Kinlochewe to home: LEJoG Day 66

A sad return home due to a malfunctioning knee.

After breakfast at the Kinlochewe hotel, Google claimed there would be bus arriving outside at 9:00 am. Further research last night showed this to be incorrect, no bus would arrive before tomorrow. Kinlochewe is remote with very limited public transport. Fortunately on overhearing me enquiring about options with hotel staff yesterday, a villager offered me a lift to Inverness as he was going that way. Getting to Inverness was important as I had booked a flight from there to Bristol, that being the cheapest as well as the fastest way home. During my ride to Inverness I heard about how the Highland council was shutting all the public toilets, an act very damaging to visitors, a mainstay of the local economy, so a rather silly decision. Fortunately the local people in Kinlochewe were now keeping them open on a voluntary basis. One can only congratulate them on their efforts.

Once in Inverness I wondered around the town, looked at the Castle, bought new bootlaces, enjoyed a coffee and had a haircut so I would look smart for my wife on my return. A bus took me to the airport, where a full, orange plane whisked me and the other face mask covered passengers to Bristol. A further bus and two trains, then delivered me home. Limping up the hill from the railway station, my wife and dog came to meet me and welcome me home, although our dog took a moment to recognise me with my curious gait and being away for so long.

I am now considering how to complete my walk to John o'Groats. I have booked an appointment with a physiotherapist to see what can be down to help my knee recover, and am looking at alternative routes as the grouse shooting season starts on the 12 August, which could restrict access in parts of the Highlands.

Until then if you wish to read my blog from the start, click here.

Bealach Bhearnais to Kinlochewe: LEJoG Day 65

Tired from the start, with my left knee painful, I decided it was time to return home after today's hike until my fitness returned. 

Light rain showers were passing across my tent as I woke, the flysheet flapping slightly. Last night I had listened to, what I assume were deer, cropping the grass near my tent, one of them barking intermittently. A promise to myself of a coffee and cake at Kinlochewe this afternoon made me stir from the warmth of my sleeping bag. Damp yesterday when I wriggled into it, by morning the warmth of my body had dried it out and it was now a cosy cocoon. Outside I found myself in a cloud. After packing I continued to struggle on pathless terrain, over rocks fallen from the hillside, now half covered with grass and moss hiding gaps in which I could further damage my already painful knee. Crossing an uneven area of lochans, moss, rocks and mounds I reached the other side of the pass. Locating a promised path in the mist thanks to my GPS I started down. Paths are depressions in the ground that collect water, and this one had collected a lot so that I was constantly moving to one or other side of it. Reaching a river, now below the clouds, I reached the first highlight of my day, a wire bridge. Actually a thin wire on which to put your feet and a rope to hang onto with your hands. Provided I lent slightly forward with my arms outstretched, it was surprisingly easy. As the water was not far below it was not especially frightening. 

The wire bridge.

The next section was on a good track for which I was thankful. However I was struggling with the pain in my left knee, which felt curiously unhinged. Steeper downhill sections were a particular challenge as my knee had a restricted range of movement and limited strength. For these reasons, plus my general state of tiredness, a bootlace unravelling and a few blisters starting to reappear since my boots and socks were constantly wet, I decided it was silly to continue beyond Kinlochewe, my destination for the day. I was walking for enjoyment not as a masochistic, endurance exercise in remote areas with no cellphone coverage should I terminally damage something due to exhaustion. 

I walked on by trees, a pleasant change. A trickle of people were on the track, some walking their dogs, a sign I was approaching civilisation, or a tiny piece of it; a few houses, a railway line and a main road at a place called Craig. Then it was up to the next pass on the "Old Pony Track". Steep, narrow and overgrown in places, not used by ponies these days. Fortunately near the top my route joined a forestry track, levelled out and started a long descent into a broad valley. The way ahead was spread out before me. A white track winding down from the moors into a basin with stands of pine trees, some with a shape reminiscent of cedars, then up again over the next ridge in the far distance. On the way I encountered: a lively river, splashing over boulders, building up foam; a small hydroelectric plant (becoming common in the area); the inevitable loch, and a few estate houses. 

The "Old Pony Track".

After crossing that final ridge, wanting a flatter surface to spare my knee I walked down to a single track road. Busy with traffic, vehicles were slowed by the need to use passing spaces on meeting oncoming cars. There was a restaurant as I approached Kinlochewe where I enjoyed a late lunch. More upmarket than I would expect for such a small village, I enjoyed haddock served on leeks, with a poached egg and vegetables which had a fennel twist. Over coffee I researched my way home. "Trainline" claimed possible trains home from Inverness were either sold out or a high price, so I booked a cheaper option, a flight from Inverness to Bristol. I just needed to get to Inverness tomorrow morning. 

Glomach Falls to Bealach Bhearnais: LEJoG Day 64

A hard day during which I covered the ground very slowly.

Last night it continued to rain heavily and this morning many things were damp from yesterday, either directly or because of water brought into the tent on waterproofs or as I went in and out, brushing against the wet nylon of the flysheet. My most depressing moment was finding that my camera had become wet and no longer worked. Although in a dry bag, the dry bag had let water in, I should have checked last night when maybe I could have saved the situation. This morning there were still intermittent showers. 

The "highlight" of today were the Falls of Glomach, a little way beyond my campsite. There was indeed a large amount of water dropping a long way down into a narrow gorge. Although small by, for example, Icelandic standards, it was impressive for Scotland. Perhaps more impressive was the difficulty reaching it. I had spent hours approaching it yesterday from above through a pathless morass of wet vegetation and peat banks.

Top of the "Falls of Glomach".

Falls of Glomach from a distance looking up the gorge.

Leaving the falls after taking a photo on my phone, I followed the route normally used to visit them, a narrow path indented into the steep slope above the gorge. The "path" included wet, mossy outcrops that I had to climb over, with the hazard of a fall down a steep slope if I slipped. I took them with great care, being sure of hand and foot holes, like a crab rather than a mountain goat, my bad knee hindering my movements. Halfway down I was surprised to see someone climbing up, so early and in such a remote spot on a path which the evidence suggested was little used. He said he was climbing a few Munros. Whereas he moved easily my legs felt stiff, tired and clumsy.

When I finally reached the bottom, my GPS told me I had achieved 1.7 kilometres per hour since I started this morning. Normally I walk at 4 kilometres per hour. On my trip yesterday through the pathless, boggy morass I managed only 2.5 kilometres per hour, using a lot of effort and energy climbing in, out and around peaty channels. Fortunately, the path improved at the bottom of the gorge, there were footbridges followed by a good track along the base of the glen, by a loch and some isolated houses. A reasonable track took me over the next pass and down to a bothy, a place where backpackers can stay in a very basic building. The small, white bothy stood alone below the grand sweep of the surrounding, treeless mountains. 

Spot the white bothy in the remote, empty landscape.

For my next challenge, there was a river crossing. A worry had been gnawing away within me that the heavy rain last night and the previous night might have made the crossing hazardous. It is not so much the depth of water that is dangerous but the force the current exerts upon you, trying to push you over. I took off my trousers, socks and boots and put on my lightweight "hotel" shoes for wading across the river. My boots and socks were damp but I knew from past experience that they could get much wetter if I had waded through the river in them and would take much longer to dry. I then successfully completed my river crossing on a bank of stones lying under the brown foamy water. I wondered if the stony submerged causeway had been deliberately put there for this purpose. 

In walking down to the bothy I was struck by how quiet it was. Few birds seemed to be around, the only noise was the tinkling of water, trickling or splashing down hill. A warning maybe of some trench, hidden by vegetation, through which the water is draining. After the river crossing a pathless, slow climb took me over a ridge where I was glad to join a vehicle track which took me down into another glen, beside another loch. The track led to another bothy and a small lodge, but I turned north on another track. This turned into a path, which then faded away into mud, rocks, grass and streams. I climbed towards the Bealach Bhearnais pass moving this way and that to avoid small, but deep valleys from the streams coming down the hillside, wet areas and other obstacles on this pathless route. As it past 6:00 pm, very tired, I decided to stop and pitch my tent. The site was slightly sloping and damp but the best available. I ate my tea sitting on a rock while the tent was drying out from the previous nights rain, glad of the breeze helping to keep the insects in check, more large horse flies than midges today. The glen before me was similar to many others in the Highlands, a wide, treeless valley, once carved out by a glacier. Outcrops and cliffs of rock higher up, multiple streams incising small, parallel ravines running straight down the grass covered, steep slopes lower down. At the bottom of the valley a diminutive river wiggles its way to a distant loch, dwarfed by its surroundings, through flat and no doubt saturated land. I disturbed a few deer, the stag is barking somewhere in the distance. And a little good news, my camera, after drying all day in one of my shirts, appears to have returned to life.

Cluanie Inn to Glomach Falls: LEJoG Day 63

An easy walk up to the hostel at Glen Affric for lunch, then after a good path over a pass, slow, strenuous walking on rough ground beside a river and its lochs, with heavy rain to end the day.

After the heavy rain last night I was glad to see that the forecast this morning showed the rain had moved to the eastern side of Scotland. However this upbeat prediction proved misleading. 

An Caorann Mor, walking up to my first pass of the day.

Learning from past mistakes I had a lighter breakfast at the Cluanie Inn, starting with some muesli which I choked upon in my eagerness to eat it. I am sure the fellow diners thought my coughing was a potential sign of Coronavirus. Picking up a baguette for my lunch at the coffee shop opposite I set off. I enjoyed my walk up the valley (An Caorann Mor) to Glen Affric, a glen of grass bare of trees, as are most in the area. Initially there was a track, then a path and finally occasional scraps of path across some boggy bits. I kept expecting to see the hostel at Glen Affric but it was only as I rounded the last shoulder of the valley that the brightly coloured building came into view. After a stile over one of the high deer fences I crossed a river on a pedestrian suspension bridge. Two people were sitting outside the hostel on a bench. I joined the couple on an adjacent bench and while eating our lunches we exchanged information on what we were doing and where we were going. They were cycling up from their motorhome on mountain bikes, also runners they knew the area from organised events they had been on. The hostel itself was closed due to Covid, although a dormitory had been left open for casual visitors with a potable water tap that I made use of.

View over Loch a' Bhealaich.

Glen Affric hostel lies in isolation where three, treeless, wide valleys converge. I followed one out on a good path, over another pass eventually reaching a loch. At the loch, following the guidebook's instructions I left the path, followed the waterside and for several kilometres walked over very rough, wet ground. There were many places, by trickles of water, where the ground had slipped away exposing a steep bank of black peat, often revealing the remains of trees which once grew there.  Deep channels with streams, soggy peat and moss had to be crossed with care. Although sometimes there were rocks or the stream bed was firm, at others my trekking poles, or worse my boots, sunk deep in the black slurry. I followed the guidebook's instructions and stayed close to the edge of the clear, shallow waters of the loch, and later, the bank of the river. Some of the standing water had tadpoles which wriggled around as I stepped in their homes. Small frogs periodically hopped out of my way. A bird flew around shouting warning cries, a sound I had not heard since I was on the Pennine Way. As well as heavily channelled areas of peat there were occasional outcrops of rock, on one three deers stood looking at me, turning and disappearing among the hummocks as I came closer. Flat soggy areas of moss, grass and cotton sledge looked easy to cross, in places there were signs of a path, a straight line or depression in the grass filled with water. Crossing these areas resulted in my boots sinking into mossy, saturated ground. Soon water was seeping into my waterproof boots, and later into my waterproof socks which I had put on specially for today as the guide warned I was unlikely to keep my feet dry!

As I neared the Falls of Glomach the weather turned from overcast with sunny spells earlier in the day to heavy rain, turning distant hills from green to a pastel grey as it approached. As well as the ongoing pain in my left knee my right buttock was hurting. I had hoped to cover more ground but decided to pitch my tent for the night. The Falls of Glomach were reported to be an impressive sight, but I am sure would be less impressive in the driving rain, and from the top of the falls it was a difficult climb down which I thought unwise to attempt wet and tired.

I pitched my tent on a flatttish patch of high ground, slightly less soggy than the rest. My tent was still wet from its last use. With the rain and me inside trying to take off my waterproofs it became even wetter. I dried a little of it with toilet paper so I had a dry patch to sit on, and put on my insulated jacket as I getting cold in my tee shirt, damp as much through sweat as rain. As I expected there was no signal for my mobile. I was sad as I look forward to my evening calls with my wife, hearing her voice, confirming a connection, even though I never have much to say, I never was a great conversationalist.

Allt Dubh to Cluanie Inn: LEJoG Day 62

A tiring day in a remote part of the Highlands.

On completing packing the first part of today's hike was over a pass. The path petered out and I entered the clouds, glad of my GPS in the reduced visibility. Lacking a path it was a matter of pushing through clumps of heather and vegetation trying to avoid the soggy areas of moss and peat where one's boots could disappear, and also the hidden holes and trenches made by streams of flowing water. My trekking poles helped greatly in checking out the ground ahead, levering me over streams and pushing me up banks or stopping me sliding down them. Although it had been raining overnight I suspect the area was always wet, the mosses retaining the water. Pink spotted orchids brightened my way as I stumbled along. A trio of deers watched me from an outcrop of rock before dissolving into the mist. As I clambered through the rough ground without a path it confirmed that I had picked the best spot to camp last night. Due to the wet and uneven ground there would not have been another suitable spot for a couple of hours of tiring walking. 

Morning view as I dropped below the clouds.

Coming down from the pass was equally difficult, trying to pick the easiest way down but at least I dropped below the clouds. Clouds which gave intermittent showers throughout the day. I had all the waterproofs but I was hot and sweating inside them, and put them on and off several times as the showers came and went. After a deer fence a path appeared, which eventually improved to a rough track then a better track. On the way a series of large diameter pipes were being laid, maybe for a hydroelectric scheme. They were made of black plastic and connected together by some kind of plastic welding. Later there was an area where trees had been felled. There were signs saying "No access to unauthorised persons", as there was clearly no work in progress I of course ignored them.

Red deer checking me out.

I walked along a short section of a quiet single track road in Glen Garry, watched by a deer. The area was spotted with "No Camping" signs. Despite the remoteness I was impressed that one of the few vehicles on the road was a Morrisons van, delivering groceries a long way from the nearest supermarket. Leaving the road I climbed up to the next pass. This time a path took me there. After the pass there was a descent into a wide, remote valley, a river curling along its base. I crossed the river on larger pebbles and then started on the climb up to the next and final pass of the day. Sections of pathless moor made for hard work, and I was pleased to see a bridge carrying the old road to Skye. Newer highways now carry the traffic, but the old, single track road provided an easy walking surface down to the main road, and then it was a short walk to the Cluanie Inn where I had a room booked. However before going in, the "Bakehouse" opposite exerted an irresistible pull. I had a headache, on and off all day, and I knew a coffee would help. To go with it I had a hunk of "Scottish Bread Pudding", delicious! The Inn was quite nice too, and in a very remote spot. Communication was a little difficult as we all had our masks on, muffling our words, so we all had to speak extra loudly. Once I was safely inside heavy rain began.

Later, in a gap in the downpour, a deer stood outside my window. A few lads were photographing it while it stood there. One went too close and the deer walked away, turned and bounded off.

Hillside beyond the Cluanie Inn.

Fort William to the valley of the Allt Dubh: LEJoG Day 61

A morning walk along the Caledonian Canal was followed by a hike through classic Highland scenery. 

Sadly the vegan café where I breakfasted on muesli and banana the last two days was closed on Sundays, so I had the cooked breakfast being offered by an establishment nearby. Although the black pudding and haggis in particular were excellent, it did leaving me burping and with a heavy tummy for my morning's walk. After leaving the extensive outskirts of Fort William I joined the towpath of the Caledonian Canal at a flight of locks. Wider than most British canals, it was built so that warships and merchant vessels could move from one side of Scotland to the other without the perils of French attacks, weather and tides in the Pentland Firth off the north coast of the country. Little used due to the development of steam ships, today I saw a handful of pleasure craft motoring down it. However the gravel road beside it allowed for easy, flat walking (or cycling) on what was part of the Great Glen Way, a long distance path across Scotland from Fort William to Inverness. Great Glen, and with it the canal, follows the line of a geological boundary created by a shear fault. Although I could have followed the Great Glen Way and then the John o'Groats Trail to reach my final destination, I decided to stay with the route in the Cicerone guidebook. Its remoteness seemed a bit of a challenge. 

Caledonian canal.

The canal section ends at a lock into Loch Lochy, which boats cross to reach the next section of canal. I heard someone suggest that there were so many lochs in Scotland they ran out of names, so they just called this one Loch Lochy. I followed the Great Glen Way around the edge of the loch, through trees, by small shingle beaches, admiring the classic, Scottish image of a loch; a large, long lake surrounded by mountains. Although cloudy, the air was often still, giving clear reflections of boats, trees and mountains in the water.

Loch Lochy viewed from the Great Glen Way.

Leaving the lake (and the Great Glen Way) I proceeded into trees to where St Ciaran's church hides, a small, stone building with a simple interior. There was a tempting sign for Ice Cream outside the Clan Cameron Museum, but it was a tease, the museum was shut. I followed the track through the Achnacarry Estate, its big house in the distance. Informative signs described how the "Commandos" were trained on the estate in the Second World War. 

Loch Arkaig was another picture perfect Scottish loch I walked by before turning inland, by a small hydroelectric plant and up the valley of the Alt Dubh, a large stream. Although not quite covering the 30 kilometres I had planned, at 5:00 pm I decided to pitch my tent on a flattish spot by the stream. A wind had come up which made me happy as it blew away some of the biting insects. For water I am filtering the stream water with a device that claims to remove harmful bacteria. However even after filtering the water has a brown tinge from the peat. Slightly offputting.

Some thoughts on the West Highland Way and two days rest: LEJoG Day 59 and 60

While at Fort William I had thought to spend one day climbing Ben Nevis and another as a rest day, but my left knee was causing me concern. As reaching John o'Groats was the primary aim of my trip and not reaching the top of Britain's highest peak, I decided to spend both days resting to avoid putting that objective at risk. It was also an opportunity to resupply and reflect on the West Highland Way. 

The West Highland Way is a popular path, not just with older white men and couples as are some other trails in the UK, but with people of all ages and both sexes, including women on their own. Many people use baggage transfer services. There were campsites, hotels and Bed & Breakfast type accommodation throughout the route, although many seemed heavily booked. Waymarking was good, as were the paths and at 96 miles (154 kilometres), 5 to 8 days walking, it would easily fit in with people's annual leave from work unlike longer hikes. However, apart from the climb out of Glencoe, it does miss out on glorious panoramas from Highland mountain tops by being essentially a low level walk up valleys. This does make it easier for those whose office jobs may mean they are less fit than they would wish. As much of the route is near the main road and railway heading north, it is not a remote or wilderness experience, something other trails in Scotland can offer, albeit requiring greater planning and experience. The main drawback was attack by midges; vicious, tiny biting insects. Principally an issue in the morning and evenings, you could avoid them to a degree by staying at indoor accommodation rather than camping. Wild camping (legal in Scotland) does however offer some great locations, on a beach by the waters of Loch Lomond or up on a ridge with views of distant mountains fading into blue whiteness. I am told the best month to walk the trail is May, to avoid midges and with the possibility of reasonable weather. I might even tackle the route in winter as many of the tracks have good surfaces with bridges provided where needed, although mud would be an issue in places. 

For the start of my blog on the West Highland Way click here.

Fort William itself has supermarkets, chemists, cash machines and accommodation, making it a good place for me to spend time resting and resupplying for the remote stages ahead. However, I am finding it very busy. Much of the accommodation was booked and in the evening many of the pubs and restaurants were full. The limitations of Covid regulations, and maybe businesses having permanently closed by the various lock downs, were part of the reason but even without the pandemic effects, Fort William is a busy tourist spot. It lies beside Loch Linnhe although my walk beside this scenic Loch was spoilt by the busy main road running alongside it. Most visitors seem to congregate on the main cobbled pedestrian street with its cafés, pubs and gift shops. They come in many sizes. Fit, slim people, some still carrying large back packs, visiting for the hiking, mountain climbing or cycling opportunities. Lads on a weekend away, having a few beers and watching the football. Then there are the older, more portly couples, having a holiday by car in the Highlands, maybe with another couple they are friendly with. Normally Fort William would be a popular coach stop, but I am not sure if coach trips are allowed just yet under the Covid restrictions.

Main street in Fort William.

Loch Linnhe.

As well as buying food for the next, more remote stage of my walk, I acquired a knee support and a supply of glucosamine tablets which I hope will help. I have spent a long time looking at my legs. The knee itself does not appear swollen but fluid seems to be accumulating in the calf and foot below it. Googling "one leg swollen" brings up all kinds of dire diagnoses making me wish I had not looked, but I am assuming it is related to some stretched ligament connected to my knee, or maybe the many red spots where the midges have attacked. 

Glencoe to Fort William: LEJoG Day 58

My final day on the West Highland Way.

Waking to the light piercing the thin nylon of my tent, I was soon packed and admiring the mountains of Glencoe and the Mamores from my night's camping spot near the summit of Beinn Bheag. Although early, others were already on the path as I walked down into the village of Kinlochleven. A winding path among the grass and heather, just starting to flower, led me into trees and to four large pipes carrying water from the Blackwater Reservoir down to the hydroelectric plant that once generated electricity for an Aluminium smelter at Kinlochleven. The pipes were flanged together rather than welded, maybe because they dated from 1907 when the plant was first constructed. Pondering that flanged connections were more prone to leak than welded ones, I seemed to have my surmise confirmed when I saw a large spray of water by a flange. Two workmen were attempting to do something about it, one with a large length of wood possibly trying to realign the pipe to assist in tightening the flange, although it seemed to me a larger force would be needed. Although the Aluminium smelter has gone, with some of its buildings retained as an ice climbing venue, there were signs referring to additional work on the hydroelectric plant, which now supplies the National Grid.

Leak from the pipes supplying water to the hydroelectric plant.

A lady walking her dog recommended the "Highland Getaway" for breakfast, which I enjoyed before starting on the final stage of the West Highland Way to Fort William. This began with a steep climb through trees, before reaching a gravel track up a broad, grass valley. This continued for many kilometres with hikers in ones, twos and threes spread out over the length of the valley, mostly on the last day of the West Highland Way. Some I overtook, others overtook me. There were posts at regular intervals in the moorland to the left of the track. Initially I thought they protected saplings but on closer inspection they marked the route of an underground fibre optic cable. There seemed an unnecessarily large number of posts, intruding into the valley just as much as the electric wires on telegraph poles. 

Ruin in the valley of the Allt na Lairige Moire.

Ben Nevis.

As I came closer to Fort William, with the mass of Ben Nevis, Britain's largest mountain, looming in front of me, the trail entered an ugly area of grey, felled timber. Only the foxgloves and occasional ferns softened the picture of devastation. The path seemed to indulge in some "PUDS", or "pointless up and downs" that could have been avoided by an alternate routing (such as the alternative route suggested in my guidebook which I had foolishly ignored). Eventually I joined others on a gravel road heading more directly to Fort William. We discussed what we were looking forward to on arrival. Being a hot day I fancied a Coke and Mint Magnum ice cream, another was wanting to relax in a hot, soapy bath. I missed my ice cream at the Glen Nevis Visitor Centre as it closed at 4:00 pm and I arrived at eight minutes past. Eventually, at a roundabout, a sign stated I had reached the end of the West Highland Way and I could collect my certificate in the adjacent shop. I duly went in and spent a pound buying a certificate which I had to fill in myself. Anyone could buy one whether they had walked the long distance path or not. A bit of a "con" as although the West Highland Way may once have ended there the true end is now in the centre of town marked by a statue of a guy sitting on a bench suffering from a sore foot but happy at his achievement. 

Later in the evening eating in a pub, I noticed a couple waving to me across the tables. Fellow walkers to John o'Groats, celebrating with a whisky after completing the West Highland Way, I had previously met them at the Forest View B&B in Byrness. They were heading off tomorrow taking the Great Glen Way, but I was planning a rest day to rest my increasingly painful left knee.

Official End of West Highland Way