West Highland Way Journal

Quite a long day: Up at 6am – had a brief conversation with Billy, who had been trying to sleep, then headed off to Malvern for the 7.30 train. From the Lake District onwards I was sat opposite an old guy who had clearly been doing something outdoorsy. The lady sat next to him drew his fire until she got off at Carlisle. I eventually allowed him to strike up a conversation with me – before soon wishing I hadn’t. He was one of those who kept alluding to the exciting things he did and expected others to take an interest – I rarely do. He persisted in his efforts and I was eventually drawn into conversation after spending a long period chirping out vague responses and trying to avoid any real exchange. He was, apparently, a big outdoorsman – he made sure that I knew he was once considered one of the World’s best sea-kayakers. I am interested in sea-kayaking and most other activities in the outdoors, but I didn’t have much interest in prompting him to hear more. Eventually he cottoned-on that I was a hiker and asked if I used trekking poles. ‘No’, I replied. He said that was interesting [what kind of person finds interest in the fact that a total stranger doesn’t use sticks to walk??] and asked me why not. I answered that I felt them to be unnecessary for the act of walking (which is really more of a leg thing to me). He then asked me if I considered myself to have an ‘open mind’ or a ‘closed mind’. ‘Wide open’ was the gist of my response. He then put his fingers together, leaned back in his seat and took on the look of one about to impart ‘wisdom’ on a young apprentice. He then launched into a ten minute lecture on why poles are the best things in the World and why it would be foolish to even consider walking without them. Apparently, The ‘Pacer’ brand of poles are God’s gift (or more literally the gift of the lady that invented them, whom he apparently knew). When I tried to interrupt his spiel to question some of his rather debatable assumptions, he waved me down, told me to wait, and informed me that I would get my chance to speak when he was done… When I did, finally, manage to lodge my disagreement that using poles to walk was not ‘more natural’ than doing without, he informed me that I was being defensive (because my mind was closed to the ‘truth’ he was letting me in on). The resulting discussion went on a while – though I remained (surprisingly) good-natured throughout. His final gambit in trying to show me the error of my ways was to cite various ‘renowned’ outdoor-personalities who endorsed trekking poles - as though the weight of popular and ‘expert’ opinion would be all that was required to make me see the light [those who have read my ramblings on the ‘Gear’ page will be aware how this is not an approach I am sympathetic to]. Eventually he gave up his attempted conversion and congratulated me on the best argument he had yet heard for not carrying poles… I feel he missed the point somewhat – which is that neither I, nor anyone else, should be having to make any such argument in defence of what they do or don’t choose to carry on a hike. Despite his foray down a route that was never going to endear him to me [I would have loved to see Billy in the same position], he was well meaning enough and I didn’t mind guiding him across Glasgow to Queen’s Station as he did have some moderately interesting things to say for himself once past our initial hurdle.

Getting to Milngavie proved simple and I was on the Way and walking by 2.30pm. Initially, it was far from inspiring – the walk out of town is no more interesting than you’d expect a walk through any other town’s outskirts to be. Soon enough though, the scenery got better with some attractive hills periodically hoving into view. There was plenty of road walking and the Way itself has been very wide and flat so far. A lot of it has been somewhat unattractive, to be honest – though the forest I am camped in is more like it – not spectacular, but the pine trees - together with going through the motions of tarping, collecting water and cooking - triggered memories of 2003. I felt worryingly incompetent in my tarping – forgetting my knots (my dyslexic mind will never be good at that – I need to practice constantly). I have failed to find the ‘informal backpacking campsite’ listed on the map, so have just pitched up in the forest. I’ve lain on better ground, but I’ll survive. I stopped at 7pm today – it took me a while to get into a rhythm , but eventually the time and miles passed ok. Not sure exactly where to head tomorrow – I still can’t make sense of the conflicting advice regarding camping (on my map it states that wild camping is permitted along the Way, contrary to what I believed to be the case in Scotland in general). I may head to Doune Bothy if my legs feel good tomorrow.

It’s spitting with rain now – I think my shelter is adequate, but it will take a while for my confidence to return I think. I don’t relish the thought of having to perform a difficult pitch in bad weather at the moment… I think I’d be reassured by having Billy here – he doesn’t have quite such a slapdash approach to camping as I do. At least I feel warm enough in my sleeping bag so far.

Day 2 – Benjamin Corr and the Bothy of Doune

Miles: 22
Total: 38
Location: Doune Bothy

Stayed dry last night, though got cold towards dawn. Awake at 7am and didn’t fancy moving until my breakfast Pop-Tarts kicked in and I warmed up enough to leave my bag. Made good time on the trail and legs felt fine all day. The scenery was impressive – contrary to yesterday’s. The walk alongside Loch Lomond was especially enjoyable – kind of like a scaled-down White Mountains crossed with Maine. The Way became less of a motorway, though there was still little elevation change bar a couple of minor climbs.

My figuring of where this bothy is was wrong – I got confused between Inversnaid and the other place beginning with an ‘I’ on the map [Inverarnan]. Was here at 4.30pm after a much shorter than expected day. I would have hiked on, but felt fairly tired and the weather is grim – I didn’t especially relish the thought of camping in the wind and rain when I didn’t have to so on the sleeping platform of this bothy – which happens to be filthy. The place is full of garbage and is just plain dirty. I’m alone so far. Have decided to hostel the rest of the way – according to Jake, the weather is going to worsen and I don’t have confidence in this sleeping bag down near zero anymore – let alone like the idea of trying to find a decent place to pitch up in the remainder of the Way. I will call some places when my mother gets back to me with some numbers – thankfully there is perfect signal here! Shame I can’t find any radio stations – I’d have like to have heard the weather forecast. I think today’s fare of rain interspersed with brief breaks of watery sunshine may be as good as it gets. The appeal of yo-yoing is diminishing somewhat – the thought of retracing my steps isn’t an exciting one, and if it will involve fighting the weather I may just not have the appetite. Plan B is to stay Sunday night in Fort William and head to Jake’s on Monday. We shall see…

Day 3 – Ben and the heavy sleeper adventure

Miles: 21.5
Total: 59.5
Location: The West Highland Way Sleeper hostel – Bridge of Orchy

My mother came through with the numbers for the hostels and I called them this morning – very glad I did now. The weather was wet and cold all day – the ‘wet’ part included rain, sleet and snow – which is still falling heavily. The miles are going fine and I feel I could hike plenty more – a good sign for the PCT. I haven’t seen a lot of places that stood out as good camping locations today – a lot of the Way has been signed ‘no camping’ – I think they want you to stay in the pay campsites and I ain’t paying to lie on the ground – especially when the weatherman is still saying that it’s going to hit –6°C (19°F) at some point – I was cold enough last night and I doubt it dropped below 40°F. The thought of a 20°F drop does not appeal…

As soon as I had my accommodation booked, I felt easier – if camping was going to be a headache then I didn’t need it. I ditched the stick I was carrying as a tarp-pitching aid and hiked happily. A few miles before I reached Tyndrum, I met an older Canadian fellow, Rick. We chatted the remainder of the way to town and I was glad to have company – especially as he was a good sort – a semi-retired chemical engineer who seemed to spend a lot of his time travelling the World and hiking. He’d done two-thirds of the South-West Coastal Path and one day planned to hike the Appalachians, so we had plenty to talk about. He also has been finding the weather to be obnoxious. The combined wind, cold and damp really do put a chill through you. We ate lunch together at the Green Welly in Tyndrum before parting ways – he was staying in town, while I had two more hours to Bridge of Orchy.

Adding to the day’s fun was a lot of mud – mostly of the ‘mystery agricultural’ type. My shoes STINK now – it is Virginia revisited. At one point the Way was completely blocked by a huge mass of cows. I went to hike around them through the open field to the left, but the bull who was stood there gave me a look that made me uneasy. I went back to the path, vaulted the dry-stone-wall, and hiked on the other side until I was clear of the beasts.

The scenery remained wonderful today – the mountains are all snow-capped, which adds to their appeal. I’ve met two parties of Belgians today – all staying at this hostel (which is located on the platform of the railway station!). They seem nice people, but they speak Flemish, which is weird. Everybody I’ve met so far is doing half the daily miles that I am. I should definitely be finishing Sunday now. Tonight’s dinner was at the hotel – Haggis with neeps [turnips] and tatties [potatoes] with a side of ‘seasonal’ vegetables – I had no idea that courgettes [zucchini] were in season – in April, in Scotland. The Australian girl serving me had never eaten any of the food on the menu as she thought it sounded horrible. It was actually pretty good and I was even full by the end of it.

I hiked 8am to 4.30pm today with an hour for lunch. In bed before 8pm – the three pints of heavy [Scottish ale] I drank with my dinner should help me sleep. The snow seems to be settling…

Day 4 – Ben and the beast of Rannoch Moor

Miles: 21.5
Total: 80
Location: Blackwater Hostel – Kinlochleven

Went to sleep too early yesterday and spent a couple of hours awake in the middle of the night. Up and out by 8am again – the snow had settled and was still coming down as I hiked first thing. Hiking on the Rannoch Moor was very cool with snow all around. I saw plenty of deer on the moor – they seemed wilder and to have more about them than their emasculated Shenandoah cousins. A patch of blue was opening up in the sky and it was only a matter of time before the rising sun met up with it. When it finally did, it was spectacular. The scenery for the entire days was fantastic – I imagine it would have been impressive anytime, but with snow down and the sun up it made hiking a constant joy.

I chatted to a number of people today – mostly people heading South. All of the exchanges were very jolly and centred on the beautiful walking the day was giving us. Some of the mountains were very appealing and it would be nice to come back and climb them one day. As it was, the day gave the first real sustained climb of the Way to date – the ascent of the ‘Devils Staircase’. This was a switch-backed 1000ft (maybe) climb that wasn’t unduly taxing, but did give yet more wondrous views. The snow was pretty deep up top and a lot of it had turned to slush underneath the crust. I didn’t mind getting my feet wet though – anything to try and get rid of this funk. It has developed into the exact same smell we had in Virginia and I dread standing still for too long – I expect nightmares tonight as all my socks are laid out next to my bunk to dry – it reeks. Why eat cheese when you can inhale it?

I came into Kinlochleven after a long descent on the other side of the ‘Staircase’. Six huge pipes carry water down the mountainside to the aluminium works/power plant in town. I’m staying tonight in the Blackwater hostel, which really is very nice. I was excited because I’d heard there was a fish ‘n chip shop in town and could think of nothing else for the last few miles – it has shut down for four days, presumably just to spite me. Rather than eat another pub meal, I cooked my pasta in the kitchen here. I chatted to a woman I’d seen a couple of times before. Apparently people have been speculating about how cold my ankles must be (today I didn’t quite break out the shorts, but I was wearing my ankle socks). She quizzed me about my good pace and I told her I was hiking the PCT this year – she had read about it in Jardine’s book – that thing has gotten everywhere. She gave me tea bags and I enjoyed a cup of char. I went to the Co-Op in town for desert and fruit, but failed to visit the town’s brewery before it shut for the day – apparently they’d been handing out free samples.
Like most of my fellow hikers, I’ve gotten sunburnt today! I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but then I remembered that it is courgette season here after all…

Day 5 – The taste of victory is…greasy

Miles: 15
Total: 95
Location: Bunkhouse in Corpaich nr Fort William

A night of crazy dreams. Bed was comfortable enough and others’ snoring wasn’t too bad. Up before 8am, had a cup of tea and headed out to knock off the final miles – some gentle climbing, then miles of hiking along the side of a valley. Impressive scenery again – albeit slightly less so than yesterday. The weather held fair until a few miles from Fort William and I was able to hike in shorts for most of the day and even did away with my jacket for a while (though I still wore two shirts) – until I turned a corner and was hit by the icy wind again. My ankle hurt a little at the beginning of the day before clearing up. Towards the end though, it really started playing up badly and I’ve been limping since. It’s just as well I finished today. I came across a southbound church-group today who were carrying a large wooden cross between them – they were on a pilgrimage to Iona and wanted to get there with the cross for Easter. They were good natured enough to smile pleasantly at my tasteful witticisms about them looking like they were off to lynch some poor sod.

The final six mile section was through forest before beginning the long descent into Ft William, with Ben Nevis finally looming impressively into sight. I had a few more mini-blizzards to contend with before I trudged into town on the road and reached the end-marker for the obligatory photo. This time my dreams of fish ‘n chips weren’t to be thwarted and I loaded up with greasy fare to celebrate a job well done.