I woke to the sound of rainfall on my tent, the wind flapping its canvas, giving me a warm glow snuggled in my sleeping bag. Sadly I had to leave my warm cocoon and visit the toilet, finding the rain a less pleasant experience as it rapidly wet my trousers. After visiting the "Ladies", as the "Gents" loo was blocked, and donning my waterproof trousers, I fired up my new "Jetboil" stove by a puddle forming outside my tent. Soon I was enjoying a cup of real coffee back inside. In the name of experiment I was trying some of the dehydrated meals you see in camping shops. Last night's pasta and salmon was passable and this morning's granola was made enjoyable with the addition of some sultanas I had brought, although due to their prices, I doubt I will be buying many more.
So began a long trudge in the rain. Among sections of road walking there was a pleasant path beside the beach of the loch. Signs described how the Commandos trained here in the second world war, practising disembarking from landing crafts under live fire. Leaving the few houses behind a lengthy hike on a forestry track followed to Laggan Locks. Occasional views of Loch Lochy revealed wind driven waves topped by white foam and the grey outlines of mountains, often hidden by the rain, on the far side of the water. Nearby trees swayed and swished in the wind. The view might be considered romantic if it was not so wet. I was glad the wind was behind me.
A lady sheltering in her car asked me to wait while she checked if it was safe to proceed past some forestry operations. Permission granted (apparently I was the fifth hiker of the day) I walked on looking up at the yellow forestry vehicles. Their job cutting down the mature spruce was difficult as the slope was so steep. Making a rough count of the tree rings of some trunks already cut and stacked, it seemed they had been planted at about the same time as I was born and were finishing their life at the same age as I now was.
Another lady was stationed at the other end of the forestry work to catch walkers coming the other way. She was trying to keep a barrier up despite the wind pushing it over. I asked her about a risk assessment I had seen attached to a cabin belonging to the forestry management company. Hazards included the general public, excessive water and squirrels. I could understand water could be an issue as the foaming, noisy streams and small rivers pouring off the mountain were swollen by today's rain. As squirrels are not normally considered dangerous I asked the lady about them. She said there were red squirrels in the area, a protected species, and they could not fell trees while they were nesting. That time was now passed so trees could harvested.
Several cyclists and a few wet walkers passed me. At length Laggan Locks were in sight, which I was greatly pleased to see as my left leg was suffering, stiff and with a dull pain and intermittent spikes of greater intensity. Although nothing I could not cope with I was worried it threatened my hiking career and my reaching John o'Groats. I was also saddened as I was tired despite the distance I had walked with minimal height gain on good tracks being modest compared with days I had tackled with ease just a few months ago.
The rain finally reduced to a drizzle as I crossed the lock and walked along a tree lined path beside the canal to reach the Great Glen hostel, where fortunately a dry room, shower and Mars bar were waiting for me. I planned to do a few knee exercises but after a coffee and a late lunch I fell asleep. Maybe it did me more good, as waking after 6:00 pm I sauntered down to the Eagle Barge where I had booked a lamb shank for dinner. The barge was a cosy place for dinner, and surprisingly well patronised given it was in an isolated location, or maybe not as the food was good (especially the sponge pudding with custard)!
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