When the hurly-burly’s done

I made it.

Yesterday’s walk from Kinlochlevin to Fort William was the very definition of a slog–started with a really nasty long uphill stretch through midge-infested woods, then emerged into a nice long walk along the rim of a beautiful valley, then more rain and nowhere to stop until the end. I actually started feeling a little sick about eight miles into it, as I hadn’t had a break at all–until yesterday, every time I’d walked, I’d stopped somewhere for about 10-15 minutes to take off my pack, eat something, drink some water, &c. But since it was pouring rain and there was nowhere to stop, I tried to muscle through. It didn’t work, and I had a little moment under a tree, and then I remembered that I had a jar of Nutella and a couple of emergency rolls somewhere in my pack, and life was much better. Finished the walk with Jim and Lauren, and we made our goodbyes at the Fort William train station after having an adult beverage and some lunch (I tried–and loved–cullen skink, which is a Scottish smoked fish and potato soup, though I’m glad I didn’t have to walk more than a couple of miles after eating it).

The train ride back to Edinburgh was long and slow. I wound up in a reserved seat next to a guy from China and a guy from Japan, both of whom work for a lab in Edinburgh. I had a lot of fun talking to them, and we kept each other awake for most of the ride. We were due in at fifteen minutes past midnight, but from 12:30-1:30 we sat on the track about a quarter mile from Waverley Station waiting for them to clear a broken engine out of where we were supposed to pull in. Thankfully I found a taxi and Security let me into my room. I didn’t sleep much, or well, but I slept, and now I’m enjoying wearing cotton after a week of nothing but synthetic hiking clothes.

I’m planning to take it easy today. I’ve got laundry in right now, and then I’ll grab some lunch somewhere and figure out how I’m supposed to check in for the SUISS program(me). If I have time, I’d like to take a walk up to the City Centre and check out the Scottish National Museum, which I’ve heard is great, not to mention free. That seems about my speed today.

(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…

Note to anyone considering walking the West Highland Way: There are two Kingshouse Hotels in Scotland. This is the one you want. I almost didn’t have a place to stay tonight, as I didn’t realize that, but the staff here are amazing and are letting me stay in this sort of emergency cottage in a room set aside for just this sort of situation. They are my new favorite people in the world, and I wish them continued success and happiness.

It’s a damn good thing I have somewhere to sleep tonight, as the weather today was awful through almost all of the 19 miles I walked from Tyndrum to Kingshouse. Slashing rain, evil wind, and temperatures no higher than the mid-50s have left me with very little feeling in my hands and a pretty sore left shoulder. Tomorrow’s walk is only 8 miles, although up a big hill, but I figure I’ll take my time and enjoy it.

Oh, one more thing–Rannoch Moor is incredible. I saw 7 miles of it, but it’s supposed to be the biggest uninhabited wilderness in Europe. It goes on for miles and miles and is what the desert in Utah or Arizona would look like if it got too much rain, instead of none at all. Words can’t do it justice. I’ll post pictures in a few weeks, when I’m home.

Time now for some tea, some food, and some whisky. Can I say that on Edublogs?

They say that in the Highlands, you can experience four seasons in one day. I’ve only seen two–early summer and late fall–but they switch just about every thirty minutes. It’ll be pouring down rain, complete with cold, COLD, wind, then suddenly get sunny and warm on the other side of the hill. ‘Hill,’ by the way, is a Highland joke, from what I gather–hills here really are small (but very steep) mountains, complete with slippery bits getting back down the other side. The views are universally good, unless it’s completely clouded in, and then everything looks absolutely amazing and as Scottish as you could hope for.

Another Highland joke that I’ve learned is that everything is only two miles away. Ask a Highlander how far it is, say, from Brooklyn to Newark and he’ll tell you two miles.

I’ve learned not to care, though. Yesterday I set out from Rowardennan really early, in the middle of a pretty ferocious rainstorm, with the intent of getting to the Inversnaid Hotel to have a leisurely lunch. I walk pretty slowly compared to a lot of the crazies on this trail, so I need to make up for it with early starts. Anyway, the Inversnaid Hotel was kind of amazing–totally decked out in Scottish kitsch, a boombox playing bagpipe favorites at the bar, great views of Loch Lomond, good cheap lunches. While there I met two women from Edinburgh who graciously agreed to let me a) walk with them to the Beinglas Campsite, where we all were staying, and b) ask them lots of ridiculous questions about Scotland. It was a lot of fun, and it definitely was nice to have company on the really difficult stretch after the hotel, where the path runs along an exposed cliffside and is blocked every few yards by tree stumps, boulders, streams, waterfalls, etc. Mom and Dad, you didn’t read that. Everyone else, let’s carry on.

Anyway, so we got to the campsite, found our wigwams (weird little wooden buildings that are the average of a tent and a youth hostel), and wound up at this crazy pub for dinner. The Drovers Inn is over 300 years old, and the decorating scheme can only be described as ‘taxidermy hell.’ Lots of scary dead animals everywhere, but most were in such advanced stages of decay that they were missing eyes, claws, etc. I heard from a couple I met this morning, who actually stayed at the Drovers (it’s a hotel and pub), that the rooms were even more bizarre than the pub.

Anyway, my time on this computer’s going to run out. I had a nice quick-ish walk this morning/early afternoon through some absolutely amazing scenery to Tyndrum,

though the last thirty minutes were awful. I got to the edge of town just as the sky really opened up, more so than it had so far this trip, and I had to take shelter at the little train station so I could open up my pack without soaking all of my possessions, figure out where I was, and find my hotel. Turns out the hotel is directly on the West Highland Way, but about 1/3 mile past the train station. I was going crazy thinking I’d passed it or something. I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy to be anywhere as I was when I got up into my room at the Tyndrum Lodge Hotel.

Tomorrow’s a 19-mile day, so I’ll get up early, hit breakfast at the hotel, and go. I had a late start this morning (a night at the pub with Scots will do that) and I don’t necessarily want to repeat that, though it was fun. Tomorrow’s got the piece of this walk I’ve most been looking forward to, Rannock Moor, which is apparently beautiful in good weather and terrifying in rain. Weather forecast’s looking pretty good, so this should be great…

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

What else did I come to Scotland for if not to hike in the rain? It came down hard this morning as I walked through Queen Elizabeth Forest Park on my way from Rowardennan to Inversnaid. The intensity varied from this-is-refeshing to you’ve-got-to-be-kidding. (After a couple of really rainy days, I figured out a system. For starters, I always kept my pack cover on. That made it difficult to reach my water bottles, which lived in pockets on the other side of the bag. So I rigged up a carabiner on a couple of dangling bits of backpack strap, from which I suspended a water bottle while the other two rode in the caboose. I also kept my raincoat on as long as I could. It was good against the wind, even when the rain stopped, but it had a tendency to make my arms unpleasantly sweaty. Sometimes I’d just tie it around my waist. Also, I think the best $30 I spent for this trip was on my rain hat, which just kind of rode along with me cowboy-at-rest-style when it wasn’t raining. –Ed.)

The Inversnaid Hotel is big and kitschy. (Most of its clientele come there on tour buses. –Ed.) The main bar area is decorated in tartan, and a boombox plays a CD of bagpipe favorites. I learned today why tea is so popular here–it’s the best thing in the world when you’re cold, wet, and not sure you can go on.