West Highland Ways

We gave ourselves just 24 hours to recover our weary mountain legs after Ben Nevis. Even on that rest day, we decided not to waste the beautiful autumn skies but to drive to Skye via the Five Sisters, Cluanie Inn, Eilean Donan Castle, Kyle of Lochalsh and the Skye road bridge. What a phenomenal journey … surely some of the most spectacular scenery in the UK, if not the world. Eilean Donan was also in Joe’s book of places to see before you die, so to tick that one off we had a quick shufty and – yup – good castle. Liked that one, pretty and all. Wouldn’t have minded dying without seeing it, but each to their own.

None of us had ever been this far into the north west and we thought we should at least have a look at the Isle of Skye. Needless to say, we fell in love with it. We drove, stopping it seemed every five minutes for photo opps, down to Armadale and watched the seals for a while, then caught the ferry back to Mallaig on the mainland. This has to be one of the world’s best, if shortest, boat trips. The mountain backdrop onto the sea is nothing short of breathtaking, and porpoises kindly graced us with their presence. We decided there and then to deviate from our planned route east and to spend some time on Skye.

Before we could however, we had our next major outdoors-y challenge to complete. What was coming over us? Must be all the fresh air. Since Rhys, Rowan and I had walked Windy Gap in Killarney National Park, Ireland, Rhys in particular had been very keen on doing a 2-day hike with wild camping overnight. OK, OK, it was my suggestion. I really wanted to do this. Rowan wasn’t so keen and was coming down with sinusitis and Joe had to work, so it boiled down to Rhys, Jenna and myself – with one of our newly acquired, all weather 2-man tents. Bright orange. Jenna named it Zoe. Please don’t ask why as I could not possibly answer. I took Rowan’s pack, and had to call it by its name too – Shelby. What is the youth of today coming to?

We were dropped off by Joe and Rowan beyond Glen Coe (another world class, amazing place in which I have already identified my house. You can’t miss it, it’s practically the only one). We were to start by the Devil’s Staircase, a name determined to inspire fear in any walker, and from there had some 18-20 miles to make it back to Fort William. As we strode off up to the highest point of the entire West Highland Way, Joe and Rowan headed home so that Joe could get on with his work. Or they would have, but our petulant Peugeot had other ideas. While we were blissfully unaware slogging up the mountain, Huwy’s exhaust fell off. Again. This time however, his bright and shiny back segment remained on … it was the dangerous front section with catalytic converter, right next to the petrol tank, that decided to drop off on the main road. Joe inventively tried to strap it back on; the straps burnt straight through. Now, of course we have breakdown cover, but its in my name. I was off trying to cajole Jenna up the winding Devil’s Staircase, trying to convince her it was a mere hillock compared to Ben Nevis. I was certainly out of signal range and I had all the AA details on me. Poor old Joe had to ring the nearest garage (thank god he has internet on his phone) and get a tow truck out. Yet another £300, a hire car and two days later – this car is nothing short of a nightmare. But you have to admire its obnoxious spirit. Now it has only one tiny short old pipe between the two sections and we expect that to drop off any day now.