West Highland Way

Quite proud of myself, getting the stove to work and everything. I have the easy trails and the beautiful weather to thank for my early success, really. I started the morning by walking Rebecca to the train station (first the wrong one, then the correct one). After a hug, Becca climbed on her train and went off to Edinburgh and the airport and New York and I went off in search of an outdoor equipment store so I could buy white gas (coleman fuel, its called here). Picked up groceries for the first few days of the walk, then hiked the quiet, empty streets of Glaglow to Kelvingrove park, where a trail on the river Kelvin led out of the city to the suburbs along shady banks. My pack was heavy and I wasn't used to the weight. Each time I put the pack down for a break I wanted to lay down and sleep too, since Becca and I had stayed up late the night before. I walked into the center of Milngavie (pronounced Mullguy, though you wouldn't guess that) and passed the obelisk that marks the start of the walk, but headed out of town in the other direction instead for the campsite. I was so glad to arrive. I smiled thinking of people at home while I sunned in the bed of yellow daffodils. I tried to light the stove but it leaked fuel and despite the sunshine my hands were too cold and numb to deftly ease off the piece I thought needed cleaning. I ate plums for dinner, leaving the stove problem for another day, and climbed into my tent. The night was cold and I stayed cold for most of it, usused to sleeping outside after weeks of relative comfort. After 6am the air warmed up and I could sleep.







I woke to bright light at 10am. I packed up as quickly as I could and caught a ride into town at 11 with a camper van. Had milk and hot cross buns and cheese for breakfast then took the obligatory West Highland Way photo with the obelisk. The little park near the town was the start of the trail. I talked to a woman I saw pondering trail signs and we ended up walking together all day. Laryma is German but lives in Glasgow. She told me all about the walks she has done in the areas surrounding Glasglow, like the Campsie hills. We passed (and were passed by) groups of older Scottish people out for a stroll. They liked to comment that I was well-laden. The trail moseyed over gentle hills and farmland, a distillery here, a pub there. We went right past the Beech Tree Inn, with beer garden-like tables buzzing with families enjoying the weekend sunshine. We stopped to enjoy the afternoon and a pint of cider. When I left my pack by the table to go inside to get my drink, I felt such a lightness without the load, like I could skip my way down the path. I heaved it back on my shoulders, though, and said goodbye to Laryma, who took a bus back to Glasgow. The evening was quiet as I walked past farms then country homes to a campsite called Easter Drumquhassle--quite a name. The sun was warm and I set up my tent quicker this time. I took pieces of the stove apart and I guess whatever I did worked because the fuel stopped leaking and I made potato leek soup and veg. cous cous for dinner. Later on, some Belgian boys came to the camp. I chatted with them until almost 9--the sun doesn't set until 8.30 so it is easy to loose track of the time. I went inside my tent to get warm and a noisy smelly group of Scottish men came up to the campsite. As I drifted off to sleep, snatches of conversations from both groups drifted over. I understood the French just fine but didn't get those Scottish accents! Thoughts on wilderness for the day: Laryma said she liked how Scotland was more wild than anywhere on the continent like Germany. The Belgian boys, on the other hand, wished that they had started the walk further on, because the fences and fields were not wilderness at all. For me, I like this farmland hiking if it means having a cold milk at the shop in the morning.





After an earlier morning at Easter Drumquhassle farm, I walked into Drymen where I bought fruit and chocolate milk and used the internet to buy my flights home. The trail took me past farmland and grazing sheep to a climb up Conic Hill, the first actual sweating I did on the trail. There was a slight breeze but the weather being otherwise pleasant, I ate my fruit and and read a book for an hour on top of the hill. From Conic Hill, the trail led alongside the loch--it was busy with older people with small packs and young people with big packs. I stopped at Cashel campsite--it was only 5pm and I could have continued on, but my clothes were all smelly and here was an opportunity to wash them. The afternoon was warm, the lakeside quiet except for water and squawking birds or ducks. My cheeks are pink from the sun. I am feeling good... hips bruised from the pack, random sharp pains in my ankle, and my lower back irritated from the pack too, but all these things feel better with a rest by the water. I feel competitive and want to push on, to see how fast I can do the whole trail, and then I calm down and remember I have time to do it all and that 10 miles a day is certainly respectable.



The rain started this morning so I tried to pack up effeciently to not get anything wet. This means clothes in plastic bags, books, sleeping bag, well-wrapped, and tent covered by the pack rain cover. (I like seeing my collection of plastic bags--some from Gelson's, Swiss supermarkets, and little bookstores in Argentina). I had a hot coffee and fresh from the oven croissant from the camp store and bought bread and meat for lunch. Started off down the road in the rain. The trail cit through local parks, sometimes weaving up hills or back to the road. Had an early lunch when I found a park bench. The pack still feels quite heavy-- I am not strong enough yet. The time on the dirt road through the forest seemed very long and gently but persistently uphill. Following my West Highland Way trail guide, I doubled back on an undulating trail 10minutes to Rowchoish Bothy, a building of stone with a tin roof. It consisted of one large room with a wooden sleeping platform and a fireplace. I read the comment book while I waited out the rain. Most visitors were WHW walkers. Some, however, came with 20 bottles and left them all behind-- the sign of weekenders looking for a good time rather than walkers following the loudly-stressed Code. But hikers after them had cleaned up--the bothy I found was pretty clean. When the rain stopped tapping on the roof I stepped up into the sun. The rest of the day the trail narrowed and continued to weave as close to the water of the loch as it dared. I stopped at 4pm for fish and chips and a water bottle refill at the Inversnaid Hotel. The total price is what I would have spent on a campsite, so I figured it was an allowed luxury. I passed feral goats on the steep trail by the water. They smelled of Campbell's Chicken Noodle combined with soggy socks. The sun was casting long shadows against the mossy cliffs and spring was showing its face on only a few blossoming trees. The path turned rocky -- lots of careful steps around branches and roots. I had to squeeze between rocks and tree trunks a few times to get by with my wide load. I checked the book with the map more frequently as I got tired. One last climb and I saw a cluster of buildings, one with a smoking chimney. What a sense of comfort. The bothy was quiet. There was just one grumpy old man tending the fire who turned around to grunt hello and that was it for conversation for the night. The postings on the wall of the bothy were all about access, public right of way, and proper bothy behavior according to the mountain code. My stuff! There was a hint of orange out on the loch as I went out to brush my teeth. The fire meant it was downright cozy inside. I am quite a bothy fan, especially if someone else deals with lighting the fire.



Up late again (constant theme, I think). I made my scottish oatmeal for breakfast for the first time today. I kind of overestimated how much oatmeal to water I needed so I ended up with a big glop to finish (and wishing I had brown sugar or salt--Callie style-- to flavor it). Said goodbye to the wavering reflection on the loch and wound round on quiet wide tracks to a campsite, where I bought a pint of milk and a chocolate bar for a snack (yes, even though it was still morning). I stopped for a reading break by a nice stream. The trail crossed over the road a couple time-- I was walking under railway tracks too, in tunnels built more for sheep than for walkers with packs. 15 minutes off the WHW to the town of Crianlarich, where a cute cafe on a railway platform served up an all-day breakfast plate. I took another reading break on the trail after this snack because it was half-sunny, but also because I needed to give my back and leg joints a break. Meandered down into Strathfillian, a farm with camping and wooden guest huts, and had a quick internet break because I had been thinking a lot that day about talking with the outside world. I set up my tent 30minutes south of Tydrum alongside the confluence of two rivers. Wild camping is nice and easy, but not growing up with a Scottish sense of right have access, just being there feels slightly wrong, like some authority figure in a uniform will come and tell me to move on. But I can see smoke from distant houses and I can still hear cars and trains passing, so I feel more comfortable about this first night of wild camping.



Today I walked the furthest I ever have in 1 day -- 21 miles-- without ever intending to do so. Woke up quite early, 6.45. The rain, light but persistant the whole night, obligingly stopped in the morning while I was packing up camp. I ate a delicious soft juicy pear and a couple plums for first breakfast then walked the half hour into Tyndrum for second breakfast. Bought a hot chocolate so I could use indoor facilities then went rather unwillingly outside back into the cold. The clouds parted during the 7 miles up and down near the rail line. I met a group of 3 older women and as usual the conversation made the time melt away. Had a snack at Bridge of Orchy then climbed up the mountain for big views on this surprisingly clear day. Stopped at the climbers bar/cafe at Inveroran Hotel (the climbers bar is out back, with separate facilities so as not to force the real hotel guests to intermingle with the walking riffraff). Left at 3.30 for the long stretch over Rannoch Moor figuring I would fit in as much as I could and then stop to camp for the night. The moors were boggy and eerily quiet. I sang a special boggy bog soundtrack-- Show Boat, Avenue Q, and the 4 Seasons. And when I sing very loudly in the middle of the empty lonely Highlands and no one is around to hear me, I can sing remarkably well, hitting the top notes and everything. Hustled over the final ridges and saw the white Kingshouse hotel in the distance and I knew I would make the full 10miles. I trudged in around 7.15 with my legs trembling. I had a drink in the (round the back and separate) climbers bar with my Irish friends to celebrate this successful day. The rain and wind started just as I decided to call it a night, so I was very glad to climb in my tent and think about the day from the comfort of my sleeping bag. The moors had been quiet (well, at least when I stopped belting out Doris Day hits) except for birds and a trickle of water every now and then. I saw deer and lots of black slugs on teh path. I am tired now, but feeling strong and proud.

Big noisy tent bending winds this morning. I realized that changing my day to day hiking outfit from the loose fitting blue turned grey turned sweat brown shirt to 2 long-sleeved tighter fitting ones means that I smell like a boy. Yuck. I went without cooked breakfast this morning so that I could be off quickly. The rain abated but the wind is what made me want to leave the warmth of the sleeping bag and take down camp. The trail led along the highway for a bit, then there was an abrubt right turn and I was climbing up the moor up Devil's staircase. It was only 35 minutes of climbing so I didn't think it quiet warranted such a name. The top was too windy, even with the shelter of the cairns, so I didn't linger. Trudged downhill to Kinlochleven--I was ready to be finished but the road kept winding around... especially frustrating because I could see the village down below. Kinlochleven was an industrial town but is now converted into an outdoor center of sorts, complete with an indoor ice climbing wall, which I had to go and see for myself. No climbs this time, though. I stayed at a campsite near the center, along with all the other guys I passed during the last couple of days. I enjoyed the luxury of buying groceries at a store but the experience was ruined when an unexpectedly crunchy pear snapped the wire I had fixed on my bottom teeth. Slightly miffed, I went to bed with gum stuck on the end of the wire.

When I woke up the next day all the other campers had gone. And it was only 9.15. Attempted eating breakfast but the wire kept poking me in the mouth. There was a short climb out of the valley and I warmed up quickly. Then all of a sudden I looked around and there was no road, just the long track descending before me in the elevated valley. It wasn't too lonely though--a jeep and then 4 motorbikes came whizzing around the corner. I walked and chatted with a Dutch couple, which was fun because they wanted to hear all about me and life in America... and I don't mind talking about myself for hours. After they turned around I continued up and out of a chopped-down forest (all the trees I pass are planted in rows, for the purpose of hack hack chop chopping them down eventually). I stayed in Glen Nevis, about 2miles short of Ft. William, because I could camp there and say goodbye to the hikers I had missed that morning. We had views of Britain's tallest mountain, Ben Nevis, but I was glad I decided against a climb when I saw a rescue helicopter hovering at the peak. Not my style.

In Fort William the next day, I tested out the Scottish health system by trying to get an emergency dentist appointment on a Sunday. It ended up working so now the wire is nicely glued in my mouth and I feel free to eat crunchy pears again.

I am doing the Great Glen Way now, 71 miles total from Fort William to Inverness. I have 18 miles left to go but I will have to find another time to write about that. The weather had been on and off, which means I permanently wet boots and sunburnt cheeks. Oops.