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 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!

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 48- Byrness to Jedburgh 21.5 Miles

Rain whipping through the Redersdale Forest

  With bad weather on its way I was up earlier than before and set off still not completely sure whether I was walking to Kirk Yetholm or leave the Pennine way for a more direct route. The other End to Enders were awake and packing up as I left. I spent a large portion of the morning waiting for them to catch me up but I never saw them again.

Looking down from Byrness Hill to the Northumberland National Park and the Catcleugh Reservoir

 The path goes straight along the River Rede before crossing into the hamlet, Byrness. A priest waved as I past. The climb up to Byrness Hill is a hard on, windy and steep. The last five meters to the top is quite a scramble, and horribly awkward with the rucksack. I also felt tired and worn out by the last few days, and even on top I seemed to struggle. What didn't help was the weather whipping at me in showery waves as the clouds were blown across my path. One minute I was shielding my face from the weather, the next I was sweating under layers of waterproofing.

Dere Street Roman Road

 When the decision on today's destination came the weather made it and I headed towards Blackhall Hill and the more direct route into Scotland and towards the West Highland Way. The hills down towards Langside Law are lovely rolling meadows, the path easy and wonderfully firm after the boggy moors. I stopped along a lane for breakfast and since I was overheating in earnest now pulled

off my rain trousers and coats. By the time I finished my sandwich it wasn't raining it was hailing painfully. I pulled back on my now damp trouser covers and hurried off. Head low under a hood I can't say I appreciated the landscape around me. I'd reached the Roman Road though and it was straight and puddle free. Along 'Dere Street' Roman Road I was chased my a herd of very excited calfs on the other side of the fence, further on there was another field with the biggest bull I'd ever seen in my life. This beast was nothing like the two year calfs I'd seen with rings in England, he towered over the others in the field, his front chest thrust out and thrown into relief by his small hind. If he was in a field I needed to cross I'd be willing to walk several miles around.
  The Roman Road carries on for the next 8 or so miles and while it is pleasant its also a little dull. Jedburgh, however, slowly came closer and I decided to make the 2km diversion towards the town and the campsite. I'd not checked online and just after I descended through Easter Ulston my heart sank to find an empty field where the campsite should have been. Wild camping no longer seemed at all desirable. I wanted a shower. In a grump I walked the last kilometers or so into town to grab some food. I felt truly drained and a little put out by my obviously outdated maps.
  Leaving my rucksack outside I bought a few overpriced items from the petrol station before wondering back out. As I donned my pack I spotted a sign across the road, the campsite!! There was one all along but the maps icon was simple one field off and to get to the entrance you needed to walk round along the roads. Even better it was a Caravan and Campsite Club which meant it would cost me no more than £6.20. An extra treat was that there was another End to End hiker there, a woman walking North to South full of interesting tips for the next stage of my journey. We talked for close to an hour before she received a phone call from her family and I wondered back to my tent for dinner.

Lane towards Jedburgh