Over on the left, there, is Alistair, to whom we are indebted for his outstanding hosting skills. He was gracious, delightful and especially efficient, which is a lot, when on top of that, he is a dead ringer for George Clooney’s twin brother. On the right are Emily and Crystal + parents (from Arizona), with whom we had a nice chat at breakfast:

Before setting out for Inverness, we visited the castle. We arranged to get there first thing, edging out, by a hair, a couple of busloads of tourists. Why does this matter? It matters because the best bit of visiting Urquart is being able to climb the tower stairs, a narrow, winding staircase, which does not allow for passing.

Not the tower, but a small section of the wall:

Room (but which room, who knows) with a view:

The original McDonalds:

After the castle, back to the trail, and an especially beautiful nine-ish miles. (Twenty one turns into twenty two before you know it.)

What do we have here? Like jets lined up on a runway, waiting for take-off, so do boats line up to enter the lock. OK, so it is not exactly the same. In the case of the boats, several can enter the lock at once. Then the swing bridge opens, a gate comes down, the lights flash, pedestrians and cars wait until the crafts are through.

Loch Ness

must not be confused with the River Ness:

You see, it is from The River that Nessie emerges:

One last precious sight

before the official end:

Almost three weeks of walking in perfect weather just about every day, one grand B and B after another (minus one), a few excursions, some touristy–nothing wrong with that–some not, and delicious food (really). A day in Inverness, a half day in Glasgow, and then home.

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The final segment of the GGW, from Drumnadrochit to Inverness, 18-21 1/2 miles, depending on how you measure the distance, is done by the hearty in one day. Depending on how you measure the distance? Yes. For example, our B and Bs, in both locations were some distance form the measuring points, and even though I did not know that at the time of booking, our walk would have been 21 1/2 miles. By doing it in two days, we had time to walk and be tourists.

After being taxied to Blackfold, some 13 1/2 miles from Inverness, we turned south to walk back to Drumnadrochit. A lovely walk it was, too, except for a long stretch of tarmac at the start. It is not so much the unsightliness of walking on a hard surface, it is the grief it causes the bottoms of your feet.

Do you see Bessie here? Although some of her cow-mates have already calved, she is eating for two:

A hermit’s B and B? A secret hideaway? No, another tree root, this one mossed over:

Best not forget to make reservations on this highly-powered transport:

Whatever it is, it is not very high:

Lunch spot, with seating for one more:

Walking through the woods:

Having made good time on this stretch, we reached Drumnadrochit early enough to catch a 4:00 boat trip on Loch Ness. It was such a different experience to be on the water after seeing the loch from the distance of the path as a quiet, huge expanse of blue.

See the black blip on the peninsula: That is Urquart Castle, a most imposing fortress in its day:

Loch Ness from the boat:

Loch Ness suddenly becomes very deep close to shore, so the boat could draw near before making a turn. That bit was quite exciting because you think you are going to crash, but of course you don’t. FYI, Loch Ness is way deeper than the North Sea:

The tower that was a speck when seen from the distance of the path:

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But we made it longer. More of that in a minute. First some emoting about the wee cabin in which we stayed in Fort Augustus. It was the best stop yet. Other places have been luxurious and tasteful, and had wonderful breakfasts, but this B and B was unique. Out of every window—and there were windows on all sides and in the bathroom—was a gorgeous view. The beds were excellently comfortable, the linens lovely, the bathroom large, and like the rest of the cabin, pine. There was a little alcove that had a small frig and toaster, and held the fixings for our breakfast. In the main room a small table was invitingly set. And the cabin had HEAT! Also, it was very quiet. We loved this place. I told Jerry Anne, “Jerry Anne, when I complain that we should have walked on to Invermoriston and not broken the walk in Fort Augustus, remind me that had we done that, we would not have stayed here.” It so made up for the hostel!

A view looking out the front window:

Since we had only eight miles to cover, we asked Mark, the proprietor, if he had any suggestions for add ons. He sent us on a glorious river walk along the Oich before we set out. It was a beautiful beginning to the day.

I hope you can read this! It tells of a great way to get free lox:

Why lookee here! Company along the GGW:

A very Scottish Scotsman from Inverness and his very Scottish son happened to be behind us; they told us that they had never seen a snake in Scotland, so weren’t we lucky!

Needing more diversion, we followed a trail up into a pine forest. It was magnificent:

The logs of the other day must have been picked up:

And off they must go….to Ikea?

Invermoriston has gorgeous, powerful falls:

Another section:

The extra diversions brought our eight mile day up to about twelve miles, but we still had plenty of energy left, especially after a hearty soup and sandwich dinner at the B and B. The two-sister owners suggested another route to the falls. What a great walk it was!

We saw flowers growing our of a big thing—what are those things on trees that look like some kind of terrible tumor?

Trying to capture the light playing on the grass and bluebells:

View of the bridges from the little “summer house:”

One of the B and B owners is a devoted naturalist. The house is surrounded by bird feeders–so so many bird feeders, all well supplied with every kind of delicacy a bird might want! We saw siskins, a a great spotted woodpecker, and a green finch among many others whose names I do not know, all enjoying their treats. This morning, just after 7:00, we heard a tap on our bedroom door. Amanda, the sister mentioned above, invited us to see a red squirrel perched outside. It was ADORABLE! Here is a very bad picture of a picture of one:

We left Invermoriston on a perfect sunny day, not too cool, not too hot. For the first time we had real hillage on this walk. Thank God! As we climbed, the views of Loch Ness and the surrounding hills became finer and finer. No photograph that I could take would do them justice, so there are none here.

Sometimes, though, you have to bend down to get the best shot:

A bunch of pink flowers in a stream:

A tiny pine tree growing out of some other kind of tree:

During the walk today, we were trying to figure out how best to use our time on a short day, since we are not walking all the way to Inverness tomorrow. We had all kinds of plans in mind from the practical to the crazy. Mid afternoon, we arrived at our B and B and placed our dilemma in the capable hands of Alistair, the owner. Quickly, he made a bunch of phone calls for us and everything fell into place. Tomorrow, we get taxied to a place on the route some twelve miles from here, walk back, and then late afternoon, take an hour-long cruise on the loch. Saturday, we go to Urquhart Castle in the morning, get taxied to where we started the day before, and head off to Inverness, arriving in plenty of time to get to the B and B, change, and go to the operetta!

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Location:Loch Ness,Invermoriston,United Kingdom

“Pleasant” aptly describes the GGW. Rarely dramatic and almost tediously flat, the scenery is almost always pleasing. Its one bad, frequent feature is the walking surface; very hard on the bottom of one’s feet, even through hiking boots.

We were ambling along, enjoying the bird song, when all of a sudden, a creature, too small to be Nessie, emerged from the canal:

Ahhh, yes, a cavorting dog:

Having very much fun:

As we were leaving the B and B yesterday, our “lady” advised us to take a diversion to some falls. We didn’t have an excessive number of miles to cover (14), so we acted on her suggestion:

It was a worthwhile side trip, not just for that sight, for of a truth, we had already delighted in the sight of many falls on the WHW, but the whole route was especially lush.

A section of fence at the falls:

Especially beautiful is the way moss grows over stones:

In fact, moss grows over everything, in different tones, and the effect is ever so pleasing to the eye:

Hard at work, loading the logs into piles:

Great big piles of logs waiting:

A sight every walker craves, blue sky:

Two little lambs by the road:

About a mile before the end of the day’s walk, we came upon this boat-turned-pub. Of course we stopped in for a drink:

Our string of fantastic B and B’s was interrupted last night by our stay at the Great Glen Hostel. As far as hostels go, it is, apparently, way up there, but it is a hostel. Bunk beds with thin, lumpy mattresses on top of wooden slats, basic, spare facilities. It was FREEZING in the room but at least the shower gave out hot water. We had bought some grade B- sandwiches on the boat-turned-pub, which we ate for dinner outside at a picnic table. It could have been a lot worse, but if you are not into the communal thing, well, you don’t like it a whole lot. The mouse trap in the kitchen I couldn’t really complain about since mice visit my very own kitchen, but still, there was a kind of musty, yuck factor about the place.

We were not sorry to bid the hostel good bye:

By and by we came upon this sorry craft:

View from a beach:

The lock keeper doing his job:

A swan near shore:

(Yes, those are bluebells.)

OK, this hull is definitely Alderman Dow material:

A piper celebrating our arrival into Fort Augustus:

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One would think that on a Saturday, every ferry would be running to every little island, but such is not the case. We had a choice: Skye or Knoydart:

Knoydart is not really an island but it is accessible only by boat:

First one takes a train from Fort William—assuming one is in Fort William—to Mallaig, where, it turns out, there is a very good tea room, and more important, a store that sells gloves, which are supposed to be waterproof. I hope we don’t have to test them out, but they are in the pack, just in case.

Then one catches a ferry or a small boat, depending on your destination, but don’t think that tickets for both are sold in the same place; they are not. But such is the smallness of the town that one can run hither and yon seeking out the tickets one needs and not miss the boat, which, fortunately is timed to meet the train.

The peninsula is home to less than one hundred people, who have a long tradition, it seems, of zealously guarding their land:

Actually, they didn’t have to fear foreign invaders so much because they were so awful to each other, that they killed each other off without any outside help.

I almost forgot; the quiz:

Another natural wonder, the bark of a cedar tree:

Isn’t that such a great photo?

Rhododendrons grow like crazy here:

The people of Knoydart do art:

The “island” has gorgeous walking trails. We had only a couple of hours to sample one. That was sad-making until it started to rain. We took refuge in the local pub where the food is surprisingly delicious. It may be about the only business on the island.

Once, this building was probably a church; now it is some lucky dude’s house:

Three times a week, the mail is delivered:

So many wonderful views:

Back to Mallaig where we were greeted by this proud fellow:

The little port has its odd characters, that is for sure:

The train goes over the Glenfinnan Aqueduct made especially famous in the Harry Potter movies:

Not the answer you were expecting!

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Our climb up The Ben was scheduled for Saturday, but after much equivocation, very very much, we opted for Friday, originally our rest day. Neither day promised great weather (there are clear views from the top only a few times a month), but, among several weather variables, the deciding factor was the temperature. It was predicted that Saturday would be about ten degrees colder, which, at the top, is no small thing, so we took our chances with the rain, and set out.

The climb is about 4,409 feet and the round trip takes ordinary people some seven hours. I say “ordinary,” because there are meshunignehs who actually run. Some of them are participating in The Three Peak Challenge, an event that challenges climbers to do the three tallest peaks in the UK in twenty-four hours. Does that sound like fun or what? Then we learned, granted, after the fact, that Saturday was the Rat Race. This is a triathlon of sorts that combines some crazy off road bike ride, mountain climbing, and a third jolly entertainment. On any day, The Ben is teeming with people, people who get going at dawn (at this time of year between 3:00 and 3:30 a.m) and are on their way down by 9:00 a.m. or so, people starting the climb at least as late as 4:00 p.m. (at 10:00 p.m. it is still light), and even nuttier, as we learned from a taxi driver, some, not deterred at all by the dark, who ascend and/or descend using head lamps. What can I say, this peak has a reputation and EVERYONE wants to climb it.

Of a truth, it is not excruciatingly difficult, like, say, the severe ups and downs at Lullworth on the Southwest Coast Path. It is a long slog and one does have to watch the placement of one’s feet almost all the way. But maybe if you are twenty, you don’t. I would not know. But I will boast about this: we were told that most people are stiff for at least two days after the climb. I was not; Jerry Anne, “some.”

A wee section of the path:

About an hour into the climb, we came upon this enterprising fellow selling chocolate bars, cans of Pepsi, and cookies, and had a little gas burner going for making tea or coffee:

That spot was his….

It was a freezing rain on Friday, and boy, did our hands get cold. The top of the Ben is a persistent challenge because when it is fogged in, which it is a lot of the time, you cannot see. There are cairns, but you cannot see from one to the next. There was snow, too, lots of it, deep and slushy. The snow adds to the visibility problem. However, since there is so much traffic on the mount, you try to keep close to someone in front of you on the way up, and on the way down, you just wait for someone on the way up and head the same way. Then you wait for the next person—you don’t have to wait long, that is for sure–and so on until you are below the densest fog.

Now, I want to explain just how cold and wet it was. We did not linger for two minutes at the summit, we did not try to get our cameras out to commemorate the moment, we turned and slid through the snow; we were on the way DOWN! There were some people climbing with a dog. Jerry Anne greats all dogs, big and small, and always has loving words for them. Not on The Ben. Silently we passed the pooch and continued on our way. About two miles from the top, it warmed up enough for photos:

Congratulations!

Congratulations!

A spectacular gorge runs down the mountain:

Down….

Down….

Until, at last you reach bottom and can say, “I did it!”

In case you want to try it, be warned, there is NO WHERE to use “a loo” on Ben Nevis!

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Our top-of-the-line B and B, provides not only fluffy-spa-like robes, but dinner, if one desires. Of this offering we took advantage last night. Fresh trout (Jerry Anne) and salmon (me), certainly beat pub food. An extravagant breakfast that surpassed the deliciousness of dinner, fortified us well for the Devil’s Staircase.

First, another quiz. (Answer at the end.) What is this:

On the way to the famous landmark, as one looks to the left, one sees:

And to the right:

And straight ahead:

Before the ascent, an urgent roadside stop:

But, awww, dandelions brighten a corner of the abandoned wreck:

The Devil’s Stair case is not devilishly difficult nor does it have any stairs. But it was gratifying to reach the top:

Jerry Anne heading for some stepping stones:

A gorge:

Is this a gorgeous display of daisies, or what?

And we thought we had left the bluebells behind at Loch Lomand:

Answer to the quiz. Yeah, I know. It is the same as the last one!

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Three nights at Ewich House, from which place we were taxied to our starting point for the morning’s walk, or picked up in the afternoon, were lots of fun. The owner, whose affect made you want to salute and say, “Yes, SIR!” was actually most accommodating, efficient, and thoughtful.

While there, we had dinner a the local pub with other walkers, one evening with a couple from Amsterdam, and the next, with a couple from Norway, all of whom spoke extremely good English. The time was cheerful and comraderie-ish.

Today, much of the scenery was eerily bleak and dramatic against stunning skies:

In case you are wondering what it looks like to do a long-distance walk carrying all your gear, meet Joe:

And this is what your legs can look like after a while, even it you don’t carry all your gear, because Joe is carrying the tent:

A big cairn, strangely marking nothing obvious:

Another view, one with water yonder:

Sometimes, ya just gotta stop and take a rest, as these guys from the Czech Republic demonstrate:

A view from one side of Ba Bridge:

And from the other:

As we approached the Kings House Hotel, we were surprised by some red deer. Being in the process of shedding their winter coats, they are mangy, so all their beautiful redness not not show through yet:

And of course a buck was part of the group:

Although we walked to Kings House, we are not staying there. We are staying in Kinlochleven, the destination for tomorrow’s walk. Having arrived early, we decided to catch the 3:18 bus to Glencoe Village. We shlepped to the bus stop and waited and waited and waited and waited even longer in the freezing freezing cold for the bus that never came, so back to the hotel we trudged, and called for our ride.

Whilst waiting, we met these good-natured guys, who were also waiting for a ride to Kinochleven, having, like us, broken a 21 mile stretch into two days. They claimed to be The Beetles because their names are John, Paul, and George, but Ringo is really Mark. See the fellow on the right? He boasted that he holds the record for being the most obese person ever to have climbed Kilimanjaro, and that since he reached the summit, the mountain is not quite so high as it was before his ascent.

Our B and B for tonight and tomorrow is luxurious. The beds have super thick quilts and pillows, the room is spacious and bright, and something I have never seen before in a B and B, fluffy bathrobes are provided, as if this were a spa or something.

Here is the view from our bathroom window:

Except for yesterday, we are still being favoured with excellent weather, so the walk continues to be easy. Tomorrow, we have “The Devil’s Staircase” to contend with, but it is a short day, so how hard could it be?

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Nine miles in fine weather, through gorgeous scenery feels like a short stroll, and in fact, today’s walk was essentially a half day. No drama, but still, much prettiness to see on the way. For example, this bridge:

And whoa, what a tunnel!

Shamrocks in flower:

And here are some dancing on a log:

Snow atop a Munro (Just guessing–a Munro is a Scottish hill, which is over 3000 feet):

Our B and B, a very nice one, may I say, is a working farm. Here are a few of the residents. First meet the long-haired rabbit:

These ladies provide eggs for breakfast:

And this poor alpaca is fresh from the shearing:

People ask, “What do you DO on these walks? Doesn’t it become boring?” No, not for a minute. Get out there and try it, I say. It is exhilarating. Following the nine miler was a just-shy-of twelve mile day, from Ewich House to The Bridge of Orchy. We made tracks today! Even though Jerry Anne had to stop and put plasters on her sore foot, in the pouring rain, yet, we reached our destination, soaked, before 1:00 p.m. Yes, it rained today, rather hard. Why has someone has not figured out how to make waterproof gloves? Why did the rain gear get soaked through? Why did the lovingly-sno-sealed boots admit water–well, that one I have answer to, we had to go through some too-deep water crossing a stream, but even so. Probably all these things came to pass so that there would be something to complain about. Oh–no photos today; hands too cold.

At the Bridge of Orchy hotel, divested of sopping wet gear, we plunked down for a hot latte (for Jerry Anne, a hot chocolate) and some lunch, then taxied back to Ewich House where a splendid hot bubble bath in a huge tub felt like, well, I am guessing, an expensive spa treatment. AND we have all afternoon to read, do crossword puzzles and, would you believe, relax?

Off the trail there is so much to do. Find the B and B, ask the essential questions: Do you have wi-fi? Is it possible to have breakfast at 7:30? Where is a good place to go for dinner? (Or else, import a picnic, which we do as often as is practical.) Then up to the room, and it is zip zip zip: Zip the side pocket of the pack, take out the camera. Zip the other side pocket, check the GPS, record the mileage, turn it off. Put it back. Zip zip again. Zip zip zip the suitcases. Zip open the pack with all the electrical supplies. Zip it shut (lest an adaptor get lost). Zip zip the lunch bags to throw away the refuse. Zip zip, the bag that has one’s “evening wear.” Zip the cosmetics–a hot shower is waiting. The chorus of zippers seems not to stop. Empty out the unused water, do the laundry, throw away today’s maps and get out tomorrow’s. Look them over, put them in the pack. Figure out how to procure provisions for the next day. Since arrival time at the B and B is usually 4:30-5:00 p.m., there really is not a lot of time before dinner to get all these things done. Housekeeping takes time! A walk about town, if, in fact, there is a town, is always a must. Then there is keeping up with the blog, some newspaper articles, and trying to read some Spanish. Sometimes the B and B owners are very chatty, sometimes not. Before bed, one has to make sure all is in order for the next day. An early bed time allows for a bright start the next morning; another feast for the senses awaits.

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After a beautiful breakfast, as we were about to leave, packs on our backs and all, the B and B proprietress asked, quite sweetly, “Now which of you ladies is going to pay the bill?” “Why that would be me!” A quick run back to the room to pick up the money, inadvertently left on the dresser and then handed to its proper recipient solved the problem. Isn’t the passive voice perfect for some situations?

The walk along Loch Lomand was, again, gorgeous. And guess what! We took the high road, but don’t be impressed. Apparently, it is the easier of the two routes.

A couple of samples what the the side away from the loch looked like:

Bluebells are still in abundance and brilliant, but we saw many primroses. Since I have had a few sips of beer tonight, I can hardly think straight, so choosing photos is simply too much to ask, therefore, two shots of the dozens taken are here:

A striated rock with moss:

Always, waterfalls are more impressive live:

The loch slurping against the shore:

Speaking of senses, the two best smells have been of bluebells and pine; today wild garlic became a third. Sounds have been abundant: birds whose names I do not know, the wind, many kinds of water: large falls, smaller falls, brooks and streams. But today, we heard a very sad sound. Way way up on a cliff, aha, an occasion to use the word arete (right, crossword puzzle fans?) was a mama sheep calling MAAAAAA repeatedly, and repeatedly she was answered by a baby BAAAAA only the baby’s cry came from way over on the other side of a big stream. How it got there, we could not figure out.

Can’t leave those bluebells alone:

Feral goats! We were so excited to spot several of these large shaggy creatures:

And, of course, its baby:

Tomorrow beautiful weather is forecast again. We did a significant section today of rock-root-boulder-narrow trail kind of walking, slow going to be sure–you had to watch every step you took–but all I could think was ohmygod, if one had to do this in the pouring rain, how treacherous and scary it would be.

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