Jim Lockey

This challenge started the day before I even set foot on the trail. I worked that day, finishing up tasks in preparation to be away from my desk for a week. I work at Touchbase Care, the charity for which I was raising money. It was important to me that I didn’t leave any unfinished tasks before going away, and so I didn’t take the day off. This may have been a mistake, as I worked I was fizzing with anticipation about the week ahead and felt insane as I was setting up my out-of-office auto reply.

After work I had a couple of hours at home with the family before donning my backpack and setting off for the train station. I took the slow train into London Victoria, then took the two minute walk over to the coach station, as a coach was my actual means of getting to Scotland: Overnight to Glasgow, then a bus to Fort William. This may sound like the least comfortable way of travelling, but the tickets were only £25, compared to the hundreds I’d be spending on a train. As the trip itself was self funded, the coach was necessary.

I’ve had mixed experience with coaches but they’re usually pretty good, and if I managed to catch some sleep then I’d arrive on the trail refreshed and ready to go [foreshadowing].

I’ll stop a moment here and point out that £25 to go from London into the highlands of Scotland is an amazing price. Aside equipment costs I spent money on a couple of meals out and an air B&B for when I had finished – both of which could have been foregone. I’ve often named cost as a reason for not getting out and doing more outdoor adventures, and though cost can be a limiting factor careful planning can counter it in most cases.

To be at your desk at work one day, to travelling across country with nothing but a backpack and a well thumbed guidebook is its own particular thrill.

On the coach I found myself sat next to an older gentleman who had a pointed grey beard, and sunken eyes. We exchanged pleasantries when we were first boarded. He was on his way to Glasgow to photograph the bagpipe players. He wore a bizarre military style anorak with the Jamaican flag embroidered on the breast pocket. A beige shirt collar and brown cord trousers completed the aesthetic. There was an effort made to be neat and clean for certain, but the coat had a mustiness that caught in the nostrils. It must be well loved. Only an item of immense sentimental value can be worth the odour.

After we greeted eachother and he had spent an hour or so checking over the many cameras in his bag, setting off the flashes and taking pictures through the grimy coach windscreen; he promptly fell asleep. His corduroy covered legs grew longer and more hungry for space as he slept, whilst his top half only seemed to be comfortable when pitched to the side and leaning on my shoulder.

Not much sleep was had

It was midday when I finally reached Fort William bus station, sleep deprived but nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a full Scottish breakfast (nearly identical to a full English with the addition of potato scone, haggis and the removal all vegetables). After eating I set out to find the start of the route, apparently it was on the far side of the morrisons carpark by a McDonalds. – Classy.

I found it quickly enough and was lead down back alleys and through the suburban outskirts of Fort William. Initially the route is not a lot to be remarked upon. Though the majestic sight of Ben Nevis was always present, behind the urban sprawl. Its shadow always there to remind me that even when walking down a residential street the promise of the wild was not far away.

The experience of day-1 felt like walking through a contradiction: I was at once hugged on all sides by a high horizon of majestic mountains so sublime that they are about as compelling an argument for the existence of God as I’ve ever seen, and at the same time I could never quite escape the base mundanity of the man-made environment immediately surrounding me.

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I escaped suburbia after passing ‘neptune’s staircase’ a series of 8-locks on the Caledonian Canal that are an engineering marvel and tourist trap. On I went along the tow path. Quickly and quietly I passed without noticing into complete solitude and mile upon mile of uniform scenery. Monotony eventually set in. I began to wonder whether boredom would be an unforseen challenge of this trip. Though, it needn’t have been a worry as my account of the following days will show.

In the evening I pitched my tent at gairlochy near the top-lock. I was excited at the thought that in the morning i would leave the canal behind and set off around the edge of Loch Lochy. I was lulled to sleep by the sound of pattering rain as I thought about the slowly wilding landscape I had walked through. I thought about how just the day before I had been at my stupid desk and worrying about finances and work and all the noise of everyday life… and now here I was, at the edge of a loch, in the shadow of mountains that had stood for millions of years, falling asleep with only a thin layer of fabric seperating me from all that wild. It was hard not to think like a 19th century transendentalist as the rain hammered away on the canvas of the tent. I didn’t mind thinking like that, I didn’t mind exchanging the realities of everyday life for the bigger realities of nature. Even if it is only just for a few days.

As I reflect back on that feeling now, and how even as I type I again would prefer to be out on trail, I realise that as true as that feeling is it cannot be a full-time feeling. I believe in community, in using what power I have to make the world a fairer and kinder place for others. Thats part of why I do the job I do and why I am hiking for charity. I may not be very good at acheiving that aim very often, but in order to try I cant just run off and be in nature all the time. Time in nature charges my mental batteries it gives me energy for participating in the human world.

After a restful sleep, and a morning coffee I packed up my tent and was ready to set off for day 2 of hiking by 7:30am.
A couple of German hikers had arrived and pitched their tent next to mine late in the evening. As I set off we exchanged nods. They’d soon be following behind once their tent was packed. The first task of my day was to follow the sound of quickly running water to a nearby stream to refill my water bottles. Day one’s hike had been entirely made up side-streets and the canal towpath, so I was encouraged when after only five minutes of walking I’d left all signs of human infrastructure behind and was making my way through woodland. It turned out that I entered the wood at the same time as several of its animal denizens were waking up:
I was alerted to the presence of an adder in the long grass at my feet by its hissing. I stopped for a moment to see if I could spot it. I’ve seen adders plenty of times in the past but I’d never been hissed at before so I was a little hesitant about stopping for too long. It was a juvenile and wasn’t really interested in me at all. I walked on and it carried on its little hissing party. It turned out it hadn’t been hissing at me, it was just hissing generally. Perhaps it was greeting the day or hoping to coax the sun out from behind the low morning clouds. Being surrounded by nature and in particular sharing space with the fauna of wild places is a precious thing: To share space with a creature so different from yourself, to be in its space and pass through as an observer. I am grateful to the young adder for its hiss, for letting me know it was there and sharing its morning greeting with me. As I thought about this and trudged through the undergrowth my footsteps disturbed a heron that had been sleeping amongst ferns. It clattered its ungainly neck through the fronds as its long legs lifted its body into view. Then having cleared the obstacle of the ferns it was able to fully stretch its wings and take flight. It was headed for the loch.
I too was making my way to the shore. Loch Lochy came into view quite soon. The shore’s soft edge was made hazy by mist and even the trees seemed unsure where the border between land and water was. A few trees grew straight out of the water upon peaty mounds. I felt as if I could have walked across the surface of the loch, I could almost have climbed on the mist itself. At the waters edge the world had become entirely desaturated. It was a forest of grey-tones giving way to vistas that hinted at mountains and the journey ahead through the shifting cloud. The scene was at once vibrant with life and monotone in hue.

The morning’s hike was 13 miles and by the time I reached Laggan Locks I felt the need for food. My German companions, neighbours the night before also made it at about the same time. We had spent the morning taking turns to pass each other. They’d stride ahead like hares only for me, acting as the tortoise in the fable to plod past them twenty or so minutes later, as they rested by the side of the track.

There’s a barge near the lock that has been converted into a pub, of course I had lunch there. I got to fuss a trio of friendly dogs that lived aboard the boat and stuffed a can of Irn Bru into my hip-pouch for an afternoon sugar boost. It was lucky that I did as the afternoon’s hike – 10 miles to Fort Augustus along what I was expecting to be a fairly flat route, much like day 1 – turned out to be more like another 13 miles with diversions that lead up the hillside, adding unexpected elevation to the endeavour.

I could not much complain as I was being taken on the scenic route – and in a way thats part of the point of a hike like this. I loved walking through the higher elevation woodland and seeing all the beetles and wood ants around. The entomologist in me was having a great time. [Foreshadowing for find ticks crawling across my skin in the tent that night].

It did mean however that I had to accept defeat and stop for the night in the woods still a couple of miles short of my destination for that day. Fortunately I’d planned a shorter hike tomorrow and so I could afford to stop when I needed.

Day 2 showed the importance of planning, having a couple more sugar rations and having planned my walking to allow for unforeseen changes meant I could drop my pack and pitch my tent early when it was necessary.

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Not being used to doing what bears and the pope do all the time, pooping in the woods lead to a disturbed sleep. During the night I found myself in need of answering nature’s call. I set out with a torch, poop-kit and trowel to find a spot sufficiently far away from the track and water sources.
When I got back to the tent I discovered that during my nighttime peregrination a couple of ticks had hitched a ride. The first I saw crawling across my hand.
They’re tiny, the size of a full stop in a small font. Unassuming as they may be, a growing percentage of them carry limes disease and so the sight of one lead me to then strip my clothes, inspecting each item and my body carefully to ensure there were no others waiting to bite.
I found one other tick on my leg, thankfully I wasn’t bitten but sleep after that was difficult.

In the morning I hiked the last portion of the route to Fort Augustus. It was a two hour and largely uneventful walk (save for spotting an osprey) which brought me into the small town at half-past nine.

A breakfast bap in a canal side cafe gave me a boost and within an hour I was back out on trail for the true start of day 3.

This leg of the journey presents hikers with a choice- the high route, or the low route. Be in no doubt that I went for the high route every time! Heading up the narrow track I quickly came upon a waterfall. White water thundered into a rusty coloured pool that I would have been tempted to bathe in were it not for the fact that it was raining. I settled instead to refill my water bottles from the stream and continue on up the trail. There was a mile or so of switchbacks, every few minutes I’d find myself at the river again, at either the base or the top of another waterfall. I wish I had counted just how many falls I climbed past from this one stream that was guiding me up the mountainside.

Near the top of the switchbacks I began to feel a little resentful of them, as they cause you to have to walk so much further to gain elevation without actually contributing that much to your onward progress. Like trying to measure the circumference of a map, the more you zoom in the longer the journey gets.

I eventually got past the switchbacks and emerged onto a windswept, heather covered mountainside above the trees. I finally felt like I was in the mountains rather than beneath them. The route wound higher and higher and the views grew ever more stunning as the world continued to fall way further and further. I have no hope of describing just how breathtaking it was, several times as I looked around my heart caught in my chest at the sheer majesty of the surroundings. My description fails but hopefully some photos will do a little better at explaining.

A fine rain stopped and started throughout the day, before the hike I made the choice to get quick drying trousers rather than gore-tex. By day three I was very confident that I’d made the right choice as despite the wind and the rain my body was still running hot.

The descent from the mountainside was much steeper and passed through a place where the hill had been stripped bald by logging, this made the steep drops even more obvious. The switchbacks which I had so resented on the way up I was now grateful for as they made the route navigable.

Though the distance today was less than ten miles, the more difficult rain and conditions left me hungry and more than ready to eat when in got into the next town (Invermoriston) at about 4pm. To my dismay I found the cafe shut and the only place serving food was a hotel selling meals at hotel prices beyond my meagre budget.

I should have stopped in the nearby park to unpack my cooking kit and prepare myself a meal while I was in town, but instead I set off hiking again. I made my way a mile-or-so into the day 4 route in search of a camping spot. This was a mistake. By the time I had pitched my tent, set out my sleeping stuff and finally got around to cooking I was hungry, a little dehydrated and close to what my emotional resilience could handle. I felt a little teary and for the first time the solitude was lonely rather than joyous.

It only took an electrolyte tablet, and some hot food to get me back to feeling human again. Freeze dried meals have a reputation for being unpleasant to eat. I think they can be good if you know what brands to avoid (looking at you radix), but on that night my ‘summit-to-eat’ chicken tikka was incredible. With hot food warming my belly I took in the view. I looked out over a valley. The town of Invermoriston was down there somewhere, of sight. The mountain on the opposite side rose into the sky and descending cloud hugged it like a blanket. Just a few hours earlier I was on that mountain looking toward where i was now stood. I slept well that night, and was finally over half way to my destination.

After another rainy night I was glad to wake to find that the clouds were moving on. Before sunrise the valley was lit by bright, fat, full moon that sat lazily over the mountaintops. I waited around at camp, had breakfast, and finally set off at about 8am. I wasn’t aware of it but I was only a twenty minute stroll away from one of the Great Glen Ways most well known spots. Known as a ‘the viewcatcher’, a ring of Scots Pine branches frame a view of the mountains. I was really lucky to see this view as the sun was still climbing. The whole landscape was bathed in bright, golden light.

The morning of Day 4 was perhaps my favourite of the whole adventure, the sun buoyed my spirits and the mountaintops and heather that I was familiar with from the day before felt renewed and bright in the bright morning light. Once again description fails me and I hope that pictures will do the telling for me.

After dropping once again into a valley I found myself walking through farmland, it was a real change of pace and scenery after the wild. Still more shocking was the town of Dromnadrochit, the most Nessie themed town on Loch Ness, despite the fact that the shores of the loch are not even visible from the town. Its a real tourist trap, there were bagpipe players, bus loads of tourists everywhere and a hefty tourist tax on the pub burger I ate for a late lunch that day. I can’t imagine sums of money hikers who weren’t wild-camping were having to spend along the route.

Much like the previous day I hiked a few miles into the next leg of the hike in search of somewhere to camp. My legs and feet were beginning to feel the strain and so I was keen to lay down in the comfort of my tent. Just as I’d finished pitching in a small woodland clearing I heard voices coming from down the trail… it was the pair of German hikers I had passed on day 2. They were sat on a log nearby and were discussing how they needed to find somewhere to sleep. I was able to show them the clearing I had found and so just like on the first night, we spent the last night camping next-door to each other… though we never learned each others names.

A big part of this hike, that i haven’t discussed much, is the fact that it was done as a charity fundraiser. This meant that I shared lots of photos and video on social media so as to keep backers updated. That isn’t something I do naturally or easily.

So on the last day of my hike I decided to post less, and concentrate on being in the moment. In order to preserve that quiet, private and completive experience I have decided not to retell it here. That bits just between me and the mountain.