From Sunsets to Storm Clouds

The gentle babble of the river and birdsong were a pleasant greeting this morning. I readied myself for one more day, feeling a touch of relief that it’s almost over and a touch of preemptive nostalgia…that it’s almost over. (And a touch of nerves, because after this I rent a car and drive on the left side of the road for a few days).

Over breakfast, I chatted with the German gals next to me about their experience along the way. And our B & B host/owner shared a bit of the town’s history and offered a tip for a tiny side quest on the trail today. We all know I love a side quest.

With bags packed (one more time) and luggage tag in place (one more time), I headed out the door to find my trail. After working my way over the river and through the down, I met the trail that went…up. For a while. The hill climbed up out of the river valley for a while. And at the top of the hill, that’s where I found the side question. Just as the B & B fellow had promised, there was a light herd path heading off to the side. When I got to the end of the path, everything opened up in front of me — I could see the River Leven stretching towards the origin in the east and Loch Leven to the west. Hills stretching up on each side, just visible behind a layer of fog.

I settled onto the granite stones and enjoyed some coffee…and the silence. Already, I had seen about a dozen hikers and I knew that there would be more to come. The isolation of Loch Lomond and the peace of Rannoch Moor was behind me…and Fort William was ahead.

My predictions for the day were accurate, but a bit of early afternoon rain did help to dampen the foot traffic. But I continued to leap-frog hikers that I had seen off and on all week. With the final destination in site, we had all condensed into a smaller bit of space…or trail.

I think that was one of my favorite parts of this trail — even though I didn’t become best friends with anyone, there was a gentle picking up & dropping off of conversations as we went. There were threads that pulled us all together…at least for these 96 miles.

So when I arrived at the statue called Sore Feet and saw two fresh faces taking their finishing photo, it was easy to engage in conversation. I took their photo — and they joked about how they were too tight to cross their right leg over their left knee. When I sat down to take my photo, they challenged me to try…and naturally, I did. I told them that I taught yoga and they said that was cheating. We laughed and went our separate ways.

And yes — I am wearing mountain goat socks. They got many compliments.

This morning looked…precarious. One weather app said “RAIN” and two weather apps said “Probably not…but we make no promises.” As I ate my full vegetarian Scottish breakfast, I watched other hikers mill about. Some were in full rain gear, while some were holding out hope for sunshine. I was finishing my coffee before making any decisions.

Fueled by the final dregs and a Scottish tattie scone (my favorite part of breakfast), I gathered myself and my gear to venture out.

It wasn’t raining.

But would it?

Should I go ahead and put on the rain gear in anticipation?

I chose to be on the side of hope. And it paid off.

The clouds hung close all day long and I splashed from the remnant’s of yesterday’s storms. But the day leaned heavily to sun and warmth. It was the ideal time to slow down and appreciate the little nuances of the trail.

Today was also the day for looking back. As I climbed higher into the hills, I took many opportunities to pause and look back. The sun streamed through the clouds and highlighted the hills. The nooks and crannies, the waterfalls too far away to hear, the wind-blown heather. It was all there just waiting to be appreciated. How many people pass through without stopping to look back?

Today was truly all about savoring the trail — from slowing down to appreciate the little things to looking back to see how far I’ve come. It was a joy to be romping about the hills with the background noise of sheep and birds to accompany me.

I started the day in grey, but determined to make the best of it. Fueled by a hearty breakfast (including a Scottish tattie scone…yes, I will try to recreate this), I set off to get through as many miles as I could before it started to rain.

I passed by a field of cows and watched one of them lay down while looking me directly in the eye. I knew it wouldn’t last long.

Five miles done before I stopped to pull out the rain gear.

And from there, it was another five or so miles of hiking through the rain.

With those first ten miles done, I was about halfway through my day…but things were just getting interesting. This 21/22 mile day (everyone says 21.5…my Garmin says 22.5) is notoriously challenging.

You follow the edge of Loch Lomond (Loch = Lake) for the rest of the day. And that lake edge does what they typically do — it’s rugged, rocky, and rooted. The type of terrain that turns particularly precarious with a drizzle of rain. But add on a whole day of rain and it turns…slooooow.

Along the way, there were moments when I struggled to stay positive. I questioned many of my life choices, like, “Why do I like hiking?” So I began to make a list of things that I was grateful for like…

• I am not camping tonight.
• I don’t have to write any grants today.
• There is not a rigorous timetable for me.
• I have so many snacks in my bag.
• I downloaded a new murder mystery audiobook because I knew that the rain would make the day drag.
• OMG — look at the tiny frog.
• Oooh — buying snacks from an “honesty box.”
• Did someone take a bite out of that mushroom?
• I lost count of the waterfalls.

The glimmers of gratitude helped to get me through the slog of a day (even when I slipped and fell into the river that had taken over a trail).

But eventually, shortly before the trail wound down into the town of Inverarnan, the rain faded. And I wouldn’t say that the sun shone…but something changed. I looked back and had my first clear view of the loch all day.

And then I turned around to see what was ahead.