Travelling // Wild weekends; Portsoy to Sandend

It’s no secret anymore that I love country getaways and there’s a lot to be said for this.
To my civilian mind (bombinated from Physics and Statistical Analysis), countryside escapades are a window to my roots. They are my opportunity to get back to nature, live in the moment and breathe fresh air into my lungs. I welcome the Scottish landscapes, a feast of green hills and rocky seasides, views that my Greek eyes were never treated to. I love the sound of crushing muck with my hiking boots into the silent background of nature and the smell of sea waves.
Every weekend means an excursion and every excursion comes to a halt somewehere in the hills or-in better days- both hills and the beach. Weeks ago we raced down the highway, beneath a blue cloudless sky to the village of Portsoy, Northern of Aberdeen.
It took us less that two hours to reach there and the quote “It’s not about the destination, but the journey”, largely applies on this ocassion as the small towns and villages we crossed along our roadtrip added more to the whole journey.
The Portsoy Old Harbour is a jewellery itself; pastel coloured cottages, marbled gates and wooden doors are just a few of the remarkable features. 
Our plan was to walk from the village to Sandend beach in the Banffshire coast, a popular hiking route according to our friend Google, with stunning views in between the locations.
For some of the part we walked through fields but for most of it we were walking along the coast, absorbing the fresh air and capturing the views from every possible angle, trying not to miss much of its beauty.
The landscapes were so incredibly beautiful I fear my iphone camera captured only one tenth of the actual beauty and spirit. One of the highlights was walking on a bridge made out of shells and corals. So much uniquiness!
On our arrival to the beach (widest golden beach I’ve ever seen), the skies opened and everything turned grey within minutes. We got some shelter under the rocks and devoured cherries until the rain went away and we could explore the small village.
 
Everything was delightfully drenched in nostalgia. Clusterred cottages from another century and sea rocks made the front of the port uncommon. The villagers were smiley and were stitted in their tiny gardens, enjoying the few rays of sudden sunglight. We watched the tourists taking pictures of the birds on the roofs, the campers starting bonfires, while the surfers were dancing on the waves.
I could go on about the beautiful things/places we saw this day for more but I will stop here and let you enjoy the pictures. 
Any Scottish fellas that have done this journey reading this?
Love,
Anastasia

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