The West Highland Way at 62

The next morning, I packed everything that I did not need into a bag provided by the hotel and left it in a shed in the back of the hotel. It was an uneasy feeling leaving it all behind, based on the promise of an unknown voice on the end of a single phone call. But, I figured if the Scots are willing to trust strangers to leave payment at an honesty box, they are likely to deliver on their promises.

I started the 1/2 mile walk from Drovers Inn to the trailhead at 07:03am. I had a 20 mile day ahead of me, and it was forecasted to rain. My plan was to break the trip into two segments; a 12.5 mile hike to Tyndrum where I would stop for lunch, then another 7 miles to the Bridge of Orchy.

The crisp air was refreshing as the trail followed the River Falloch for about 4 miles away from the Beinglas camp ground, steadily rising in elevation. The path along the river was beautiful with areas of rocky outcrops, caves and waterfalls. The trail was softer underfoot than the previous day, and the soles of my feet were thankful.

The trail crossed through a tunnel under the main road, leaving the river behind as it began a steady ascent into the mountains above Crianlarich. Most of the walk from that point was at a much higher elevation offering great views of the surrounding area and distant mountains. The path enters a forestry management area perched on the side of a mountain, ascending and descending areas of woodlands of conifers, felled trees and freshly planted saplings. My knees had not fully recovered from the day before so the downhill sections were slow and painful. Climbing was a lot more manageable.

I passed several camping areas with glamping pods as I approached Tyndrum, which was a welcoming sight. It is located at the junction of three major roads in the highland; providing access from Glasgow to Oban and Fort William and beyond. Options for accommodation are more plentiful here; from wild camping to pods and hotels. Unfortunately nothing was available when I booked.

I stopped at the Green Welly for lunch and had a large meal of roast beef and potatoes. It had started to rain by the time I left. The unpredictable weather of the Scottish highlands was a major concern during the planning stage of the walk. I hate the cold. It is one of the reasons why I live in Florida. The rain persisted for the remaining 7 miles to the Bridge of Orchy. I wasn't particularly worried about my knees because I knew the route was mostly flat along an old military road.

Strangely, I loved the rain on this day. I had on a rain jacket with a hoodie. The path was not very strenuous, but it was covered with loose rocks that had begun to pulverize the soles of my feet everytime I stepped on one. It became painful after awhile, so I carefully watched where I stepped.

I found myself getting into a routine about a mile into the walk; a somewhat hypnotic state of one leg in front of the other while marveling at the scenery. I loved the low clouds and mist and how they changed the entire landscape. To the left of the trail, was the main road that runs through Rannoch Moor and Glencoe. The cars were rushing by in a blanket of mist and rain, their headlights like pale orbs, and their wheels churning the wet asphalt into a spray of shimmering diamonds. To the right was the railway for the Glencoe commuter train, a trail of steel, disappearing in the distance. It would be difficult to get lost here, I only had to follow it to find my way to the Bridge of Orchy.

It noticed as I passed the train station that it also served as an overnight hostel for hikers. I thought that was pretty cool, another novel concept. I arrived at the hotel at 2:36pm and my luggage had already been delivered. I decided then and there, that I would be using the luggage service for the rest of the way. The walk took 7 hours and 36 mins.

The small village of Bridge of Orchy is located in an area of lush natural beauty, surrounded by rolling hills, rugged mountains, and winding rivers. The falling rain accentuated the peaceful tranquility of its setting. The hotel itself has a warm rustic charm, a cozy interior and a welcoming atmosphere. The pub was lively, an apparent hub for travelers.

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This was by far my favorite day. The weather was great and the views were spectacular, with vast and constantly changing skies.

I left the Bridge of Orchy Hotel at about 7am, destined for Kingshouse, about 13 miles away. It was a crisp misty morning and everything was still wet from the previous day's rain. I picked up the trail right outside of the hotel and followed it across the River Orchy, passing an area of wild campers to the back of the hotel where it began a quick and steady ascent towards the top of a mountain. A half mile into my walk, I looked back towards the hotel. It was a beautiful view of the town (photo #1 of group below). There was a low dense cloud that hung behind the hotel beyond a copse of conifers. The edges of the cloud kept rising above the trees eventually dissolving into whispy strands that revealed a translucent view of the mountain behind them. Thin whisps kept rising, reaching for the sky, followed by others breaking away on their own journey towards the sky. It was an introduction to the views that were to come.

I felt invigorated by the cold air tinged with the smell of fresh pine from the surrounding conifer forest. As the trail crested the mountain at 1,056ft, about 1.6 miles in, views of a mist shrouded Loch Tulla began to appear and remained for the majority of the descent into the small hamlet of Inveroran. Further along, situated on a tall mound was a large cairn overlooking Loch Tulla. It was clear that the rocks were added by previous hikers, getting bigger with each stone, so I decided I would add my own. I scrambled to the top with my rock, and this was where I had my first encounter with the midges I had read so much about. It was an experience I was not prepared for. They swarmed around my head entering every orifice they could find. I quickly stumbled down to the trail below, and hastily found and donned my midge net.

The descent into Inveroran went by quickly. I was preoccupied with the changing vista caused by the swirling and lifting mist. The landscape was constantly changing, sometimes within a matter of seconds, and that is not an exaggeration. At one point, Loch Tulla was veiled in mist, presenting an ethereal scene where the distant bank remained totally obscured, save for the mirrored reflection of its trees. This created a surreal landscape where upside-down trees appeared to be suspended above their right-side-up counterparts in the forefront. The interplay of mist and reflections crafted a mesmerizing and otherworldly vista.

Within a minute, the mist had cleared sufficiently to reveal the far bank filled with trees. I took several photos but they do not do justice to the experience. There is a time stamp of 1 minute between photos 2 and 3 below.

The path is relatively flat between Inveroran and the Victoria Bridge Car Park, where it resumes an ascent from 565ft to 1,462ft over 6.5 miles. The rest of the journey crosses the flat expanse of Rannoch Moor, a breathtaking wilderness. The trail meanders through a mosaic of bogs, heather-covered hills, shimmering rivers, with panoramic views of untouched natural beauty below large and wide skies. The weather here can be unpredictable. My previous drives through the region were always through mist or sudden rain, but I was lucky on this trip... the weather was perfect.

I was surprised by the impact Rannoch Moor had on me. The expansive golden terrain of Rannoch Moor, the peaks of Glen Coe with their steep rock walls carved by ancient glaciers, inspired a sense of awe and humility. I felt dwarfed by their grandeur, with a sense of peace and belonging. I was also mesmerized by the bigness of the skies and the movements of the clouds. Vast stretches of clouds creating a tapestry of constantly changing textures against a blue sky.

There were many more hikers ranging from young to old, on this leg. I include myself in the latter, but there were others older than me. The trail funnels through Kingshouse, which is located in the moors, making it a hub for hikers from all corners of the globe. I had reservations for the bunkhouse in a room that sleeps 4. The rooms in the main hotel are pricey, over US$400. There is also a wild camp site to the back of the property.

I arrived at Kingshouse just after mid-day and sat outside the pub with a cider, watching as other hikers came in. Some stopped for a bit then traveled on to Kinlochleven, but most stayed at Kingshouse or close by. As the evening wrapped up, the atmosphere in and around the pub became a hive of activity.

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I had a late start, leaving at 8:24. This was the day that caused the most angst during my prep for the walk. It was the day I would face the dreaded Devil's Staircase. I was confident it would not be a problem based on what I learned over the prior days; uphill was a lot easier than going down. But I was anxious nonetheless, it was the descents that wreaked havoc with my right knee.

The trail from Kingshouse is relatively flat. It is an old military road that runs parallel to the main road. At about .7 miles in, the trail jogs to the right, moving slightly away from the road. It is easy to miss this turn as I did, preoccupied with the majesty of the rugged Glencoe mountains ahead. I was almost at the road before I realized I had missed the turn, so I doubled back, adding another half mile to the journey.

The trail narrows as it approaches the Devil's Staircase, running right next to the main road for about a mile before turning sharply right to begin the steep climb. There is a sign at the base describing the origins of the Devil's Staircase. The climb is about a mile from the bottom at ~966ft to the top at ~1850ft. The trail, a path of loose rocks and stones, becomes more demanding the more it ascends. It required focus, perseverance and mental fortitude. Mentally, I found it easiest to focus on each step, literally one step at a time out of necessity to avoid injury and also knowing that each step was one step closer to the top. It was an exhausting experience but nothing I felt I couldn't endure. I stopped when I needed to, to catch my breath and enjoy the view behind me.

It took 35 minutes to reach the top. I was dead tired, and overwhelmed by a sense of achievement mingled with awe at the breathtaking panorama. The view from this vantage point, looking back across the route I had taken, encompasses the vast expanse of the Highlands, with the majestic mountains of Glencoe and the moor stretching out below. In the opposite direction, where I was headed, distant mountains filled the horizon, a stark reminder of the miles that lay ahead. Below, them and below my vantage point, the view of Blackwater Dam was captivating, sitting in the valley, a vast body of water surrounded by a carpet of lush green distant trees.

It then dawned on me that the reservoir below me flows into Kinlochleven, which meant the entire path ahead of me was downhill. The remaining five miles was going to be difficult.

Overall, the walk to Kinlochleven is a scenic descent through woodlands, offering a diversity of views, with glimpses of the village and the tranquil beauty of Loch Leven. The descent is relatively gentle (painful in my case) allowing for a more leisurely pace while still providing captivating views of the surrounding hills and valleys.

The town of Kinlochleven, is situated at the head of Loch Leven. It is surrounded by mountains with the River Leven running through it. It has a charming, intimate feel about it, with its scattering of houses, shops, and local amenities.

I arrived about mid-day, got the keys to my Pod where I would spend the night, then headed to the local Pub. Like Kingshouse, the trail runs right through the town. It wasn't long before people I had met the night before began arriving, and just like the night before, the pub became a center of laughter and chatter, this time less restrained and more like a reunion of friends.

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