Off Darn Saarf

What a great night’s sleep. I fell asleep shortly after ringing ‘the wife’ as they say on Tipping Point (not that I watch it), round about 8pm or summat. I listened to the Incredible String Band doing ‘The Half-Remarkable Question’.  Just cop it on you tube or summat and you’ll share the joy of a song vying for greatest ISB song of all time, with ‘The Iron Stone’ and dozens of others. They do something to me. I then put on the Killers. As it’s on my iPad it switches off after the 4 classics I’ve got on there and I’m asleep before the end of ‘When You Were Young’. But I hadn’t done my teeth or had a wee so I woke up at 1am and got out of the tent. OMG!! This means Oh My God. It was that brief hour of darkness round here at this time of year. The clouds had lifted and the black mass of Ben Nevis was revealed to me. Not by an outline against the Universe; the cloud was lifted but not evaporated so it was black outside. But by a fabulous array of lights which were making their way up or down the mountain. It was magical and I wished I could watch for a long time but it was now cold. I weed and brushed my teeth, in two completely separate processes and went back to bed, after once again admiring the magnificent display of AA powered torches snaking up and down the highest mountain in the UK. 

This morning I packed in the rain, which had hung around since 4am, no doubt dousing the Elven lamps on the high mountain. The site has a chuck wagon and I had two breakfast rolls, big uns. 

Walking down to the river to pick up the West Highland Way (WHW) the bluebells were in belated beauty.

The Way rises up and passes through passes. The first one culminates in a high peak of an ancient fort,  Dun Deardail. It’s up there somewhere.

The route cuts south and then east to Kinlochleven, which I aimed to overshoot and carry on a few miles further. In the end I stopped at Kinlochleven. 

En route was a loch with a tiny island on which Macbeth was reputed to live before he became big time. You can see it at the far end. 

Lots of people on the route, all coming in the opposite direction. Mostly Germans, as in the south west. Miserable looking as well. It dunt cost owt to be happy and smile. Jesus! 

The rain was intermittent and the glen twisted south and then east. It was through here that the Campbells retreated after a bloody defeat in 1645, pursued by the MacDonalds. With fries. 

Poor little buggers. 2nd February. Must have been bitter. And they lost and saw their mates cut to pieces. 

The sky cleared a little after I passed the cairn marking the point where the  MacDonalds gave up the chase of the stragglers, looking back down the glen.

And now looking forward and south.

It was now the usual grind towards Kinlochleven, a further six miles.

Kinlochleven sits at the end of a sea loch and as I dropped down into the town there was a campsite over the road at the bottom of the hill. Tent up, washing done, showered, watered and fed. The view is impressive. I stopped because I was tired. I’ll be strong tomorrow after an early breakfast in the hotel whose grounds contain the campsite. A long way south and aiming for the Bridge of Orchy. We’ll see.

Night night.