Captain's Log

Kinlochleven

It was still raining when I woke up. I stayed in my sleeping bag until 07:00 in the hope that it would stop, but it didn’t. We’d now had at least 36 hours of almost continuous rain. At least it wasn’t cold. I packed up my wet tent into my rucksack. At least I’d now eaten most of my food and so my pack was a little bit lighter. 

I joined the other walkers leaving the campsite and headed towards the centre of the village. I wanted to get a couple of treats from the Co-Op, but saw that a few walkers were congregating outside Leven’s Bites a little further along. I went to investigate and was delighted to find a little snack bar. I ordered a cheese toastie and coffee. The cook was from Lancashire and had a pair of arms like the levers on a nutcracker. I guessed he hadn’t got arms like that by making cheese toasties. It was a stroke of luck finding the place though; the cheese toastie and coffee set me up for the morning. 

Today’s walk would take me into a glen on the south side of The Mamores, before heading north towards Glen Nevis, my target for the day. I intended to camp at the Glen Nevis campsite at the foot of Ben Nevis. Most other walkers would continue into Fort William and complete the West Highland Way at its finish point. 

The ascent out of Kinlochleven, through the wooded area, was quite steep. In some respects this climb was just as hard as the Devil’s Staircase. I caught up with the Dutch Group. They told me that they’d wildcamped in the forest last night. I told them that they’d missed out on a cheese toastie and hot coffee for breakfast. They all looked rather enviously at me.  

South Of The Mamores

The track escaped the trees, opening up a view back to Kinlochleven. Some say that you get the best views on the West Highland Way from here. I should have been able to see the gnarled ridge of the Aonoch Eagach, but all I could see was mist. Similarly, when I looked down Loch Leven, I was unable to see the summit of the Pap Of Glencoe. I could see Kinlochleven though at the head of the loch. 

The wind was blowing towards me down the glen, bringing with it the rain. I was back on the Old Military Road again, although it resembled more of a stream than a road. At least the waterfalls were impressive and I had to step from stone to stone where new ones crossed the path. A couple of walkers were partially successful using umbrellas against the rain, although both had broken spindles. The Dutch Group kept stopping. It looked like a female member of the team was having a problem with her feet. The mighty Stob Ban (998m) and Sgurr an Iubhair (1001m) were on my right, but their tops were lost to the mist. I reached the Lairig Mor ruin, a relic of the hill farmers who once worked this area. Eventually, the valley turned northwards and as if by magic, the wind dropped. I took the opportunity to stop for a break. The Dutch Group didn’t look particularly happy when they passed me. A male member of the group was lagging behind to walk with the lame member of their group. 

Cuckoos

The route now felt less remote as I headed northwards. Lochan Lunn D Bra came into view on my left. I’d read that the lochan contains a beast called a waterbull. The monster apparently drags cattle down into its depths to drown. I can’t remember the item saying it did the same thing with thru-hikers and so I presumed I was safe enough. Some say that Macbeth was buried there, but since he died in Aberdeenshire, I wouldn’t have fancied carrying his body all that way. 

At Blar a Chaorain I parted company with the Old Military Road for the last time. I felt a little sad since it had been a useful guide and made for an easy trail. I now started to go through some Tree Troubler territory that had been nuked and now vegetation was growing back. I came across a fellow perched on a log with a pair of binoculars hung around his neck.
‘Have you spotted anything interesting?’ I asked him.
He said he was looking out for a friend on the trail, rather than spotting birds. I told him that since leaving Milngavie, the sound of Cuckoos had accompanied me along the trail.
‘We rarely hear them nowadays in the Peak District’ I told him.
He said it was a known phenomenon, but they didn’t really know why Scottish Cuckoos were now more prevalent than English ones.
‘We think it may be something to do with the migration paths," he told me. ‘The England bound ones go on a route where they are more prone to being shot. They are really amazing birds. Once the youngsters fledge, then they’ll fly to sub-Saharan Africa without ever coming into contact with another Cuckoo. How do they know where to go?’ he asked.
I agreed that it was a good question. ‘Maybe it had been the same Cuckoo following me from Milngavie’ I joked.
‘Oh no, it won’t be. They are very territorial and have their own kilometre patch.’

I left the Cuckoo Man to wait for his friend. He seemed to know a lot about Cuckoos for somebody who wasn't spotting birds.

Dun Deardail

Dun Deardail is a vitrified Iron Age hillfort on the top of a hill in Glen Nevis. An information board enticed me to take the 15 minute walk up to see it. The artwork on the board gave a rather extravagant depiction of what it would have looked like back in the day. Despite it being so close to the end of the walk, and also an appalling weather day, how could I resist this opportunity. I plodded upwards on this out-and-back tributary trail from the West Highland Way. I was very glad that I made the effort too. Not just to see the vague outline of the fort on the top of the hill, but also to get the magnificent views from the vantage point. There was a tremendous view along the valley that the West Highland Way had followed. There was a steep drop into Glen Nevis and on the other side was the massive bulk of Ben Nevis. Okay, the top was in mist, but it was still an impressive sight. Towards the end of the valley I could see buildings and the outskirts of Fort William, where the West Highland Way would finish. Quite a few walkers came up to the fort while I was there; the majority of them day walkers, but some West Highland Wayers too. It was certainly worth the diversion. 

Glen Nevis

I followed the forestry road towards Fort William. A fingerpost pointed away from the West Highland Way to the Glen Nevis Youth Hostel and I branched away on that path. It wasn’t long before I found myself on the massive Glen Nevis campsite, trying to find its reception. It cost me £28 for a two night pitch, but it was well worth it. It had the best facilities that I’d come across on the trail. There was only another 2 or 3 miles of the West Highland Way finish to its finish in Fort William and so I’d effectively, but not officially, completed the walk. Tomorrow was supposed to be dawn to dusk sunshine and I intended to climb Ben Nevis. This meant that I’d officially complete the West Highland Way, the day after tomorrow, when I walked into Fort William  as a preamble to starting the Great Glen Way. 

I bought a can of cider, a cheese and onion pasty and a couple of flapjacks and sat at a patio table outside the campsite shop to celebrate the achievement. A couple of Italians were sitting at the next table and we got chatting. They’d also effectively, but not officially, completed the West Highland Way and were also celebrating.
‘Are you going up Ben Nevis tomorrow?’ I asked them. ‘The weather forecast says it’s going to be sunny all day and you’d likely get a view from the top.’
‘No, I don’t think so. The West Highland Way is enough for us’ one of them replied.

Wimps!

The 'effective' (rather than official) last day of the West Highland Way was a reasonably easy walk. The weather conditions were pretty miserable though and this restricted the views as well as the enjoyment. The views from Dun Deardail were an unexpected bonus though and I was glad I went up there. I was looking forward to tomorrow’s climb up the Ben, with the prospect of starting the Great Glen Way, the day after.