top:
Early morning near Forfar
Common Comfrey - prolific in the lowland hedgerows
An early view towards the sea
Long lanes of straight tarmac were a feature of today's walk
Our last alfresco lunch for a while
Montrose Basin and the sea draw ever closer (is that Good or Bad?)
Both the Park Hotel and Montrose campsite are most sociable places at such times. We caught up with folk too numerous to mention individually, including some of the other bloggers. Even 'time-warped Darren' appears to have finished, blaming 'technical problems' on his failure to broadcast beyond Day 5.
We are going to tomorrow night's Park Hotel gathering, so tonight we enjoyed some food at The George before heading back to the Park to prop up the bar whilst listening to Roger Smith (Uncle Roger, aka 'Spiderman') and his 'awards ceremony'.
So ended another successful TGO Challenge. Tomorrow will be a day of leisure followed by another evening of revelry, and on Saturday we return home. After that some images and an index will be applied to these 'off the cuff' daily entries - I'll put a note on the TGOC Message Board when that's done.
Done - 29 May - hoorah! Time for another trip!
Above: the Saturday morning remnants of the bulging campsite at Montrose
Below: Graham Brookes receives his '20th Crossing Plaque' at the dinner on Thursday, attended by around 100 people
The next little adventure - starring the Phreerunner tent in a week's stroll from Windermere towards Manchester - starts on Monday 1st June.Ciau for now.
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We had hoped for a village inn purveying real ale and bar meals. There was nothing next to the church - a bad sign - but my spirits lifted when I spotted an 'ale' sign. Alas a house was for sale, with a tree partly concealing the sign.
Easy paths led to Kirriemuir, which was entered via a scenic RSPB reserve, then along the pleasantly landscaped parkland path that leads beside the river to the town centre.
Well, 'sped' isn't quite the right word. We had heavy legs today.
Whilst most fields had their quota of lapwings and oyster catchers, one was filled with common gulls. I wonder why? "We must be getting near to the sea" observed Sue.
It was approaching lunch time, so we selected a sheltered spot in a dark pine forest in which to enjoy lunch. Just as yesterday though, the rain decided to try to drown our already long deceased mackerel. Another low scoring luncheon venue, but not as bad as yesterday's thanks to the protective, if somewhat drippy, forest canopy.
An impressive orientation table (sadly with part missing) adorned the summit, but this was dwarfed by a mast, which at least gave us confidence regarding the last picture posting.
But I won't bore you with that just now. It's time for bed!
Beyond the summit a good track led gently down to the ruins that were once Glenlochsie Lodge. The downside was the slow gradient in the face of a cool easterly wind and Cold Rain. 
The lodge was dry inside, but dirty, so we decided to lunch outside as the rain had stopped. As soon as the stove was pulled out a big black cloud came and dumped its contents of Cold Rain and hail on us whilst we lunched. We packed up again, then the rain stopped.
But the pressure was rising so we thought things would improve. True to form for this trip, as we exited the tent the rain stopped. For the whole day. So as I write this from, sadly, our 8th and last wild camp of this trip, I am yet again being dazzled by the late sun - the tent is pitched facing west, as on all except the first night of the trip - that's nine days of easterly winds when we would normally expect westerlies.
At around 300 metres, this was the lowest our route had taken us since Kinloch Laggan, some four days ago.
Neither of us had ever been to Glen Tilt before. We commend it, though we found the Falls of Tarf, viewed from a magnificent suspension bridge built in 1886 and commemorating the drowning of a 16 year old in that place a few years earlier, just a little disappointing.
I'd expected to find a bolted up hunting lodge, but from the top of the Munro, some 7 km away, it had somehow looked more than that. It still surprised us when it came into close view. A working farm. Painted pink. Including the outbuildings.
A highlight indeed, of a fine highland day, continuing as I write (8 pm) with the calls of curlew, grouse and other birds, and the gentle babble of the river we had to cross to reach this fine piece of turf.