High empty wilderness, the unexpected meetings, and beer under the great mountain

Up and out of Tyndrum the landscape opened out and it was the beginning of feeling smaller and smaller under the huge mountains, half lit under the low wisps of cloud. After a coffee at the Inveroran hotel - the place where, two years ago, an angelic figure strode into my life - it was up and onto Rannoch Moor, the last, biggest uninhabited wilderness of the UK. The massive mountains to the west still had pockets of snow, and the vast expanse of silvery streaked moor spread out to the east. About half way along the track I met a large group of walkers. It turned out they were out from Oban for the day, and one of them used to be a colleague of my dad's. So we walked together for the last few miles, and now I am having beer with two lovely Dutch men under the Buachaille Etive Mor at the top of Glencoe. Maybe this could last forever ...?

Connections of water, rail, road and sound

Still on the West Highland Way.
A stunningly beautiful day yesterday along Loch Lomond, continuing to meet and re-meet fellow walkers from all over the world. At the beginning of the day two Israeli Jews prayed outside the Rowardennan hostel on the banks of the Loch, with full prayer scarves, and the little boxes on their heads (I can't remember what they're called). The day was breezy and sometimes sunny, so no insect life hanging around. This makes me happy. I saw a slow worm - very long and snake like, moving slowly, and unbothered by me. The first photo is a little bay looking south, almost at the north end of the loch, swept by wind and inland sand. Later, in the campsite in Glen Falloch, I sat outside the bar by an open fire with three lovely dutchmen and a wonderful young dutch couple, passing the evening with good conversation, beer, and an elementary lesson in counting in dutch. It was the kind of evening that I wished could last and last. And as I lay in my tent I heard the late night Glasgow to Oban train, and listened to a singer in the bar singing all the songs I learned at ceildhs on Iona.

Today has been as dreich as anything. I don't think I've ever seen Tyndrum in sunshine. The walk up Glen Falloch - a glen which I've travelled by road and rail so many times in my life and holds deep memory - was half-lit by misty sunshine trying to show itself through the swirling clouds. The clouds won, and by the time I'd reached the sign to Crianlarich it was raining. What did I do at the Crianlarich sign? Not like me to break with tradition, even though I wasn't technically in Crianlarich.... It's a Saturday today and I saw the morning train up from Glasgow. There would have been people in it heading to Iona. I nearly ran after it shouting 'wait for me'! But still 280 miles to go. The second and third photos are Glen Falloch - railway and road. Tyndrum is busy. I think it's always busy. Tomorrow Rannoch Moor. Contrasts, connections, momentary meetings, reflection, and memory. The wilderness is getting closer.

Days 63 & 64. The West Highland Way, Germans, another Dutchman, Sallochy, and the bonny busy banks o' Loch Lomond

The first photo is a sign I saw in Glasgow. It just made me smile a wee bit ...

It's good to be back on the West Highland Way, meeting mostly Germans, and lots of them, and a Dutchman, not with yella hair this time. Yesterday began in heavy rain, and the first walkers I saw were when my path joined the WHW. I'd started in Lennoxtown and saw no one most of the morning. The second photo is of the Campsie Fells from Drymen, looking dark and wet. I stopped at Drymen last night ... no dry men there. I have used that pun far too often but I've only ever seen it in the rain.

Today was a gloriously clear, sunny, warm, insect free day. The third photo is from the side of Conic Hill looking up Loch Lomond. You can see The Cobbler in the middle and Ben Lomond to the far right. I didn't remember this view from last time, but then realised it was because last time I rounded the side of Conic Hill I walked straight into a heavy hail storm. Not today fortunately. The banks of Loch Lomond are busy. I have seen many walkers, swimmers, drivers, boaters, relaxers. I walked through Sallochy today on the way to Rowardennan. I nearly camped at Sallochy again, but I'm kind of glad I didn't. It was busy and felt different, although still as beautiful. The fourth photo is Sallochy, and the fifth is the Loch from Rowardennan, where I'm sitting in the yha lounge looking at the water out of the large bay window, and half listening to a slide show being given by a National Trust Ranger. I've paid £3 for this wifi session though and the pressure, combined with the background talk, is killing my creativity .... I have just learned though that the source of the River Forth is above me on Ben Lomond. And later this year they are doing a candlelit charity event on the mountain. Cool.

I can't concentrate!

Slaps, thieves, the central belt, dog football, and piano

The sun kept shining through the Borders until the day over the Pentland Hills when rain threatened all day and the wind got up and the sky darkened, over the high, remote-feeling moors, but didn't break until we were into the small central belt towns at the end of the day. I was accompanied by a friend, who mostly survived, although I haven't asked recently how his ankle is ... (better do that..). It was good to be accompanied, and for the first 2 or 3 hours I found I was talking and talking. This introvert occasionally needs company. The first photo is a Victorian footpath sign at the top of the Cauldstane Slap. A slap is an old trading/droving/travelling route, and this one, through the Pentlands, is ancient ... sheep, shepherds, traders, religious fugitives, the persecuted, the rich, and thieves (its nickname is 'the Thieves Road'), preceded us. After we came down off the Pentlands, a last, pathless this time, rise over Corston Hill, and we could see Edinburgh, Arthur's Seat, the sea, the Forth Bridge, and all the wee towns and large industrial areas of the Central Belt towards Glasgow (second photo).

I'm now in Glasgow, having spent a couple of days of rest with a good, generous, hospitable friend, and other lovely people who live here or pass through. I've played a lot of football with the dogs, and played a lot of piano too.

It feels like another milestone has been passed, and tomorrow I head towards and onto the West Highland Way, and into the final wilderness. Only about 340 miles to go. I imagine the WHW will be busy and I am strangely pleased about that. The next 100 miles are familiar territory and I have looked forward to it all journey. For now, I am grateful to those who have shown me kindness and hospitality in this place.

Slaps, thieves, the central belt, dog football, and piano

The sun kept shining through the Borders until the day over the Pentland Hills when rain threatened all day and the wind got up and the sky darkened, over the high, remote-feeling moors, but didn't break until we were into the small central belt towns at the end of the day. I was accompanied by a friend, who mostly survived, although I haven't asked recently how his ankle is ... (better do that..). It was good to be accompanied, and for the first 2 or 3 hours I found I was talking and talking. This introvert occasionally needs company. The first photo is a Victorian footpath sign at the top of the Cauldstane Slap. A slap is an old trading/droving/travelling route, and this one, through the Pentlands, is ancient ... sheep, shepherds, traders, religious fugitives, the persecuted, the rich, and thieves (its nickname is 'the Thieves Road'), preceded us. After we came down off the Pentlands, a last, pathless this time, rise over Corston Hill, and we could see Edinburgh, Arthur's Seat, the sea, the Forth Bridge, and all the wee towns and large industrial areas of the Central Belt towards Glasgow (second photo).

I'm now in Glasgow, having spent a couple of days of rest with a good, generous, hospitable friend, and other lovely people who live here or pass through. I've played a lot of football with the dogs, and played a lot of piano too.

It feels like another milestone has been passed, and tomorrow I head towards and onto the West Highland Way, and into the final wilderness. Only about 340 miles to go. I imagine the WHW will be busy and I am strangely pleased about that. The next 100 miles are familiar territory and I have looked forward to it all journey. For now, I am grateful to those who have shown me kindness and hospitality in this place.

Southern lowlands, southern uplands, a unique high altitude meeting, the generosity of Borders people, and the question of who controls it all anyway

The first full day of Scottish walking was the wettest day I've had since Land's End. I guess this means I've been incredibly lucky, but it didn't feel like it at the time. The mist clung to the lowlands and the Eildon Hills all day, as I joined the St Cuthbert's Way all the way to Melrose. Late afternoon the sun came out though and has been unceasingly shining since then. In the Melrose campsite I met a lovely couple, the Romseys, who took my blog address and fundraising details. In the light of the current news, this feels so relevant.

The Southern Upland Way is wonderful. This is all new walking territory for me, and I am definitely coming back to walk the whole of the SUW, sometime! The view from the Three Brethren, as pictured, was breathtaking in every direction.
All of the walking in the Borders is well signposted and maintained. I feel like I need to say this after walking in the Midlands! A few miles after this point I found myself catching up a walker ahead with a backpack at least half again bigger than mine. And who should it be but the man walking from Cape Cornwall to Cape Wrath. I had heard about him from other walkers I've met and didn't think I'd ever see him. His name is John Sutcliffe, and we walked together most of the rest of the day, exchanging stories of people and routes and weather and life. He is a great man. A geologist, he still works although he is in his 70s, and spoke about the shape of the land that we had passed through. As we passed a path coming up from the left, before Minch Moor, a bearded chap in red Ronhills, a dirty t-shirt and a wide-brimmed sunhat came yomping up towards us, followed by hundreds of flies. He had a strange Geordie/Aussie accent, and his enthusiasm about the history of the hills and his need to tell us was untameable. I think we were both glad to be rid of him as he skipped off up the hill, flies following. I said goodbye to John Sutcliffe after Traquair beer at Traquair House. Look out for his book ... I'm so glad I met him.

The following morning I popped into the Innerleithen greengrocers for some fruit and the greengrocer, after finding out why I was walking through, gave me money for the fundraising and made her next three customers do the same. It was a hot walk to Peebles and in town Coltman's cafe was recommended to me. Over good coffee I chatted to Sophie, a lovely friendly waitress, who walked 28 days on the northern route of the Camino to Compostella last year - also a solo walker - and loved it, and, crazily, would like to walk from Lands End to John O'Groats. In the words of a mountain biker, met in the Innerleithen campsite, 'so, not a lot of people walk that ... doesn't that tell you something ...?' . Sophie, do it. Increase our number! 

The Peebles conversations got stranger when I was joined for a hilarious half hour outside the campsite bar by a double act from Edinburgh, Stevie (the skinny one) and Buster (the fat one). Stevie was three sheets to the wind already and thought my teeth were gorgeous, and Buster was, in fact, charming and polite and hilarious too. And they said they'd donate too. And this morning, early, the lovely kind lady in the Food for Thought cafe donated too. 

And the strangest Peebles conversation was with a Jehovah's Witness yesterday afternoon. This is the second time in the walk, and the second time in my life, I have been JWed. I stopped her before she began to give me the evangelistic spiel and told her I worked for the Church of England ... She said that was wonderful, and then carried on anyway, and as I tried to back away politely she asked me who I thought controlled the world anyway. I said it depends on so many factors ... so she gave me a leaflet. It asked the same question. Turns out she'd memorised the leaflet. 

Talking of the big questions .... I am in the luxury of a b&b tonight so have been catching up with the news. Now might be a time to remind you of what I'm fundraising for. Please read below. We are so privileged to live in a country free from violent conflict. 

Tomorrow, 17 miles, in the company of a friend. After seeing that much rain is predicted, we may not be friends by the end of the day ... 

The crossing video

Blogger won't let me publish the video. Apologies! Find someone with a facebook account, if you feel so inclined - it's on there. It's only me talking though, and then struggling with the gate, singing a song and then filming the silence.
It feels strangely southern and busy once again, being in Jedburgh. Which, I guess, it is.