I went on vacation.

 I did. I went TO SCOTLAND. WITHOUT MY FAMILY. It was fantastic. A friend and I cooked up a plot to walk the West Highland Way, and somehow we actually pulled it off.

The first day of our vacation after we arrived in Glasgow was a day tour of filming locations for the Outlander TV show. This was pretty fun, in spite of my total ignorance of the show and my general disinterest in guided tours. When you're jet-lagged and weary on a sunny spring day in Scotland, it's not terrible to get driven around to a bunch of beautiful locations by a nice retired park ranger with a charming accent who tells you factoids about history, natural history, and also Outlander.

First stop was Doune Castle, which was being shored up internally to keep it from falling down, so we couldn't go in. The River Teith was gorgeous, though, and I would have been happy to sit here all day listening to the river and the birds. 

Second stop was Falkland, where I ate a sausage roll, visited an ancient tennis court, admired a palace from the outside, and poked around some very pretty little streets.

Third stop was Midhope Castle, which was pretty but couldn't be entered. The house next to it was cool, though.

And then Blackness Castle, which delivered the whole package - river, castle, wind, sunshine, ancient latrine, scary towers - all the things I ever really want.

And then we went to Culross, this ridiculously charming town that I'm sure is home to only extremely rich people. I started to feel almost embarrassed by how charming Scotland was being to us, like we were being treated far better than we deserved. 

We spent that night in Glasgow again, and took transit the next morning to Drymen (skipping the first and supposedly least-delightful stage of the West Highland Way). We walked over Conic Hill to Balmaha, and this was the day we learned that Scotland doesn't believe in switchbacks and also I learned to love hiking poles. My knees were very unhappy about this, but it was also a sunny weekend day and there were a million families on casual day trips up to see the view, and it was very humbling to stagger down the mountain with my poles as toddlers in plastic sandals sprinted circles around me. 

The second day we walked to Rowardennan, which meant a leisurely day of ambling along Loch Lomond. I can't recommend this enough. Scotland might have more birds than anywhere I've ever been - all day we were surrounded by birdsong. And between the weather, the scenery, and having nothing really to do except walk, I got to really appreciating trees. 

Then we walked to Inverarnan, a day that was supposed to be the hardest of our itinerary. There was a lot of scrambling over rocks and roots, but also some walking through dark creepy coniferous plantations (I saw a red squirrel!), some feral goats, many crossings of tiny burns, and endlessly unfolding enjoyment of the views of the loch and the trees and spring springing all around. Also, Inversnaid Falls, about which Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote a poem that pretty well captures the feeling of this walk. (One of the unexpected pleasures of this walk is the way it's engineered to deal with water - the trail is crossed by a thousand little streams and rivers, and they're channeled with rock to make it easy.) We  spent the night at the Drovers Inn, a historic building that is attractive and interesting FROM THE OUTSIDE and quite grotty on the inside. But the steak pie was delicious.

Next day we walked to Tyndrum, a relatively unexciting but pleasant stroll through sheep pastures, timber plantations, some more farms (so many lambs) and a battlefield where Robert the Bruce got routed and (allegedly) threw his sword in a pond while running away.

 

Then we took a rest day, and took the train all the way out to Mallaig.

The next day we walked to Bridge of Orchy, a very short day of walking with lovely views starting to lean into moorland, and our first day learning about the horrors of the "parliamentary roads" which are these old military roads built by the British to facilitate the suppression of the Jacobites, and basically are just a bunch of rocks and extremely hard on the poor feet.

Our next day of walking was fantastic - amazing views that made up for the evil parliamentary roads. We walked to Kingshouse, and I caught my first sight of Buchaille Etive Mor, which is the best mountain in the world, and Glencoe Valley at its foot. One of the many joys of a walking vacation like this, for me, is that I get to see so much of so little. I looked at Buchaille Etive Mor all day.

 

The rain finally caught up with us for real, but we managed to get over the Devil's Staircase (which I had visited before!) before it really settled in. I said goodbye to my favorite mountain, put my poncho on, and trudged down to Kinlochleven.

This last day of walking, ending in Fort William, was our longest mileage day, and also ended with four or five miles of trudging on a steep logging road which was kind of a sad way to end. However, the first ten miles were terrific, featuring the appearance of Ben Nevis toward the end of the day. I even took a side trip to Dun Deardil, something I was not planning to do because I had no interest in walking further, but it was a really appealing trail just at the transition to the logging roads and I just wanted to hold onto my beautiful walk a few more minutes. At the end of the walk we entered the old, pedestrian-centered part of Fort William, and sat down with the Sore Feet statue to celebrate.

We took the train to Edinburgh, and enjoyed a day and a half of touristing there (and taking our covid tests ugh). It's such a beautiful city. 

This was a gorgeous trip. I loved every minute of it, and I would love to do more walking trips like it. Something about having nothing to do but walk every day is deeply satisfying. And now I'm back in my real life, and only occasionally drifting off into a reverie of birdsong and trees.