A Scottish Story – Day 33, “Everything is going to be alright. Rockabye.”

Distance: 33km

The bothy was full last night.  A group of female bike riders competing in a race and some younger blokes hiking, all trapped by the rivers and unable to progress. I got the impression they weren’t that thrilled that another person had shown up.  Later, another solo female hiker (the first I have come across this whole trip), Anne Marie, arrived as well.  It was nice to have somebody there that was willing to converse.

All five of the girls had beds on the floor upstairs.  I must admit to feeling somewhat grateful for this female cohort of sleepers and remember thinking how inspiring it was that all of us were out here toughing it out in the wilderness.  Not long after that…cacophony.  Absolute cacophony. Those bike riders sure could snore! I really hadn’t been expecting this level of loud. Sleep, was not a possibility.  In the morning they roared awake at the crack of dawn only to find that the creek was still too high to cross, so back they tromped, not bothering to keep their voices down.  Anne Marie and I stared blearily at each other, packed up our stuff, said goodbye and goodluck to each other, and left.

So it was that I was in a very different headspace today.  My plan, such as it was, was to basically go twice as far as I had been planning on, to ensure that I could take advantage of a light rainfall day.  I had a creek crossing I was aiming for, knowing that rain was set to stream in again overnight. That thought, on no sleep, was a little depressing.

I set off.  Uphill and across the moors.  The landscape, as usual, was amazing.  The track and terrain, a wet mess.  Imagine just trudging through a half filled bathtub full of grass and mud and stones.  That’s what it was like.  Every step takes effort and concentration.  The going is tough. And the tough are not going very fast at all.  It takes almost 4 hours to do the first 10km.  I have a couple of day hikers pass me in the opposite direction, but then see nobody else for the rest of the day.

It is lonely and draining.  I’m trying to keep my spirits up, but I’m slipping and sliding and crash to the ground a couple of times.  Luckily, no injury. The second 10km finishes up with a long, steep downhill on a rocky scree slope and made even more treacherous by the waterfall that’s pouring down the path.  Again, it is incredibly slow going.

I reach where I had originally intended to stop for the day, exhausted and somewhat strung out.  I consider what to do, and in the face of no particularly easy option, decide to push on.  “I’ll just see where I am at 6pm” is my thinking. Up, up, up I go again. Despite the gradient of the slope, I’m enjoying a little respite on a well maintained forestry track.  That peters out though, and suddenly I am left to my own devices to contour around a mountain range.  It’s already well past 6pm, but the grass is a swamp and stopping not an option.

An old song by Shawn Mullins that I haven’t thought about in years starts running through my head repeatedly. “Everything is going to be alright. Rockabye. Rockabye”. Over and over and over again. Carrying me along.

I push on. My nerves are starting to fray. “This isn’t fun”, my brain is saying. Wet feet all day, sludging through the wet grass and mud, no track, can’t see where I’m supposed to be going, getting hungry, heavy bag, tired, getting late, nowhere to camp, struggling. Everything is going to be alright. Rockabye.

Suddenly I see the creek I have been aiming for. The old ruins in a spectacular setting. I can tell, even from right up high, that I will be able to set up camp.

I reach the ruins and quickly ascertain that I was right.  The ground is dry and flat enough to camp.  I pull my tent out and am accosted, absolutely annihilated, by a swarm of midges in a bilious rage.  I had been beginning to think that I had some sort of superpower in keeping midges away, having gotten this far without encountering them. Now they showed me who’s boss. I get the tent up and dive in.  As quick as I am, there are hundreds of them in the tent.  It’s now after 8.30pm.  I’m so tired and despondent that I don’t even feel like eating.  I snack on a sachet of tuna, but that’s enough. All I want to do is lie down, wrap myself up, and hope things improve.

Everything is going to be alright. Rockabye.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here