This entry will describe my first 3 days of the Cape Wrath Trail, but make sure to read the post "An Unexpected Turn" to get an important update on the trip.

Day 1: Fort William to Clunes

This route is a popular alternative start to the CWT that actually shares the first day with the Great Glen Way (GGW). The first several miles were pretty uninspiring, as walking in a city tends to be, but it got prettier with each step into the country. Just outside Fort William, in Banavie, is Neptune's Staircase, a series of 8 locks that raise and drop ships 64 feet to and from sea level. The walk was along the Caledonian Canal, which is a remarkable waterway. At Gairlochy the path crossed a small lock and entered into some beautiful forest, and the gaps in the trees gave a great vista of the North West side of Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Britain.

The woods past Gairlochy

The NW side of Ben Nevis

After about 17 miles, I ended my day on the shores of Loch Lochy. I set up camp and cooked a hot supper of Scottish broth and tuna (hey, everything tastes good hiking). It was a beautiful campsite, and it was probably one of the clearest days I'll ever see here.

Setting Up Camp

Loch Lochy

Home Sweet Home

Day 2: Clunes to Garrygualach

I had originally planned to walk from Clunes to Laggan for a short day, but when I got there in two hours, I realized I had made much better time than I expected. It was only 1:30 when I arrived in Laggan, so I stopped to let my feet breathe. During my lunch, that bad feeling (the one described in "An Unexpected Turn") hit me really hard. I began to have a kind of panic attack because of the anxiety and unrest. Thankfully a hostel in Laggan had wifi that I bummed from outside and I called John. We had a good talk, and though he told me to stop for the day and think about it, I decided to press on to my destination just past Garrygualach. I had now separated from the GGW, and there wasn't a soul to be seen. My first 12km or so for Laggan were along a forestry track that passes through 2 small "villages" before a "footpath" appears along the river Garry. I put these words in quotes, because that isn't at all what was actually on the ground. The first "village" was as I expected it, a few little farm buildings and a farmer's house. After that, the track began to get worse and worse until it ultimately disappeared just as the ruins of the second "village" came into sight. With no track or path, I forged my way up to the ruins looking for a path that was supposed to be there. Then I saw the buildings.

Garrygualach, at least it appears to be the case, was burned and abandoned years ago. It was one of the eeriest places I've ever been, mainly because, though the most of the buildings were obviously burned, their interiors were left exposed. Burned mattresses, scorched end tables. Charred remnants that weren't so far destroyed as to be unrecognizable. Then there was the main house...not burned. There were couches visible through the window and a table set for tea, but it was completely abandoned as far as I could tell. Nobody had been there in years, if I had to bet. Since it was getting dark soon, and I didn't yet know if I'd find a campsite, I contemplated breaking in and sleeping inside. The silence and abandon bested me after a few, quiet moments. I walked on.

The footbridge that was marked on the map had collapsed, and I was forced to ford the little river, thankful for my rock hopping abilities I've been fine-tuning fly fishing with John on the Hiwassee. Then came the bogs. Now, if you read the other post, you know all about them. They're terrible things to walk through. Bacterial, sometimes waste deep (I've now talked to people who tell me that people have been swallowed by them), and deceptive. What looks like solid ground completely gives way as you plunge to mid-thigh and are held by suction. Add a 25 pound pack to the mix and its tricky walking, to say the least. The section of map circled above was all bog along the river Garry. This is where my shoes and socks became inevitably soaked and muddy, and also where the blisters started and opened. As terrible as these bogs are, and as much as I hate them, it's actually an amazing part of nature. That a piece of land can look grassy, green, and sure, yet be completely unstable for meters, amazes me.

If you look at the map and find the little cluster of islands in the middle of the river (just SSE of 152), that's where I camped along the south bank. The spot I found was terrible, but compared to everything else it was a godsend right at nightfall. I set up camp and was too tired to cook, so I ate a piece of chocolate and went to sleep.

Day 3: West of Garrygualach to Cluanie

It rained on night two, so my hopes for drier shoes and socks were quickly put to rest. I knew that my day would be hard with a few more miles of bog, wet shoes and socks, 3600ft of ascent, and a river crossing. But I also knew that Claunie had an inn, and given my very real concern for my open blisters in the bog, I decided I would push on to the inn and get a room where I could clean and rest my feet. The ascent was tough. You would think that halfway up a mountain there would not be any boggy stuff. Guess again! I had a few nasty falls descending the pass at Màm na Seilg into Glen Loyne. The vista was beautiful, and there was even snow still capping the mountains to the west. Glen Loyne is also quite remarkable, winding between several mountains at 250meters above sea level.

Fresh out of the bog

Second ascent with Glen Loyne behind me

The river crossing was painless, thankfully, and since my shoes were already drenched I just trampled right though the shallow ford. After a pretty draining second ascent, I came upon an old abandoned road that descended about 10km into Cluanie. I was thankful for firm footing, and the sight of the inn in the distanced spurned me on, despite my groaning feet. I saw a car pull into the inn and then leave a few seconds later. That's when I got the feeling that they weren't going to have any rooms available. I had to force myself to accept the possibility, and I thought, "Maybe they'll at least have a little pub and I can have a beer."

I walked into this inn, limping, wet, and very stinky, and asked if they had a room. "Sorry, 'fraid not. We're full," said the woman. I explained my situation to her and, when she realized the risk and my concern for my feet, she went and called around, ultimately finding a bed and breakfast in Morvich. Her husband gave me a ride, sixteen miles up the road, to the place I'm staying now. It's quiet here, set in the mountains, and I'm taking a zero day for my blisters to heal. Read, if you still haven't, "An Unexpected Turn" to see where I go from here.

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