Ciamar a tha thu - pronounced sort of like khi-a-ma-ra-ha-ou. Or to put it simply - Hello - in Scots Gaelic
OK - now that we have got that mouthful out of the way, as you may have worked out, we are north of the border up in Scotland. And how flat out has that been. Picked up a hire car in the Newcastle Airport, met the house owners and handed them back their car, went back to the Kirkwhelpington to pick up our gear, say goodbye to the dogs, load up our gear then drive to Hamilton - near Glasgow via a long and circuitous scenic route to Phil’s old hometown and to catch up with her brother Brian and sister in law Edith, have dinner then collapse into bed. Big day!
Next day it was up and at ‘em at 0530 to head up to the start of our little sojourn along the West Highland Way - Scotland’s premier long distance walking trail. We had planned to do 3 days worth of walking, so cut out the start out of Glasgow and the end near Fort William as we planned to get up there to climb Ben Nevis - the highest peak in the U.K. We dumped the hire car at the visitor’s centre at Balmaha, organised our baggage drops and off we went, heading north along the bonney, bonney banks of Loch Lomond. It is stunning! Walking under the dominating Ben Lomond along the Loch is a very special experience. Along with dozens of others who were doing the same thing.
That’s the 1st thing that hits you. The sheer numbers that do the walk. About 85,000 annually who come from across the UK and the world. Most of these are between March and October. That equates to about 12,100 per month and 3,000 per week. The second thing is how the walk involves so many people in various industries that are associated with it. Buses, taxis, water taxis, baggage transfer companies, hotels, hostels, bunk houses, camp grounds, pubs, cafes, publications, track builders / maintainers, information centres, signage etc etc. It goes on and on. The number of people who are employed in these industries is staggering. And it works so well. The money that the walkers bring into the small communities of the West Highlands must be astronomical.
That aside, you are not walking with wall to wall people. It is a wonderful experience with some of the most beautiful scenery Scotland has to offer. We spent our 1st night at a converted 19th century church which is now a bunk house with associated campground and shared our experiences with like minded Scots, English, Germans, Italians, Dutch etc in wonderful, congenial bonhomie. Loved it! The pièce de résistance was this story as told to Phil by a Canadian grandfather. Back in the mid 1970’s he walked here with his father and his own son who was about 8 at the time. On the walk they buried a message in a waterproof tube commemorating the event near this spot. The bloke was now a grandfather himself and along with his son, now in his 40’s and his two grandsons, they recovered the buried cylinder with a message from their great grandfather now deceased. A wonderful link with the past in such a stunning setting. Those boys now have a very treasured possession. They recreated the event with yet another message for the future. Isn’t that just awesome? Well we thought so anyhow. Maybe it was a time and place thing.
Next day it was off again for more of the same with breathtaking scenery around and towering above the Loch, another awesome blister for Phil as holiday memorabilia, ruins of old farms in beautiful glens contrasting the rugged peaks and much Rob Roy ness to add to the overall intrigue. Rob Roy MacGregor was from around these parts and had hide outs in caves along Loch Lomond where he evaded capture after some misdemeanours such as being Catholic, helping himself to a few odd cows, kidnapping etc. Depending on which stories you want to believe, he was either a cattle stealing thug or a folk hero - a bit like our Ned Kelley.
Both days walking so far were in beautiful sunshine and seeing the glassy waters of Loch Lomond reflecting the peaks and the clouds is just one of those unbelievably breath taking sights that will remain fixed in our minds for a long time. But, by the time we got to our next stop at Crainlarich, we knew our luck was running out. It was pretty evident a change was on it’s way. Clouds were rolling in on a strong wind and by nightfall the peaks were swathed in a thick mantle of mist blotting everything out of view.
By morning is was raining and the cloud was down to almost roof level. While we were deciding what to do, a text message came from Phil’s mate Gillie who advised us of some highland games happening nearby. OK - walk was off and Highland Games were on. We headed for our next stop by bus to where our bags were getting dropped off at the Bridge of Orchy, had a quick change and were picked up by Gillie. Going to the Games was just wonderful despite the rain. Seeing the highland culture being kept alive by this sort of event is just the best. The wee lassies competing in highland dancing, the brawny lads in kilts tossing their cabers and throwing other heavy things about, pipers and drummers in full regalia, people mingling about catching up with friends, gossip and watching their kith and kin competing in events was bloody fantastic. This whole colourful scene was set amongst swirling clouds enveloping then revealing the distant peaks. I’m not even remotely Scottish, but being immersed into all of this was quite an emotional moment.
The whole Scottish thing kept on rolling along when next day we headed to Fort William via Glencoe where members of the Campbell clan massacred 38 members of the MacDonald Clan and burnt down houses which caused a further 40 women and children to perish of exposure in 1692. In the Clachaig Inn there is a small sign saying “Hawkers and Campbells not welcomed”. They haven’t let this event slide.
Glencoe is known as the outdoor capital of the UK and it’s easy to see why. The unbelievably powerful landscape with the dominating peaks rising up from the glens and moors is breathtaking. I have now been here 3 times and the staggering beauty still elicits oohs and aaaahs. I can see why Phil chose this place to celebrate her 18th birthday. I would love to spend a serious amount of time here scrambling about these hills. But this was not the time. We had a plane to catch to Spain and before that we had another hill to climb.
Beinn Neibhis or Ben Nevis in English, is the highest peak in the UK at 1,344 metres or 4,409 feet. We were onto it and all over it. After a 4 hour climb along the usual tourist track we were there. Standing on the roof of the UK. How lucky were we when the thick swirling mist parted to reveal the entire landscape below in all directions. What a moment that was - a moment to be treasured. Whooo Hoooooo! This is the feeling you get when you put in those hard yards and get confronted by such jaw dropping, unbelievably powerful scenery that makes one feel so insignificant in the big picture. Very humbling! I have yet to find anything that replicates it. Those who know and have experienced it understand what I’m banging on about. Phil, at 60 years old had just joined the club and can now relate to it. She was justifiably proud of her efforts as well she should be. With two boots full of blistered feet and a very dodgy knee, she had just earn’t some serious bragging rights the hard way. She can now keep something very special up her sleeve for future dinner parties etc.
Loch Linnhe, dotted with it’s islands stretched out to the Atlantic Ocean, the rugged peaks of the Grampian Mountains dominated everything below us, the small Lochan Meall in the saddle and the bare, stark rocky plateau below the summit were all laid out there before us in an incredible palate of colour was just one of those sights to behold. It was worth every step of the way. We stayed up there for an hour or so transfixed by the whole thing. Just so powerful!
This is a serious walk in the park that 125,000 people do annually. Most of the year it is snow covered and a few patches were still about despite it getting into late summer. A further 100,000 do some portion of it, making it one of the busiest walk trails in the country. We estimated that somewhere between 750 - 1,000 people did it the same day we did. Crusty old farts like us were a bit of a minority amongst the young and beautiful, but there we were.
However - the Blue Ribbon just has to go to all the women who can hold onto their bladders for so long as there are no conveniences along the way or up at the summit for bladder relief. Awesome! Blokes - well they just do what blokes do. The Red Ribbon went to the wee lassie of about 6 or 7 years old doing it with Mum and Dad. And doing it without a whine, pout or “how much further it is”. This happy little waif was taking it all in her stride with a big smile and it was gorgeous to behold. On ya dear! And finally, the Green Ribbon is shared with the German bloke who carried his mountain bike up on his shoulders, then rode it back down again and the Nordic bloke who was carrying his daughter up on his shoulders. Geez - now that was a bit extreme in both cases.
The walk back down was tough going on those blisters and the dodgy knee was swelling to very visual and uncomfortable proportions, but you should have seen her face when she spotted the Ben Nevis Inn. She was beaming. The beamingness got even beamier when she tipped back her pint of larger shandy. The pain receded with that wonderful warm glow that comes from knowing you have just successfully complete a major personal achievement and a truly earn’t cold beer.
"Eh Hen - Well dun yooooo"! As the Scots would say.
So that was it. Our stroll along Loch Lomond, the Highland Games, the wee Benny walk, catching up with friends and relatives has made this break between house sits a very memorable trip back to Phil’s homeland and as some would say “God’s own country". The images swirling about in our heads and those taken with the camera will be wonderful memories and the making of many tall stories in days and years to come. A big thanks to Brian, Edith, Gillie and Duncan for showing us the true meaning of Scottish hospitality, encouraging us, pointing us in the right direction and making this whole wonderful adventure such an outstanding experience.
Now it’s onto Spain to continue this rollicking grey nomad adventure. See ya then.
Best wishes and lots of love to all.
Phil & Volker
