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 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 58 - Inverarnan to Bridge of Orchy 18.5 Miles

  There are some advantages to been surrounded solely by hikers, every one else get up early and

there is no need to fear waking your neighbor. I was, however, much more practiced at packing up and rejoined the trail alone, for a time at any case. The path is wide and stony, flat until you reach Sheep Creep and cross over the A82. You dip under the road and begin a rather rough climb up through Breadalbane, skirting the ridge over Crianlarich and heading north west towards Auchtertyre. On this section I was accompanied by an ex police officer. Without a heavy backpack however I couldn't keep up and elected to have a break, walking the rest of the way to Tyndrum alone.
  A lot of today was a little dull, quite 

Three temporary companions on the road to Bridge of Orchy

  Tyndrum is yet another town whose shops and cafes are designed to cater for the masses of hikers which travel through, not very character filled but efficient. I had a very tasty soup and roll in a canteen style cafe before wondering through the outdoor shops in search for stove gas and snacks. Most people stopped here for the night so the next section was much clearer, the slopes gentle with the landscape opening up around me. The path follows a railway track for several miles, stunning slopes on either side all the way to Bridge of Orchy.  I began to talk to three guys on this road, a rather fun bunch who were overtaking me.

Wild camp over the hills around Bridge of Orchy

View from the tents flap

    Unsure where I wanted to camp I decided to stop before the town, the slopes seeming to have a series of plateaus with little creeks flowing down the slopes. It wouldn't take much of a climb to be out of sight with a stunning view and running water. I trudged up thirty or so meters before settling for a place where I could be pretty sure no one bellow would see. I pitched and suddenly felt on top of the world, the tent elevated high enough to keep away the midges.
After soaking my feet in the stream I simply sat and enjoyed the peace a solitude, eating the dry packed risotto and my daily supply of vitamin C soluble tablets.
  Wild camping remains daunting to me, but they also remain the
best nights on the trail when I felt the most free and strong. The soil here was nearly as wet as last night but the moss covered the worst and my tent, this time, was placed with a lot more care. My EasyAcc battery charged my phone so I was ready for the next day, and sitting back I read my book with the flap open and the Scottish Highlands at my feet.

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 53 - Pentland Hills to Linlithgow

  The first two hours of last night were spent with me either frozen or having a heart attack when I thought someone might be approaching. It would be one thing to be found on a bunk in an official bothy and quite another to be lying in the center of the room on the table. At one point there were loud bangs outside the door and shuffling desperately out of my bag I inched towards it arranging my best welcoming but guarded expression. Subconsciously or not I'd also made a note of exactly where I'd put my knife. When no one entered I finally tensed and opened the door scaring a whole lot of poor sheep seeking shelter under the bothies porch.

Pentland Hills

  These were not my only visitors I had that night and between very little bouts of sleep I spent a

Bothy in the Pentland Hills

good deal of time throwing my sandals, pieces of clothing and small objects at the rats who were eating my food and climbing onto the table beside me. As I'd grown up having rats as pets I couldn't bring myself to throw things directly at them and was simply aiming to scare away. They would shuffle off but within half an hour they would be back and I would be woken my the scuffling and movement of my food bags as they broke through the packaging. Then I was too hot, then the table underneath the crappy foam mat was painfully hard. I have a lot of built in padding but I couldn't lie on my side without my leg going numb, or bones digging into me. Never has my small tent looked more comfortable. Next bothy I see I'm walking straight on by.
  Unsurprising I left earlier than usual, finding my half eaten wraps with bite marks along the rim as proof of last night's visitors. Once I left the place I felt myself instantly relax, and the weight on my shoulders ease- ironic as I'd just donned my sack. I climbed back to the path and felt suddenly euphoric, possibly because of the lack of sleep. I'd also not quite realized that last night I was actually scared and it wasn't till I was far enough away that I admitted just how much.
  The Cross Boarder Drove Road (CBDR) carried on down the hills to Harperrig Reservoir, an easy path with some pretty views. Phone signal reached me which was a lovely surprise and I took the chance to ring home and catch up on events. At Harperrig I found an outside tap and refilled my now empty water bag, I felt a little guilty at stealing the water but I wasn't going to knock on peoples doors at 8am and risk waking them up. This diversion, mainly caused by the large number of cows on my original route, meant I left the CBDR earlier than intended. From here I followed a series of roads, and worked hard not to be run over by the ridiculously fast cars passing. One upside is that Stephan Fry was on Desert Island disks and utterly charming, keeping me entertained for the next 45 minutes. Made friends with a few horses although the biggest wouldn't come and meet me.
  Next I joined the Leyden Road for several miles before taking a break in yet another garden center for a sausage and bacon bun and a rather good milkshake. Then a short but pretty stint high up along the Union Canal and a horrible struggle through the Industrial Estate on the edges of Broxburn. It was a rough area too, and I spent a while stumbling around a dump/bike park trying to re-find the path. When the route went into an over grown field I groaned thinking back to my struggles through the farm land on the edge of Bridgewater a month ago. I saw the land raised two or so meters on the edge of the field and I decided to scramble up through the brambles to have a look. The canal came into view before I reached the top and a lovely flat path running alongside it.
  I struggled on but found the next 8 or so miles long, painful on my souls and
boring. This is very unfair as the canal is actually very pretty and the land around it charming. It was, however, a relief when I reached Linlithgow. A big Tescos provided me with a range of reduced foods for dinner, a bean salad, a slice of quiche and a potato salad. After a rather long walk through town and up to the campsite I dropped my stuff and knocked. No answer but after consulting with a caravan person I pitched my tent and showering collapsed down for dinner and an episode of two of Buffy.  The M9 is along the campsite and loud, even with the empty caravan sits blocking a little of the traffics roar. Just a few more days the West Highland Way!