Of trolls and busy bees (West Highland Way)

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July 15th 2008

Published: July 15th 2008

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Jacqui Knox

Troll face

Found this lovely lady lurking in the hills above Bergen.

Here's the problem with blogs. When you're busy doing interesting things, you don't have a second spare to write them. Only when you're bored is there time to inflict your naval-gazing on others. So here, in ultra-condensed form, is what I've been up to for the last month or so.

I was sitting on the ruined watchtower of Craigmillar Castle just outside Edinburgh a few weeks ago when my phone finally rang with a job offer. I nearly fell off my turret with happiness. It's a sub-editing job with a group of local papers on the western fringe of London, starting in August.

That night I became mildly inebriated while celebrating with an Aussie friend, and booked a plane ticket to Bergen in Norway, just to spend a day gatecrashing the holiday of more Aussie friends, Jess and John.

So that Wednesday I finished my night shift at Belford Hostel and took a taxi to the airport at 3am, flew to Bergen via Amsterdam, and gave my heart a little jolt during landing because the lakes and mountains were just so, well, Norwegian. I spent the next couple of days wandering the hills and getting sunburnt. Then I

Bergen view

Lovely? From the top of the furnicular railway.

forced my way into Jess and John's hotel room with a bottle of wine before spending a day with them on a fjord cruise and visiting the aquarium.

That, plus silly amounts of champagne and mussels, was Norway. There was no midnight sun that far south, but there was a definite and delightful midnight glimmer. I know, because having been to bed at 2am, I woke up at 4am, feeling very trollish for another early flight back to Edinburgh.

Luckily the time difference gave me an extra few hours that Sunday to sort out my gear before starting the West Highland Way walk with Jo and Jackie (both Sydney Uni Bushwalkers) on Monday morning. This well-worn trail runs from the edge of Glasgow to Fort William, passing by Loch Lomond, Bridge of Orchy and Glen Coe. We planned to do it in midge-free luxury by staying in hostels and guesthouses.

Jackie was held up for the first day so arranged to meet us in Balmaha, our first night's rest. Meanwhile Jo and I set off along the track, knocking over the first uneventful 30km through farmland by what felt like lunchtime, but was actually closer to 4pm.

Cutie

A seal (duh) at the aquarium in Bergen.

As usual we solved all the world's problems along the way, although I can't remember what they were, or how we fixed them.

Unfortunately I created my own little problem that night by jumping off a pier - before thinking about how to land. My foot crunched hard and I could barely hobble back to the guesthouse.

The next morning, the track wound along the lush edges of Loch Lomond to Rowardennan where we split ways again. Jo and I decided on a side-trip up Ben Lomond (my first munroe, or mountain over 3000ft) while Jackie went on ahead. The views were stunning - no pesky trees in the way - and we even saw a mini-tornado. But the downhill was crippling on a sprained ankle. Only a lemonade at the pub got me through the last couple of hours up to our late arrival at Beinglas Wigwams.

On the third day the scenery began to change but I was too stiff to enjoy it. The air cooled off and the deciduous forest gave way to windswept valleys as we approached Bridge of Orchy that night. Thankfully the local pub was excellent, as was the little black-faced

Still water

Reflections on a lake near Mt Floyen, Bergen.

lamb I ate for dinner. I saw lots of its relatives the next day as we trundled further into the Highlands towards stunning Glen Coe with its bulging skies. I also bagged my second munroe - assuming they still count when ski lifts are involved.

The last day was another marathon through Glen Coe, and then over the hill into Kinlochleven, before going over another hill into Fort William. Along the way were hydro tunnels, lonely farmhouses, pine plantations, and a groovy ice-climbing gym. There was also Ben Nevis, of course, which I had some vague intention of climbing once upon a time.

All up, we walked about 170km in five days, in ever-changing scenery and remarkably good weather. My first two munroes are also in the bag, meaning only 282 to go. Alas, it was probably my last Scottish adventure for a while. Thanks team 😊

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