Tag: Female Hiker

I wake this morning feeling fairly sluggish. It takes a long shower and an extra coffee to arouse my motivation. I stayed in a lodge last night which was funnily enough, also being re-carpeted outside my room. I’ve stayed in many lodges before, and I’ve never had to strip the bed and take the linen to the bar area for processing previously. I’ll let it pass. The bed was super comfortable.

I wonder if I’m feeling a little sluggish because I’m back on the canals today. Probably. And that my plans aren’t completely solidified for the next few days. I’ve found it hard to get information, and I keep second guessing my choices. At some point my decisions are going to have to stick.

The canals this morning are surprisingly lovely. The Caledonia Canal is a lot more wild looking than I was expecting, running parallel to the River Oish. There are a number of boats on the water, and I enjoy watching them navigating through all the loch gates. Often I catch them whilst they are waiting for passage, and we all yell out a little cheer when we see each other again.

“Did you know you have a very elegant walk. It is very beautiful to look at”

Why thank you random hiker stranger passing in the other direction. I’ll take a bit of flattery anytime over the nude. He’s obviously never seen me scurrying along in the rain!

I reach a decision point. Continue on, or go off track a couple of kilometres to a designated “camping area” near Loch Lochy. I decide to go off track. It looks quite sparse where I’m supposed to be going, and there is still hours of sunshine remaining. I might as well set up somewhere I know I’m allowed to be and enjoy it.

So here I sit. My reward is a picnic table overlooking the water. It’s a hive of activity and there is a barge about 100m away that is going to open up for drinks in about 10 minutes time. A win for me I reckon! (I’ll complain about having to backtrack tomorrow!)

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

There are two kinds of camping sites. Those that try your resolve, and those that nourish you. The Blackburn Bothy was definitely the nourishing kind.

I woke this morning to the sun benignly streaming into my tent, gently waking me from a deep sleep. I’m feeling good, both mentally and physically. Fit, strong, resilient.

It’s a very short walk into town this morning. I’m heading into the famed Loch Ness. Stuff of legend, fable and fantasy. It’s a quick hike over the hills before I spot Fort Augustus and the Loch in the distance. I can see the town, a crumbling old castle, and surprisingly a very modern pink one, all offset by the winking blue of the loch itself.

I arrive in time to have a lovely long lunch in the sunshine, catching up on writing and planning the next few days. I’ve been going back and forth in my mind about whether to continue on the Scottish National Trail, or take a small detour along the Affric Kintail trail. In the end, I decide to stick to the route I am following. Either way, I’ll experience the last last couple of days of the Affric Kintail and the described long forestry walks of the first couple of days were enough to put me off it. We’ll see if I regret that decision later.

After lunch, I take the time to watch yachts being lifted and up and down a series of gates and visit the famed place itself. The loch is surprisingly large, giving off a vast, inexorable feeling. It is cold, despite the sunshine, with the wind whipping through the air and causing ripples on the dark waters.

Later, I sit at the bar and chat to another fellow. He tells me the story of his relatives, who are officially recorded as being one of only 30 potential sightings of Morag – a second (and possibly related) monster that lives in the deepest lake in Scotland (Loch Morar – 310m deep). There is absolutely no trace of mirth in his tone as he tells me this. He is dead serious.

I’m not sure if I believe the story quite as much as his Scottish soul does, but I do love it. His relatives had to hit Morag with an oar apparently, or they may have met their demise in the deep…..What an image.

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

Distance: 29km

I didn’t sleep very well.  That weird thing where I’m not quite sure I should be where I am, expecting a knock on the tent door all night and a polite request to leave.  It doesn’t happen and I see no one, but I still don’t sleep well.

A mixed day of fortunes on the walk today.  I emerged from my campsite and straight onto the Spey Reservoir, looking oh so scenic on this sunny morning.  I spot movement up ahead, and am thrilled to see three red deer grazing down on the foreshore.  They let me enjoy looking at them for a while, seemingly content if I keep my distance. All three boast a pair of very impressive antlers, though not yet full grown.

Onwards and it’s a long, long roadwalk.  Straight lines for miles with a limited palette on either side. Walk, walk, walk.  It’s not particularly pleasureable, but at least I’m gettting somewhere quickly.

Eventually, I get to the gravel track which will lead me over the Corrieyairack pass.  It’s a strange sort of place.  It feels remote, but front and centre are a line of very modern looking electricity towers guiding the way.  It’s a long, but relatively easy climb.  I notice that a bunch of wild moorland flowers are starting to emerge. Tiny red and pink carnivorous plants compete with giant stardrops, their yellow arms ringed with fringing black hairs.  There are blankets of yellow and white daisies, their heads bending gracefully in the strong wind blowing at the top of the pass.

On top all is quiet, no bird call.  All I can hear is my breath, and the faint buzzing of electricity as it travels along the wires. Eventually, I hear a bike bell or two as well.

I arrive at he Blackburn bothy by 4.30pm.  This bothy is not as salubrious as some of the previous ones I have seen, which is a shame, as for now, I’m the only one here.  Unlike the other bothys, this one has no bed racks but it does have a clean floor, desk and chair and thick walls which keep out the blustery wind.  I’m still trying to decide whether to sleep on the floor or not…the wind is making it hard to choose.  If somebody comes, I’ll definitely set up my tent.  If not, well, it’ll give me somethig to think about this afternoon won’t it?

Of course I set my tent up.  It’s my place of comfort.  Why would I sleep on the hard floor? With that completed, there is only one other thing to do.  Dance.

For the first time on the trip I get my headphones out.  It’s time.  Under their non-judgemental gaze, and with their arms wrapped around me, the mountains hug me to them whilst I dance and scream and sing out emotions of all sorts.  I let it all out like no one is watching, because those beautiful mountains are the only ones who are.

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

It was a late start out of the hotel this morning after enjoying a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs, pastries and tea.

This morning was like the opposite of yesterdays walking. Big, bold landscapes with an incredibly remote feel. Just what I love. I get into what I would describe as a “hiker trance”. Nothing going on except for the sound of footsteps on gravel, poles clicking, birds calling, wind gently whistling through the trees, water lapping in the lake. Nothing going on in my head at all except for a profound sense of enjoyment and peace. It is wonderful.

I pass by a loch, huge mountain on the opposite side, boulders tumbling off the sides like rain. I wander a wide valley, greenest of peaks on all sides. A gently flowing river twists and turns in the middle. I sit and have some lunch at a river fork, a ruin and an old bothy looking minute in this enhanced landscape.

I go up and over a mountain pass and meet a friendly fellow with a couple of dogs out for a walk. Further on, he passes me again, walking in my direction this time, but a lot more quickly than I am. We chat again about what it is like to run a sheep farm in the current dry climate.

I traverse through a woodland and reach a small town. Here he is again! This time coming out of a house. And in his outstretched hand, a beer for me to take on my way. He tells me it will be something to remember him by. I ask his name. It is Ewan. I say “Thank you Ewan. I will definitely remember this.” He wishes me luck for the rest of my journey. Once again I realise how kind most people are.

The second half of the day is very different to the first half. Road walking, on what turns out to be quite a busy road. I start looking for camp spots, but everything looks too exposed for my liking. I continue on, down past a reservoir wall and on a punt decide to look up a 4WD track running off the road.

It looks like it might work. Not enclosed, can’t see a house, off the road, reasonably flattish, slightly out of the wind, which has really picked up. I decide to stay.

It’s not the most awesome camping spot I’ve had. But the beer makes it seem something special.

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

A wonderful day of walking through mixed terrain and challenges.

It was the coldest night yet last night, requiring me to pull a thermal top and socks out of my bag. Today though, sunshine greets me again with a wide smile. I smile back.

Whilst everybody on the TGO is walking east, I’m headed west. I follow along old car tracks, the familiar rocky creek always by my side.

After lunch, it’s a bit of a climb on a single path. The track notes tell me it should be very boggy. No bog. Sad for the environment, good for me I suppose. The track takes me to one of the highlights of the trip so far…a beautiful secret waterfall that seems to spring out of a desert type landscape. There is a little suspension bridge over the falls, and down below, crystal clear water sliding over sandstone rocks. It looks just like a tropical oasis with its deep, blue green pools and tree lined banks. It is lovely to sit in the sun and enjoy the flow of this water.

Afterwards, I am happy to see a forest of trees. An easy woodland path takes me onto another water table and back to another gurgling creek. I come across a river crossing which I can’t actually cross without getting my feet wet! Unusually so it seems, it’s the first of the trip. Shoes off, cross, sit in the sun, dry. It works out well.

I reach the Ruigh Aiteachain bothy, a very plush affair which boasts both upstairs and downstairs bedrooms, famous artworks and a fully stocked kitchen and fire set up. I had half decided to push on when I got talking to a teacher out the front. He told me a group of Duke of Edinburgh students were staying the night. That decided me. After my last long distance hiking experience in which I spent several days with the students, no thanks.

I decide to push on another 5-6km and get myself a little closer for the walk in to town tomorrow. I end up near a bridge with the same cool, clear water running underneath. It’s windy, but I’ll stay. Tent up, I huddle inside and enjoy a few hours reading my book serenaded by the occasional splash and squeal when somebody decides to jump from the bridge into the icy waters below. There are some brave souls here in Scotland.

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

Distance: 33km

The walk today was like a slow paced song that suddenly reaches a crescendo that just doesn’t stop.

It was really easy walking all day.  That is something that has surprised me about this walk, the flatness.  I’m sure I’ll probably regret saying this, but so far, serious hills have been few and far between.

The first half of day took me primarily along a seldom used by most people…but often used by one guy in a black, speedy 4WD vehicle….road, running adjacent to the rock pool infested River Tilt.

Again, it was hard not to have mixed feelings about what I was seeing.  So beautiful on one hand, but such an altered environment on the other.  Barely a tree in sight.

I had set myself a target of reaching “The Falls of Tarf” by lunchtime.  Right before they were due to appear, the track narrowed to a proper walking path, an ominous sign of good things to come. I sit on the vibrant green grass at the Falls, take my shoes off, soak up the sun and have a break.

From here, I am through the heather, gazing upon a wide watercourse, that strangely has no water in it, when it appears that it should. The Scots have been telling me that the weather is weird, that there is drought and wild fire occurring across the country. Here is the proof. No bog where there should be. No water on the plains. It still looks amazing, even if it’s not as it should be. I continue on to find another surprise.

There are people at the bothy! A tonne of them actually.  The annual TGO (The Great Outdoors) Challenge is on, and these people are all involved. It’s not a race, more an opportunity for people to get outside and enjoy nature and catch up with mates from previous challenges.  There are more than 350 people involved. I set up my tent and go inside to talk to those that are here.

We have a great laugh.  There is Duncan, from England, trying to complete his first challenge (after a broken foot last time round); Tim, also from England who is wearing a kilt and passing the whiskey around freely; Colin, an old hat on his 24th Challenge and ultra knowledgeable about all things Scotland; and, another fellow whose name I didn’t catch, but who did confirm that his son’s name was actually Harry Potter.  

It’s good they are here because it gives me the opportunity to ask them about something that had occured today that I had been unsure about….wondering whether it was just a “Scottish thing” or not. I tell them that just prior to lunch I had passed a guy in hiking boots and giant backpack, but nothing else.  

“What, he was nude”? “Yep”. “Did he say anything?” “Just hello”. The men look around at each other before there is uproarious laughter.  No, apparently that wasn’t “just a Scottish thing”. I guess it was just my lucky day….I suppose I did ask for romance…but not like this mate.  Definitely not like this.

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

Distance: 22km

After a lovely rest day it was up and at ’em again. I feel very ready. It’s another shortish day today, as I have decided I’m going to visit an actual castle this afternoon at Blair Atholl. Seems like a must do whilst I’m in Scotland, so I’m doing it. Should be fun!

It’s a beautiful walk this morning through the magical Faskally Forest, massive trees looming over the track. To the left, Loch Faskally, bubbling away under the bright blue sky. I come to the Pass of Killecrankie (what a name!), a huge railway infrastructure and site of much Jacobean history. I see red squirrels running around in the wood. It’s a great blend of natural beauty and interesting history and the kilometres pass very quickly.

After lunch I’m following the Garry River though it is mostly road walking, or just off road walking, all the way into town. Again, it’s quick though, and I arrive at the caravan park and get set up on my “pitch” (a totally treeless patch of grass) with plenty of time to visit the Blair Castle, which conveniently, is right next door.

I arrive at the Castle, which is white and austere, just in time to watch a solo female bagpiper belt out a few tunes. It sounds amazing, and she does a great job in front of the large crowd. Inside, there are 30 amazing rooms to explore.

It’s hard to describe the mixture of opulence and hard work. All those antiques dating back over 750 years, but with it, all the hand-made tapestries and paintings painstakingly made by the ladies of the time. The rooms are often an amazing mishmash of colours and themes, set off by glorious ceilings, wallpapers, chairs and antlers. It is indeed, life from another world. So hard to imagine. The last couple of Dukes don’t even live in Scotland, but in South Africa. They come back once a year for an annual celebration. I really enjoy the experience, but at the end, am also grateful for my fairly minimalistic life.

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

Distance: 16km

The braes ascend like lofty wa's
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's
O'erhung w' fragrant spreading shaws
- The Birks of Aberfeldy, Robert Burns 1787

This ruin. I am so grateful to it. Perfectly flat bed. Quiet. Great sleep. Winner.

Off I trot this morning feeling good. The plan has worked. My feet…almost healed. Mental fortitude…good. Quicky hop, skip and jump into town. Hotel and shower and all things good. Time to get a move on.

I finish off the incline pretty quickly. Total height is 523m, but it is a lovely gradient to climb. On the top, the views are sweeping. What I’ve come to learn is typical moor land. Heather, in it’s mauve and white colours, dominates the landscape. It is easy to imagine how spectacular this place would look under a dusting of white snow. Lonely and beautiful.

I’m moving quickly along easy trails, passing a reservoir, creeks and bridges. I hone in on a place described on the map as the “Green Bothy”, the first of many I will come across on my walk. Maintained to perfection, these bothies are, primarily, ancient shacks that provide shelter to wanderers of all sorts.

I go inside and am immediately impressed by how clean it is. Multiple long benches to sit at. Fire wood stacked tightly, ready for the cold. Left over freebies set out for newcomers to enjoy. I spot some Scottish Scotch. Perfect. It’ll go great with my chips. I sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, liquor and snacks. If this is bothy life, it is great.

Onwards, and I’m soon enveloped in a sea of green. This is the largest, and nicest woodland area I’ve seen yet. The “Birks of Aberfeldy”, named after the famous poet, Robert Burns. It is a place worthy of prose. The dominant waterfall thunders through the ravine, with multiple smaller ripples adding to the flow. A series of paths, stone and wooden steps adds to the intrigue of the birks.

I had to look it up. Birks refers to the Birch tree, of which there are many. Signage tells me that this is an area where multiple exotic species were planted to add to the mystic of the native forest. It is a delight to walk through.

I love the town of Aberfeldy. It has a feeling that suits me. Casual and relaxed, but rowdy at times. I had opted for a single room in a “Room Only” hotel (the Station Hotel), in an attempt to save some cash. What a place! Usually, single rooms make me feel a bit…ordinary. This room makes is cool to be single. And the shower is the best I’ve had since getting into Scotland.

A shower, rest and I hit the town. Time to enjoy this rather rowdy Scottish crowd!

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