Friday Oct. 6, 2023
- Start: Kinlochleven (mile 81.4)
- End: Fort William (mile 96.8)
- Distance Hiked: 16.4 miles (15.4 mile on the WHW + 1 mile detour to Dun Deardail)
After seeing the weather forecast for today, with 1.72 inches of rain predicted to pour down, I was more than a bit apprehensive about the upcoming miles. But as I set out from Kinlochleven this morning, it was totally dry. Had the weathermen had been wrong?
The day was gray and cloudy, for sure. But it wasn’t even a sprinkle in the air as I walked out of town and toward the single track trail. A number of the people, in the pub last night had been talking about taking a bus to Fort William rather than enduring the elements, and I was starting to think their panic (and mine) was all a bit premature.
UP, UP, UP…
The first mile or so out of Kinlochleven was a steep climb that made my calves feel like they were on fire. I knew this would be the case though, since the town sat right on the edge of the loch barely 22 feet about sea level.
Yesterday, the West Highland Way sharply dropped down from the Devils Staircase into Kinlochleven. So, now the path had to make an equally step climb back up out of the valley. The racing heartbeat and burning leg muscles were just part of the game. Besides, the views were always worth it when I stopped to catch my breath.
As I neared the point where the trail finally began to leveled out again, low clouds shrouded the trail and the rain started to fall. But even this wasn’t too bad, I thought to myself. Not compared to the miserable forecast I’d been dwelling on since yesterday. I could handle this day no problem.
The one thing I hadn’t been expecting during today’s hike was the all-consuming wind. I was suddenly walking into what felt like a 20-25 mph headwind! These gales weren’t a temporary inconvenience either, as the wind broke against me for the next 7 miles!!!
Part of the wind problem seemed to be the fault of the direction I was now traveling in. Rather than heading north, The West Highland Way followed an old military road running east-west between two ridges. Tall peaks stood to my left. Equally tall peaks sat off to my right. And the trail between them was like a trough that seemed to channel the raging wind for the next two hours.
Sheep grazed at the edges of the trail, just as they’d done on every day prior. They didn’t seem to have sixth sense about the current (or impending) bad weather. Or if they did, they weren’t smart enough to seek out somewhere sheltered where they could ride it out.
After an hour of being battered by the wind and increasing rain, I thought I’d finally spotted a small reprieve up ahead. The ruins of an abandoned building sat beside the trail on my right side. Maybe if I stood on one side of it, I could get out of the worst of the elements and eat one of the snacks I’d picked up at the co-op yesterday afternoon.
Of course, that plan went to shit before I even got to the building. Just ahead of me, the two hikers I’d been flip-flopping with yesterday stopped with a similar idea of using the building as a wind break. But rather than eating a snack, they were using it to shield themselves from the wind as they smoked their cigarettes.
Ugh!!! I definitely wasn’t stopping there now. The second-hand smoke would aggravate my sinuses (as it always did) and then I’d be truly miserable. Better to just keep going.
WAR TO END ALL WARS
I continued hiking with the knowledge that the faster I walked, the sooner I’d be in Fort William. I’d originally wanted my eighth day in Scotland to be a leisurely end to my thru-hike. But this tempest was forcing me to abandon those plans. I was now racing the storm to Fort William.
Then my luck seemed to shift. I’d caught a break in the storm around 11 am, and I no longer felt as it I was walking through a wind tunnel. The rain dropped down to just a light sprinkle, and I could even hear the deer rutting again in the distance once again.
When I slowly lifted my chin from my chest to look at my surroundings, I spied a small wooden post on the right side of the trail. It wasn’t a West Highland Way marker though. This post was some sort of World War I memorial with the dates 1914-1918 engraved above a metal placard, and the dates 2014-2018 engraved below it. I assumed it was some sort of centennial project to commemorate all those who were involved in WWI,
As an American, I sometimes forget what a colossal impact WWI had on most European countries. The US didn’t enter the war until 1917, so we didn’t come close to experiencing the devastation this war heaped on the Europe for those 4 chaotic years. We tragically lost more than 116,000 soldiers as a result of WWI, but the European were left with 20 million military and civilian deaths (with 21 million more people wounded)!
The British Empire accounted for 16% of those WWI losses – or 3.2 millions deaths. That’s just a mind boggling number of people lose to a military conflict that wouldn’t actually turn into the “war to end all wars.” And it’s easy to see why there are more WWI memorials here than back home in the US.
DUN DEARDAIL
Just beyond the WWI marker, the West Highland Way made a 90-degree turn heading north again. And with that turn, it was as if the wind stopped entirely. The hillside now blocked the gusts as I dropped down to lower ground past waterfalls on the muddy trail.
This scenery was a nice reminder that this last leg of the West Highland Way was a beautiful one. And before too long, I was climbing up to the trail’s final pass before the long 4.5-mile descent to where Fort William awaited me.
Once I reached the pass, I saw two hikers standing in from of a large graphic sign. It was the junction for Dun Deardail – a 2,000 year old fort site atop a major hill. On a good day, the hilltop also provided excellent views of Ben Nevis – the UK’s tallest peak at 4,413 feet.
I knew better than to expect to see Ben Nevis’s summit on a cloud-covered rainy day like today. But I felt compelled to make the 0.5-mile trek up to Dun Deardail anyway. If nothing else I could see what made this knoll it such a formidable and defensible position. And I had this small break in the bad weather, so it would be a real shame to waste it.
As I set off for one last detour, I had some lingering hopes that maybe the clouds would shift and provide me a glimpse of Ben Nevis for just a few moments. But my detour up to Dun Deardail was a bust in that regard. Ben Nevis was still hiding.
What really surprised me though was the shape of the hill. I didn’t expect to see any ruins from the fort, but I hadn’t realized the government had allowed an archealogical excavation of the site back in 2015. So instead of a flat or rounded knoll, it was as if I climbed up the hill only to drop down into a divot at its summit. It felt almost like I’d just climbed a grass-covered volcano.
FORT WILLIAM
After returning back to the West Highland Way, all that remained was the 4.5 miles into Fort William – first downhill on a gravel road, and then transitioning to an a dirt path.
Light rain still fell intermittently, but the torrential weather seemed to be holding off. I felt as it the weather gods were silently urging me to pick up my pace and get to the trail’s northern terminus before they unleashed the fury that was still out there.
At the bottom of the long descent, I reached a field where one last herd of sheep grazed and the true trail seemed to end. I was now up against the edge of the River Nevis, with signs pointing me the final two miles toward town. It was time to say good bye to the dirt trail. The remainder of my hike would be on a walking path and sidewalks that paralleled the river.
Ass I neared the edge of Fort William, I was greeted by a large green and blue thistle emblem. The sign informed me I’d reached the original end of the West Highland Way! The northern terminus had since moved 0.9 miles further into town where all the hikers would be headed anyway. I was now down to the final mile!
The drizzling rain was still on-and-off as I walked past a roundabout and eventually entered the older section of Fort William where the churches and monuments stood. Then I wandered down the cobblestone path past restaurants and souvenir shops. And there were half dozen of outdoor clothing stores that reminded me of Eddie Bauer, LL Bean, and REI in the US. It seems Fort William was the gateway to Scottish outdoors!
And then, as High Street came to its natural end, I spotted a statue of a man rubbing his feet. Just beyond it stood another sign announcing that I’d reached the OFFICIAL end of the West Highland Way. My 96.8-mile trek was complete.
I was preparing to take a selfie with the sign when the four ladies from Idaho suddenly appeared from out of nowhere. And so I had one of the gals to take my photo, and then I reciprocated the gesture by taking group picture of them on all four of their phones!!
My adventure was officially over. Eight days in Scotland. Past lochs and munros. Through a national park. I’d visited castles and the site of a 2,000 year old fort. I got the chance to see a stag with a giant rack of antlers, and red frogs, and legless lizards. I met people from multiple states and multiple counties. And I’d had a wonderful adventure.
As I made my way back up High Street to find something to eat, when I crossed paths with Vicky – half of the highpointing duo from Oklahoma. She was walking with a cane, and had broken her foot just past Kingshouse! Then she confided in me that she’d actually fractured her foot earlier this year. She thought she was fully healed, only to walk 75 miles and re-break it in the very same spot. What bummer! So her hiking partner, Samantha had to finish the West Highland Way without her.
Barely two minutes after saying goodby to Vicky, I crossed paths with Catherine and two two friends from Tennessee. We raised our hands and gave each other celebratory high-fives before they continued the final 200 yards toward their destination. It was amazing to see all these wonderful people near the finish line after hiking around them this past week!
On a better day, I might had stood there even longer just to see who else made their way up the street. But the rain was starting to come down in sheets. It was time to head to my hotel, The Garrison Cells – an old jailhouse that had been converted into a quirky hotel.
