Brave in Scotland or the Beginner’s Highland Hiking Guide by Dirk Salowsky

Craig has told me to go see the Isle of Skye if I want some beautiful Scottish Highlands atmosphere. I have a week for my trip; it’s the Bank Holiday Sunday of early June ’99 and I have arrived at the Glasgow Queen Street Station at about midday. I am looking for a train to Fort William to continue to the island from there. Next departure: 6:10 p.m. Unable to see myself stuck in Glasgow instead of the Highlands I check route plans and destination tables for alternatives. Maybe another train covers at least some part of the route up north? The one to Oban does. It will take my direction up to Tyndrum Lower Station, which is already in the Highlands. There’s not too much time for celebrations, though – I only have ten minutes to find a ticket counter with a mercifully short line, buy a ticket and board. Eight minutes later my nervous rush is rewarded with a free seat by the window and the anticipation of sunny (!) Scottish scenery. It is a warm and sunny day indeed, and anyone who knows Scotland will appreciate that a lot!

Loch Lomond is one of the first highlights. Soon broad Highland valleys make me smile like a little boy, even some time before I arrive in Tyndrum. This tiny village divides the train routes to Oban and Mallaig and has two stations for each of the routes, Tyndrum Lower and Upper Tyndrum. I get out and find the village close to my station, at the end of a little path crossing a field and tiny highland becks. There are five hours to pass before the arrival of my next train, so I have a look around.

A public map shows me the next train stop, Bridge of Orchy, within hiking distance. This trip is highly spontaneous anyway, I haven’t researched my route to Skye apart from knowing that Fort William is a sensible point of departure, and lodging – oh, lodging is something to look for when I am there. So I decide on walking to Bridge of Orchy. But my very first destination is the village shop. I really am badly prepared; only carrying a small bottle of water, multivitamin tablets but no food in my backpack. I buy some fruit, a hiking map and midge repellent as first things for the days ahead. Buying only some fruit was a clear mistake.

Lesson No. 1: Always take enough food and water.

3:30 p.m., the sun is still shining and I am following the West Highland Way towards Bridge of Orchy. The valley is broad but still lacks a bit of a homely Highland feeling, also due to the close-by A82 towards Glen Coe and Fort William with its Sunday outing traffic. Nonetheless I am happy to breathe Highland air, and the route soon moves a bit away from the road. About six miles on and something like two hours later I have reached my next destination. I pass by the tiny train stop and head for a nearby hotel pub on the main road for a pint! I will still have to wait two hours for the train I wouldn’t wait for in Glasgow. I have a look at my map. It is day of my trip to the Highlands. If I keep walking on the West Highland Way I will leave the railway behind and end up in Glencoe, on the top left corner of my map – quite a walk. Instigated by the memory of a brave-hearted Mel Gibson on the scaffold and wearing my (real!) Anderson tartan kilt I follow my inner cry for freedom and decide on reaching Fort William and Skye some time later this week. I pick up my backpack and walk on. The way will now first lead me along Loch Tulla, and I have to make yet another decision: follow that small but paved road ahead of me or take the path to my left, up over this hill, to reach the shores of the unknown Loch? The easiest way is not always the best. Consequently I go for the adventure. Uphill I walk through a little wood and soon gravity reminds me that harder ways also tend to produce more sweat. But I bravely march on and eventually face a naked hilltop ahead – Mám Carraigh. (Carraigh, is the original, Gaelic spelling of the name Craig and means “rock”.)

It was a unique moment. My spontaneous boldness of taking an unplanned direction with only a slight idea of where to end up (and an even slighter idea of when) and the extra amount of sweat were already being rewarded. And not for the last time…

I am walking up the hill. From my perspective the horizon is the hilltop. I see a slowly descending sun in the west, wreathed in patches of clouds. I am walking on and see wild mountains slowly rising in the west, close to the sun. Then, next to the feet of the mountains, heatherclad highland hills move up from behind the hilltop. And as I proceed, I see patches of a green valley rolling up from behind that summit horizon, followed by a peaceful Loch, framed in meadows green like a gulf course, with a couple of pine trees and a stone house on the northern shore that you’d normally only expect a romantic painter to have put there. And so I stand the windswept top of the hill looking down on Loch Tulla. By the way, the house by the shore is said to be Ian Fleming’s.

Lessons No. 2 and 3: Move mindfully and seize the chance for little adventures.

It’s already about 7 p.m., but still time to move on yet a bit. I follow a winding path downhill and end up on that road I fortunately did not follow earlier on. Around the western shore and past another little hotel I follow the West Highland Way to the north, past Ian Fleming’s supposed dwelling. It’s the first time that I come to appreciate my smelly midge repellent. I have already run out of water and have a banana left for dinner. There are many little moor becks, containing moor water I do not trust. I will trust a river (also fed by becks, but, alas…) and walk on until I finally reach the rocky River Ba at the edge of Rannoch Moor. The panorama is still incredible, by the way.

This is going to be the place where to spend the night. I haven’t got a tent, just my sleeping bag and pad. First of all I realize that I am completely sweat through, so I take off my clothes to have a bath in the river. I am so heated up that only my reddening skin shows me that the water is really cold. This is so impressive, but anyway I decide not to spend too much time in there. After my yummy dinner I take off my kilt and jumper and crawl into my sleeping bag. Uncomfortable is not only a concise description for the ground beneath but also for my feeling during the night, especially after hearing the not-too-distant growls of some animal. I also feel a bit cold so I do not sleep very well and get up at sunrise. Odd as it may sound, I am still happy to be where I am. I set off listening to the more encouraging cries of grouses and enjoying an early Highland morning.

Lesson No. 4: You go for nature? You bring a tent!

With mountains to my left I head on and reach a broad valley, the vast entrance to Glen Coe. In the middle of the valley I spot a white building: the King’s House Hotel. I might end up having breakfast after all! I am dressed like a badly prepared hiker, so very reluctantly I enter the hotel and ask about the chance of having breakfast in their house. It would not be Scotland if there were a problem with that; all I have to do now is wait – until the room is actually opened for breakfast. Some 20 minutes later I order a huge breakfast plate, including some porridge and a variety of Scottish butchers’ breakfast products. I am starving, and my waitress, a mid-aged lady, smiles when some time later she takes away my empty teapot and clear plate.

Glen Coe. My sight of Loch Tulla was truly outstanding. Walking through this valley, however, is a breathtaking experience in many ways... Again it is a day of brightest sunshine. I leave the West Highland Way to walk on through the glen to Glencoe Village. Thanks to my kilt I receive friendly greetings from many tourists passing by in busses – I am the perfect match for the scenery! I smile and always wave back, smirking at myself about the simple fact that I am German. At some point of the way I meet a tourist couple who ask my permission for a picture. Thus I also receive the honor of becoming a personal vacation memory to Bob and Rachel from the USA.

Lesson No. 5: Walking is the only way to get the most out of a journey.

It is mid-afternoon as I reach the renowned Clachaig Inn and sit down in the beer garden for an afternoon pint. I feel that I need to reach the village soon. I want to take the bus to Fort William, find a bed and breakfast and a good night’s sleep. At the Inn the glen turns north towards Loch Leven and Glencoe Village, which are about 2½ miles away. I have to wait for about an hour before the bus arrives, so I just sit down and enjoy the lovely view of Loch Leven in late afternoon sunlight.

The ride on the bus only takes about 20 minutes, but my arrival in Fort William comes with an unhappy surprise: it now hurts to move. My legs are sore and the rest on the bus has paralyzed them to a certain extent. I cannot walk straight but move out of the bus and through the city like a very old man. Thus I drag myself along until finally finding a B&B sign. The sign points uphill. With a resigning moan I step on. A hundred yards further (and older) I reach a lovely little house with an open door. In disbelief, I standing facing a long staircase, for the landlords live upstairs. I ring the bell and a friendly elderly Scotswoman with a broad twang greets me from top of the stairs: “Where are you from?” – “Germany.” – “Howard, look! A German in a kilt!”. This has to be the Comic Relief! I ask her about a spare room and a shower. As both things are available I bravely conclude my Martyrdom of the Sore Legs with that last challenge of climbing upstairs.

Lesson No. 6: The laugh is always on the loser. Be the one who laughs loudest!

I am led into a lovely and carefully decorated room, drop my backpack and get ready for the shower. Nearly all my toes have blisters which at least don’t hurt. Later I will kindly accept the landlady’s tea and toast. A big, soft bed is already waiting for me.

ten or eleven hours later I wake up very revived, but still with sore legs. At the breakfast table I meet Ali, an Australian girl. Serendipity. She has a rented car, she is on her way to the Isle of Skye and happy to have company. We decide to take the route via the bridge at Kyle of Lochalsh. Day 3 of my long week in the Highlands. Later on Ali reminds me of the importance of stretching – balm for my hurting legs.

Lesson No. 7: Taking a chance may yield the most unexpected chances.