Day 7 - 01/05/15

This morning I woke up with brain freeze so I looked around to see if I had been eating ice-cream in my sleep. It was so cold and turning on the light I could see ice on the inside of the van. My sleeping bag has a +7 degree comfort rating so I slid off the bed, started the van heaters and put another layer on.

Today was bikey day. It was warm enough by 9am to think about going outside in shorts so I got my gear together and hit the trail, straight from the campsite. I started off with a few other people around which spurred me to go faster than I wanted to so that I wasn't holding anyone up. The trail wound up the side of a massive forested hill to a 600m peak where the shared blue, red and black trails split to leave only the black, which I was taking. Clearly the black is only for the brave because suddenly I was on my own as I pushed further into the forest. The others followed the red trail, which I had been told by the jolly fat shop guy, was closed across a few sections. He had instead given me a super-route which tackled the best bits of all three trails. Laughing at their naivety I sped on.

An hour later I was literally breathing out of my arse. I was not bike-fit and my huffing and puffing arse was raw from the saddle. I was wondering if I had bitten off more than I could chew and was imagining the other people laughing, with their middle fingers aloft, as they rode into the sunset. Luckily I reached the top and there was a shelter where I could catch my breath and stock up on some calories. With every climb though, there is a descent and, oh boy, was I ready for it. I felt the chill from the air as I accelerated downhill, swooping and jumping, forgetting that I was on my own and far from help if it all went awry. I got within sight of the finish and, being complacent I relaxed, just in time for a technical drop. I applied the brakes but it was too late. I went sailing over the handlebars, doing my best super-man impression, and landed like an A380 with no landing gear. I came to a stop about 10ft from my bike and lay there spitting the dirt out of my teeth. Lesson learnt? Nah! I inspected the damage to myself and the bike and head off back to the van to clean up.

And so today was my last day. I head home on Saturday, with a couple of stops to see family and friends. I was a little apprehensive about doing a driving holiday in the wilderness on my own. I envisaged I might get bored or lonely but none of that really materialised. I've had a blast and I've seen just snippet of Scotland's beautiful land and can see myself coming back again in the future for sure. Funnily enough the lowlands of Scotland take the same amount of time to get to as North Wales but in order to see Scotland properly you probably need at least a couple of weeks. I hope you feel inspired to take up your own adventure. It doesn't take much and it really is on your doorstep, in the grand scheme of things. Thanks for reading and I'll hopefully have more adventures to write about soon.
Oh, and if you haven't done so already, donate whatever you can to help the people in Nepal 😁

"Action Dan"

Day 6 - Thursday 30/04/15

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after a long sleep I realised that I was going to be leaving the highlands today. It was a sad thought because I had been surrounded by the mountains for the last 5 days and they had given me some spectacular viewing. My aim was to head to the lowlands so that I could scratch the mountain bike itch I had been nursing since Hertfordshire, but first I thought I would try and see what else Loch Lomond had to offer.

I pulled up at what I thought was a visitors centre, but as it turned out it was an office for the National Park. Pretending that I worked there, I smiled at the staff and sloped off back to find out where the real visitor centre was. I found it 5 miles further down the road and asked about any scenic walks. I wasn't really up for much following yesterday's hikes so I opted for a local nature trail walk.

After my last footpath exploits I made a point of walking on the trail from the carpark which was marked by two massive rocks. Low and behold after 100m the trail disappeared without a trace. There were no markers to speak of and the trail just faded into a carpet of unsprung bluebells. Looking around I noticed that, in the middle of this remote woodland, was a girl holding a ladder.
"Er hi. Do you know where the path goes?"
"Er, not really no. I just work here"
"You work here, in this nature trail, and you don't know where the path is?"
"No sorry. But if you follow the bird boxes you can kind of just walk around".
Clearly this was a DIY nature trail so I bid her my thanks and set off into the woodland. Popping out on the other side, up the hill, I got a beautiful view of Loch Lomond.

Putting it off ney more I set the satnav for the lowlands. It was only a couple of hours away and it was only just 11am so I was firmly on the lookout for things to do that didn't cost anything. About an hour into the drive I noticed this huge sculpture of two horses, made out of metal, off to the right of the motorway at Falkirk. I pulled over and walked along a canal to take a look. Apparently it was the Helix which is some kind of canal Gateway to the south, or north, depending which way you look at it. I learnt that the Falkirk Wheel, a rotating canal lock, was not far away so decided to take a look.

When I parked up I noticed a couple of emails from the brother of my friend Tom who was out in Nepal. The first was a bbc news article and him informing me that they landed at Stansted this morning at 4am and he had collected them. I then read his other email which featured Tom and Row who had been interviewed whilst in the British Embassy in Nepal. This is the article:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/asia/nepal/11571881/British-trekkers-describe-terror-at-perilous-descent-from-Himalayas-after-Nepal-earthquake.html

I rang Tom and he proceeded to tell me the story as I watched the Falkirk Wheel rotate with happy holidaymakers who were blissfully unaware of the events that were unfolding in my ear. I found it quite emotional. They were incredibly lucky and I cannot even begin to imagine or even relay what they had encountered. I was very happy that they were safe and was humbled by the people who had helped keep them alive. We are indebted to them. I had been following the stories on the news and most were of people in Kathmandu or Everest but Tom and Row's story is something that wouldn't be amiss in a Hollywood movie. I will be catching up with them this weekend to give them both a big hug!

Pulling myself together I got back on the road. My first stop, which was demanded by my bladder, was in Stirling. An impressive city with a big castle and a township on top of a cliff. Due to a lack of latrines I performed another McPiss and departed before I was chased by local townsfolk. My next stop was in Glentress mountain bike visitor's centre to do a bit of reconnaissance for tomorrow's big ride. The bike shop was open so I went in and asked if they could quickly look at my bike to sort out the gears. They obliged and whilst waiting I questioned the guy in the shop about which trails were best. I hadn't found a campsite yet and the guy in the shop recommended the Wigwam establishment which was just across from the centre. It didn't look like a campsite but I ventured over anyway to take a look. It was indeed a campsite so I managed to park myself pretty much in Glentress forest. Sorted for the night I headed to town to get supplies for the ride and a well earned curry. I returned for a good night's rest as apparently 50 Mancunians were arriving tomorrow night. Awesome!

Before bed I was introduced to a strange Scottish custom, showering in the dark. About half way through and fully soapy, the lights went out. It was darker than dark an I struggled to remember where everything was. I managed to finish washing and get dressed only to discover that the lights turn back on with movement. I was however quite proud of myself despite wearing everything inside-out and back-to-front. Not a very well thought out solution to saving electricity!

Day 5 - Wednesday 29/04/15

There's another thing that must be done when visiting Scotland, hike in the Highlands. It had been on my mind for a few days, along with mountain biking, but there was so much I wanted to see that the opportunity didn't really present itself. So, being so close to the famous Glen Coe, I made it today's mission.

I arrived at the Glen Coe visitors centre within half an hour and went inside to get some advice on where to walk. The kind, and slightly cross-eyed lady at reception showed me two routes on a leaflet, both apparently lasting 2 hours each. One was called the 'The Lost Valley', or 'Coire Gabhail' if you're Scottish, which was a climb up one of the valleys between the main rocky outcrops that make up the Glen. She advised that it's "more enclosed". The other was the 'Devil's Staircase' which forms part of the West Highland Way which I chickened out of walking this week. Sold by both prospects I set off to begin my trek.

Following her precise instructions, and after two drive-bys, I discovered a car park and put on my full waterproofs, because the weather looked threatening. I looked at the map and realised that it was completely useless and drawn by 3 year old at pre-school. Confident in my tracking skills I set off downhill towards the river that separated me from the climb up The Lost Valley. Whilst walking down to the river I was dismayed at the lack of signage and a proper path. I couldn't see one anywhere and I couldn't see a bridge across the river. I walked down it for a bit and spotted a bridge over half a mile away so decided to walk back up the river to see if there was another one in the other direction. I walked up a hill and the river dropped away into a gorge. "This can't be right" I thought out loud, and mulled the idea of walking all the way back to the bridge which would have been a mile and a half round trip. I got back down to where I first met the river and, inspired by my recent travel books, decided I was going to wade across. At first I toyed with the idea of hopping on rocks but quickly decided that this would end in misery, so I took off my shoes and socks and dipped my feet in the fast-running but crystal clear water. My initial thought was that the water was quite warm but this was merely the nerves in my legs caught off-guard because within 3 or 4 seconds searing pain darted up my calves. I took a couple of steps each time before coming out of the water and standing on a rock. My new knowledge here confirms to me that no matter what Bear Grylls says about rolling in snow after falling in a river, this will not be achievable. I would be dead having wailed a screamed like a newborn banshee. I put my socks and shoes back on and headed towards the valley (assuming it is the right one...)

Eventually, after walking through swamp-like grass I stumbled across a perfectly made rock path and as I stepped onto it I noticed a bridge about 100ft below it. "Fuck it!" The path climbed quite steeply along the side of a gulley with an almost constant waterfall as background noise. I was beginning to sweat buckets but couldn't really take any layers off because it was sleeting and I was rising above the snow-line. After about 40 minutes I was introduced to the Lost Valley in all it's glory. Again, I was the only one there so decided to sit and have some lunch before trudging back down to the van, via the bridge this time!

The Devil's Staircase was a mile or so further down the road and a little beyond the majesty of the Glen. This one wound up a hillside with the promise of views over the summit. At the top I found myself pushing through 6" of snow to get a view of Ben Nevis the other side. The wind and sleet were fairly relentless so I took a few photos and headed back down. Just as I was leaving Glen Coe I did a double take as I watched a lonesome man riding a penny farthing up the winding Glen Coe road. I'm sure I wasn't the fist to stare at him like he was from space...or indeed the 1800's! Had I slipped back in time?

I decided to stay somewhere in Loch Lomond National Park but first decided to take a brief detour to the location of my brother and sister-in-law's wedding. It's a beautiful country hotel set on the side of Loch Awe and is literally in the middle of nowhere. It was single track lanes all the way there and a few times Roberta took flight as we crested little lumps in the road (Robert has been renamed Roberta because apparently she is a girl). A few pictures later and I was back on the road. I found a campsite in my guide book and headed straight there. It is on the West Highland Way which I thought would be full of retired folk in their motorhomes. Instead there were about 20 drunk Dutch guys and a party of 8 English guys dressed in full scottish attire, kilts n' all. I parked up, ordered some food and washed off the day's hike.

Day 4 - Tuesday 28/04/15

Pulling back the curtains to my private bunkhouse I was again startled by deer at the window. This time they were females and were eyeing me a little more cautiously than the stags and retreated a few feet back whilst still chewing the lush highland grass. After a good night's sleep in a real bed I was quite refreshed and managed to set off by 9am. I had a vague idea where I wanted to go but I was conscious that it would probably include some mileage.

It seems that every time I had come across scenery previously it was bettered by what came around the next corner. Within 2 miles I pulled over to take a picture, and after about 3 further stops, I decided that I should just enjoy it and stop taking pictures. I literally would not get anywhere otherwise.

I headed east in the direction of the Isle of Skye. I had heard good things about it and the couple I met in the pub the other night raved about it. The satnav took me through the most stunning of rural roads. Often the road was about 50m or so up the side of a valley, traversing it's way between the mountains, which gave unparalleled views. There was nearly always a river to my left and a railway 10m or so below the road and quite often the river would turn into a loch and expand outwards. The surrounding mountains remained snowcapped which I know started at about 700m so these ones must have all been over 1,000m.

Just before I got to bridge to the Isle of Skye I pulled over to go for a walk in some woods. It was a 2 mile woodland walk which was quite pleasant until I realised that the people who put out the signs were either really drunk or plotting to capture unsuspecting tourists in the woods forever. I was led all over the place and nothing seemed to lead anywhere other than round in circles. In the end I resorted to trespass in order to escape as I had spotted a wall of rain coming across the bay. I hopped in the van and ventured onto the isle.

I was not disappointed. I was met with rocky mountains (the highlands are mostly green and brown) and the most stunning bays and seascapes. Along with coast though came the incessant rains that battered me almost immediately after my arrival. I decided to head to the far side of the island and perform a loop, perhaps finding somewhere to stop for the night, but I seldom saw anything that resembled a decent campsite. In a gap between showers I noticed a ruin off the side of the road so I stopped and went to have a look. It was a 2,000 year old 4 storey building (or at least it was 2,000 years ago, now it's just rubble) and I pondered what life would have been like living there. I had seen something similar in south west Ireland and it was almost exactly the same experience, cold and raining. How did people survive when the weather was this bad? My tummy rumbled so I moved on.

Through the downpour I noticed that I had arrived on the northern side of the island so I stopped to grab a bite from a village shop. It appears that Scotland is full of English because out of all the people I have met here, only about a third have been Scottish. Anyway, at little bit windswept I moved on and again stumbled across another large dwelling. This time it was Castle Dunvegan. Another Scottish thing to tick off the sightseers list!

This castle is still in the hands of the original family who built it some 800 years ago and at one point they owned 3/4 of the Isle of Skye. Quite an important family for Scotland it would seem but they, like other riotous dukes and earls of england, lost most of it gambling. It survives though and appears to be doing well by the public, and in particular the french. They obviously like Scotland

A little weary I set off to find camp, but looking at the openness of the landscape, it didn't look very inviting, so I set my satnav for Fort William. I've been to Fort Bill a couple of times for 3 peaks challenges so I knew there would be amenities abound there. As it turned out, that is exactly where I ended up. I did not see anywhere else to stay but that could have been because I spent most of my time looking up out of the window or fighting with the radio to get some sort of fuzz-free reception. I saw a sign for Glen Nevis campsite and waltzed into reception.
"Er hi. Do you allow camper vans without windows?"
"Do what mate? How do you see to drive the thing?"
"No, sorry, let me explain..." I told him about my previous encounter in the Cairngorms.
"What a load of shit" he exclaimed. "The only thing I care about is whether you've got traveller's accent". He was referring to our lovable gypsy traveller's irish accent and proceeded to try and demonstrate.
I left him to berate the caravan club to his colleague and parked up directly under Ben Nevis.

I forgot to mention that I had heard of my friends out in Nepal and apparently they were found safe in the mountains and were airlifted back to Kathmandu. I dread to think what they must be encountering at the moment because the place looks a terrible state. I've been in a 5.4 earthquake and that was pretty crazy, 7.8 must be insane. They are going to have some stories to tell when they get back. They're on a plane home now I understand.

Day 3 - Monday 27/04/15

My alarm went off at 8.30am which I snoozed for another half an hour. My other half had told me to put the window screens up, which keep heat in and cold out, which made quite a difference in the morning despite the snow outside. The engine soon warmed me into motion and I went to do my ablutions before leaving the campsite.

Whilst brushing my teeth a man came in and asked me if I was the owner of the van parked just outside. Owning up he then proceeded to tell me that I wasn't allowed in the campsite. I asked why and he said it's because my van had no windows in the back, which apparently means I can be gassed if I cook in there. This is a rule that the camping and caravan club have established in order to save lives. I thanked him for saving my life and left.

One of the few things that you have to do in Scotland is visit a whisky distillery. I noticed that one of my favourites, Glenlivet, was not far from where I was so I set off east to pay it a visit. The scenery was amazing. The road circulated the northern edge of the Cairngorms to my right, which were covered in fresh snow, and to my left wound a shallow but wide river that weaved through the valley.
After an hour the distillery appeared at the end of a country road. I had passed a few on the way as this area is known as the home of whisky with Aberlour and Glenfiddich just a few miles further on, so I knew what to expect. I went inside and checked in for a free tour. In my group were a couple of albino scandinavians and a french family who made it their mission to barge past me at every opportunity. The process was not too dissimilar to the beer brewery tours I had been on in the past and I learnt that Glenlivet actually starts off as a clear liquid but is given it's golden colour by the wooden casks that they are aged in (I don't know if this is the same for all whiskies though). They recently opened a 50 year old barrel and made only 100 bottles costing £18,000 each. The casks had lost 60% of their contents due to the fact that the casks breathe and let the whiskey escape over the years. At the end of the tour we were given the choice of 3 drams to take a swig from. We were only allowed one of the three which were a 15 year, an 18 year and new one that had no determinable age. I went for the 18, of course.

Tour done I decided to head up towards Inverness and then west across the highlands. At Inverness I noticed a sign which talked about dolphins so I pulled over to have a read. It pointed out that there were a few places you might be able to catch a glimpse of these elusive creatures along with the possibility of seeing some seals. I set the satnav and went to take a look. 45 minutes later I ended up at a spit to the north west which was much further away from the spot that I originally thought I was heading to. I didn't see any animals and instead was treated to a rather impressive view of 6 or 7 north sea oils rigs lined up in the centre of the estuary. One was being towed in from the sea and I watched for a while to marvel at it's enormity.

Looking at a map I decided that I should try and stop somewhere in the centre of the highlands. I discovered that there was a bunkhouse half way across the country which I thought would be a nice break from sleeping in the van. My arrival was welcomed with some rather dramatic scenery, similar to the southern island of New Zealand I thought. I parked up went inside to see if they had room. I don't know if you remember that fruit pastels advert, "Juice, loose, aboot this hoose", where the stereotype scottish guy was in a scottish country estate somewhere, dancing about like a loon? Well that was what I was greeted with (the estate, not the loon), complete with 8 stuffed stag heads, roll top leather arm chairs and wood panelling. I paid for a night and checked out my bunk in the portacabin outside.

Being lazy I decided to order food rather than cook so I went back to the main hotel. Since I arrived I had only seen 1 member of staff and a group of 5 chinese who were taken into the dining room to perform scottish dance. They left after half an hour so it was just me and the guy who checked me in. I got the impression it was a bit of a faulty towers outfit whereby the receptionist was also the cleaner, chef, barman and caretaker. He served me up my food and I then retired back to my cabin.

I was curious to see if anyone else was staying in the bunkhouse so I sneakily opened each door. It turned out that the whole place was empty and I had it completely to myself. I looked out the window to see if there were any cars in the car park and was astonished to be eye to eye with 4 stags. "No wonder there were so many heads in the foyer" I thought. There was no traffic and the evening air was completely still. Just me and these beautiful stags.

One thing that has amazed me about Scotland, no matter where I am I always seem to have fairly good 3G connection. Enough to update this blog at least. I even had it here in Achnasheen. So being and insatiable technophile, and Monday night, I logged on to Sky Go and watched Game of Thrones before retiring for the night. The modern world eh!

Day 2 - Sunday 26/04/15

I woke up myself up at 8am shivering, which was a bit of a temperature shock. Last week I was basking in 20+ degrees and now I was sleeping in a van, in some woods, in the highlands, in -1. I started the van to get some heat going, which seemed to take an age, but finally got me feeling toasty again.

I had decided yesterday that I was going to attempt skiing, if the weather was OK and the pistes were open. The lovable nutcase receptionist told me that there might be some mist and light rain showers so I made sure I got up early enough to get the best of any worthwhile conditions. I stuffed my face with the remaining brioche that I had purchased a day earlier and took off up the mountain road. The road wound upwards through a forested area that wouldn't be out of place in Canada. About 200m up I found myself breaching the tree line and was introduced to a spectacular view of the mountains, forests and lakes from where I had spent the night. I had to stop to take it all in.

At the top there were about 40 cars carefully lined up in the car park. Rising above the ski centre a funicular railway disappeared to the crest of the mountain. I stood there for a second and watched it climb, wondering where the pistes were supposed to be. There was not of lot of snow at all at this level (about 650m) so I went to check the state of play. On the way up to the centre I stopped for a bacon sarnie and a cup of tea in the cafe and asked if the pistes were open. "Ye they're open, a few at least, right up the top". I scoffed the swine and headed up to get a lift piss and rent some gear.

At the top of the railway I was suitably impressed with the conditions. There were about 3 T-bar drag lifts and a couple of runs from what I could see. I connected my skis and set about exploring the mountain. The snow was hard under about an inch of powder which wasn't bad for 26th April at 1,100m in Britain! I discovered an area in another valley and skied quite serenely on empty pistes in the glorious sunshine. I skied for about 4 hours with a small break for lunch and in that time I encountered every season. First it was warm, sunny and slushy. Then the snow rolled in and it was a full on blizzard. Then it was sunny again until a whiteout mist threatened to send me onto the rocks. Then hail. I screamed in agony as the massive hail stones bounced off my naked eyeballs and I decided at that point that I had had enough for one day.

I handed the rental gear back and headed back to the van. By this time snow had begun to fall, with massive flakes coating me in a dusting within seconds. I had planned to go for a walk around the lake in the sunshine so heading down the mountain I was hoping that it was clearer lower down. By the time I reached the campsite the entire landscape was transformed into a winter wonderland. About 3" had fallen and the idyllic spring forest haven was now a winter resort.

After a shower I went on the search for food and was sent to the local hostel. There I had a hearty chilli and was talked into signing up to a year's YHA hostel membership, which was free with my student card (a remnant of my digital studying days). I was thinking about the possibilities of using it in Europe, in the summer. I then left for the local bar for a well earned pint.

At the bar I ordered a local pint of ale. 

"That'll be £4 please" she said.

"No problem, there you go, thanks." 

"Thanks Dan". 

"Er, excuse me?" I was a bit taken aback as the she apparently knew my name and I couldn't figure out how on earth she knew it. I asked her and it transpired that she new the chef who had cooked me food in the hostel and he had called to see who was over the bar before finishing his shift. She had responded that it was her, two other hostel workers and a guy who just had chilli in the hostel. Small town indeed.

Whilst sitting updating this I overheard one of them discussing the El Camino and one particular guy mentioned that he is walking it in October (El Camino is an old pilgrimage route that crosses the Pyrenees from France to Santiago de Compostela, a trip over 1,000 miles). I had read about this route and recently saw the film The Way as recommended by my brother. I had been considering doing the West Highland Way this week but I'm glad I didn't with all the snow that has fallen and the low temperatures forecast for the week. That is a meagre 96 miles. I've been reading a couple of books by Keith Foskett about his walks along the PCT and Appalacian trails in the US which are thousands of miles long, so their conversation made my ears prick up. I decided to butt in and ask the guy what he was doing and how he was doing it. He happily divulged his full plan and it rekindled my desire to do a walk like this myself.

After a couple of hours of chat about where to travel to next in Scotland, armed with a good few suggestions, I called it a night to build a duvet fortress in the snowy thicket.