(Originally in the notebook, now here in convenient digital form.  Post date has been appropriately manipulated.)

My last night out on the road.  I haven’t written in the journal for a while, and I’ve really got not excuse.  But it’s been a remarkable couple of days, which I’ll try to remember and explain here.

The walk from Inverarnan to Tyndrum was fairly uneventful, unless a lot more rain counts as an event.  I met a very nice couple somewhere along the way.  Jim’s English and Lauren is Scottish, and I leapfrogged (leapt frog? –Ed.) with them all morning. Jim works for the company that makes Gore-Tex and is at the Sikorsky factory a few times a year.  After some consultation on the subject with Jim and Lauren, I opted to skip the extra walk to Crianlarich.  If it weren’t raining I might’ve stopped there for lunch, but I bagged it and just kept going.

Tyndrum was hell, at first.  As I got near the town the sky opened up and I lost all visibility and sense of direction.  I took shelter at the train station and figured out that I hadn’t passed the hotel, so I made a run for it.  I arrived, made a huge puddle on the bar/reception floor (I realize I should find a better way of saying that –Ed.), and settled in.

[Hijinks regarding Kings House Hotel happened here, but I've already written about them, so I'll expunge.  --Ed.]

I’m not going to lie: 20 miles is a long way.  But it also wasn’t that bad.  Maybe I’m getting tougher, maybe there was enough scenery, but it was fine.  I stopped after about ten miles and had tea at the Inveroran Hotel.  (I’d been eating Alpen bars all day–they’re great for walking and don’t make you thirsty).  At the hotel, I met yet more Dutch people (everyone on the West Highland Way was either from the UK or the Netherlands.  This couple was the younger one, with the gorgeous blonde woman and the very dry man.  I liked them a lot, though I never got their names.  There were also the couple with the guy with the beard who winked at everyone all the time, who was also great, and his very patient wife, plus Eddie and Elyse, who convinced me that spending some time in Holland might not be a bad plan for the future.  –Ed.), and Jim and Lauren showed up as I was leaving.  I started talking to a trio of middle-aged Glaswegians, who I walked with intermittantly throughout the rest of the day.  One of the two guys looked remarkably like Paul Burke.

The rain stoppped and I took on Rannoch Moor.  It’s the largest uninhabited space in Europe, and it’s amazing.  I walked seven miles across it, composing bad mental poetry when not talking to the Glaswegian crew.  Halfway through the temperature dropped, the wind and rain started up, and Scotland tried to kill me.

I prevailed.  (Obviously.  –Ed.)

And I had one of the best nights of my life at the Climbers Bar at the Kingshouse Hotel.  (Climbers bars are pretty common along the West Highland Way.  They’re usually in the backs of the hotels and are meant for people with muddy boots, rucksacks, and foul mouths.  This way the hotel, which is usually the only game in the village, can cater to both the posh tourists and the riffraff.  I imagine bartenders prefer the climbers bars most of the time.  –Ed.)

Which brings me to today.  The walk was short but not as easy as I’d expected.  The Devil’s Staircase was nasty, and the descent into Kinlochleven was just plain awful.  But I took a long bath a shower, had some great fish and chips, and am about to head over to the Tailrace Inn for the final night out…