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.
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.
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.
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