Kinlochleven to Alltshellach
Cathy and I took the bus this morning to Kinlochleven, which is at one end of the lake on which our hotel sits. We took the West Highlands Way trail together for a bit then went our separate ways--Cathy to do a loop to Mamore Lodge and me to do a longer hike that would end back at Hotel Alltshellach. We met four strapping young women doing the full 96 mile trail and they took our photo.
We also encountered this lovely moth.
It was sunny all day and what a day to be out of doors. I did an 11-mile hike, mostly along a valley floor with an ascent/descent at the end back to Loch Leven.
What can make a heart happier than this sight? The knowledge you have nothing to do all day but wander among the beauty of the Scottish Highlands.
I thought today of all the places I've hiked: West Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, Montana, Peru, Chile, Norn Ireland. I feel so incredibly privileged to be able to do this because it makes me happier than anything else I've ever done. I grin like an eejit when I'm hiking because I just can't help it. The muscles in my face actually hurt. I stop smiling when my knees start hurting but that is usually near the end.
I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.
Alice Walker
Came upon this house and was thinking of how nice it would be to have a pint.
Except I had more than 6 miles to go.
Once I left the Highlands Way I hopscotched across a fairly large river then stepped from stone to stone to avoid sinking into a bog, before ascending to a saddle. The streams and waterfalls bisecting the path every few yards made me think of the gorgeous words of Gerard Manley Hopkins.
This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.
A windpuff-bonnet of fáwn-fróth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, féll-frówning,
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.
Degged with dew, dappled with dew
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.
What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
I want to find a Scot who would read this to me in the native tongue. I could die happy.
Speaking of dying, David had my cat put down today. Isabelle was the last of the three pets we brought over from the US in 2014. She hasn't been well the last 2 years really and wasn't in good shape when I left. I had given David my blessing to do the deed if it came to that. Isn't that life? Beauty, joy, sadness, life, death--all in one big juicy stew.
The West Highlands Way, visible across the valley in the photo above, goes all the way to Fort William, where it ends. I could totally see doing the 96 miles--just not clear on campsites as there are lots of boggy sections. Once I reached the saddle, I began my descent to Loch Leven.
I had a very boggy, hop scotchy descent to the loch and got a bit off course. I kept seeing this dragon fly that looked like a small helicopter. I tried and failed to get a photo. I also saw some gorgeous butterflies flitting amongst the bracken but they too weren't disposed to pose.
There's quite a large salmon farm in Loch Leven, barely visible below as four small patches. I can't imagine the effluence from hundreds of thousands of fish is good for the other creatures in the loch. Apparently species of "cleaner fish" are used to clean up after the salmon but they cause their own problems.
See the white house in the distance? I ended up climbing over a gate into a drive behind the house. I followed that drive to another complex of houses. I don't think I was supposed to be here, so I walked between a nearby field and a stream, until I had to vault over another fence into the field to avoid dropping down into the stream. It was a lovely field and afforded me a chance to climb a third gate and get on the road for a 2.5 or 3 mile walk back to the hotel.
A hot bath, a blog catch up and now I'm counting the minutes until dinner. I could eat a horse. They give us plenty of snacks but I want something other than trail bars and trail mix.
RIP Isabelle.
21 July