Fozzie and Pockets on the Pacific Crest Trail

The November issue of Trail Magazine has an article by a couple of guys I've been following who are walking the Pacific Crest Trail.

The PCT is a trail that starts at the Mexican border, travelling through California and Oregon and then Washington (state) to finally meet the Canadian border, some 2650 miles away.

I somehow found Keith Foskett (trail name Fozzie) through Facebook back in April I guess. Pockets (real name Josh Myers), I found under his 'Trekking Photography" page, and it was just coincidence that they happened to meet each other and the pair teamed up to walk.

Fozzie has a great blog where he regularly posts video footage as he's hiking the trail, plus reviews of his kit. There are also great descriptions of the trail and trail life itself. Great reading!

Pockets already had a website demonstrating his stunning creativity with a camera and his pics have been used in the Trail magazine spread.

The magazine is out today, so I'm looking forward to seeing how the sites I've been following translate into printed matter. Grab a copy for yourselves!

Gonna Fly Now, or at least Run!

Regular readers will most likely know that I'm not the fittest person on the planet, and I have goals of completing some stonkingly long walks in the next few years. I don't mean a couple of multi dayers either...This combination is not a very satisfying one.

Plus, I look at some 'shorter' walks that my friend Steve does with envy. He's just posted on his blog two walks that I would really love to do, the Ring of Steall and the CMD route up Ben Nevis, but realistically I am probably not fit enough to attempt them at present. I want to do walks like this in summer and winter conditions, to help prepare me for different weather and conditions on these longer walks, and for the sake of the hills themselves too. With the winter coming towards us, the lack of fitness and walking in more exposed areas increases the risk.

I can't remember the last time I regularly run. Well, I can remember a time, when I only did 1.5-2 miles a night, most nights, and got really skinny. I'm not bothered about getting skinny; it doesn't suit me and frankly I'd rather be strong and fit.

But I have started to run again, around my local park. I've only been out three times so far, but already I notice the difference in how well I do from one run to the next. I hesitate to call it running because I walk a bit too, but gradually the walking is becoming less and the running further. I'm pleased by this. I'm also pleased when I have those sublime moments where it just feels so easy and effortless. The moments may not last more than 10-20 seconds, but they're there and hopefully I'll have more of them!

It has a knock on effect in that I notice more what I fuel my body with. I'm reasonably clued up on nutrition having trained with bodybuilders and boxers in the relative recent past, and have a few books on the subject too. So different aspects of my life are being pulled in to support my walking goals; another aspect I like.

I think because I haven't approached this in a negative mind set (the "I'm so fat / unfit" type), I'm enjoying the process and a sense of rediscovery of what I can do, how I can push myself and when I should, how I talk to myself to encourage myself to keep going, what I sing to myself to give whatever I'm doing a sense of rhythm.

Currently it tends to be the Rocky theme tune, "Gonna Fly Now", probably because when I did a bit of boxing training in the past, watching the transformation of Rocky in the first film was inspiring to me. I was lucky enough to have to go to Philadelphia on a training course with work a few years ago and went to the Museum of Art and stood in Sylvester Stallone's tiny foot prints.

So I'll finish off with a clip from the film.

Not The Time Travellers Wife

Well, I'm not married, but the walk I did earlier was very much like travelling through time for me. I've been getting a bit bored and dissatisfied with doing the 20 mile traipse in the car out to the Peak District in search of somewhere a bit hilly to walk. To get out there I pass where I used to live. I moved to Sheffield from Norfolk in 1984 when I was 12, to a pretty affluent suburb called Dore. When I was about 14 or 15 I started to walk in the hills above Dore, just going out after school.

Today I decided to go back there and walk pretty much as I did then. No map, no compass, or pack. Just jeans, T-shirt and fleece and some trainers (well, my Terrocs anyway). It was the second outing for my Montane Kagoule, I mean Lite-Speed, too. I did have my mobile on me though the signal is easily lost in places up there.

It would be interesting for me, too, because I would be able to compare how fit I am now compared to me at about 17 - so eek, 22 years ago!

I set off from Durvale Court, up Furniss Avenue; the road I used to walk on the way to school, King Ecgbert School. Back then there were two sites, Wessex and Mercia, the school and its buildings named after a battle where, as King of Wessex, he beat Northumbria into submission and became overlord of England in 829. Mercia has been left to ruin now; I'm surprised that the council hasn't tried to flog the land for more housing.

After getting to the top of Furniss you cross over a road to head up Drury Lane, all very nice tree lined residential roads with some old farm buildings and some more modern buildings. Money is pretty evident here.

Then at the end of Drury Lane I turned left to go up Townhead Road, past an old friends house. I remember her joining the school a year after I did. She was the first person I knew who had a computer. Back when they were the awful beigey cream colour. I think it was actually a BBC computer, with the 7.5" floppy drive, though my memory is a bit fuzzy now!

Heading onwards up Townhead I passed the old farm building that long ago became just another resi house. And then onwards towards Fairthorn, which I believe is a mental hospital, but can't say to be sure. It sits opposite a tight road junction that leads up to where I used to do a paper round, Newfield Lane. I used to enjoy doing paper rounds because it meant I'd be up very early, before many other people were about and often saw the best part of the day weather wise. Some elderly people used to look after me and I remember one old bloke used to give me a pack of Polos every now and then and have a chat. Nothing untoward; he knew my Mum who worked in the village too. It was just a regular face for him and a bit of company.

Newfield Lane adjoins 'Wagg Wood' which has a stunning old stone semi mansion building in it. I remember finishing my round one day and walking to the road junction and stopped to look down the hill to see a Fox and her cubs playing in the wood. I just stood and watched 5 animals rough and tumble and bite and snap at one another, oblivious to me. It's a memory I'll carry 'til I die.

I used to come back to this spot when I came home from University. Sometimes to just sit on the bench to look at the view (below), sometimes to carry on on the walk and recapture some of the young thoughts and ideals I had.
Carrying down the hill from here you reach a stone bridge that crosses Redcar Brook, before carrying on up the road, past the farm houses on the right (the Clarks used to have the tenancy) before turning left into Shorts Lane.

At this point I used to feel a sense of getting off the beaten path, although it led to Ann Barber's riding stables so was pretty well used. I believe she did some show jumping at Wembley, but there are a lot of horsey people around here, with a couple of relatively famous UK showjumpers hereabouts.

There's a pretty pleasant walk down the lane to where it turns past the stables and descends slightly through mud, to where the Blacka Moor Nature Reserve starts.

This is my turf. It was my refuge in my teens and where I went when I wanted to think, to get wind swept, to get rid of some excess energy, to test myself a bit. I remember being caught with a friend on the tops in a white out once. She started to panic, but I knew that even if it was a 4 mile walk out, if we kept leapfrogging eachother and followed one direction as much as possible, then we'd reach a road. I became reasonably resourceful and savvy, usually walking on my own and becoming self reliant. I'd drink from the streams and pick the blackberries and bilberries, much as I did today!

I'd follow sheep and deer tracks on to the tops. I'd walk out to Longshaw and Burbage and Houndkirk occasionally. I'd rarely see anyone else, no matter what the time of year. I think the most I saw were some firemen once who had to leave the truck down the hill and were legging it up to try to put a blaze of heather out.

At this time of year there's a mix of decay combined with a sense of new life to come. Blackberries abound with seeds neatly packaged, ready to be deposited with free manure in the decaying leaf litter, ready to shoot up next spring. Shaggy moss and dark ferns cover long forgotten stone walls around a small quarry.

Magical fungus, another part of the decay process, seemed to proliferate today. It seems to be a great year for mushrooms and toadstools, of all types and descriptions.

Continuing on through the wood there's a choice of many different footpaths. Some you have to cross Oldhay Brook to reach; there's a very pretty set of stepping stones for when the stream is full. The stream is beautifully clear with a sandy bottom.
Or you can continue up on the path towards a bridleway coming down from Devil's Elbow (what a great name!).

I carried on towards Piper House Gate. Which ever way you choose, you can't avoid going up. Over the years of coming up here after school, I got to know this area intimately. It's strange to come back and feel that depth, but now to hardly remember paths at all. This signpost was new. The woods had continued to grow, of course. They do not stand still, even if I do.

Some parts are vaguely familiar; the twist of a path, a big gritstone boulder. Trees that were saplings echo memories in my brain. Patterns of streams, the sounds, the flow. Some of these remain constant but changing. They fascinate me.

Gaining height you can't help but notice the change in the trees. Gone are the occasional, massively tall and wide Beech and in their stead are twisted birch, gnarled oak, all growing shorter and rougher and battling against harsher weather until finally they seem to have given up and petre out, giving way to Rowan and ash and odd silver birches with an under blanket of bilberry and heather and bracken that is being fought against. Sheep aren't to be seen here; the land is being 'managed'. Late bilberries are still hanging on the shrubs. I eat some but they're mealy now. I try what looks like cranberries but they are awfully bitter and I'm not convinced one hundred percent that I know what they are! I come upon different fungus, a Fly Agaric or magic mushroom, ink caps, and bracket fungus.
Too many types for my paltry knowledge to identify. But I'm pleased to s-l-o-w down and notice things. I notice how the paths on the tops have changed. More signs. More footfall. What once were paths of a single foot width, now are three or four foot widths. And people have walked aside that paths, widening them further in places. I notice old paths, tiny wanderings that lead off and get tempted as I once did, to wander the hills, regardless of time. Just to explore, to find somewhere a bit different, a different view, a different feeling. Day after day of being up here seems to flood back into my bones. The old memories beat against the closed doors in my mind, reminding me that they ARE there.

Emerging from the shrubbery and thickets, I gain a clear view over Sheffield, sweeping around from the Roman ridge up to Houndkirk, around over the city in the distance, travelling south and then west towards Owler Bar and finally to Totley Moss. Higher up is the chimney from the Totley Tunnel, a landmark from a number of sides of Totley Moss.

The tops are inviting me on but I am trying to remain faithful to my original idea of travelling time. Back then if I didn't hurry home I wouldn't be back in time to get dinner on for when Mum got in from work, and Dad half an hour later. I turned down the hill and again found the view before heading back into the stunted trees, twisting and turning over bilberry bushes, now starting to edge crimson with the autumn colour.

Eventually I emerged opposite Bole Hill and followed the widening footpath down towards Strawberry Lee Lane, past the ever present gorse. The path becomes wider, eventually becoming a road. I remembered some of the footpaths I used to take home. I had a choice between Tailors Hill and Totley Bents, or to take a lower path and pass Avenue Farm. I took this route and remembered it for dodging cows in the fields, and the inevitable churned mud around the many places where they'd drink from the brook. It seems that Himalayan Balsam has taken a hold though and is choking out some areas of the streams.

Soon I reached Totley Brook and emerged out on the road itself, passing Victorian houses with cellars, right next to more modern Art Deco buildings and then those in construction now. Houses where friends lived, memories of playing in the school fields or just hanging out. And later when we started to grow up we'd congregate in the holidays after not seeing each other for months.

It was an interesting walk for me to do. A lot of memories, thoughts, feelings. Some welcome. Few not. I'm about the same fitness I was back then. Though I was substantially fitter at Uni as I played rugby! The walk was about 5 miles, and I used to do it in about an hour and a half - to make it home to do dinner! Today I ambled and took my time and was about fifteen minutes longer. It was nice to wander.

I think I'll revisit again and find more tracks!

TGO Challenge Entry

I've gone and done it and created my entry for the 2011 TGO Challenge.

The hardest question was, "Why do you want to enter the TGO Challenge?". People who read my blog will know I'm not the most concise person on Earth so I reluctantly abbreviated it to:
"I've read TGO for a few years and in 2010 followed Phil Turner's online blog, listened to podcasts and felt jealous! Just want to experience Scotland more, meet more backpackers and enjoy it." Seems fair enough to me.

Phil's wasn't the only online blog I followed at the time, though it was the one I followed most consistently. I blame Darren for this as he listed a few entrants who were going to be blogging through the route and it got me completely addicted.

All this was just a matter of a couple of weeks after following the start of this years trail blazers on the Pacific Crest Trail, who started from the Mexican border in April, some of them then flip flopping the route because of the heavy and unusual snow fall this year. The PCT is a massive goal for me, has been for a few years now. So with the PCT excitement flooding my veins, and then the Scottish 2 weeker (as opposed to 4-5 monther) I thought, "I want a go at this".

Since then I've found many more people online through the network of blogs and Twitter; some blogs are still being updated with written and video reports, all making for inspiring (and often amusing) reading as the evenings creep in.

Just hope I get in!

St Sunday Crag and Fairfield Horseshoe

The alarm went off at 05:10 but I was barely conscious of it. I woke properly at the next alarm ten minutes later. By six I was on the road from Sheffield to the Lake District via the Snake Pass and Manchester. The Snake was pretty clear and I forgot about a few of the 'yumps' so nearly had lift off early in the day; a recurring theme for later on as it was very windy on the hill.

After being snagged on the Manchester Ring Road I made it up to the Lakes to meet Steve Horner a few hours later. He has already written up the walk we did over Arnison Crag, Birks and St Sunday Crag, it was a good day and a good laugh and frankly I think he has said more than enough so will leave that there!

After a drink in the pub we left for our separate ways, me to drive back down Kirkstone Pass towards Ambleside and he for home. I parked up, had the obligatory wander around, snagged a bag of chips which I asked the lady in the chip shop to remove half of, and got some money back (bonus!).

Time was moving on and I needed to find somewhere not too far from Ambleside to camp up for the night. I asked a local guy who had finished cashing up in his shop if he knew of anywhere and he pointed me to a camp spot that I never found! However on my travels I found somewhere near Loughrigg where I could park my car and have a reasonably comfy camp for free. Good job too as it was getting dark and I just wanted to bed down.

After getting sorted out I used my phone to go online only to find said Mr Horner posting a pic of me to Twitter and making statements regarding my map reading capabilities. Hmm. I quickly made it known that while I may be camping I was not on another planet (well, maybe that's debatable) and that in the pic I was actually orienting the map. Luckily for him my phone battery was wimping out big time so I went to sleep, comfortable and warm in my 'dodgy' quilt.

I had a disturbed night, waking as I moved in my sleep because of a few massive bruises I had sustained after falling over yet again in the days walk. Finally, cows woke me up with their bellowing just after dawn, desperate to be relieved of their milk! Time to make a move.

Today's 'objective' was the Fairfield Horseshoe. As Steve said, I wouldn't be able to get lost on a horseshoe, would I? I really don't know how he has the gall to complain of my navigation skills though I did mention I wanted to work on them.

So I made my way back over to Ambleside, got free parking for the day as the car park machine wasn't accepting any money (cheap trip this) and set off down the road towards Rydal.

I had picked this walk because I thought it would be interestesting to see Fairfield from a different perspective, knowing that I would have seen it on the St Sunday Crag walk the previous day. I remember going on The London Eye a good few years ago; from the height you reach it really made sense of the geography of London, and gave a great overview of the city. Going up to Fairfield would achieve a similar aim over this side of the Lake District.

The route took me over Scandale Bridge where I took the gated track towards Rydal Mount and the conference centre there. I passed a dead sheep; no sign of blood; the neck was obviously broken or else it would have a hell of a crick in it's neck when it woke up!

Afer the hall I followed the footpaths that had been signing to Nab Scar, the first bit of ascent. I was almost glad to be walking on my own. While I got a bit fitter after the WHW I needed to stop frequently to catch my breath; I'm half surprised Steve didn't mention this in his St Sunday Crag post (though there was the reference to the OAPs...). It was really enjoyable though and such brilliant views that I didn't mind anyway.

Eventually I got to the top; this was probably the hardest part of the walk and I was glad I hadn't done the route in reverse; my knees certainly wouldn't have thanked me! From the top I could see along the broad ridge to Heron Pike, with a glimpse of Great Rigg leading up to Fairfield beyond. The views across to the other side of the valley were lovely. I'd got a great day for walking, the sun was shining, it wasn't as windy as the previous day had been and it being still relatively early in the day I hardly saw anyone else. That is until Heron Pike when two middle aged men in usual walking garb asked me to interpret their map for them. Steve may get worried at this point, but I knew exactly where I was without the aid of a GPS so could direct them to where a path led down towards Grasmere.

I carried on up to Great Rigg, quite enthralled to see the hills unfolding before me. The contrast of morning shadows played across valleys and dales, even Great Gable wasn't black for a time! I was joined by a couple who had walked up to Great Rigg from Grasmere on their Coast to Coast. They'd decided to take this route, hoping to link up Fairfield with St Sunday Crag before descending into Patterdale. We walked more or less together to the summit of Fairfield, with it's cairns and shelter.

It was pretty cold on top and I resorted to putting my glove liners and hat on while I had my lunch, looking out over the lunar landscape to the Isle of Man. It was incredibly clear with no haze. I could see the sandbanks glistening in the distance. A couple of people wandered on to the summit, and other people moved gradually away. There was a tall, lanky bloke in his 50s, wearing shorts with the sort of sinewy legs you'd expect to see on a Greyhound.

The view back to St Sunday Crag was pretty spectacular too.

After absorbing the views and wandering over the summit for a while, I gathered myself for the second part of the horseshoe. For the people that like that sort of thing, I'd already bagged four Wainwrights that morning, so had four left to do on my way back. The first of these, Hart Crag, was pretty close by. Nice couple of rocks to walk over, compared to the grassy lumps that had made up most of the mornings walk. There seemed to be a small cluster of 3 or 4 separate couples headed my way, each led by a man carrying the map, with a woman following on behind. The guys tended to mutter hello while the women tended to look utterly fed up! These didn't even look like ill-prepared tourists as such, more like people who regularly did this! Brightening things up somewhat , on my way to Dove Crag I saw a woman who could feasibly be me in 20 years time!

We stopped and chatted. She had an OMM pack on, a Woolpower top and Terrocs amongst other things. She gave me a run down of her kit and what she thought of it and I shared my (more limited) experience too. She was lucky enough to live nearby so was able to get out on the hills at least once a week. I wished I could do the same! While I like the Peak District, more and more I just want to be challenged by 'proper' hills that need a significant climb up!

Leaving her I followed the brick wall towards High Pike and not far after, Low Pike, enjoying the incredible views down towards Windermere and seeing the little summits of the 'ridge' I was walking along appear more pronounced as I descended.

There were a few boggy bits which I privately laughed at, comparing them to the mass of bog on top of Kinder. There was even a mini grough at about a foot high!

And then of course the inevitable happened and the Lake District got it's rewenge; I stood in a boggy bit so my right foot was covered in dark peaty matter once again
I passed some interesting rock formations on the way down, which held my interest instead of the views for a time.

Just a bit further on a rather strange lady approached to ask if she and 'Alan' were at High Pike, but I showed her where we were on the map. She almost looked as if she blamed me that they weren't farther along and said 'Well, I've done Low Pike before'; I showed her a couple of reference points and left them to it, wondering at the attitude of people on the hill. If I'm on a route that covers a hill I've already done I couldn't care less; I often repeat routes in the Peaks just out of enjoyment of being outside, rather than having a bingo approach to being up there!

Finally I made the last of the descent down to Ambleside, picking blackberries as I went and feeling rather mischevious. I indulged this further with some gingerbread in a coffee shop and managed to blag some for free for a friend! It wasn't a wildly exciting walk, and I noticed how much quieter it had been compared to the previous day in terms of verbal abuse and general bickering, but it was brilliant weather to walk in, utterly awesome views and a spur to do more and more hills in the future.

WHW Mileage, Kit and Comms, and Final Thoughts

"The great pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do."
Walter Bagehot 

I am not so perverse as to live my entire life by the quote above, but a big reason for doing this walk was to prove to myself that I could actually complete a 95 mile walk and in the process, shed the weight of unfinished business. Part of this is a legacy of past relationships; not just with the guy I did it with originally, but more recent relationships too.
Previously I seem to have surrounded myself with people who doubted me, my capability, my steadfastness. Telling me that I couldn't do something, that I wasn't good enough. Sometimes if I dared prove them wrong I'd be punished. For a long time I believed them and while on the face of it I had plenty of adventures, they were other peoples' adventures, to suit them. They weren't mine. Now times have changed.

My determination was certainly challenged here. I hope it's been obvious where I struggled but also where I rose up too. Sometimes this was with the help of friends; at other times just my own self reliance. In a way I feel as if I've reclaimed part of myself. The WHW isn't a massive undertaking in my opinion, but it did give me cause to think at times!

One of the things I've learned through doing the walk is that, whereas I previously thought of myself as someone who would be able to manage just fine in solitary, actually I derive a lot of pleasure from being with other people. Where in the past I have often said hello to people on the walks I do, this walk was a little different in that other people seemed to want to connect with me and share their stories at a more fundamental level. This tended to work most for other single women (none actually doing the walk), and younger men travelling together. (I didn't encounter more than one or two men travelling alone either). For some it was a simple hello and exchange of two or three questions. For others there was far more depth. I feel pretty comfortable in my own skin; enough for people to be themselves with me I hope. I've no agenda with people; I'm not looking to gain anything at their expense, to ridicule or put them down. More, I prefer to encourage and spur them on. I wouldn't want to live any other way.

Doing the walk exagerated the highs and lows I usually feel. I usually feel a sheer lust for life, but sometimes I can swing from feeling abundantly alive (which is great) to pretty low sometimes (which is not so great but I try to treat it as a balance to the happier side. This doesn't always work!). There were issues going on at the time of the walk that I couldn't really do a lot about but which did have an impact on my outlook and how alone I felt at times. Usually I walk alone (cue: Green Day) but this walk was different in that obviously there was a fair number of people around; especially around Loch Lomond, before people really started to drop out. I found it difficult to access the normal tranquility I feel when I walk, and I may have been better with a more isolated walk, curiously enough. And to clear the decks at home as much as I can before I do another walk, if I have any element of control over them.

I have a goal of completing the PCT and I need to have faith that I can deal with the lows as well as the highs when I am so far removed from my friends and family. In the future I would like to do longer walks both on my own and with company to see what suits me best. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting the people on the walk and this is surely evident through my writing. But I think I'd like to be far more off the beaten track which would set my expectation from the outset. Something I need to test.

So, to a few stats:

Daily Distance (Miles)
Day 1 Milngavie to Garadhban Forest   16
Day 2 Garadhban Forest to Inversnaid  20
Day 3 Inversnaid to Crianlarich            11.5
Day 4 Rest Day
Day 5 Crianlarich to Bridge of Orchy    13.5
Day 6 Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven  20.5
Day 7 Kinlochleven to Fort William      14.5

Kit
Disclaimer: For anyone looking for inspiration regarding cutting edge or lightweight gear, look away now; the following may offend!


My WHW was undertaken with what I had to hand. No special purchases were made, apart from a new gas canister. I've not had much money recently so haven't been able to massively reduce the weight of my kit / upgrade it / be fashionable / whatever. The biggest contibution was the free GoLite Jam from a friend, enabling me to leave out at least 2Kgs. Another contribution was made by Steve Horner after trying to hide his tea pot in my old pack. That wasn't going to happen again.

The Big Three
Tent: Wild Country Trisar 2.8Kgs
Sleeping (Quilt + NeoAir) 1.6Kgs
Rucksack 0.56Kgs
Big Three Total 4.96Kgs

• Cooking (Coleman Microstove, New Canister, Titan Kettle, Lighter, Spork, Empty 2L Platypus, Stuffsack) Total 566 g
• Hygiene and Meds Total 170g
• Clothing Total 1.5Kgs
• Painting things 227g
• Info (Map, Book (Henry David Thoreau's Walking @88g), WHW Guide Book) Total 288g
• Misc (Petzl Tika Plus, Compass, Penknife, Moscoils, Writing materials) Total 306g
• Food (At the start I had enough for 4 days, see below, but this included 2xMountain House dehydrated Meals, 5xBreakfast (OatSoSimple with dried milk), 2xGalaxy Hot Choc Sachets, Tea, Coffee, Dried Milk, Snickers Bars) Total 1121g

On the page it looks as if I was carrying about 9.3Kgs; In reality I reckon this was probably more like 10Kgs when considering the water I carried, plus the extra weight of the tent from the rain. When I came home the whole lot weighed 8.4Kgs. This will be a far cry from when I did it last time; I recall a figure of about 37lbs for my Austria trip, which equates to about 16.8Kgs. How the hell did I carry that? Over the coming months I want to drastically reduce the weight I carry. Both on me and my pack :o)

Obviously I need to replace my waterproof trousers. And my tent. And I am thinking about something warmer to sleep in as we head towards colder months. I like the quilt and it's starting to see a bit of use (in the house too when I have people over; it's probably had as much use from this as outdoors!) But I'm tussling with the sleeping bag option again. I need to give more thought to a lighter weight approach to being warm in winter.

Water
I tended to carry no more than about 200ml in the Platypus; I used it for the first day which didn't have so many water sources, but after this I only filled it with enough to act as a reservoir before the next source if I didn't think the 500ml bottle I carried (from the Co-op) would be enough. In the end I only used the Platy if I wanted more water overnight to save getting up and even then rarely filled it more than half way. I drank straight from the streams, if I had a choice those with moss to act as a basic filter, preferably sandy bedded, fast flowing. I usually had quite a lot of choice!

Food
I was trying to not spend too much money on food. When I set out I had 2 Mountain House Dehydrated meals, 2 meals I had dehydrated myself, some Pitta bread with foil packed tuna and Primula Squeezy Cheese Spread. I'd packaged up OatSoSimple (which is too high GI for me) into daily breakfast amounts mixed with dried skimmed milk powder. I also had 3 Snickers bars, GORP (of course; I find it gives me a lift but that's sugar for you, though the nuts helped level that out) and tea and coffee. I took some Via sachets which were awesome!
Along the way I picked up some really heavy but good Flapjack bars, two big (mass produced) sausage rolls which were good for longer energy; I guess the from the fat since there couldn't have been much protein in them, more Snickers bars (duo packs then I could save it) and that was about it. Odd can of Sprite in Gartness. Lager Shandy and Orange Juice with Lemonade a few times. That was great to flood out carbohydrate and electrolytes back into my body and helped to recover better, for rehydration and energy. Not sure I can use that argument with the shandy though...
In the future I'd probably switch to more cereal bars and flapjacks in the day. I liked the breakfast but found I was hungry again after about 2 hours. The GORP was great, the Primula I'd leave out, tuna was good but heavy but was nice to get decent protein in. The pitta was a Food Doctor multiseed cereal healthy type that seemed to last well for a few days, didn't distintegrate and gave me a bit longer lasting energy.
I interspersed a couple of days with pub meals which were okay but just meant that I was carrying food for longer; until I'd eaten it. It was good psychologically though!
I'm not sure that I ate enough; I felt okay most of the time but do tend to react if I haven't eaten enough so kept an eye out for that (I get the shakes!). After a couple of days I knew how I reacted to the extra exercise and carrying so fell into a pattern that worked.

Communications
I have a very old (approaching 2 years) Motorola Razr which is usually pathetic as far as battery life goes. It meant that I restricted my calls and texts and barely accessed the web. I have mixed feelings about using a phone on a trip like this. On this walk it would have been nice to be able to be more in touch with people, but I am conscious that one of the reasons I like walking is to escape. I feel a bit caught up with Twitter and Facebook at the moment and am not sure it's really in the spirit of why I love the hills.

Fitness
As far as the actual physical walking goes, one thing that would help me in the future is to have a more solid foundation of walking behind me. I was pretty pleased with how my body responded to the physical demands of the walk given the little preparation I'd had (I find it hard to accept that at 39 I can't do what I did at 25!!). I hadn't carried a pack for several days at a time for several years. The longest day walk I'd done recently was only 11 or 13 miles (I can't remember now). So to do a couple of stretches of 20 miles with a pack was pretty good going for me I think. I just want to capitalise on that now. I dropped a bit of weight and I certainly notice the increased fitness generally, but got to keep on keeping on!

All in all I'm pleased I did the West Highland Way, there's a few things I'd change but it's all good experience for the next outing, which will be...

WHW Day 7 Kinlochleven to Fort William

A grey day in Kinlochleven. It seemed fitting really. I moved my body stiffly to try to wake it up and begrudgingly it complied. I didn't set off until gone half 8 and it seemed as if the odd couple of tents nearby were of the same view; nothing stirred from them as I packed away.

I walked along the main road in the town, around towards the school and a hotel, and started the climb up out of Kinlochleven following the usual signs. Gradually my body warmed up and became a bit more flexible. I kept feeding it bits of flapjack to keep it going and it seemed to do the trick. Thank God for the poles too! I'm impressed with how much more leverage you can get when you're going uphill with them. If I hadn't have had them it would have been slow and painful. As it was the haul up out of Kinlochleven wasn't my preferred start to the day!

I laughed as I crossed the road that led to Mamore Lodge (someone had told me that locally they call it The Shining!); that soon stopped as I dug in for the next steep bit! The cloud hung low over the Loch and hills and I climbed up slowly but steadily. Following the switchbacks I left the bits of birch and other trees to where the path eventually levelled out and then started to drop. A bit more flapjack! After crossing Alt Coire na h-Eirghe the walk went parallel to Alt Nathrach and was pretty easy, and I got into a better rhythm. I could see from the map that I was in the presence of some great hills, but I didn't actually get to see them! I still enjoyed this section though; it was a great place to be alone with my thoughts and let the regularity of my walking lull me into a trance!

I passed the ruin at Tigh-na-sleubhaich and then, almost a mile later, I came across the one in Lairigmor, barely more than a pile of stones. I liked this area, it felt quite bleak and I appreciated the hardship people trying to make a living must have felt. The rain added a bit of atmosphere to the surroundings and I could almost feel people around me. Luckily I don't tend to get spooked by things like that and just soaked it all up (including the rain).

After a time, the undulating path took a distinct turn around the south west end of Meall a' Chaorainn; at least I could tell from the map it was there! The cloud cover was just too low to see that much at all. It was a bit disappointing to walk without getting to see the tops much but I did enjoy just the simple act of walking. It felt almost meditative at times and there was still plenty to see. At least the rain had seemedd to go; a big plus!

Reaching the start of a plantation I sat down and took a break, despite the midges! They weren't too bad which I found surprising, especially after being hounded by them on Rannoch, and being close to the trees and water. It was pretty peaceful, I didn't see a soul. I had yet more flapjack and made a quick brew. Thinking back on that now it still makes me feel at peace. I did a bit of pencil work as I was waiting for the water to boil, just woodland inside the flap of a book, but it helped me to feel connected to the landscape even more. I was also mindful that this was the last day and while some parts had just been a pain, some parts had been brilliant. And I felt a sense of loss that this was going to be it, until the next multi day walk. I really enjoyed the pattern that my life took on, so simple and satisfying.

Eventually though I shifted myself and started the way gently down, trying to dodge the water overrunning the streams as much as I could, hooray for poles again! The path the went uphill a bit which I thought was a tad unfair; surely it should all be downhill now to Glen Nevis! After a short area back out in the open I met the plantations again. Some parts of the forest seemed very dark, and the contrast was made greater as the cloud actually started to lift a bit! Wow! Even better, it actually stopped raining!!! I enjoyed the forest walk, the smell of the pine was increasing as the weather started to warm up a bit. I considered taking off my jacket but thought that was a bit rash.

Sliding along the footbridge crossing Allt Coire a Mhuilnn, which was beautiful, and full, I managed to not fall over. I had managed two days in a row of not falling over; a good run for me!

The next section of the walk which would eventually take me down into Glen Nevis felt a bit like someone was playing mind games with me. I found it hard to judge the distance I'd covered and crossed so many streams I couldn't identify one from another! There were stretches of straight forward, straight paths, and then undulating up and down sections, sometimes even a bit on the steep side. It was a case of just getting on with it. The trees were dense but then suddenly opened out for a quick tease and then I was plunged back into the Forest of Fanghorn.

At this point though I knew I was headed for the last stretch; the path finally decided which direction it was going to take and the forestry road picked it up. I caught glimpses of the side of Ben Nevis but the top was of course covered with cloud. I didn't mind, I just felt good that I was there.

Dropping down the path left the forestry track, after a couple of hundred yards I emerged next to the Braveheart Car Park (cringe). From there it was a case of tarmac bashing which was okay as far as it goes, but like many people, I wondered why they route the official route this way? It felt like a bit of an anticlimax to pass the resi areas and finally I arrived at the end point where I dug the wet camera out and took a picture.

From there I plodded on into town and heaved myself up the tiny hill to the backpackers hostel where I'd left my car. Luckily someone was milling around; I didn't expect to be able to get my keys until much later on. I had a coffee with them and a chat and then took the car around to Morrisons for a sandwich and a slab of chocolate.

I called my family and a couple of friends; so weird to be able to talk at relative leisure now that I could charge my phone. I took my rubbish into the Train Station where I saw a sign for a shower so I paid £3.50 for a really nice cubicle with a hair dryer and shampoo and a fluffy white towel! Bliss! I hadn't had a shower for a few days and there was no time limit so I stood for ages.

As I came back to reality I exited the Station feeling like a completely different woman, I spied a figure walking towards me. It was Tony Whewell again! I was so pleased to see him, especially as I hadn't said goodbye to him properly back near Inversnaid. He'd just got into Fort William himself but was in a bit of a rush; his wife had posted on a Caldera Cone and resupplies to the Post Office, but the one at Corpach rather than Fort Bill. I offered to do my Trail Angel bit and taxi him around to get what he needed, and it was loads of fun! After picking up his parcels in Corpach he dissembled his pack, repacked and sent off things he no longer needed, then we picked up a charger from a phone shop nearer town, and then did a fast mini tour of the outdoor shops so he could get more moscoils and drybags to protect his maps he'd had delivered. All the ones he'd used til then had started to do that paper mache trick; he admitted to me that the rain and midges was one of the worst parts of his LEJOG so I felt slightly better about how I'd been hacked off at times!

The sun started to come out; the first time we'd seen it for days. Even better, Ben Nevis actually cleared! It was great to see that view and almost brought a proper full stop to the Way.

It wasn't long though before we said our goodbyes and Tony left from the point I'd picked him up from, for continuity. I was again alone, and feeling frustrated because I wanted to carry on walking. That opportunity came in a small way when I received a text from someone, telling me that the official end to the WHW had actually moved and that it was down near the other end of Fort William. I wasn't going to bother to walk there; as far as I was concerned I had completed it. But then a little nagging voice got to me, so I wandered off down the main throughfare.

There was an old chap sat next to it...

I found out subsequently that this end didn't become official until 11th September 2010 so for anyone looking to complete it in the future, you've an extra mile to go!

WHW Day 6 Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven

Even after waking pretty late, I waited for a lull in the rain before I bothered to take the tent down. By now I had got into a routine of having things in their place, doing things in a certain order. That included the morning ritual of dressing the blisters on my feet! I had more blisters on my toes than on the ball or heel of my foot, so the compeed that I had weren't that much use; too big or too small but didn't fit the size of my blisters. Fortunately I had some micropore tape and a rectangle of melolin dressing; I used the scissors on my tiny Classic SD penknife to it cut to size. It worked pretty well; I didn't feel too much pain from them generally as this gave a bit of padding, and the tape was really old, which meant really sticky. It wasn't going to budge. At least not for a while.

I packed up, trying to shake off the rain from the tent fly. I package my fly and inner in separate dry bags in an attempt to preserve the inner, although the tent pitches outer first. When I came home I weighed the tent (it was still wet) and found I was carrying an extra 730g due to the rain!

Anyway this was going to be the day that I crossed Rannoch Moor. This was something I had been looking forward to, from well before I planned to do the walk a week or two before. Seeing the WHWers crossing Rannoch Moor from the comfort of my car often left me with a sense of yearning to be doing that too. I don't know why that bleak stretch of boggy waste appeals so much to me. Maybe it's the big lump of mountains behind it that sets it off? Sometimes I think of it as the dead marshes in Lord of the Rings, with the undead about to raise up and grab me! I set off through the plantation with some enthusiasm towards Mam Carraigh, which was about a mile and a half away.

From here the path dropped down towards the Western end of Loch Tulla and afforded some lovely views, in the mist.

As usual it got clearer lower down. It was an easy walk and when I came across the cairn the tiny rocks on the top really seemed to punctuate the landscape.

After this the track descended down to the Inveroran Hotel where I saw a pram and a trailer belonging to a couple who were doing the LEJOG. They'd apparently thought that the Rannoch Moor road would be okay for smaller wheels, but it ended up chewing up the prams wheels.

I didn't hang about; it was raining pretty steadily and I wanted to get on. But as soon as I turned around I saw the only deer I saw on the walk, not far ahead of me. I did stop for this!

It's not a great pic, but it does show how thick the weather was!

I thought the area around here was fascinating. I certainly felt a sense of excitement at being near bigger hills and passing a footpath sign near Victoria Bridge, signed for Glen Etive was awsome! It's one of my favourite places and set me thinking about walking routes to the glen from here, and the moutains directly ahead of me with the mass of Meall a Bhuiridh, though I couldn't actually see it...

I didn't take many more photos; I'd borrowed my Mum's camera and it was starting to get wet. I didn't want it to go the way of my phone so I'll take the opportunity now to apologise for the dearth of pics to come! Make the most of the few remaining!

Forest Lodge looked a bit out of place to me. I caught sight of a sign on the gate ahead, ominously directing those in doubt of their capability to stop at the campsite (grass) near to Inveroran Hotel as there was no help for the next 10miles. I hastened on. I was pretty wet through now but fine as long as I kept moving. The motivation to keep moving was great; if you stoped for more than a few seconds then the midges would descend despite the rain. I had picked up some flapjack in Tyndrum so munched on pieces of these instead of stopping for a proper break. And so I began my walk onto Rannoch Moor.

After a couple of miles or so I passed a couple of young French women who again had massive rucksacks and the smaller of the two really looked as if she was struggling. They were only going as far as Kingshouse, which at that point was about 8 miles away and it was still pretty well before lunchtime but they were walking incredibly slowly.

Setting Ba Bridge as a goal I carried on, the paths like streams again. The cloud seemed to descend over the moor, obscuring even close mountains from view. It was pretty oppressive, just as I was hoping for in a way! They say that Rannoch can be pretty inhospitable and I can imagine it could be a whole lot worse, although it would be great to cross it in snow or in sunshine. Either way, I was crossing the area I kept seeing and dreaming about.

I played a game with myself to keep moving; which 'Alt' would actually be Ba? Because there had been so much rain, most of the burns were flooded and you could see long grass submerged deep under the water, again remining me of LOTR. I found the right one though, and took a mini break (not as in the European weekend break) on the bridge. I got a bit cold. But warmed up quickly as I ran for it as the midges closed in for thair snap. I was getting pretty fed up with the persisting rain and midges and not being able to just (easily) stop and have a brew, which usually motivates me and keeps my spirits up. Since my rest day I was also feeling increasingly lonely without much contact with my friends and family. I had used my phone that morning to phone a friend (I didn't win) but the battery on my old phone runs out at a precipitous rate so I tried to preserve it. But I could feel myself getting lower. It got to a point where, when I encountered the group of 20 or so Amercians at the ruin near Beinn Chaorach, they said "Hi, how are you" and I thought, bugger it, I'm going to tell the truth, "Actually I feel incredibly lonely!". I felt as if I could almost cry! They were lovely and offered to be my friend and for me to walk with them, but I felt an amount of relief at just having said it, plus I really don't 'do' big groups of people, so I thanked them and carried on. And pretty soon left them behind.

Getting over the last hump near the curious cairn in memory of Ian Flemming's brother, Peter, the rain let up a bit. And then as it cleared a little more I rounded the hill and caught a glimpse of  Blackrock Cottage. Yes! Even better was the view of the lump of Buachaille Etive Mor in the cloud behind. An awesome sight.

With a little more energy I poled down the path, past the cottage and onwards towards Kingshouse. I saw a couple of backpackers trying to hitch a lift on the main road; more WHWers abandoning the walk? The number of people I met had dwindled remarkably. But it looked like they'd been there ages and weren't having much luck. Nobody seemed to want to stop in the rain.

I crossed the A82 and continued towards Kingshouse. It seemed everyone was headed for there, well the 20-odd Americans plus the French girls. It was only about 2pm though and I just didn't want to pitch up so early, despite a bit of nagging pain from my right hip flexor which seemed to want a fight. But as they say in the Forces, 'Stick your thumb up your 'bum', get your head down and carry on' (or words to that effect). So I carried on, past Kingshouse, munching on Flapjack and thinking with a small amount of sadness about the lager shandy I could have there. I was almost out of readies so wouldn't have been able to indulge that much anyway so the decision was pretty much made for me.

The next couple of miles of pain from Kingshouse to Altnafeadh were alleviated by the stunning though cloudy views towards Glencoe. There was a lot of low level cloud and mist spilling from the mouth of Glen Etive; the cloud seemed to hang slightly higher in Glencoe. It was brilliant to watch the patterns and to try to make sense of how it worked. But it was low enough to obscure my next destination; the top of the Devil's Staircase.

Heading up from Altnafeadh next to where I'd started the Buachaille walk a few weeks before felt a bit weird. As far as the walking went though it didn't seem too bad to me, not much different to going up Conic Hill, apart from I'd already walked about 15 miles. My hip seemed to prefer to go uphill! The initial bit wasn't too bad, just as I got to the start of the switchbacks I started to feel tired. I took it slowly, trying to keep a bit of rhythm and not caring if I needed to take the odd break to catch my breath. There wasn't anyone else around anyway! In fact the bloke delivering oil at Kingshouse was the last person I saw until I got to Kinlochleven.

I got to the top eventually but was surrounded by low cloud so didn't get a view. The heather was very pretty and I saw the odd bee. It didn't seem long before I'd started the descent, a bit boggy after all the rain but the area did feel a bit different now. I was again glad of my poles as I carried on down, past the end of Sron a Choire Odhair-bhig with a couple more switchbacks, over a footbridge without falling over (bonus)! Then the cloud lifted a little and I caught my first sight of the pipes! It wasn't long before I joined the head of them but then the path took me away into birch woods for a bit of a steep descent that my knee didn't like! I rejoined the pipeline for the the last drop of half a mile or so into Kinlochleven. By now I was shattered and my body was moaning at me for a break!

I camped at another proper site, and cheekily asked someone if they would give my phone a blast in their van so I'd be able to talk to someone that night! I just seemed to need some company but was so tired I didn't have the energy to engage in chat with a stranger. It had been an incredibly long and tiring day, though I was glad I hadn't stopped at Kingshouse, and it didn't take me long to fall asleep.

WHW Day 5 Crianlarich to Bridge of Orchy

This was my epiphany day!

It started off with catching the bus back from Tyndrum to Crianlarich. That itself was a minor triumph, as I was lucky enough to get a seat on the bus but then had the next 25 minutes to endure as Alan, the driver, had to sort out an overbooking situation; sorting out places for 8 seats that just weren't there.

I was joined by a petite, energetic, American woman from Colorado and we had a fun conversation about what was going on, where she was going to visit, "Are you on your own?", "Is it safe?", "You're brave"; all the usual.

This was followed when I got off the bus after the short ride. I'd utilised the ladies loo in Crianlarich when a woman burst in. She was as tall as me; a broad, energetic woman from Durham, with mad, dark, curly, shoulder length hair and immediately burst out telling me that this was the first visit she'd made to Scotland on her own. She'd just packed her dogs and tent into the car, she was 62, she'd not been to Scotland since she was a child with her parents, it was a bit emotional moment for her...it all came blurting out. I felt enormous warmth for this person before me who had just bared her soul to me, a complete stranger. I didn't really say anything but strangely ended up giving her a hug, making sure she was alright and then moving on. I think I'd felt a bit shaken too from the previous night, I could identify with her feeling alone. It just seemed the right thing to do to reach out to her, and it seemed to help.

Anyway, I still needed to walk the 0.75 miles up the hill to re-meet the Way. This was actually a nice part of the walk, without the knee problem I had coming down. It rained; I didn't expect it to do much else! My waterproof trousers didn't seem to appreciate it anymore and started wetting out and the seams going. They were more than a decade old, so I forgave them for the time being, hoping they'd keep it together while I needed them!

Occasionally the cloud lifted and I could see great views across the glen. The slight gain in altitude lifted my spirits too. I'd come to Scotland for the hills and felt as if I'd almost spent 3 days getting nowhere! A bit harsh, but it was now that I could start to see something that filled me with excitement! Plus, I had to turn the map over to the other side and knowing I'd passed the halfway mark was a great motivator.

This section of the Way took me along undulating paths, through larch interspersed with open areas of heather, now in full bloom. Bees gathered pollen despite being damp fuzzy balls; how did they manage to take off? It was spectacular around Herive Burn with so much water filling it. I managed not to fall over on this footbridge...

Descending through the woods I crossed the road, wove through some woods next to the road and then onto the bridge over River Fillan.

The next part was really interesting where a plaque had been set up to illustrate the remains of St Fillan's Priory. St Fillan's marked the 50 mile mark. The picture on the plaque didn't really look anything like the ruins but just finding out a bit more about an areas history is usually fascinating to me. Even the name of the farm next door, Kirkton. Well Kirk being a name for church; that was easy!

I soon passed Auchtertyre, being sorely tempted to use their net facilities but seeing the numbers of people there really put me off! It was great to finally feel as if I was in the hills, while it was still raining the cloud base lifted a little and I could start to see the hills I sensed (and saw on the map) were there!

The path took me back across the road to a curious area that had been 'improved' by the addition of some signs for tourists, pointing out a pivotal battle Robert the Bruce had participated in and a tiny loch that's rumoured to be the watery home of his broadsword. On the outskirts of Tyndrum I found the old Lead mine before walking past the campsite I'd stayed at. Coming upon the river I met two young Frenchmen who were eating a massive brick of cake using a huge bushcraft knife to divvy it up. It looked as if they were considering their options about how to cross the stream that had breached it's banks. They offered me some cake so I had some and stood there for a couple of minutes chatting with them. I decided to just cross the stream without any pontificating; poles make it so easy and my feet were wet through so made no difference to me!

Getting to the main road in Tyndrum I decided to go to Paddy's Bar for a pint of orange juice and lemonade (ah, surprised you there?) and skidded over the tiled floor back to the decrepit seats which seemed to have an argument with my waterproof trousers. I was joined by a couple of men of about my age who chatted to me for a bit. They'd just come down off the hills having bagged a couple of Munros and were in an endorphin afterglow. One lived in London but joined his mate who lived in Edinburgh. It seemed to be a regular thing for them and I was pretty envious of him living so close to big hills.

However, time for me to get back out there and I started the next part, the long anticipated stretch from Tyndrum to Auch and onto the Bridge of Orchy.

It was as if with every step I felt more joyful. The views started opening up more, the cloud lifted further up the shoulders of the hills and I started to get glimpses in the distance of some major mountains. It was awesome!

I strode out along the track, passing an oncoming couple with their matching rubgy shirts and as Beinn Odhar rounded away, appreciating Beinn Dorain to the full. I came upon a stone bridge and sat down to just gaze up at it and take some water. It was magic. It felt like this was what I was here for. The couple of days around Loch Lomond and the stretch to Crianlarich seemed a long time ago, I felt renewed by being in proper hills. It was just great! If my sketch paper hadn't been halfway to papermache then I'd have sketched the mountain.

I only had about 3.5 miles to go to reach the Bridge of Orchy and pitch up on the other side of the bridge there. I really enjoyed the area around Auch and the views. The weather was a bit unpredictable, as if the mountains were bouncing the clouds around.

Further along the road I found a place where a mass manufactured, 4 berth tent had been laid out, some socks laid out to dry on a blue plastic sheet, and a few other clothes too. I looked around to see if I could spot anyone, but there was nobody in evidence at all. Very strange! It looked too neat to be abandoned. Curiously I did find out a few days later what had happened...

Coming up towards the hamlet I looked up to see another great view, this time of the saddle between Beinn an Dothaidh and Beinn Dorain.

Life was good!

As the path transitioned into the road alongside the Train Station I came across the two French guys I'd had cake with earlier. They had decided to give up the walk; the weather had got to them and they had limited time. Instead of completing the WHW they were going to get a train into Fort William and then out to Mallaig, and then walk a couple of clicks to a remote pub that one of them knew. Sounded fair enough to me, though by this time I was fully engrossed in the walk again, back in the other reality where my time horizon stretched to how long it would take to cover the next three miles or so. I love living like this, in this state, life is more immediate and seems far more real.

I walked stiffly downhill to the hotel where I downed a pint of orange juice and lemonade extremely quickly, and went back for another. A group of about 20 young Americans got off a coach outside and started to take over the bar. I took this as my cue to get out of there and headed off to pitch on the ground on the other side of the river. There was one other tent there, already up and lived in. I pitched mine quickly. Extra haste because of the abundance of midges (they are so generous with their blood letting).

Sorting myself out in the tent I had a look at my 'waterproof' trousers. From how wet my legs had been earlier in the day I knew they wouldn't be great shape. They had done me proud over the years but were so old and ragged now but I couldn't really complain. Apart from the next day I'd be crossing Rannoch. Oh well. I guess I'd got my moneys worth out of them! I decided to ditch them, hoping my normal DWR trousers would do, got some food and wrote some notes up in the tent.

It had been a good day and given me back a sense of purpose in the walk.

WHW Day 4 Rest Day

The sense of contrast of being on my own (apart from the random people I talked to), having company and then being on my own again was surprising. I was trying to preserve my phone battery too, so missed my Facebook and Twitter friends. I wandered around Tyndrum wondering what to do with myself; I needed the rest day but could feel myself getting bored and a bit low. Trying to arrest this I went into the Tourist Information Centre to find out the time of the bus in the morning to Crianlarich and looked at all the tourist tat they had on offer. Next it was a pit stop in the Real Food Cafe where I got a cup of coffee, sat in one of the large squishy sofas and started my postcards. Anything to actually do something. Fortunately there were enough people in there to be interesting to an observer!

I managed to fill the rest of the day with doing some washing, drying things out, writing a few pages of notes (that have helped me write this up!) and buying a new pair of socks. Such exciting times.

As I watched the washing machine on its spin cycle a Glaswegian man in his late 40s came in. He started to cook up some food on a gas cooker and explained that his two mates were still in the pub so had left him to cook. He was alright, a pleasant enough guy. But as the time went on and his mates came in I started to feel a bit uncomfortable. One of his friends was extremely drunk and I normally deal with people like that by being polite, reasonably friendly and try to avoid! But my washing was stuck in the machine and I needed it to dry so I tried retreating into reading the maps on the walls. It didn't work and pretty soon the really drunk guy came over, trying to tell me that Lewis was actually Shetland and explaining the philosophies behind the different factions of the Christian Church in Scotland. He went on and on.

The third guy was rather more quiet but I felt most threatened by him, especially when I heard them whispering (too loudly) something about getting me tanked up on beer. I wasn't impressed and declined a proferred beer. They carried on at me, asking me to go to a log cabin in Kinlochleven with them, all sorts of things. I am not the sort of person to tell someone to go forth and multiply and as my clothes still drying I wandered out and about, just waiting for the bloody things to hurry up and not be too damp! But I had a visceral reaction to the third man and really didn't want to go back into a confined area with any of them.

Eventually I rescued my clothes, made a joke when they started on at me again, and left for the relative safety of my tent.

It may have been my state of mind but this was the only time I felt a sense of threat on the walk. Everyone else I met was friendly and interesting and a joy to encounter. Curiously this was one of only two occasions on the walk I used a proper campsite...

After more nightmares I woke again in the night, this time to the sound of a helicopter. It was about 3AM. I could only thing it would be the SAR from Crianlarich, but out at this time? I covered my head with my quilt and went back to another fitfull sleep, dozing to the sound of the rain.

WHW Day 3 Inversnaid(ish) to Crianlarich

I woke from a nightmare in which I was arguing with the ex who I did the walk with before. I could hear something going on outside the tent. Big rumbling and lashing noises were coming at me. Checking my watch it had just gone 2AM. The weather that had been gloriously sunny had changed; a front was coming through. I poked my head out of the tent door and shone my torch to see what the Loch was doing. There were waves pounding the beach at an angle, the wind was howling outside and slamming rain down. I wondered if the waves were likely to reach my tent. The waves were encroaching slightly but remembering where the grass had been established and a faint line of washed up debris drew a contour, I felt okay.

I had a bit of a fitful sleep after that, but a few hours later I got up, cleared the tent away in a brief lull in the weather, had breakfast and a brew and set off walking. It was pretty early so I doubted Tony would be up and about; he'd said he normally set off between half 8 and 9; I was reluctant to go wake him so I just decided to go.

The rain had made everything slippy and I skidded and slided over the rocks and tree roots, around boulders and trunks, and then with a thud managed to end up on my bum on a wooden footbridge. Somehow I manage to fall over on average almost once a day. Hopefully this would be it for today! I was okay but a couple of days later noticed a massive bruise on the underside of my right arm. I don't remember quite how I got that there though!

From the Harveys map, now on the fourth panel, I could see that there was an island (I Vow) less than a mile ahead, and the bothy at Doune a mile further on. The scenery was lovely despite the low cloud; occasionally it even lifted and I could see a hill!

The section after passing the island opened out into a small meadow and and the rain seemed to ease off very slightly. The footpath headed towards a wooded area that was blissful to walk through, birch trees and brooks, very much like where I used to walk at home. I enjoyed how the path meandered through, being more careful on the wooden planks laying across the boggy areas. Getting back into the open was a bit dismal with the rain beating down again, but after a short while I spied a group of buildings. Doune Bothy! Initially I thought it was the white building on the left, but saw smoke spilling out of the chimney of a grey building and on closer inspection saw that that was the bothy itself.

I knocked and went in, out of the rain. Out of the smoky grey darkness appeared a french couple, the guy warming himself next to the fire and the woman packing away their things. I didn't want to hang around, but sorted something out of my pack and after exchanging the usual "Where are you walking today?", "You on your own?", "You're brave", I headed back outside.

The short break at the bothy had given me a lift and I enjoyed the next section alongside the Loch. I felt quite tired after walking about 20 miles yesterday and having such disturbed sleep, but kept up a reasonable pace until around Ardleish, the point where the ferry goes to Ardlui. I remembered the funny ball that you had to raise for the ferry though wondered if they would be able to see it on the other side if someone wanted it today!

After ascending slightly towards Dubh Lochan I came across two young lads who had halted on the path, looking incredibly wet and bedraggled. I felt a bit sorry for them. They were young and looked keen but fed up at the same time. As has become a theme, I had a chat with them and found out that they were originally three but that their mate had left on the first day so had shared out his kit between the two of them. Their packs were indeed huge! They were debating whether to finish the walk or not and asked me for advice and what their options might be. I got them to think about what they had achieved so far and what the pros and cons might be of finishing so early. They were articulate and told me how they had enjoyed the walk mostly, they'd swam in the Loch (I think I'd passed them the previous day), had some decent camping, but were just fed up with the weather and had seen a severe weather warning for the next day or so which had really put them off. They were also due to get their exam results the following day and that seemed to be a massive pull towards home.

They seemed to want to walk with me so we carried on, me walking in the middle of them, the lad behind sometimes seeming to lag behind. I felt almost parental towards them (which is a bit bizarre for me!) and they reminded me a bit of my brother when he did his DofE with a stupidly heavy pack.If they hadn't have been carrying such heavy packs I would have done more to encourage them to carry on, but at the time it seemed like the right decision for them. I think too, that we had all been spoiled by the largely sunny weather we'd had over the last couple of days. Any rain that we'd had soon dried up, as did our clothes, but this looked set to stay for the duration!

We walked as far as Beinglas Farm which looked radically different to when I last was there. Back then it was little more than a stone barn with a field to camp in. Now it had a cafe and a couple of wooden lodge type buildings. Massively different.

Even though I'd only walked about 5.5 miles so far, I was starting to feel the effects of the last two days walking and was feeling pretty fatigued. I'd not really done any multi-day-pack-carrying training and knew my body needed a break soon. The weather didn't help my outlook at all. There was already a plan to have a day off of some description on Sunday, aiming to meet up with a friend at the Bridge of Orchy, but I chanced my luck with a call to see if he'd meet me early. Originally I'd had plans to walk up Beinn Dorain but I couldn't see that happening on this trip. I gave him the news; he'd already shelved his Munro plans for the day because of the weather and agreed to meet up later after he'd seen a mate in Fort William.

The two lads and I went our separate ways. Them heading over to the Drovers Inn at Inverarnan, me continuing on the path up towards the Falls of Falloch. It felt different. This was different, new territory for me and was a sort of watershed mentally.

The track was easy walking but someone had pitched their one man Vango Banshee tent on the side and took refuge from the weather in there. I don't blame them; it was still lashing down. Gaining ground towards the Falls of Falloch I could hear the falls well before I could see them. With all the rain we'd had overnight and through the morning, all the burns were in spate, sometimes flooding the paths and being diverted down them instead of down the streams.

I passed the series of cascades and falls and stopped to have something to eat, soggily trying to avoid the midges that seemed to actively enjoy the rain, the heavier the better it seemed! Not stopping for long I carried on up the track towards Derrydaroch which was pretty featureless until nearing the cottage.

And looking back...

The next stretch after the cottage was like walking through a dingle-dell, following the River Falloch upstream and sometimes pretty much walking through a stream itself as a lot of water was by now just running freely down the path.

A great source of amusement came when I got to the low bridge going under the railway track. I called it the Alice in Wonderland bridge as when you enter it, already bent over, you have to bend lower and lower as it seems to shrink as you enter!

The rain had started to ease the further north I walked; the cloud seemed to get caught up in the glens further south. The burns were shunting the water off the hills and everywhere was the sound of running water. Walking on towards and past Keiltor Farm I felt tired and wondered how the developing blisters were getting on. There was no hope of keeping my feet dry so I just accepted it and carried on.

Feeling pretty weary now I soon reached the T junction where I would branch off down to Crianlarich. I looked wistfully up the track towards Tyndrum; at that moment I was having a bit of a battle of wills, part of me wanting to go up there, another part wanting to just give up. Looking back I'm not sure why I felt like that. I wonder if it was the feeling of having passed my previous finishing point and now looking for a reason to walk. I didn't have to 'beat' anything now (I didn't realise I was so competitive). Did I have the will to just carry on? Now I write this I laugh at myself but at the time I felt low.

Turning down the path to Crianlarich I knew I'd made the right decision to have a break. My right knee was painful from an old rugby injury so I was thankful for my poles to take the weight a bit. But it was interesting to walk through the plantation, seeing a lot of toadstools and mushrooms and took me out of myself. I only met two people as I was coming down. They were the first people I had seen since leaving the boys at Beinglas.

I dropped down into Crianlarich and after asking at the Post Office where I bought a couple of postcards (my family would be upset if I didn't do this ritual), I made my way to the recommended Rod and Reel pub. My poor old bod seemed to just stiffen up then. Even the prospect of a pint of lager shandy didn't seem to get it to shift very quickly! I struggled to get any signal or activity out of my now sodden phone but eventually managed to convey where I was. So with my feet up I settled in for the duration, listening to Hotel California on my iPod (the pub felt a bit like that!) and enjoying my pint!

WHW Day 2 Garadhban Forest to Inversnaid Part 2

From the Clansman Bar I only made it a few hundred yards, as far as another new Tourist outpost. I'd stopped to look at the OS map on the wall (interesting to see the difference between that and my Harveys) when I was approached by a middle aged Scottish guy, holding a saucepan containing tomato soup (it was also around his mouth and on his chin). I had quite an entertaining chat with him, talking about the upcoming Rob Roy Prison section and whether to take the high road or the low road. In between slurps of tomato soup he proclaimed dire warnings about the low road route along the Loch. I didn't discard his proclamations either; I had followed this route on my last outing here and knew it contained plenty of challenging sections of scrambling up the Lochside rocks, climbing over tree roots and in places where the path had been completely washed away down the bank, having to make a leap for it.
He continued to tell me stories about the changing tenants at both the Rowardennan and Inversnaid Hotels, how he'd dined with millionaires there and how they regarded the walkers. It seemed a little incongruous to me as he reminded me of Jessie from the Fast Show.

The young Polish guy I'd passed a few hours ago walked in at a very opportune moment so I introduced them to eachother and made my exit! I passed the official wild camp area that Steve Horner had photoed a couple of days prior to my passing there. Where his photo had shown a mass of tents, some even being of the multi berth mamoth variety, the site was clear. But it was only mid afternoon and mid week so I could easily see how that spot would become over run. Not for me!
I passed the start of the Ptarmigan route up to Ben Lomond and came to the intersection. Do I take the Road Less Travelled?

Well, I stood for about a minute having an internal debate when three lads in their late teens came down from the high road and they joined in too. One had trekking poles with him so we had a chat about that; one of the others seemed a bit defensive, almost as if he was wondering what a WOMAN was doing walking the Way (did it undermine his sense of achievement I wondered?). I decided on going the easier high road; I really wasn't in the mood for a Lochside version of Total Wipeout.
To be honest I found that next section rather tedious and wondered if I'd made the right decision, save for the sometimes cloud obscured views over to The Cobbler (Ben Arthur). I took a seat on a bench at the top of the hill where a well established camp fire had seen plenty of use. In this case someone had decided to burn their Sorbothane insoles with a tin of Heinz Baked Beans. A curious combination!

A little chaffinch hopped around hopefully so I gave it a piece of a snickers bar, the closest thing to hand, thinking to not give it something too gooey or it could stick it's beak together!
The next section of the walk seemed interminably long although very pretty. I had wanted to reach Inversnaid Hotel and to carry on, potentially to the official camp site. The nature of the terrain changed to more natural woodland and the section near Cailness was quite idyllic. I picked a few wild raspberries which were dense with flavour, surprised that the birds hadn't had them. The bilberries were out in abundance too so very soon my fingers were stained with their juice!
Gradually it got a little more rocky. At a turn, I glimpsed through the wood to see a solid, dark mass that I guessed was Inversnaid. I was right, but since I'd been there last the hotel had had a make over. No longer was it the dark, brooding building that I remembered, instead it had been given a cream coating and actually looked relatively inviting. I have an over riding memory of feeling distinctly unwelcome as a walker, using the rear entrance to the bar in the past and feeling as if I was an annoyance! This time I went in through the Hotel lobby, had a pint of lager shandy and went back outside.
At least three coach loads of older people arrived and a pair of couples soon came along and sat near me. They were looking at me and seemed to be searching for something. I said hello to them and they asked me if I was walking the WHW.
"Are you on your own?", one of the women asked.
"Yes", I said.
"You're very brave", said one of the men.
They started taking photographs and then asked me to take one of them. I asked them to take one of me, too.

I'm not massively keen on pics of me but here I am after about 18 miles of walking!
As the pics were being taken, another walker appeared and then seemed to hovver in the background slightly. I saw he had a Backpackers Club badge sewn on to his hat so greeted him. His name was Tony Whewell and is a gear tester who regularly writes reviews for the quarterly magazine. He was walking the WHW as part of his LEJOG walk.

We took great delight in being very nosey and comparing kit, reeling off the weight of items off the top of our heads. He was using a GoLite Pinnacle and testing a pair of Pacerpoles for the woman who holds the patent and was to write a review of them for the mag.
Midges were starting to swarm around us so I finished my drink and agreed to walk with him from Inversnaid for a while. By then it was about half past 7 but felt as if I had oodles of energy still and wanted to camp well past the 'official' site; I'd seen a group of about 5-6 German people headed up there with large packs on; one of them had commented to me in the ladies loos that she wished her pack was as small as mine!
So we started to walk; I enjoyed the company and we seemed to walk at a similar pace. Tony had completed this years TGO Challenge which is a goal of mine for 2011, so there was a lot of interesting conversation to be had.
We carried on, passing the official spot and encampment, then passed a couple more WHWers. I was more than happy to walk a fair bit further. We passed a lovely area where hazelnuts were laying on the ground ready to be picked up and eaten or roasted. Tony had a woodburning stove (not sure which one now) so I told him how he could use the hot ashes to gently roast them off. Between us we picked a couple of handfuls and he stashed them away. He told me about all the raspberries he'd eaten. My fingers were still tinged blue-black from the bilberries I'd eaten along the way.
The path became rockier and a small amount of scrambling was needed to get over some of the larger boulders that were part of the route. It wasn't difficult at all and added an extra dimension. But by now 8 o'clock had rolled past and we were looking for somewhere to stay. There were plenty of options but I wanted to camp on my own, even if I were to meet Tony again the next day (I rarely walk with people so sometimes am a bit shy!). After a while I spotted a lovely raised but flat grassy promontory that gave way to a little beach. I pointed it out to Tony who said he'd stop there for the night. We parted and I carried on for another four hundred yards or so and found a spot on a small gravel beach that had a small burn flowing into the Loch right next to it. I pitched directly onto the gravel after clearing away some of the larger or pointy rocks, briefly considering my tents groundsheet but, hey, my tent is 17, I'm not going to get that much more life out of it anyway!

I had to use rocks to guy it out in places but it was pretty comfortable under foot. I had something to eat and a short wander along the beach, admiring the incredible sunset that graced my view.

It was a beautiful evening.

It got dark very quickly so after quite a long and tiring, though incredibly rewarding and interesting day, I bade the world goodnight and got my head down to sleep.