Day 60 - Kinlochmore to Glen Nevis 13 miles

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.

Kinlochmore falling down into the valley as I climb

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.

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.

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.

Ben Nevis

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.  

Day 59 - Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven 22.5 miles

Loch Tulla

Morning view from camp on the base of Beinn Dorain

  I woke up and stared out my tent with awe, the landscape I was camped in even more stunning than the day before. Although I'd already taken dozens of photos I clicked a few more just in case before packing up and making my way back to the path. 
  The path shortly arrives into the town of Bridge of Orchy, the route going through and under the

Glen Orchy River

trains station before reaching the center. Here was my first stop, ten minutes after starting. I bought some tea and downloaded my next load of 'Desert Island Discs' using their WiFi, filled up my water from the tap outside and used the facilities.
  The road goes around the hotel and across the Glen Orchy river before running up into the slopes over Loch Tulla. Across the river there is a patch of grass for campers with a few tents pitched near the picnic table. Listening to Whoopi Goldberg's desert Island discs I trudged my way through the woods. The view was stunning, the Loch stretched out away from me as I descended down towards the Forest Lodge. At the bottom a quaint looking cafe tempted me but having walked barely 4 miles and stopped once already I continued on, smiling at the group of hikers already assembled in the cafe's courtyard.

Rannoch Moor

  You follow the road around the Loch before going past a house and through a little wood a you begin the climb towards the Black Mount. Having switched to music I didn't hear the walker approaching my side and yelped in fright as he joined the road a few feet from me. He didn't say anything but walked back the way I'd come so shrugging I continued on.

Silhouetted figures on Rannoch Moor

  The moors of Black Mount are breathtaking and I found myself nearly bouncing along the path. The hills were getting higher and higher, pointed spikes in the land with snow tucked into their crevices. An intricate stretch of lochs covered Rannoch Moor, streams from the hills cascading down the slopes to join them. A few more hikers were about but the path was refreshingly bare, wild camping seeming to have giving me some breathing space to enjoy my surroundings. God Scotland is beautiful.

  I passed a few signs of wild campers and half wish I'd carried on to this place but yesterday's walk would have been too long. As I approached the end of the moors I saw a row of hikers sat on a slope

silhouetted by the sky. For a moment I watched them slightly enviously, thinking of my own friends and how great it would have been to have them with me, but carrying on began my descent towards the A82. On the way down I chatted to the two Americans with the Australian photographer, he was grumbling about the hotel they stayed at, then attempted to persuade me I should walk Cape Wrath instead of carrying on along my own trail- in a self important rather than creepy fashion. I declined and was happy when the woman in the group took over the conversation while he took some photographs, explaining loudly as he did so about the composition and what it takes to take a great photograph. Looking at the stunning land around me I figured it was little to do with him and more to do with geography.

View near Glencoe Mountain Resort, just after descending from Rannoch Moor

  It was two when I reached King's House Hotel and stopping looked for something for lunch, trying to avoid the usual greasy bowl of fries. I failed but enjoyed my failure. A luggage carrying service rolled up while I ate outside and I watched the hordes of suitcase been transported from place to place while clutching mine protectively to my leg.

Fords Old Military Road towards Devil's Staircase

  I spotted a young man I've seen from day one and since I'd not talked to him yet introduced myself. He seemed shy but friendly. We didn't walk together but I was glad I no longer had to pass him with  a muttered hello and could actually talk. I was finally beginning to enjoy the camaraderie of this walk.
  I'd been warned by the three guys yesterday that the next section was challenging, the Devil's Staircase steep and unceasing. As the path to it was gentle enough I was still full of energy, switching 'Desert Island Discs' over to yet another run of the Gladiator's soundtrack. With Stob nan Cabar and Stob Dearg behind me I had rewarded enough for my efforts as I scrambled up towards the gap between Beinn Bheag and Stob Mhic Mhartuin. Devil's Staircase zigzags a lot easing the progress but I still stopped a number of times.

View half way up Devil's Staircase, looking back towards Stob Dearg

  At the top I passed the figures I'd seen sat silhouetted earlier on the moor. They were younger than I thought, three girls and three boys. I took their photo and was happy to get my own done before starting the last stretch Kinlochleven. It might be the last section, and mainly down hill, but it takes

Path back up to Beinn Bheag

it's time. Still on a high from the day's views I didn't mind so much, beginning to chat to one of the girl of the party about literature- she'd just graduated from doing a BA in English Lit.
  Kinlochmore is one of the larger towns on the trail, deep deep in a valley with the River Leven running through it into Loch Leven. I considered the first campsite but it was packed, midges everywhere. I could see the girl who'd camped beside me the first night, as well as the three guys I'd talked to yesterday. Stopping for a debrief I continued on through town, popping in to the co-op for a lot of food and tried the other camp. This was much more my cup of tea, a pound cheaper, stunning views of the Loch and a pub to recharge batteries and watch the Tennis.

Fords Old Military Road, Black Water Reservoir in the distance

  I pretty much swallowed the sandwich in my rush to get back in the bar and watch the last set of Nadal v Brown. I missed it by moments, Nadal loosing. The young man I'd talked to at the King's House Hotel joined me and we talked for some time about music and what not. He was doing a PhD in laser physics. At nine I made my back to the tent, waving my hands like a crazy person around my head to dislodge the midges. There were hordes of them. After a shower I went to bed, satisfied and happy after possibly one of the best days of the entire trek.

Day 57- Milarrochy to Inverarnan 20 Miles

  Hoping to stay ahead of the hoards I left early, leaving the camp a little before eight and marching the kilometer or so along the road before ducking back into the wooded coastal path. Mist was heavy

across the Loch creating a wonderfully aery view. A head of me there was already another hiker within five minutes, but as he seemed to walking in zigzags I overtook him quite quickly. A forty something year old struggling with a heavy looking pack on, what I suspect, was his first attempt at a long distance walk. We talked a little while, seemed friendly enough but as he spoke little English conversation was difficult. I eventually bid him goodbye and walked on. The first slope was hard on still asleep legs, small foot steps easing the progress a little. The ground after was much easier, dipping and rising as an open dirt path. Probably struggled more than I remember but the route after lunch from Inversnaid makes it look like an easy stroll.

Loch Lomond in the early morning haze

  Unfortunately I'd camped in the first site along Loch Lomond and by the time I past the last one three miles later, Sallochy Forest campsite, the path was full of people again. Sallochy looked like a great campsite, little pods in the woods along the loch just like in Australia. No car parks and nothing but hikers everywhere you look. The sheer volume of people staggered me and I wasn't sure I liked it one bit, that said the group of men sat having breakfast weren't the worst companions I could wish for.
  Along the way four military type men overtook me carrying small packs, wearing camouflage trousers. They said hello friendly enough but they pace was just too fast. A little later I overtook a mass of walkers in a organized group holiday, muttering 'excuse me' and trying to squeeze through small gaps I slowly past. Near the front of the group I began to talk with a woman, a farmer on a holiday who'd never walked more than eight miles at once. I enjoyed her company but struggled to keep to the groups pace and eventually left them behind.

  At Inversnaid hotel I stopped for something to eat, the inside full of other walkers, a room to the left of the entrance nearly full of varied shaped backpacks. I had yet another bowl of fries along with a cup of tea before leaving. While collecting my pack I exchanged a few words with the soldier boys, discovering they were planning to walk the 100 miles of the West Highland Way in four days in preparation of a march abroad. Over the next hour we past each other a few times. I admired them, and in particular their leaders calmed assured manner. 
  From Inversnaid to Inverarnan the path never rose above two meters from the loch but its a hell of a work out full of ankle breaking descents and paths so narrow you have to climb around to get through with a backpack. Progress was horribly slow and not the slightest bit enjoyable. Very little of my memory of today included the loch, mostly I recall clutching on to trees and praying I didn't break my neck. It did strike me that this was indication enough that I should never try climbing mountains, struggling as I did two meters up.

Last stretch before Inverarnan

  Talked to yet another hiker, American on an extended bachelorette holiday before getting married in the Carrabian- some of those details I might be remembering wrong so don't quote me. When they stopped to stretch I carried on. The last few hills once the loch was finally set behind me were hard. With so many people I also felt unable to stop or relax at my usual slug pace. After 20 miles I was ready to collapse.
  Beinglass Farm Campsite finally came to my rescue and I trudged into camp at 4:45 eager to see  the tennis score and have a cold drink. There was a little awkwardness with the camping as it had been nearly three months since I emailed them but I was eventually allowed in without paying- since it normally cost £8 I was grateful. I pitched my tent without looking at the grass properly. Although the sun was blazing the grass was horribly water logged, water pooling around my feet every time I stood still and the patch around my tent already looking muddy after a few minutes of me walking around. I considered moving but it was too much effort and higher up only looked slightly better.

Beinglass Farm Campsite- before the majority of people arrived.

  Seeing Murray had won I got some supplies and cooked myself a meal, talking to two men from Sweedon about Federer and another couple from Poland about their plans. I was getting more comfortable with the large amount of people, in the last day I'd met more walkers than the entirety of England. Along the trail I was told by the two Americans with the Australian photographer (who I'd past yesterday and yet again today) that they'd encountered two Israelis. That evening when I heard Hebrew spoken on the table beside me I pounced on them. We talked for something like an hour. A lovely coupled traveling around Scotland, a first year teacher with his wife who was in her last year of studying a PhD in Jerusalem.
  The campsite although full quietened quite early. That said I struggled to get to sleep again, horribly aware how damp it. There was also a rather unpleasant smell I couldn't put my finger on, I'd checked both my boots and found nothing so settled for ignoring it. I did miss been the only tent in camp, there were close to thirty parked in this field alone. Tomorrow I hope to wild camp and get away from it all a while.        

Day 56 - Drymen to Milarrochy 10.5 miles

Even though I had a rest only four days ago I'd covered roughly 85 miles in that time and was flagging a little. The inconvenience of been unable to wild camp in the eastern shore of Loch Lomond turned into a blessing as I'd be stuck with either walking close to thirty miles to Inverarnan or ten or so to Milarrochy. I needed to wash my clothes in any case, charge my batteries and rest.

View approaching Loch Lomond, Clonic Hill in the distance

  I wound along the road for a few kilometers before going along the Old Military Road and joining a dirt track. Just after the road I stumbled on a few wild campers, and another load within the next ten minutes. Logging was taking place in volume here, carving up the landscape horribly. It did however allow for dramatic views of the loch which was fast approaching below. Soon there were several hikers ahead and behind me and I began to realize how truly busy this trail was.
  Competitiveness is a little ridiculous in a long distance hike, some of the best and most experience hikers I've met took their time, enjoying the land they were traveling to and clocking off the miles without counting. These things I knew. I also knew I'd rather die than let anyone over take me. As I left early it took a little while before the hordes joined in. Most were day walkers who'd parked in Balmaha and walked up to the three peaks of Clonic Hill which over look the Loch from 360 meters above.

Loch Lomond from Clonic Hill

  The climb up was made easier by passing another heavy ladened backpacker, a man in his 30s, and

desperately striding to keep ahead of him. Near the start of the climb I past three hikers with smaller packs two Americans and an Australia taking very elaborate photos- it made be badly miss my SLR. Near the top two tents marked a couple of wild campers, and the ton of rubbish they'd dumped around them. It angered me. When I wake up after wild camping I feel like that small patch of earth belongs to me and I owe it something, I wouldn't dream of damaging it.
  I paused as the main path went down, to my left there is a smaller more rocky path scrambling up the edge of the hill to the peak. It was another twenty meters and I remained out of breath. I must have stood there three or four minutes before trudging back and beginning to climb the last bit. If it took that long to decide then I'd regret it if I didn't and when I reached the top the decision proved the right one. The view was possibly the best on the entire hike.

Descending Clonic Hill

  Hundreds of people were about today, and walking down I noticed a large number of backpacks as well as family parties. Balmaha was at the bottom and after walking through the information centers I reached the town's version of a high street: a shop with a cafe on one side and a pub/hotel on the other.  The shop yielded snacks and meals, the hotel some cheesy chips. I was slightly unsettled by just how many hikers were there, every single resident seemed to be donned with varying sized packs and walking boots. Three younger men were sat outside the shop with their sacks lent back against the chair, eating snacks before shoving each other to their feet before continuing.

  In less than an hour I'd entered Milarrochy Bay Campsite and Caravan Club, only a little climb along the coast of Lock Lomond and a stint along the road before reaching the camp. The decent from Clonic Hill had made my legs shake badly, the jolting seeming to jolt the muscles and I reached camp tired through. Nearly out of charge I left my EasyAcc external battery at reception and loaded the washer with my clothes. Since I was short on battery I sat and read Master and Commander for an hour or two. The midges made the outdoors unpleasant so after I lay in my tent and listened to the reports from Wimbledon washed and cushioned on top of my freshly laundered and warm clothes. By night fall the section I was camped had another five or so small tents on it. One had the same Deuter backpack as me, which I pointed out to him in an excited geeky manner before even introducing myself.

Milarrochy Bay Campsite and Caravan Park

 

Day 54 - Linlithgow to Queenzieburn 25.5 miles

 Last night I debated leaving my tent in camp and catching a train back at the end of the day. There is no campsite between here and the West Highland Way, I have also been told that I would be passing through some of the poorer and rougher parts of Scotland. Yet the train would in total equal £14, plus the cost of another night at the campsite (£8) would be too much and I found myself packing up in the morning. I'm also dependent on the freedom my pack gives me to carry on as long as I want without been worried about not reaching the target.

Union Canal

Falkirk Tunnel

  The Union Canal was on top of a raise in the ground but once I'd reached it the entire day would be completely flat. Knowing this I set a quicker pace than normal eager to get some distance covered. From here there is very little to describe, the canal is pretty but for the first 10 miles the path consists of just that: a river style canal, sun, and either fences of crops of wood land on either side. At one point there is a 800 meter tunnel which was a little disconcerting, I used to ride through one of similar lengths in Bristol, but its very different walking though it at 2.5 miles an hour.
   The Falkirk Wheel is an impressive sight, grand in scale and full off sightseers. I stopped to look around a little, bought a bottle of ice tea and at some rubbish from my bag. From here I switched to the Forth & Clyde Canal and began to trudge onwards. My feet had already began to ache so I switched to my sandals.

Falkirk Wheel

  At Kilsyth I headed into town in search for some snacks before heading into the hills. 20 miles already complete I was foot sore, though my legs felt find after hardly having to climb a single hill. Liddle provided me with necessary nourishment and I kept an eye out for somewhere to fill up my water. The pub I was aiming for turned out to be burnt to the ground, a common problem it seems in Scotland. A man was using a hose to wash his bike and approaching him asked him to fill my water bladder.
  At Queenzieburn I began to climb towards the Gray Mare hills, up a very windy steep lane. It was actually a relief to be using my leg muscles a little. A man on his way down suggested I try the first farm to my left, drop his name and asked if I could camp on his land. This is something I should have done every time I wild camped. Bracing myself, hoping a woman answered the door I waited. An old man with a half full mouth answered and denied me. I left embarrassed and slightly upset even though he'd answered cordially enough. Seeing empty fields all around I felt rejection. I didn't stop at any other farms and struggled up another mile before starting to seriously look around for a camp.
  Once I reached Corne farm I circled back, climbed over a stone wall and wondered through the woods near Corrie Plantation. The land is steep and a lot of it boggy but I felt sheltered and secure that no one would stumble upon me. I planted my tent and crawled inside without eating much. As I did so rain began to fall and continued all night which is exactly what you most want when wild camping and are uncertain of the neighborhood. No one goes wondering around the hills in heavy rain. I knew I'd spend a lot of the night slipping down to the end of my tent, the patch I'd chosen was hidden and dry which I figured was adequate compensation against the gradient. I do miss my inflatable mattress though, this foam one is rubbish. I felt its inadequacy even more so since that my entire body was stiff from 26 miles walking with only a half hour break. 

Camp

Tent further away in the woods so that you can see just how hard it would be to spot me

From ten meter away its hard to see, from the path I wouldn't be able to see it

  

Day 52- Peebles to Pentland Hills 16.5 miles

Peebles drifting into the background as I climb up to Hamilton Hill

    I packed up slowly, stopping to talk to another camper for a little while and eating breakfast before leaving. My battery, unlike my last attempt, had charged completely which seems to reassure me. Knowing I can go several days without an electric socket and still have power for my phone and the maps on it seems to be something of a comfort blanket.

Hamilton Hill

  I carried on up Rosetta road from the campsite, climbing up through Standalane to the lower path around Hamilton Hill. Its only 150 meters but straight after the start its a bit of a slog. I ate a lot of biscuits and listening to loud music trudged up. A path along several fields before joining the Cross Borders Drove Road north. The lands very pretty here, the valleys and hills blocking all signs of people.
  Entering yet another logging plantation I found two people clearing the path from a fallen down trees, one with scrapes on his cheeks which looked painful. I scrambled through the edges of path, pulling a lot of branches out with me and walked on. It began to rain again and I rushed along the B7059 from Romannobridge to get into West Linton and a cafe.  On the road in I met an elderly gentleman who proceeded to tell me of the year he'd spent living out of his tent. He even offered me a down sleeping bag but declining I only received a rather awkward hug.
  The Olde Toll Tea House was the first place to catch me eye, a small cafe on the side of the road
with a small cottage feel and very little space. As I was pretty wet, as was my bag, I left it outside and ducked into the cafe. Its wonderfully cosy, and with a lot of character. I ordered a breakfast bun but spent a lot of the meal chilled. The weather might be wet but it was also very humid, and when asked the other couple they agreed it should remain open. I stayed quiet so there was no one to blame. Half way through I rushed outside to cover my pack with my raincoat to guard it from a fresh downpour.

 Cross Boarder Drove road along the base of Drum Maw

  A quick toilet break and stroll through town and it was back to climbing into the hills. A large group of hikers were assembled near the hotel and rushing on hoped they weren't heading in my direction. I was still yearning to remoteness and walking with a group of Duke of Edinburgh students was not my idea of this.

Wonderful gate house along B7059

  The rest of the walk was easy enough but I'd passed where Janet had told me I'd find the bothy in the with no bothie in sight. I was also short on water and was looking around in the hope of seeing a spare tap easily accessible. No luck, I'd just have to take care and refill first chance tomorrow. Its also Scotland, and they seem to have an abundance of fresh springs. Soon after I gave up on the bothy I noticed a faint path going down along a stream to my left. There was nothing in view but as Janet had told me the bothy lay out of sight I took the chance and followed it down a little way and discovered my objective. Boy do I wish I hadn't.
  It was still quite early and in broad daylight it was clear just how ramshackle this structure was. The floorboards were broken and inside there were no bunks or areas you can sleep on except a very hard table. What worried me more than this was the four pack of beers on the side suggesting someone might be returning, but none of the other gifts hikers often leave for the next lot through. Outside on the wall there were engraved names and dates going back decades.

Bothy, Pentland Hills

  I sat around and ate a large pack of salt and vinegar fish and chips crackers and read my book. Watched a few episodes of Buffy and in general had a relaxing afternoon with plenty of hours to spare after only 16 miles covered today. The weather turned chilly though and in the end I tucked myself in my sleeping bag
early. Even then it was cold, possibly because of the high roof and the lack of insulation which my small tent would have provided.