I’d planned to catch the bus straight through to Inverness, but the ride up to Fort William was so enchanting that I decided to stop there for the night. That bus ride took me past Glen Coe and numerous other lochs and castles – all with mountainous backdrops. Those mountains were covered in a fatigue motley of greens, red-browns and yellows, and bordered by black stone walls. Sheep and goats clambered over the patchwork inside their walls.
Small villages, like something out of the Wheel of Time, lay nestled at the foot of these mountains. I’d loved to have stayed at one of the villages, and walked between the blacksmith and the inn up into the hills, but I didn’t yet know enough about this country to risk stopping in a 3 building village out of season. I might end up sleeping with the sheep and waiting for the next bus 24 hours later.
So Fort William it was, and a friendly local getting off the bus invited me to join him for a traditional Scottish lunch in the pub. I passed up the haggis and went for bangers and mash. Matt explained that he wasn’t really a local, but was currently living further down the river in a training camp for adventure guides. He’d been asleep when we’d passed his stop and now had to wait a couple of hours for the return bus. He pointed out a couple of ‘toy stores’ (outdoors stores) where I could buy some more clothes to deal with the rain if I needed to. Fort William is the wettest place in Scotland, he told me, and that was saying something. I didn’t really think it was necessary though. European rain barely deserves the term ‘drizzle.’ It’s more like walking through an extremely heavy mist. But it’s perfect for the outdoorsman here, with the moutains, lochs, and rivers, and evidently it’s a great place for teaching the experts.
By the time he left, it was getting dark and the mist was starting to fall, so I gave up on the idea of heading into the hills and instead marched up to the local backpackers, hoping to meet some true locals as well as other backpackers. I’d forgotten to ask Matt whether I’d be able to find accomodation in the small towns off season, or which towns were worth seeing. Unfortunately, the backpackers was being run by Aussies and Kiwis, but I enjoyed the time chatting with fellow countrymen here on the other side of the world. Most of them had come over to see the UK and ended up basing themselves in a particular town where they could get free accomodation for a little cleaning work. They suggested that I stop at Fort Augustus, which is small but important enough to have plenty of accomodation. They also suggested that I walk up The Ben, the highest mountain in the area, for the views of the surrounding glens. There was also an impressive castle ruin in the area, apparently.
I spent a confused evening, trying to decide whether to stay in Fort William another night to make the climb, or to head on to Fort Augustus. Plans to get up into the highlands were now impossible as none of the smaller bus routes were open out of season and I only had 3 full days left. I’d use one of those just getting to Inverness and another getting back to Glasgow. In the end, I decided to go on to Fort Augustus because I wanted to experience the culture more see than the scenery, and I figured that I’d have more chance in a smaller town.
So, the next morning, I set off into the drizzle, caught a very early bus and arrived in Fort Augustus before it got light (meaning before 10am). The hostel I’d chosen to stay in didn’t open until 5pm, but the owner let me dump my pack and gave me a small map of walking trails. This was the Great Glen Way, one of the most famous trails in the UK, and Fort Augustus was the southernmost town on the more famous Loch Ness.