It’s been a rough few months – my husband has been very unwell since last summer with depression. Things reached a nadir the evening before I turned 50 when he got admitted to hospital. I must say that taking one’s suicidal loved one to a locked psychiatric ward and leaving them there scores quite high on the ”things I don’t want to experience again in a hurry” scoreboard. I decided to cancel my 50th birthday after that and stay 49 indefinitely.
In better news my husband did respond to his treatment and after a course of ECT is back home and doing well, fingers crossed. The kids definitely have some residual trauma to work through, the first thing my son said after his dad was admitted was “Oh no, so it’s going to be really crap food now for weeks!”. The pair of them still like to bring up the Time Mum Made Vegan Brownies and the Yorkshire Puddings That Bounced. Thank god for ready meals, and happily there’s an M&S food and a Waitrose near the Royal Edinburgh hospital.
I definitely needed a bit of time to destress and thought that a good long walk would do the trick. I went for the WHW since I know it so well there wouldn’t be any additional stress involved in working out logistics or worry about getting lost. I also cheated and booked baggage transfer since dog food is heavy and I only had 5 days available to do the route so wanted a light backpack. I went with AMS transfers and they were fab, very slick service.
Day 1 – Milngavie to Rowardennen youth hostel, 27 miles, wall to wall sunshine.
8am at Milngavie train station, bag dropped with the AMS van and I was off! Strange to be there and not have crowds of ultra runners milling around, just me and the dog off on an adventure. Things had nearly been torpedoed before they started the night before. i’d made up some trail mix and the dogs had managed to get one of the bags while I was out of the kitchen so I had to frantically try and calculate whether they’d got a toxic dose of raisins or chocolate. I guess the advantage of two greedy dogs is that they each got half of the potentially bad stuff. Anyway it was mostly nuts so the main side effect was Meg pooping nuts for the first wee bit.
It was a gorgeous sunny day and the walking is easy so I made good time even though way points arrived more slowly than what I remembered from running the route. There was hardly anyone along the way and slowly but surely I felt the stress of the last 9 months ebb away. There is something innately soothing about walking especially if your companion is the world’s happiest springer spaniel. If I was being really picky then I would say that march isn’t the optimum time to do the way, it’s nice and quiet for sure but the scenery is still a little drab and wintery whereas in late April/May you get the fresh leaves out and carpets of wild flowers.
I had to bypass Conic Hill as dogs are banned for lambing time but it saved me a mile or so and I got into Balmaha mid afternoon feeling a million times better than I had that morning. I had something to eat at the Oak Tree inn and pondered whether to get a taxi to Rowardennan as I didn’t really want to overdo it on the first day. I knew there was a bit of a risk of Meg getting footsore, not to mention me being less fit than I was a few years ago. The local taxi service had hilariously bad reviews on Google (“be warned, this is the worst taxi company in the west of Scotland” etc) and when I phoned them they didn’t even answer so that made the decision easy – time to shoulder my pack again and get going.
The next section is one of my favourites and my legs were still fairly fresh so it wasn’t a big hardship walking along Loch Lomond in the tranquil evening light. I was planning to camp at the youth hostel but when I arrived the chap on reception was really kind and said they could pop me in one of the rooms that wasn’t usually allowed dogs. In hindsight this was probably where I picked up my viral companion, thinking about incubation times. However, oblivious of any plumes of Covid from my fellow travellers I settled in and discovered that I had packed the wrong iPhone charging cable. I knew I’d be able to buy one in Tyndrum and until then was able to borrow other peoples for long enough to keep my phone going.
The first time I attempted the WHW mobile phones didn’t exist (apart from those enormous bricks that you occasionally saw bankers shout into in films). Neither did lightweight camping gear. It was my bright idea to do it but it was a miserable experience with torrential rain, leaking tents, clouds of midges, sore feet, a thoroughly unpleasant night in Doune Bothy and an ignominious train ride home after admitting defeat at Tyndrum while my friends all carried on and completed it without me. Ah, happy days. Sometimes I miss being in my 20s but at least I can afford baggage transfers now!
Day 2 – Rowardennen to Inverarnan – 14 miles, wall to wall sunshine
After a hearty breakfast of paracetamol, ibuprofen and a brunch bar I headed off and was delighted not to be feeling too sore after yesterday’s long yomp. I made a definite effort to keep the pace slow as there was no rush and I love the Lochside section. I was booked into the Drover’s Inn and the room wouldn’t be ready until 4pm, leaving plenty of time to amble along through the woodland. Quite early on I saw a couple coming in the other direction with the bloke smoking. Who knows whether he was the culprit or whether it was some other fuckwit but a huge forest fire started there not long afterwards and I saw on the news that evening that loads of newly planted native woodland on the flanks of Ben Lomond had been incinerated.
I took the low route and this is the only time I have done it apart from in the race. It’s not anywhere close to as technical as the technical section after Inversnaid but you have to watch where you put your feet for sure. I stopped for a snack at some moss covered ruins, which would have made a very tranquil camping spot. Meg was still bursting with energy and showing no signs of weariness after her long walk the day before (the nature of her breed means she feels obliged to run ahead of me in frantic circles and probably does more than double the mileage that I do!).
I passed a nice young couple who had been at the youth hostel and had been very taken by Meg. It’s a funny thing being a more mature woman, you get considerably less attention than when you were younger (no bad thing) and you often hear middle aged women complaining about being invisible. Easy cure – get a cute dog! There were a few other walkers and you get to recognise folk as you pass or get passed & develop a good sense of camaraderie. A mountain biker came by too and we had a wee chat. I was very impressed at his ability to do a path like that, I am sure I would fall in the loch and die if I attempted it. He was doing a recce then planning to do the whole thing in under 24 hours which I thought sounded inspiring and daft at the same time. Like running it in under 35 hours isn’t deranged. I wondered what the record time for doing it on a mountain bike was. I’ve just checked now and it’s 8 hours 40 minutes!
The walkers bar at Inversnaid was shut so I made myself some instant noodles there before continuing along. As ever, this section always seems a hell of a lot easier when you haven’t already run all the way from Milngavie. Once through the technical bit I thought it would be a nice idea to paddle my poor sore feet in the Loch.
Off came the boots and socks and HOLY HELL WTF HAPPENED TO MY FEET? Gigantoblisters had eaten both little toes and my big toes were in a sorry state too. I don’t normally get too bothered by blisters so had obviously been a bit blasé by not stopping to tape up hot spots. I hobbled into the Loch, suppressing whimpers as the freezing cold water hit my blisters then hobbled back out and got the zinc oxide tape out to do as good a repair job as possible, feeling like a bit of an amateur to have let that happen. Once taped up the tootsies were a bit more comfortable and wasn’t too far to go until the end of Loch Lomond, with the stop at Dario’s post to look back and contemplate. I found myself also thinking about John Kynaston who died very suddenly of a heart attack last year, he interviewed me for the WHWR podcast and was a true gentleman. Most ultra runners here either knew him or knew of him, he did a vast amount for the sport and was just one of those folk who seem to improve the world by being in it. A huge loss.
I reached the Drover’s Inn bang on 4pm so was able to get straight into my room, get a cup of tea and lie down for a bit. The Drover’s is a bit of an institution and you have to forgive it the shared bathroom (with no shower, only a bath…yuk) and grotty windows and just go down to the bar and soak up a bit of atmosphere! I also soaked up a beer and decent meal before sleeping the sleep of the righteous hiker, disturbed only by a springer spaniel that seemed to find the room a bit hot.
The nice lady from track and trace thinks I probably started to develop my Covid around Wednesday but at breakfast I was oblivious of any replicating SARS virus and dismissed my poor appetite as a natural reaction the under-seasoned scrambled egg and surreptitiously gave my bacon to Meg.
Day 3 – Inverarnan to Inveroran – 22 miles (8 of which on a train that was actually a bus), wall to wall sunshine.
This was supposed to be a long day but I had a cunning plan to bypass the Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy section but jumping on a conveniently timed train. It’s one of the more boring sections and full of sheep so no great loss. I told myself it was to prevent Meg getting too footsore & tired! That’s me, self sacrificing and always ready to put my pet first.
The walk to Tyndrum was 12 miles and on the Walk Highlands website it suggests it takes 5-6 hours. Nonsense I thought, it’ll be a mere 4 hours for a woman like me. Gives me loads of time to buy an ice cream, phone charging cable and catch the 14:35 train.
Precisely 5 hours after I set off I arrived at Tyndrum. Bloody west highland way is always slower going than you think it is! I still had over half an hour to spare though before the train left. The only problem was, it wasn’t a train, it was a replacement bus service and I couldn’t find any information on the Scotrail website about whether it would leave from the train station or bus stop.
First things first – ice cream. So I trailed up the Tyndrum Main Street to buy a magnum and iPhone cable at the garage shop. Sorted. Then I thought maybe I should go to the station in case the bus left from there. Of course it was the Tyndrum upper train station so back down the main street then huffed my way up to the station with my left hip making a nasty twang half way up. Big signs saying the train replacement bus goes from the bus stop. Fucksakes I muttered. Went back down and for some reason convinced myself the sign had said the bus left from the green welly so I walked back up the Main Street, starting to feel a bit flustered as time was getting tight. No bus stop. Two minutes to go. I asked someone where the bus stop was and they told me it was outside the Real Food Cafe. I’d only walked past it 4 times by now. I legged it down Tyndrum Main Street. TWANG went my hip. Meg tried to stop and eat a pile of vomit outside the Tyndrum pub and wrapped her lead round my legs. I tried to untangle myself and saw the bus pull up, waved frantically and sprinted onwards, towing Meg who had been enjoying her impromptu snack and didn’t appreciate being dragged away from it.
I must have seemed a pitiable case as I staggered up to the bus stop as the driver refused to let me pay and I sat in comfort (and wearing a mask so hopefully no harm done to my fellow passengers) for a few miles to Bridge of Orchy before getting a large beer and scone at the hotel to calm my shredded nerves.
I had undone all the good work of avoiding the extra 8 miles by my antics in Tyndrum and now had a very sore hip/IT band. However all I needed to do was get up and over Jelly Baby hill to Inveroran where I was going to camp. I took it slowly and enjoyed the views plus happy memories of meeting Murdo for a jelly baby and words of encouragement one sunny June evening 4 years ago, then set up camp in a nice bit of woodland. I had already booked dinner at the hotel, which used to get hilariously bad reviews on trip advisor (maybe the previous owners went on to operate a taxi company?) but got taken over a few years ago and the new owners have transformed it into a lovely place to stay with a good reputation for food. Dogs not allowed, hence the camping but they were ok in the bar area. My appetite was back and the evening meal was really delicious then I retired to my tent to plan how to cheat the next day and drop a few more miles to save my dodgy hip.
Day 4 – Inveroran to Kinlochleven – 11 miles, rain 😱 changing to sunny intervals
I didn’t sleep terribly well but awoke with a cunning plan. My friends Mandy and Moria were driving up to do the final 2 days with me. They were going to meet me at Kingshouse around lunchtime. So all I needed to do was pack up, have a leisurely hike back over Jelly Baby hill to Bridge of Orchy and sit drinking tea until they came by en route to Glencoe. A few texts later it was all sorted. I did some physio stretches that I remembered from when I twanged my hip in the past and it settled down to a grumble. My blisters weren’t any worse and after a hearty breakfast of ibuprofen and a brunch bar I was good to go. It was a shame to miss off the magnificent section over Rannoch moor but probably the right decision for me and Meg’s paws.
Mandy and Moi scooped me up and we parked at Kingshouse and had lunch at the new hotel before hitting the way to Kinlochleven. The pull up the devil’s staircase was compensated for by the staggering views every time you stop and look back. We could see what looked like a couple of people coming down a snow filled gully on Buachaille Etive Mor, they looked like they were roped up. Near to top a couple with a small child came down, they had literally just got engaged at the top! She looked very happy and her man looked suitably pleased with himself for having chosen such a fabulous spot to pop the question, definitely kudos to him. My husband took me to Amsterdam to propose but the occasion was slightly dampened when he developed torrential diarrhoea straight after asking me to marry him and we couldn’t leave the hotel. The only thing I could find to watch on the hotel TV was bad porn and my lasting memory is eating room service food with groaning coming in tandem from the TV and my new fiancé.
The descent to Kinlochleven is fairly endless but we chatted away and before long we had arrived at our camping pods which were tiny but contained everything necessary for a comfortable night. I got a shower (thank heavens, Mandy and Moria were far too nice to comment but I was pretty aromatic by then) and we went to the nearest pub for a drink and meal. The pre-bed tick check revealed quite a few on Meg for the first time so I got her sorted then passed out quite early.
Day 5 – Kinlochleven to Fort William – 15 miles, sunny intervals
Had the last of my ibuprofen with some custard for breakfast and was feeling a bit congested but the hip had settled right down. We hit the Way early so we didn’t end up rushing to get to Fort William. The climb out is pretty relentless and we got overtaken by a lad from the Netherlands who had stopped to fix his laces and was trying to catch up with his mate up ahead. We then watched as he powered past a way marker and off in the wrong direction. It took a bit of shouting to get him back as he had earphones in and he was very grateful not to have ended up on top of a Munro by mistake. We got the bulk of the stony lairig Mor path under our belts before stopping for lunch. Meg was definitely tired, if you didn’t know her (or springer spaniels generally) you’d think she looked full of energy but she definitely wasn’t quite as bouncy as usual and as soon as we stopped she just lay down. We had lunch in warm sunshine then soon afterward passed a man armed with a GPS and bamboo canes who apparently counted trees for a living. That really didn’t seem like the worst job in the world to me and he certainly seemed quite content in his work!
After Lundavra I got a nasty painful area on the front of my shin, tibialis anterior territory so the pace dropped off. We passed a lady of a similar vintage to us who was yomping along despite a huge rucksack, heading south and she had already done the Great Glen Way. We got chatting and she explained that she had just being diagnosed with bowel cancer, had a huge tumour and was scheduled for surgery and chemo in April. She had reacted to the news by shouldering her back pack and heading out the door. She was worried that if she got a stoma that might stop her hiking. We wished her all the best and watched in awe as she strode off with an air of utter determination. I hoped it all went well for her and it put my leg grumbles into perspective.
I don’t have good memories of the fire road from the race and limping down it this time didn’t endear me to it either. The last few miles of the way are the most unprepossessing I think. They should install a zip wire down. Tired hikers would pay any amount of money for it! But the end comes eventually. I still haven’t hiked the whole thing properly from start to finish so will just have to find a spare week sometime for another go with no hopping on buses or getting cheeky lifts. Five days was always going to make it a bit of a push but I needed to get back in time to see my daughter in her play. Unfortunately I started up with a hacking cough as I drove down the M8 and tested positive as soon as I got home so am isolating instead, which gives my blisters time to heal I suppose.
One thing that struck me during my hike was the kindness of all the people I met. From receptionists sneaking me and my dog into a room, lending me phone chargers, drivers of rail replacement buses and my lovely friends who drove all the way up to walk with me even though I hadn’t had a shower for 2 days – I really do hope that I haven’t repaid them by giving them covid.
runswiththedug 