Day 62- Gairlochy Lock to Fort Augustus 23.5 Miles

Clouds hung low above Loch Lochy just after leaving camp

  After yesterday's low I woke determined to set get today's stretch underway early and get some distance done no matter how hard I'm struggling. There is another wild campsite just a few miles before Fort Augustus which would be my aim today, 20 or so miles ahead. For the first section I'd be

Clouds clearing over the loch, view from Bunarkaig road

Road through Bunarkaig along Loch Lochy

skirting Loch Lochy, never on the actual shore but dipping up and down through the logging plantations stretching up it's banks. The track is mostly dirt till the end of the loch, there the water narrows near Laggan and path becomes more solid. Then you have the length Loch Oich to walk, this time along a flat and handsome bike track, then another stint along a canal like path all the way to camp. No navigation needed, its another day where I can tune out and let my feet do the work.
  Midges were rampant when I woke. I scrambled from my tent and quickly packed up, using the picnic bench to organize my things. As I packed the last of it two canoes were carried into the clearing. Four guys had been camping in hammocks in the woods. They were canoeing the entire Great Glen Way, wild camping along the way. I exchanged a few pleasantries before leaving them lowering their boats and things back into the water.
  From camp the path stays on the left of the loch, rising above a houses and along a road through Bunarkaig, and Clunes. Clunes Forest is a nice sheltered walk, the ground covered in moss creating quite intense shades of green. I passed more people along this stretch, two girls making coffee and drying their things, a couple of bikers as well as a runner and her friendly dog. No other long distance hikers.
  Laggan Locks seemed to have a campsite beside it, although its not on the map, and I eyed their toilet facilities. As I crossed over the the southern side of the loch I saw the canoeists from earlier today, they seemed surprised to see me again and I felt myself become a little more energized. I had someone to beat.

  Great Glen Water park was the first chance for a toilet break and bike to eat. I popped in and ordered food before going straight to the toilets. Its only a slip of a restaurant with paper napkins covering lousy tables but it did the trick. When I rejoined the Way it went along a very straight clean bike trail. Having a sinking bout I played a lot of Beatles and sung along happily enough. The weather was fine and I was making good progress.

View from the north coast of Loch Lochy

   Cullochy was a lovely section, once again squeezed between a river and the canal. Although I'd walked 20 miles I still felt relatively fresh. I spotter the canoeists one last time stretching their backs and legs looking pretty much done it. No surprise, I think I could row for about ten minutes in the gym before stopping.

On the top corner of Loch Oich

  Kyltra Lock was lovely, the buildings covered with handing baskets and Loch machinery enclosed in retro style shed. One thing it didn't have was toilets or any real sheltered spot I could squat. I stopped and considered it but when the rain lashed down chose to continue on the last 3 miles to Fort Augustus. The last hour wasn't at all bad just wet. When the rain finally came it poured it down. At Cumberland's Loch Ness Campsite I sat in a shelter for a while waiting for the rain to lessen, when it seemed to get even heavier I gave up and leaving my bag found a pub to dry off in. When the break in the cloud finally came I ran back to pitch. It only took me a few minutes and leaving it wondered into town in search of supplies. I hanged out in the campsite pub that night but wasn't very impressed with the place, stupidly expensive and not worth the trouble, some locals soon came in and proceeded to be so loud that I no longer felt comfortable. I talked to the bikers nearby but soon walked back to camp and washing pulled myself into the sleeping bag.

Cumberland's Loch Ness Campsite

     

  

Day 61- Glen Nevis to Gairlochy Lock 12.5 Miles

   Today was rubbish. Woke up feeling desolate and finished the day exhausted after 12 or so miles when I'd planned to walk 20. Yesterday was pretty much a rest day and while today's scenery wasn't the best I'd stridden through much worse without blinking an eye. A week's worth of companionship came, to put it simply, to bite me in the ass. Everyone got to go home and I was suddenly walking alone again starting yet another trail with more than two hundred miles left to walk. As I passed the transition  for the very first time I was tempted to buy a ticket and go home. Diverting my eyes I carried on. Urgh.

Trains from the station, wonderfully old fashioned and tempting

  I woke up to rain, which probably didn't help, and ferried my things to the toilet block shelter to pack them up. Practiced by now I did it all without thinking much, ducking into the toilets to retrieve my EasyAcc external battery which was once more fully charged. On the way out of camp, which was already bustling with people determined to walk to Ben Nevis, I stopped in the shop and bought a lemonade, as well as a bacon roll from the burger van outside. That was breakfast sorted.
  On the road into Fort Williams I spotted the man from yesterdays and stopped to wait for him, walking the last stretch of the trail together and going to explore Old Inverlochy Castle before he caught his train back down to Bath. It was quite a way to the Castle, through a  council estate and across a river. Its a pretty ruin, the grandeur still evident, the walls impressive masses. From there I bid him goodbye, mumbling something in-distinctive when he complimented my venture. Never know what to say, usually settling for something like "you've walked a week right? well the rest is repetition." I wondered whether I should have added him on Facebook o made some sort of signal of friendship but as he made none I left it alone. A three day long friendship has its virtues, plus he was buggering off home.

My companion at the Old Inverlochy Castle

Road after Neptune Stairway

  From the ruined castle I crossed over River Lochyand along a rather horrible A road to Neptune's Stairway, a series of lochs raising boats to the Caledonian Canals. The path for hte next few miles is nestled between the canal and the River Lochy running to my right. I say path but it was close to a single lain road in width, the ground flat and even but rather unpleasant under your feet: too hard to use hiking poles effectively. Even when it changed to stones it didn't make comfortable walking. The boats along the bangs were very different from the canal barges of England, these were closer to ships, mass in size. 

Caledonian Canal to the left and River Lochy to the right

Camp

  As my mood, as I might have already hinted at, was dour I struggled and stopped a few too many times. I passed a bunch of people sat waiting on the bench for a bridge to be put in place so that they could cross the canal, and stopping I talked for a while trying to steal some energy from their admiration with little success. No one else was visible all day except the people taking boating holidays and the soles that manned the waterways and opened the locks for them. 
  I was tired, bored and aware that while I was walking down this long straight path Murray was playing in the third round of Wimbledon. At the Gairlochy lock I gave up, dumped my bag and set up camp. Along the Great Glenn Way there are areas you're allowed to camp for free, and due to a very kind cleaner I also had access to the water ways toilet facilities including showers and wash basins. It was a lovely camp, and having arrived at 3 in the afternoon I had most of the day to enjoy it. I sat around and listened to the radio in the hope of catching snippets of the tennis news but soon fell asleep in my tent, waking at about 6. A couple of canoeists set up a sent a little further along the bank but otherwise I was left in piece. 

Gairlochy Lock Wild Camping Site, on the edge of Loch Lochy- the block across the water is the shower and toilets

Okay...not the worst scenery. Just takes perspective to realize just how stunning it is.

   Fed on a 'just add water' packet of tomato pasta and Parmesan I watched a few more episodes of Buffy before going to sleep. Angel (the vampire boyfriends- for those who've not watched Buffy) had just turned evil and was trying to kill her, I took comfort in the fact she was also fed up. Ten miles short on my target tomorrow promised to be equally disheartening. 

The view at 9:30 o'clock at night, the sin still bright

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 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. 

Day 49 - Jedburgh to Galashiels 21.5 Miles

  Once again I've pushed my body long enough that it is now desperate for a day off. I woke up to the rain and wondered whether I should simply drift back to sleep and hang out here for the day. Ten minutes later I still found myself packing up. Melrose was a simple 14 or so miles away, there would be a long line of shops and museums for my day off.

Suspension Bridge over The Hutches

  Rain lessened slightly allowing my to roll up my tent and wrap my rain cover over the pack. As I left I was joined by Janet, the other End to Ender, and we walked the first ten on so minutes together. I wished a little that she was heading my way as I believed she was the type of companion I would enjoy. I took the lane going past New Mill Farm to rejoin the Roman Road and after a short bit of twisting along and across the river Hutches by means of a very handsome wire bridge it straightened out again

Historical sites along the St Cuthberr's Way

into a six foot wide track enclosed by stone walls. Most of today's walk would be along the St Cuthberr's Way and because of this I met a few B&B hikers walking it.
  About this time I heard an interview on BBC4 with the author of the Sharp series, and finding him rather slimy but charming decided to buy and download the first book in his series the next time I found some free WiFi.
  A large part of today is paved roads between small towns. Boswell was the first. I looked for a cafe but finding none ate too many sugary things and made myself feel a little sick. Just before Newton St Boswell two kilometers later I popped into a garden center and bought some soup. A few miles along a disused road called Bolgleburn Strip and I was entering Melrose. There is something very strange about a shut off road, and I confess I had a few flashes to Walking Dead which I enjoyed.
  Before Melrose you have to cross under an A road and twist along several others before you reach the center. Small towers marked the entrance to the town and the high street seemed charming. I figured I'd set up camp and come back after, this was until I found the campsite cost £12. If I took my day off here it would cost me £24 which was too much and, less than graciously, I retreated. Picking up some groceries from the Co-Op I headed out. I'd stop and have a drink of some sort at Galashiels before wild camping above the town. The path to Galashiels is yet another two or so miles of dull pavements and a cycle path around a hospital and along a newly laid railway track.

Looking back down towards Galashiels

  At Galashiels I stumbled over a trading park with giant Tescos and Asda. I popped into both searching for earphones. For the last three weeks I'd been walking with only one earphone working, and that in the last day or so that too had also started to play up. I also restocked my supplies and bought some chicken for dinner. Last task before leaving to attempts to refill my water bladder. Tesco's water was off so I sheepishly crossed the road and approached a shopping clerk in New Look who kindly obliged.

View from my Wild Camp

  The roads up out of the Old Town are of Galashiels is steep and I found myself lost and trapped in the Academy grounds. I walked around towards the tennis courts where two girls helped me out, teenagers playing with roller blades. They also confirmed something that Janet said, another hiker had passed them today and since this was far from a national trail it was probably another End to Ender. I kept my eyes open but saw no sign of him.
  Exhausted I took the first chance to stop and change into my sandals in the hope it would refresh my feet. People seemed to be gathering in the field bellow, cars were parking and there were even parking attendants. I worried that they'd guess I was camping nearby as it was already nearly 8. That said the first hiding place I found I stopped. I reached a clump of trees a kilometer of so after the field called 'Earthwork (course of)' encircled by a broken stone wall. I scrambled over and climbed higher up away from the path until the view of the town opened up below me. Apart from the rather nasty task of clearing the grass of sheep excrement it was a lovely scenic spot with great views and my camp hidden on all sides. Settling down I hate a late dinner before tucking myself into my sleeping back and attempting to go to sleep. Sheep spent a great deal of the night calling to each other which was part of the reason I remained awake till late into the night, but also I kept hearing a voice on a loud speaker down below. It must have been from the field I'd passed but unable to make out what was been said I still didn't have a clue what they were up to. It was nearly midnight when I finally dropped off.

Day 46- Haltwhistle to Belligham 23 Miles

 My fears over waking those near me proved unfounded as the couple beside me woke beforehand and were also packing up. By eight I was set to go and made the brief climb back up to the lane heading into Haltwhistle. A farmer was herding the sheep in the nearby field as I passed, one dog running alongside while the other stood balanced on the boot of the quad.

Bellister Castle in Haltwhistle

  Walking along the roads I had my usual healthy breakfast of bourbon biscuits and listened to loud
music in the hope that the sugar and the beat would energize me to tackle what would be a hard days walk. Bellingham is 23 miles from the campsite, mainly through logging forests but also across boggy moors and a few miles along Hadrian's Wall. I remember, last time I walked this stretch I reached camp quite exhausted just after dark around 10pm.

Leaving Haltwhistle behind

Hadrian's Wall

  Once through Haltwhistle, and passed all the kids heading to school, I made my way into the hills to cover the few miles to Hadrian's wall. The path is a little deceptive and I wondered in zigzags staring at my GPS location. I was listening to a new author called Nevada Barr, first person narrative crime fiction, centered around an outdoor ranger in the American Rockies. Narrative voice far too girly for me, lots of rhetorical questions and thought processes.
  Once I reached Twice Brewed I popped into the tourist information center for a cup of tea and a change to quickly boost my Ipod battery. They were showing a documentary on boat building in the region and I enjoyed a brief break watching it and writing postcards.
  I forgot just how pretty Hadrian's Wall was, hard work and crowded but really pretty.  Having joined it only at Twice Brewed it was also a very short visit and within an hour I was already descending down to Ridley Common, past Broomless Lough and into the woods. Since the rain had been falling over the last week the path slabs were under a few inches of water. I accidentally stepped off one and found my food sinking to the thy into water bog. The foot didn't even hit the bottom. With my balance already committed I fell fully on my left knee and the backpack did the rest of the work landing me straight on my face.

  I lay face down for a few seconds in several inches of water as my body checked itself over. Once my inventory was completed I found the rucksack weighed considerably more now that it was mostly
against my neck, and as my foot had been underwater for several seconds I could feel water entering my boot. A lovely situation. I prioritized getting my foot out the water and crawling to my feet shrugged the rucksack back into place and glanced behind me towards Hadrian's Wall to see if anyone witnessed my performance.
  Using my poles as guides I made painfully slow progress across the path, constantly checking to see the exact position of the slabs and avoid another fall. My trusty Keen boots seemed to have kept the majority of the water out and while my trousers were muddy all the way to the upper thy nothing was hurt. For a second, when I fell, I saw images of smashed knees so I considered myself lucky.
  The rest of the day was uneventful and a little dull. I diverted from the Pennine Way a little and instead of struggling across Haughton Common I stuck to the logging paths. I was still left with a rather deep and long puddle to cross before Shepherdshield but on the whole the track was dry and clear. Once I left the shades of the forest I took the shortest and easiest route over the farm land into Bellingham.

Last stretch towards Bellingham

  Nearer the town I talked to a gentleman for a while, 50 year old cyclist here for a weekend race. I felt a little uneasy about him but we parted ways soon enough and I made my way to the Co-Op and then camp. A noticed another hikers tent but saw no sign of the occupants. Made myself a rather good chorizo noodle soup thing and read a little of the book, although it I were being honest this was mainly to impress the very attractive camper who past me. He also sat outside him tent and read, not that I watching. No car but the chair suggested he'd not be walking along with me tomorrow. Quite a pity.

Day 44- Dufton to Garrigill 16 miles

From the very first day of my walking Land's End to John o'Groats I'd dreaded today's challenge. Having had such great weather over the course of the last week my trepidation had lifted. In good weather you're meant to see a long way from the top of Cross Fell.It is the highest point of both the Pennine Way and the End to End and you'd have earned it having climbed from 160 meters to just under 900 within 9 miles on open moor land.

  I woke to rain and as I climbed out of Dufton along Hurning Lane was forced to concede that the weather forecast was correct and I'd be forced to tackle rain, mist and winds- just like last time. The climb wasn't so bad, I trudged very slowly but with no breaks and was shocked at how much easier I found it. As I began to get higher the wind picked up and visibility dropped to five or so meters. With my boots on my back dry and protected my feet remained exposed in my sandals. For a large part of today my feet were deep in water and bogs and it was inevitable that I slipped and fell flat on my face at least once. When it did happen it was dramatic but quick and relatively painless. My mood was more affected than anything else, and my left half was now covered in mud. At some point the wind had also ripped away my sack rain cover and my once protected boots were steadily been soaked.

   By the time I skidded down Cross Fell I was shacking with cold, soaking wet and desperate to escape the winds. I reached Greg's Hut and struggled to write in the blog book because my hands were too cold. In this shelter I cooked myself some soup and dipped my last two wraps into it. Food helped a lot and I left feeling considerably warmed. I can imaging Greg's Hut having saved a few lives, it's still high at 700 meters but sheltered from the wind has a wonderfully welcoming feel. Other hikers have left a mountain of things, soups, lighters and snacks. The path down is easy enough. The first time I did it, two years ago, it shredded what was left of my feet but they've toughened over the last few weeks. In the Hut I changed into my boots.

  At reaching Garrigill my earlier weariness had lifted and I was tempted to walk on but with no certain destination and a free camp behind the hall I dropped my stuff and pitched my tent. By this point I was out of food except for a packet of instant mash, the pub wasn't open and the post office was also shut when I reached town at 4:30. The only upside to a far too Spartan night was a basket of moisturizers in the ladies toilets- although I'm unsure if they had any affect when layered over several millimeters of grime.