I was woken at what I assume was shortly before dawn, when the night was still black enough so I couldn't see the time on my watch. A quiet bubbling sound was coming from behind the tent, which I quickly realised was the sound of a black grouse. It seems I had rather stupidly pitched my tent on or near a lek. This is a site where these rare birds perform their courtship display, rather like the red deer stags sizing each other up and battling to acquire a harem of females.
I could hear the birds' wings flapping very close to my tent and although I would have loved to see this wildlife spectacle from a reasonable distance, I resisted opening my tent to have a peek as, truth be told, I was a little scared. I had visions of the fairly big, stocky birds peering into my tent and pecking at me. Well, with all that testosterone flying around you never know what might happen. So I decided to sit tight and not disturb them, eventually drifting back off to sleep.
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| On our way |
My next alarm clock was a song thrush perched on a tree next to my tent, uttering his cheerful if repetitive song and rousing us both from a pretty deep sleep. Again there was a light shower whilst I was getting us both ready for today's journey, but it soon ceased and after stuffing yet again a wet tent into its bag (it is rather difficult) we had a quick breakfast before getting an early start. Unsurprisingly things didn't go to plan and there was to be no hot drink for me, as last night I stupidly put the matchbox (brand new, bought in Fort Augustus) down on the bench, only it landed straight into the pan of water I had ready for boiling. I had flashbacks to that morning at Clunes when my stove only just managed to light, but this time I got not a spark from the matches and eventually decided to give it up as a bad job and got moving.
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| The Stone Cave |
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| Loch Ness |
We soon passed the Stone Cave, which apparently was built as shelter for a washerwoman on her frequent journeys between the villages. Luckily this morning we didn't need shelter as the sun was out. The track once again ran between trees, both deciduous ones such as birch and oak as well as conifer trees. I occasionally caught a wonderful wild, almost spicy scent which I assume came from the pine or cedar trees.
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| Starting to climb |
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| Looking back over Loch Ness |
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| Another willow-chaff |
There were great views over Loch Ness at one point, and turning round as I heard a bird calling high above me I noticed a steep cliff about 400m high clinging onto an impressive amount of trees. I believe the birds were ravens and they seemed to be mobbing a bird of prey that was possibly a buzzard. I didn't have room to take my binoculars on the trip, which was a shame as I'm sure there would have been much more wildlife to see if I had.
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| Loch Ness |
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| Sunday sailing on Loch Ness |
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| Looking back again |
The path started to climb pretty steeply after passing Alltsigh, zigzagging up the hill and amongst the conifers until the views over the loch became better and better. This was easily one of my favourite walks of the trip. The loch stretched away into the distance and also in front of me, indicating that there was still a while to go yet.
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| Waterfall |
At this point another walker passed me, a man not much older than myself also heading towards Drumnadrochit that day. As the path climbed higher and higher we kept overtaking one another as each of us stopped to catch our breath. I stopped to take some more photos before the trees engulfed us, erasing our views of the loch. The Way now wound through trees, passing a couple of pretty waterfall before spitting us out across the loch from Foyers where we stopped to have a rest.
Suddenly I wondered what had happened to the man we passed with the yellow raincover on his backpack. I had already become somewhat fitter on our walk as my body got used to the ridiculous weight of my backpack each day and I had managed to overtake several walkers on some of the days, so how come this guy had disappeared into the blue yonder? Perhaps the Loch Ness monster had eaten him. Or he had just put a sprint on to get away from the likes of me and Sybil.
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| They smelt delicious |
We met a fair few walkers heading in the opposite direction to us today. One of them, also a lone woman walker, warned us that the final day into Inverness was a big road slog. Hmm, something to look forward to then. Well she was in for a treat later today as the views over Loch Ness we had gloried in a couple of hours ago would open up right in front of her, instead of having to look behind her as I had done.
The last stretch of track through the trees was easily the most amazing smelling, even stronger than earlier on in the day's walk. Several of the trees had been chopped down; I wonder if that's why the scent was so strong? Either way, I could stand there all day and bask. Sadly though I didn't as Drumnadrochit was waiting for us.
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| View of the hill Meall Fuar-mhonaidh (bless you) |
We soon reached the tiny civilisations of Grotaig, Balbeg and Ancarraig where the fun ended. Onwards from here the road went on, and on, and on...so much so that I took my guidebook out twice to check we were heading the right way. Thankfully the road wasn't busy, but Sybil was still on-lead and with our water running low and our feet complaining we started sniping at each other. It was a huge relief when I finally spotted a sign directing us off the road through a wood, where Sybil gleefully disposed of her lead and I spied an welcome sight in the distance:
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| Lewiston and Drumnadrochit |
The village of Lewiston was the nearest to us and it was here we would hopefully camp for the night. Both villages are pretty tiny so are all just one really, but it felt slightly bigger than it should whilst I was looking for the campsite. Yet again just as we reached the village the heavens opened. Sybil quickly dove for cover in a nearby bus shelter and I put on our coats as we waited for the rain to ease a little. Unable to find Borlum Farm I asked a local couple, who said I was heading in the wrong direction and wanted the other side of the village. Well, what's a couple more miles to us seasoned walkers?
We found the farm with little more trouble and I booked us in at reception, whilst skilfully blocking Sybil's view of the rider-clad horses. I pitched the tent in a field where there were two other campers. Returning to the campsite that evening after tea I noticed two more tents had been set up in our absence. Before turning in for the night I was half-hoping for a Great Glen Way sing-a-long around a cosy campfire, but we had no such luck.
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