From Glen to Glen

An easier day, with less miles needing to be travelled, but some of the most stunning scenery afore us too. The weather improved over night, and we set off keen to get on the road again. Everything had dried out in the fantastic drying room, and putting on dry and slightly warm boots is always a wonderful moment. 

​We followed the brilliant Coulin Pass, an old pony road, which has seen such mighty followers as James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd in 1803. It was a great path, winding through the forestry and taking us down the glen. Before long at all, we were on a wide, well-made forestry track and we followed tracks like this for almost the whole day. Turns out quite a few of them were made for hydro schemes and we passed the powerhouses along the route. Meanwhile the sun continued to shine. 

The day couldn't have been further from the day before, we were light of foot and happy - what a difference some sunshine makes, and shedding the waterproofs does make you feel several kilos lighter. What a difference from the dreaded day 6. 

Beautiful native woodland followed the same burns that we did. Ancient trees, some protected behind deer fences and some not. The regrowth was wonderful and the glens were filled with greenery. On we walked, the miles disappearing with seemingly no effort. Soon we were passing the houses at Coulin, and stopped to talk to some cattle and Highland ponies. The grass here was lush and green, Loch Coulin wound its way down the narrow glen and it was entirely picture perfect. We stopped for a quick bite to eat - the crisps and chocolate disappearing quickly. 

​As before, once we gained some height we could see the entire route that we'd walked that day. Clear path disappeared behind us as we went up the side of Carn Dhomhnuill Mhic a' Ghobha. The weather was soft and all felt good. Beinn Eighe was shrouded in clouds, a megalith that only showed herself once we were closer to the river of A'Ghairbhe. 

​Here the woodlands were spectacular. Ancient granny pines stood proud above the younger trees. The calls of the birds as they flitted through the branches brought a smile to both our faces. Although where we walked was outside the National Nature Reserve, the estate is clearly managed with conservation in mind, and the place is beautiful for it. Remaining on the drove road, we left the main path (which would have meant walking along the road), and wandered through much less visited woodland. Even though this made the walking trickier, it was worth it, and the treasures to be found in this quiet area were many. 

We didn't have food for lunch due to yesterday's disaster, and so we'd aimed to get to Kinlochewe for lunch and have the afternoon off. We walked in to the village at half 1 - perfect time for lunch. Only to find the shop closed at 1pm. 

​Joey sagged onto the bench. This, I think, was one of his lowest points. We keep going, keep going, with a certain destination in mind and just as yesterday's false ending had brought me to tears, the shop being closed stumped Joey. I made him a lukewarm coffee from the hot water I'd put in my flask that morning, and myself a lukewarm tea. We had some chocolate and discovered, to our relief, that there was a café just around the corner. 

​Visiting this wee café was wonderful. Our lunch was unbelievably tasty, and we took our sandwiches back to that same bench outside the shop. But this time we ate and ate with relish. All made with locally sourced food, the lunch, including my gluten free soda bread, was just perfect, and as we'd discover the day after, a much better lunch than we would manage to get in the shop. 

Once we'd eaten we set off to find a camp. We were booked into the Kinlochewe Hotel for a meal that night (timely as my six year old camping stove had broken the morning before when we were in the oakwood - how long ago that seems now) and so we needed to be close enough to the village to walk back to camp in the dark. 

​We found the most perfect spot in a hazel wood at the side of the Abhainn Bruachaig, tucked in next to the banking. We were fairly close to houses, and slightly nervous of dog walkers using the way, but had no problems at all. The rain hit just as we pitched our tent, until then we'd had sunshine and cloud, and so our day had been timed perfectly. Seeking shelter, we retreated into the cosiness and I ended up having a wonderful afternoon nap. Thoughts of all we'd seen and done filtered through my dreams. What perfection there was in our walking, our journeying: what utter perfection. 

By this time, however, we both were suffering slightly from injuries. My left Achilles was swollen and hot to the touch and my right foot was sore. I suspect the barefoot boots were too soon for my feet - it was becoming too much. Joey's runner's knee had flared up, an annoyance that would follow him through the next month and beyond. 

​The rain that afternoon and evening fell straight down from the sky. Not a puff of wind was there to move it on, so it got stuck above us. Luckily our meal was utterly fantastic, and it was so interesting to see how different pubs and inns were adapting to the Corona virus to enable diners to have a nice experience. The meal set us up very nicely indeed and it was a very enjoyable evening. 

​On our way back to the tent that evening, the night animals were out in force. Bats flew in and out of the glow of the street lamps. Toads hopped about on a narrow path, and when we got back to the tent owls were calling around us. A sika deer barked in the darkness. 

​This day we walked our 99th kilometre, so the distance was passing. This too, in this beautiful hazelwood was our last night alone: tomorrow we'd be joined by my brother at our last camp. We were nearly at journey's end.