Fort William and Ben Nevis, Looking Back

Well I haven't posted since Inverness, and its pretty regrettable. Looking back I'm trying to figure out how to wrap up everything that has happened in the last 9 days. Lets give it a shot.

I left Inverness on a Sunday and, after a very easy hitch to Fort William, found myself at the Grog and Gruel Pub on the High Street. I knew that my next move was going to be climbing Ben Nevis, but I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do for accommodation for the two nights I was in Fort William. After I posted the last blog post, which I was writing there at the pub, I walked up to the bar to pay for my drink. As I stood there, waiting for the lad behind the bar to get a free second, I looked over to my left. There sat Rob, pictured below, the Irish manager of the Backpackers Hostel in Fort William that I had stayed at at the beginning of my trip.

Keishal, Tom, Me, and Rob in Fort William right before my departure on the West Highland Way

When I saw him, I did a bit of a double take. He recognized me, impressive given that he sees at least 30 new guests each day, and offered to buy me a pint. We took our ales to my booth where I told him all about my misadventures on the Cape Wrath Trail. He asked my plans now, and I told him I would climb Ben Nevis on Monday and begin the West Highland Way on Tuesday. He asked where I was staying, and when I told him I was going to camp, trying to save money, he offered me two nights of accommodation in exchange for two hours work each day. Sounded great to me! The hostel there in Fort William is fantastic, by far my favorite, and I was glad to get to be around some great people before my next hike.

Sunday night found me reunited with a few folks from my last visit and in the company of many new ones. Martin, a philosopher from Brazil, Juan, a medical diver from Colombia, and Tom, an upcoming uni student from Germany, were a few with whom I spent really good time. We played the guitar, drank Strongbow cider, and sang around the fire into the wee hours of morning before I decided to head to bed. I was climbing Ben Nevis the next day, after all.

Before my two-hour shift on Monday, I ran to Morrison's for groceries and food for my hike. The shift was fun. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to clean anyway, so I put on the Avett Brothers and left that baño cleaner than ever. After a quick lunch and a trip to the store for waterproof socks, I was about to walk out of the hostel towards Ben Nevis when I bumped into Tom. I asked if he wanted to climb the mountain with me, and after assuring him that I would love the company, he joined the adventure to the highest peak in Britain.

From the hostel, we had about 30 minutes of walking through Glen Nevis before we reached the trailhead up the mountain. The path we took is 10 miles, five-up five-down, and typically takes around 6.5 hours to finish. Because we both had cleaning shifts until 12:30 and then ate lunch, we actually didn't get started until 3:00 - kinda late. The thing about the mountain, as with the rest of the wild in Scotland, is the fact that the weather can change without warning. If you're up at the top when it shifts for the worse, it can be bad. So, given our late start, and the fact that everyone seemed to be already coming down, we were hustling up the steep, uneven, jagged ascent.

After about 75 minutes of ascent, we reached the loch, and from there the "peak" seemed to be right before us. I though we had made great time! I even took a video, in it saying we were just 30 minutes from the top. What I didn't know was that, when we reached that "peak", we would suddenly see that the real summit was far out of our soles' reach, as it cleaved the clouds and continued to heights unknown to us at that time - there were nearly 2 more hours of ascent remaining.

I was game for it. I had been walking since I got here with my heavy rucksack on my back, but that day I had a little day-pouch with a bottle of water in it. It was as if I had lost all that weight again, but this time all at once, and I felt like I could fly. As I climbed quickly, I had to pay very close attention to where my feet landed, as the path is often uneven, jagged rock that seems ever eager to snare of sprain an ankle. It amazed me how quickly the processes happened. My eyes saw the best place for each step to land, and it sent that information to my brain which processed it in terms of distance, likelihood of stability, risk, and effort. Then, my brain must have told which muscles to contract, which to relax, and within milliseconds my foot landed in the very same spot I perceived as safest, merely with peripheral vision. My feet lifted just enough to clear each snagging rock, but not too high so as to miss the mark. Truly, truly, I am amazed at the complexity and harmony of the human body.

Ascending Ben Nevis

Glen Nevis, Ascending Ben Nevis

Tom, Ascending Ben Nevis

Clouds Breaking, Near the Summit

Glen Nevis, Near the Summit

Tom and I both began to slow as we got closer and closer to the top. Before we knew it, the rocky paths had turned to foot-deep snow and the air had lost its status of balmy breeze, changing out for bitter wind. It was amazing to begin the climb sweating at sea level and end freezing at 1340m. As we got into the snow, we also got into the clouds, and the only way to really tell where the "path" went was by following footprints and chasing the outlines of huge stone mounds, set up as markers. About 20 minutes after taking the first step into the snow, we made it to the emergency shelter on top and the stone that seems to mark the finish. We stopped there, sat down, ate our packed snacks, and wished we had a view. The clouds were too dense to see the magnificent view that a clear day allows.

In the clouds and snow, at the summit of Ben Nevis

Breaking clouds, descending Ben Nevis

Panorama from ascent

Getting really cold after a while, we began our descent. It took us right at 3 hours to get up to the top, and about 2.5 to get back to the bottom. While it was quicker walking, we had to be careful that we didn't move too quickly, lest the loos scree and gravel cause is to take a nasty fall. I was becoming ever more thankful for the waterproof sock investment. My Salomons are largely mess, which makes them quick to dry but also quick to get wet socks. The socks "worked a treat", as Ian would say.

At the bottom, we stopped at the pub in Glen Nevis and had a beer outside, proud of our accomplishment and mutually glad for the day's conversation. Returning to the hostel, I had a very welcomed shower and cooked a big plate of pasta. It was bonfire and chatting after that before I went to bed thinking about my trail the next day - The West Highland Way.

 

 

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Inverness: The End of the Great Glen Way

Well Thursday afternoon I finished the Great Glen Way at the hill-top castle of Inverness. The day was short, and after getting my photo with Flora Macdonald's monument I found a phone booth and called up Ian and Anne. I had met them several days before when I was camping along Loch Lochy. They were out enjoying the weather, fishing, and tolerating the American that had unknowingly pitched his tent in the secluded spot that prompted them to stop in the first place. They were very nice, and after several hours of conversation they told me to look them up if I was ever in Inverness. Well, that's just what I did.

With Flora Macdonald's Monument at the GGW terminus

Ian and Anne welcomed my unexpected call and picked me up from the city center. Back at their house, they told me I could use the camper to sleep in and keep my stuff, have a bath, and just hang out. It was a hot, sunny day and we sat on the back patio, surrounded by Anne's gorgeous flowers and Ian's ingenuitive inventions. After a bath, I spotted a guitar in the corner of the living room and asked if incould strum a bit. This quickly turned into a little fiesta as Ian pulled out a few bottles of his homemade wine and song after song was sung. It was a late night and I think we all slept in a bit the next morning. The next day, Ian told me that I could stay again if I wanted to, and that if I did we would drive over to the Black Isle to see the bottlenose dolphins off the shore.

Trying to convince Khan to play

Khan, the Japanese Akita

The bit of attention from Khan

The Moray Firth Dolphins

After seeing the dolphins on a dreary, Scottish day, we drove over to have coffee with Val and Kenny, Ian's sister and brother-in-law. They have a house out in the middle of farmland in the Black Isle where Kenny's family always raised quality bulls. We had coffee and they joked about the how the "yank" had pretty much moved in. They were great folks and I hoped that I would get to see them again before I left. That night found Ian and I drinking more homemade wine and watching The Magnificent Seven until 2am.

On Saturday the weather had imoroved. We went into town to the outdoor goods store, "Go", where I bought an ultralight foam pad to protect the bottom of my thin tent floor and we gawked over nifty gear and other gadgets. Motivated, Ian and I went into the garage when we got back home and went to work improving my simple tuna-can cook stove. We ended up coming up with a new design, a spin-off of typical soda can Penny Stoves. After some struggle and doubt, we found that a priming base was all that was needed to heat the stove enough to pressurize the methylated spirits inside the stove and send them up in nice, uniform jets. It works brilliantly, is incredibly light, and with a few ounces of fuel burned for nearly twenty minutes.

Ian sets the kettle on the new stove

That afternoon, Val called and asked of we wanted to come over for a bit of "balls". "Balls", or carpet bowling, is different than 10 pen bowling by a long shot, but its quite popular here. We left the house at 5:30pm and got to Val's at 6:00 with several bottles of homemade wine (any surprise by this point?), some appetizers, and the guitar. We found the huge barn to be emptied of the tractor and bailing equipment. In their place was a huge green carpet, 8 large weighted bowlers, and one small red "jack". It turned into quite the party: Val, Kenny, Ian, Anne, Kelly, Kim, Neil, little Sophie and Amy, and myself. It was a family affair, and they tought me all about the game.

Kenny shows off a lifetime of practice

Ian and Kenny, a deadly team

The barn made ready

Val

Anne

Sophie and Amy

The whole bowling gang

Kenny supervising

Kim, Kelly, and Ian

The night went on until nearly morning. The guitar came out and we sang while the Sophie and Amy turned the green carpet into a dance floor. Neil, Kim's husband and the lassies' dad, sang the Eagles with me and had some impressive vocal moves. It was one of the most fun nights I've ever spent, with one of the best group of people I know. They welcomed me in, fed me and gave me good wine and scotch, and beat me mercilessly in bowling. I'm just waiting for them to come to Tennessee so I can return the favor and whoop them in ten-pin.

Anne drove us back home, mercilessly cutting off anyone in her way without losing her regal, happy demeanor, and Ian and I sang some improvised traffic blues as we drove through roadwork on the bridge to Inverness.

This morning, Sunday morning, the weather was great but it didn't quite alleviate the bit of sadness that I felt leaving these two incredible people, and Khan of course. We met by chance, some might say, but I'm so glad that we got the opportunity to reunite in Inverness. They treated me with an extraordinary amount of kindness and love. Ian and Anne dropped my off on the main road so that I could hitch back to Fort William to begin the West Highland Way. I found a ride with a guy named Stephen, and now I'm sitting in the Grog and Gruel pub in Fort William. I'm happy for the next leg of my adventure, but a part of me wishes that my glass was full of homemade wine instead of Scottish Red Ale. Thanks for the great time, Ian, Anne, Val, Kenny, Kim, Neil, Kelly, Sophie, and Amy. It will forever be fondly remembered. Keep Tennessee on the map.

 

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