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| Loch Leven, view from my camp in the sun |
With only 13 miles to walk today I relaxed into it, trudging out of the valley up into the Mamores. The climb is ruthless and long, especially straight from camp. The ex cop passed me pretty quick out the door and I waved him on with no attempt to keep up. The more I embraced the people around the less I felt compelled to prove my worth as a walker. Although crowded there was no judgement or animosity between anyone, just openness and curiosity. Now that it's the last day I don't feel the relief I expected, in fact I was a little fed up that everyone got to go home except for me.
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| Kinlochmore falling down into the valley as I climb |
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| Mamore Hills |
Once you've scrambled, trudged and crawled your way up to the top the ground levels out a little.The land rises around the path so there's no real sense of height, the river Allt na Lairige Moire flowing a little way to the left. Near the Sheepfold a couple was packing up from their camp, attempting to try their tent on the old remains of the farm house. A mile or so later and its back to climbing. The sun was high and heat intensifying by the minute. The hoped for shelter was ruined by another stretch of intensive logging. Midges joining in the fun strove me forward until I encountered my ex-police man sat having a break with a middle-aged Asian woman. I joined them and elected to let the ex cop continue alone and leave me with the lady, walking the rest of the day with her while discussing everything from her job as a school councilor in America to her walking the Way of St James in Spain. Our pace seemed to match and it was a lovely end to the West Highland Way.
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| West Highland Way traveling along an old Rovers track through the Mamores. |
Ben Nevis' lower slopes came into view and we both expressed our disappointment at its unimpressive mass. Around the corner the higher slopes became visible taking away all our scorn. It would really be a climb and a half up it's slopes. Today would have been a perfect day for it, sunny and calm. Tomorrow it was predicted to rain which is considerably less helpful. Its not the prettiest mountain, not snowy peaks which I'd expected. Having just finished listening to 'Touching the Void' I'd worked myself up to expecting a miniature Everest glaciers and all.
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| Path winding towards Ben Nevis |
Parting from my companion I dropped off the trail down to Glen Nevis Campsite at the base of the mountain. It is a huge campsite, spread over several fields. I dropped into the campsite and having been granted signal, a rare treat, I was able to show them the email allowing me a free pitch. As I was two days early they kindly changed the dates on my booking and delivered another treat, for the first tome in two months, a resupply package actually reached me. I took everything to the higher fields and pitched. It was barely half two and I had the entire day ahead of me. I spent the afternoon hand washing my clothes, and enjoying the midget free sun, obviously it was too hot for them.
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| Ben Nevis |
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| Ben Nevis Campsite, path between Restaurant and Camp |
The young man from last night joined me for a few drinks in the Ben Nevis Campsite Bar which was lovely, although I left soon after to sort my own dinner out back in camp. Dehydrated scrambled eggs with ham is as nasty and bland as it sounds like but with the small sachets of salt from the camp shop and the left over bagels it was far from awful. The campsite filled up with cars and weekend campers, someone played a radio loudly while others set up BBQs. The couple next to me were testing out the hiking poles they'd just bought from the shop, the man explaining loudly that it should be the height of your hip and the woman nodding earnestly. Smiling I felt like patting my own poles in affection. I'd owned my diamond purple poles four years and couldn't have asked for more from them.
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