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A solo WHW the leisurely way (B&B & baggage transfer)

A solo WHW the leisurely way (B&B & baggage transfer)

Postby Scougs » Thu Apr 04, 2019 7:45 pm

Route description: West Highland Way

Date walked: 19/06/2017

Time taken: 8 days

Distance: 151 km

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I see a lot of walking reports on here that are pretty dismissive of using B&B accommodation and baggage transfer, but it was the only way I was ever going to manage this. Even with that level of luxury, and doing it over eight days, I was still extremely concerned that I could do it - especially with what I'd read about Rowardennan to Inverarnan. I booked well in advance using Gemini Walks, which meant that I got - for example - a single room at Inveroran.

I kept a hand-written journal, which I have pretty much copied verbatim here. Where something from my journal means a bit of further explanation, I have used an asterisk and made a footnote at the end of each day.

Day 0 - Sat 10th June 2017

The long planned for day arrives. Much “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this”. Packing was mostly done yesterday while in General Election recovery mode, and the odd listen to Robbie Williams at Murrayfield. Sorted kitchen, cat litter etc, headed off – and found myself going “Eh?” as I rounded the corner at Haymarket and saw it was 2.40pm. Planned train is 2.43pm and I just missed it. Nomatter – the 2.49 to Queen Street meant I changed onto the same train.

Straight to B&B (Best Foot Forward) where mein host was impressed with my Yes/SNP badges. The WiFi password is “Bannockburn”, after all.

Straight out to the Talbot Arms – passing the WHW starting point en route, eek! – for the Scotland v England world cup qualifier. Very bloke pub, but I found a suitable spot. What a match. So glad I experienced that atmosphere when Scotland equalised and went in to the lead. Shame it was that wee runt Griffiths and shame we threw it away at the end.

Off to the Beefeater to spend some vouchers, then back to the B&B (picking up coke in the petrol station) and wind down watching old Top of the Pops with a couple of vodka’n’cokes.

Day 1 - Sunday 11th June 2017, Milngavie to Drymen, 13.3 miles

Day starts with everything I hate about breakfast in a B&B. Silence, one foreign (Luxembourg?) couple apart from me, zero appetite* (not even for smoked salmon and scrambled eggs), and wishy washy tea. Oh well. Left my bag (after a few last minute “have I got everything ?!”) and headed off to the start.

Took a couple of photos and selfies, then the Luxembourg couple appeared and offered to take the photo I wanted.
Looking very fresh at the start

Then – off we go. Eight days, 96 miles lie ahead. The guy from the baggage transfer company, Travel-Lite, happened to be there and had to show me where to go – that doesn’t bode well! Neither did the fact that a dog walker coming the other way said “Warm, isn’t it?”. Great, must be beetroot red already after a mile.

So the path meanders through woodland, then opens out (I get overtaken by the Luxembourg pair) and then I recognised the “up and over” bit from the John Muir Way. Likewise the (dull) railway past the Glengoyne distillery and to the Beech Tree for lunch. A nice “fish pot” – a cousin of Cullen skink, but with a cheesier sauce and mussels.

Only one light shower up to this point – not even worth getting the waterproof on for.

Rest of today’s walk not much to mention. Old railway followed by quiet country roads. First glimpse of Loch Lomond was something though – a reminder of the horrors ahead. I suppose I’m not too worried – there were always people about today. But far enough behind and ahead to maintain the sense of peace and tranquillity, while simultaneously knowing they were near enough if I needed help.

It was surprising how far a diversion off The Way into Drymen is, but I easily found the B&B (The Hawthorns), got settled in after another (thankfully) like-minded political chat, then headed out to The Clachan to book a table for dinner. And a couple of Strongbows, of course.

Freshen up and back out for dinner. Trio of seafood starter, beef stroganoff. Very nice, but service a bit off. Chill out, bed.

*I struggle with my appetite first thing in the morning, and after hiking, so it does feature a bit in this journal.

Day 2 – Monday 12th June 2017, Drymen to Rowardennan, 16 miles

A day of two halves. Started with a good blether at breakfast, first with two American Tourists, then three ladies (Sue, Veronica and Elaine) who recognised me from the Beech Tree, and said we will more than likely cross paths again. More SNP chat with the B&B owner, and even a wee play of the piano before heading off.

At this point I was still on the side of dodging Conic Hill, but by the time I’d walked up out of Drymen (and had my first encounter with the Six Ladies)*, it seemed daft not to keep going. So when I reached the junction I turned right and committed to Conic Hill. Not that bad a climb, but very wet and windy at the top (well, the highest point on the WHW – I didn’t think the summit looked worth it).
Path winding up towards Conic Hill

View down the Highland Fault Line

Descent was long and tortuous – loads of big steps down, and wet. Paused at the tourist information place for pee & picnic, then set of for Rowardennan. A bit of slog, if truth be told – criss-crossing with the road (and the Luxembourg couple) and loads of ups and downs, especially the last bit.
Alongside Loch Lomond

There just seemed to be pages and pages of more maps in the book that I expected, and I actually phoned the hotel when it was obvious it was going to be after 6pm when I got there. ** Which it was, but not by much.

Time for a pint, and then run into Elaine, who is just checking in with Sue & Veronica (the Six Ladies were also having beers although they’re staying at the Youth Hostel).

Had a (not bad) burger and chips (on a plank of wood with flowerpot) and joined Elaine et al. Clearly not drinkers, so when they headed off, I sat at the bar with a vino, and I felt the need to correct a local ned who was insisting the first T in the Park was on Glasgow Green. He didn’t believe me.

Time to crash in gorgeous, big, crisp, double bed.

* The rest of the trip I keep crossing paths with a group of Six Ladies – this was the first time I’d met them

** I had strict instructions that if ever I was going to get to my accommodation later than 6pm, I should telephone the hotel to let them know, so they don’t start looking for me.

Day 3 – Tuesday 13th June 2017, Rowardennan to Inverarnan. 14 miles according to the Guide book, 23.7 miles recorded by MapMyWalk. Left at 9.30am and got to the end at 8pm.

Oh, where to start writing about today. It was utter hell. The very words “Rowardennan to Inverarnan” will forever strike terror in my heart. I will henceforth use the phrase “Try everything once. Except incest, Morris dancing…….. and Rowardennan to Inverarnan”.

It started promisingly enough. I’d read about the forestry track versus shore-side “path”, so smugly took the high path – and encouraged a German mother/daughter combo and a couple of blokes I’d seen at check out to do the same.
Once the forestry track ended, I trucked on, and was even quite pleased with myself for managing some rocks and a couple of burns. But after a while I hit the first of the rock faces, and I begged the two guys from checkout (David from Stockbridge and John from Wales) to give me a hand. They did, and pretty much stayed with me to Inversnaid, through many horrors of rocks, streams, waterfalls, and – I have to admit – two full on panic attacks, including tears. What a jessie. I was in quite a state when I teetered into Inversnaid.

Despite the rain, David and John opted to stay outside with their soup, which I suspect was a way of getting away sharp and not getting stuck with me again!*

I went in to the hotel with Elaine et al, but couldn’t face anything more than an apple from my rucksack. I left them to get a head start, bumping into the Luxembourg couple, who it turns out are actually Dutch (not quite sure why I thought they were from Luxembourg), and are staying at Inversnaid, so we won’t cross paths again.

I will not dwell on the next bit too much, except that it restored my faith in human nature. A Swiss couple, Elaine et al, and the Six Ladies all helped at various points – but Elaine’s lunchtime pep talk about trusting my boots was probably as helpful. That, and I just kept saying “every step is a step nearer Inverarnan. Every rock is a rock I’ll never see again.”
By this time it was persisting* it down non-stop, and I was so soaked there was no point worrying about it. The cruellest thing was all the false endings.
I thought it must be getting near the end here. Nope.

I thought the first sighting of the Doune bothy (and other buildings) meant I was nearly there, but there was still miles to go. By this point the “path” resembled a stream. A stretch through the woods had me panicking – what if there was a tricky burn crossing? By this time I would have waded waist deep if I’d had to, and just kept going. I was very alone. I’d tried to phone the B&B a couple of times but had no signal – it was well after 6pm already.

I could have wept when I saw Beinglas and knew I was nearly there. A wee way down the A82 and there it was – Rose Cottage B&B. Boots off at the door, dragged my luggage up to my room, peeled off my soaking clothes and collapsed with a very large vodka and coke.

Dump my clothes in the Ikea bag at the foot of the stairs (as instructed) , and head down to the Drovers, where I find Elaine et al having just finished their main courses, and relieved to see me alive!

My appetite is shot, so have a ham salad, then chill with a glass of wine after the others have left. Day from hell over.
Would I have done it if I’d known what I was getting into? Well, I did, and I’m here to tell the tale. I guess that’s all that matters.

Footnote: dear Diane of the future, if ever you find yourself contemplating doing the WHW again – do not do this stretch. If you think “I did it, it can’t be that bad, I’ll just check my journal” – DO NOT DO IT!

*Once the trip was over, I managed to track down David from Stockbridge on Twitter and thank him.

**Not the word in my journal, which WalkHighlands didn't like

Day 4 - Wednesday 14th June 2017, Inverarnan to Tyndrum, 14 miles.

I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to move this morning. Woke to the TV news of the Grenfell fire in London – all my nightmares. Breakfast was an odd affair with five of us round one table – one American couple doing the way North to South (but taking a day off today to visit Oban), and one Dutch couple going the same way I am. Cue discussion on the Rowardennan to Inverarnan stretch! Got sorted, retrieved my (now dry) clothes, pulled the muddy trousers back on, and it’s here we go again. Meet the Six Ladies at Beinglas, packing their stuff into their “support vehicle” – they have a husband in a camper van supporting them!

Today’s walk is already looking like a much more pleasant prospect. Good, broad track snaking ahead. Criss-cross with the German monther/daughter combo a couple of times and get overtaken by a young lad carrying full camping gear. There’s a junction up ahead and the right fork snakes steeply uphill while the left slopes gently away. I watch the young man and say (out loud) “Go left….. go left…. go left…..YAYY!”. I tell him this as I pass him having a rest later on – we end up doing the tortoise/hare all day.

It soon becomes clear that today’s challenge will be….. BOGS. But I soon find myself doing things that would have terrified me two or three days ago. Of note was a great wee honesty shop – it was getting warm and sunny now and Lemon Fanta was so for the win.
Lemon Fanta from this honesty shop

And the fact that round about there I could see the A82 and the Crianlarich sign already.

The Way actually goes pretty well West of Crianlarich, but the half way point of the Way is marked by a bench with a great view which made the perfect lunch stop.

Next was a fairly tortuous series of ups and downs on a woodland path – still criss-crossing with mother/daughter and the camping young man before descending to the road crossing I’ve passed so many times.*
Crossing the A82

Then loop over to the Strathfillan “Wigwams” – funny that I’ve seen them advertised from the road so often, but never made the connect they were next to the WHW.

Sun is beating down now, and I once more bump into the camping young man. He suggests we walk together for a bit as he’s getting bored on his own. He’s from Barcelona. Before long I have to tell him to head on because I can’t keep up with his pace.
About the only nice weather I had the whole week

Last stretch into Tyndrum is a narrow, stony, undulating affair and it’s now baking hot. But it wasn’t much further, and I rock up at Kilbridge Lodge at 5.15pm.

Strange wee place – tiny kitchen/diner and only two rooms. Nice, though, and lovely woman in charge. I strip off and sort laundry and have a lovely shower. Wander up to the Green Welly Stop – bumping into Barcelona Boy en route – to stock up on coke, chocolate, tissues (I’ve had a bit of a cold), and a pork pie and a Babybel for tomorrow’s picnic.

Despite every recommendation to go to the Real Food place, I opt for the Tyndrum Inn – supported by bumping into Sue at the Green Welly, who tells me they’re not eating there either, so are just taking fish’n’chips back to their B&B. She tells me they are going all the way to Kingshouse tomorrow, so we won’t cross paths again, so exchange details. And off to the pub it is.

Get a pint and a ham salad to poke about my plate – still no appetite. Join a lovely couple from Oxford, who tell me once they got to Inversnaid they paid £130 for a taxi to Inverarnan. I tell them it’s the best money they ever spent.
Wander back to the B&B, still marvelling at the novelty of walking about in Tyndrum rather than driving through. Conscious of TV noise to the room next door, opt for a reasonably early bed.

* I live in Edinburgh, but have a second home on the Isle of Mull, so this stretch of the A82 is one I know very well, and I’d noted the crossing point here.

Day 5, Thursday 15th June 2017. Tyndrum to Inveroran. 10 miles. Easy, but wet.

I’ll be honest – I had a couple of “can I do this?” moments overnight. So, so stiff and everything hurts – not just feet, but arms, shoulders, back….. but I guess that’s why it’s a nine mile day today.

Strange setup for breakfast – me in the dining alcove, and the hostess standing in the kitchen blethering. Fab fruit salad, which meant no shoving a sausage around a plate. Gave her the fiver for my laundry - £5 very well spent – got organised, and waited for a very heavy shower to pass before heading out. The B&B hostess gave me one huge tip – from Bridge of Orchy to Inveroran, don’t bother with the “up and over” – just go round the single track road.

The walk to Bridge of Orchy was one I’d been looking forward to as a stretch of road I know very well. But it was so, so wet – and the loneliest day so far.

A dreich walk from Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy

Sheep Creep ahead

I met the Six Ladies coming the other way – they’re doing two nights in Tyndrum, so saw no shame in doing this section in reverse. They did the road rather than the hill, and concur that it is a top tip.

The rain was horrendous, but it wasn’t cold, so I stuck with jacket round the waist for now. I was very, very wet though. I was surprised when I spotted Bridge of Orchy station and hotel coming up. Short day indeed!

To this point, there had been no benches, picnic tables, shelters, nothing. So the station platform looked inviting for lunch – guess who’s there? Barcelona Boy and the sickly French lass from the B&B.* A bloke that works at the bunkhouse appears as we are discussing “up and over” versus road. He is emphatic – ROAD. We’re joined by a very odd aging English hand-knitted camper, looking for a waiting room, but he is actually facing a thrilling 90 minute wait on the platform.
Barcelona Boy heads off first, then I leave sickly French lass (they’re trying to find her a B&B) and head off.

On the way down from the station to the road it starts to tip it down, so the jacket actually goes on. Then it’s over the Bridge of Orchy (who knew?) and head off down the single track road, helpfully labelled “Inveroran 3”. This was pretty miserable – the rain was getting heavier and heavier. I just tried to keep my 3mph rhythm going – even internalising 2112**, although it depressed me that the whole thing = 20 minutes = 1 mile!

At one point a car stopped and asked if I was “all right”. “Fine!”, I said, while thinking “not all right in the head, obviously”.
A walker behind me didn’t seen to be going much faster than I was, but was using metal tipped poles, and the “scrape…. scrape…. scrape” of metal on tarmac really got on my wick. Eventually, the rain eased off a bit, I let Mr scrapey-poles pass me, and then spotted Barcelona Boy on the verge waiting for me. “You always catch me up!” he said, and we walked together to the Inveroran Hotel, which appeared pleasantly quickly – no false summits here. He was aiming for Kingshouse, so I felt a bit bad that I left him heading for the bar as I checked in, without saying cheerio.

Funny moment on check in – although I’d had my waterproof on, I’d left the hood down. I was suddenly aware of a huge splash onto the reception carpet – my hood had filled up with water, and had just spilled everywhere. Oops.
Bliss at the Inveroran Hotel

Got up to my lovely room and it was only 2.30pm! This had been one of my concerns about this trip – how to pass the time with these circumstances. Well, it took me ages to separate out my wet stuff. Headed down to the (wee, busy) bar for a pint, chill and journal writing, and realise I can’t keep my eyes open. Back upstairs for a two hour nap before dinner.

Dinner. I don’t know if it was the shorter walk, the rain, the nap – but after days of poking salads around, I demolished salmon fillet with potatoes and asparagus and the cheese board. Retired to the bar, with some excellent rock sound track. Bed time.

*The other room in my Tyndrum B&B was occupied by a French lass who was meant to be camping, but was feeling unwell. Luckily for her, the B&B had a last-minute cancellation.

**2112 is a prog rock album by the Canadian band Rush. Side one is a single concept piece and I know every note and every word. I sometimes sing it to myself to pass the time.

Day 6, Friday 16th June 2017. Inveroran to Kingshouse. 10 miles. Straightforward, damp.

Great night’s sleep, so quiet. Middle of nowhere, after all. More fruit salad (bliss) followed by usual feeble attempt at a cooked breakfast, featuring singed potato scones.

Headed out into normal grey weather, but drier than yesterday. On road to start with, passing small campsite where sickly French lass is heading back to the hotel for water. Real sense of isolation – deer on one side, Highland Cattle on the other. Pretty soon, there’s a cottage, a gate, and a sign for the drove road to Glencoe. Stopped for a photo and immediately come under attack from midge swarm.
Here we go

The drove road is stony and hard on the feet, and rises slowly through the trees and then into the open country of Rannoch Moor. Not many other walkers around and not much variety in the scenery – stunning as it is – so I opt to take yesterday’s 2112 approach and expand on it. Yes, the next 90 minutes feature singing all of Jesus Christ Superstar* – out loud.

Gasp out loud when the A82 comes into view to the right, very far away and low down. Stop for brief picnic at Ba Bridge, then push on. Start to worry about how knackered I’m getting – then look back along the drove road and realise how far I’ve climbed. No wonder I’m knackered!

The summit was reached soon after that, and I recognised the Glencoe Skilift turn off from the A82, low down and ahead.
Gradual, easy descent, ignoring the turn off for the ski lift, café etc and soon hit tarmac. Good grief – it’s that cottage. The one everyone takes a photo of. I always assumed that was because it was in the middle of nowhere and only reachable on foot. Nope – it’s just off the A82. Illusion shattered.
That cottage - not as remote as I thought

Reach the main road and realise I’m crossing the road well travelled – again. Never knew this was the WHW too. Make the mistake of saying – out loud – “can’t believe I didn’t get wet today”. So guess what happens next? Figured I was near enough Kingshouse to not bother putting on my waterproof – wrong!

Soaked as I arrived at the prefab café/bar**, but at least they have draught cider. There’s a few familiar faces, including the Dutch couple from Rose Cottage, who ask me to join them. They’re called Han and Gitte. I get too excited at meeting someone called Han.*** Turns out they’re waiting for the same 4pm taxi as I am, and we pass the time with me advising them on how to spend the rest of their time in Scotland once they’ve completed the WHW.

Seven of us board the taxi, and it heads down the single track road past the Clachaig and on to Glencoe village. I’m last out at Callart View B&B. Have to lug my bag upstairs, but it’s a nice room for a single.

Freshen up, kill time, and walk up to the Glencoe Inn/Glencoe Gathering Bar & Restaurant. Least said the better – dreadful place. Luxury prices with Wetherspoons service.

* Yes, I’m a Jesus Christ Superstar obsessive, and can actually sing the whole thing start to finish.

** The Kingshouse is shut for refurbishment, but they have a café/bar in a portacabin. I decided against the bunkhouse, and opted for a taxi transfer into Glencoe village for the night.

*** It’s a Star Wars thing.

Day 7, Saturday 17th June 2017. Kingshouse to Kinlochleven. 10ish miles. Includes the Devil’s staircase, and a nasty descent to Kinlochleven.

Strange being “on the clock” this morning – 9.15am taxi pickup for the return to Kingshouse. Tried kippers for breakfast – still a struggle. Sat up front in the taxi with Kenny the driver – good blether about all things Glencoe and the WHW.
Dropped at Kingshouse and the weather is dreadful.
A dreich start from Kingshouse

Heading into Glencoe

The path follows the road and then swings west and starts to climb.
Looking back down to the A82 and Kingshouse

There’s still a sense of trepidation despite all the assurances that the Devil’s staircase isn’t that bad. Eventually it comes into view, and true enough, it doesn’t look terrible. It’s a bit of a slog though, but there are lots of people doing it, so a good sense of the camaraderie that has made the trip. Every now again the cloud clears and the view back down to Glencoe opens up – it’s been quite a climb and pausing to admire the view is a good excuse to get my breath back.
Two German guys have stopped for one to take a photo of the other, so I offer to take a picture of both, and they reciprocate.
Nearly at the top

Finally reach the top and even take a selfie. There’s still a long, hard walk to come. Rocky, slippy – would have freaked me out a week ago. Some folk are running it, though, and there are even two guys on trail bikes.
Another honesty shop

The path towards Kinlochleven

Eventually, some sort of hydro building comes into view down below, along with a forestry track. This is a “nearly there” moment, except, of course, it’s nothing like. It’s a really steep downhill for ages – slow going and very sore on my pinky toes. Seems to go on forever, and it’s amazing when you can see back up to the hydro building – now high, high above – and yet it’s a long way down to the village still. I pass sickly French lass, pausing at the entrance to the campsite, and then I get increasingly spooked by the proximity to the six huge water pipes – especially when I have to cross them. Jessie.

Arriving in the village, I bump into German Mother/Daughter who look very fresh, and they confess to having given up and taken the bus – but won’t let on where from! I also bump into Han & Gitte – they’re obviously fit and arrived way ahead of me.

The MacDonald Hotel is through the village and out the other side, very close to where the Way leaves the road. At first my room appears to be in a cupboard, but it’s comfy enough, and at least it’s on the ground floor. I do have to retrieve my bag from a shed, though – boo.

Get settled in to the Bothy Bar, which is just lovely and has good Wifi. Opt for the restaurant for dinner, which is a bit “meh”, but sauvignon blanc is only £16 a bottle, and I actually manage three courses – despite having to offer paper hankies to the sniffing weirdo at the next table.

Day 8, Saturday 18th June 2017. Kinlochleven to Fort William. Guide book: 15 miles, MapMyWalk: 17.6 miles. Long slog.

My abiding memory of today will be – WET FEET. After getting stuck on the Old Kirk Road* a few weeks ago due to stepping stone anxiety, stepping stones, fords and streams were one of my biggest worries. Now obviously I’ve tackled a few(!) by this point, but today was the worst – especially with all the rain that has fallen.

First there was the long uphill slog through the woods.
Heading up out of Kinlochleven. Slippy.

I managed the slippery stepping stones, but at one point there was a ford at the top of a waterfall (with a fence you stop you going over) and that was the fist time the Goretex in the boots was breached.
Eventually, the path joined the familiar drove road style track, and it’s clear it’s going to be like this for some time. At one point, you could see ahead for a very, very long way – and then when you cleared the next summit/corner you could see ahead even further. Soul destroying to start with, but rewarding when it becomes the view looking back of how far you’ve come.

I crossed paths a couple of times with two of the Six Ladies – Carol and Aileen. The group of six have split up a bit now – they are worried about the others, who have injuries and blisters.

The drove road is very, very wet.
Another drove road, another dreich day

At one point the drove road is left behind, and it’s time for a forest path again. An information board helpfully says 7.5 miles done, and the same again to go. Bugger. There is the option of a “short cut” via a single track road – 4.5 miles – but that seems silly at this point.

So, onwards squelching through every terrain imaginable, ascents and descents, forestry works and bottomless peat bog, and a muddy descent reminiscent of Gowk Hill.** Across some marshland and then one last (I checked) steep climb to join a proper forestry track heading downhill (although much nicer than Kinlochleven). When the view clears it is obvious that Fort William is still far, far away and low down.

After quite a while, there’s an unexpected sign to the right, and the Way leaves the forestry track and heads down a lovely pine-needle coated path through the trees, and off across a field to where Carol and Aileen are waiting at the fence, and two of the others aren’t far behind. We all congratulate each other, but this is a tad premature, as it’s still a long slog on the pavement before even the outskirts of Fort William. I get emotional on passing the sign for the original end, then push on, straight past my B&B (Berkeley Guest House), along the pedestrian precinct – and there it is. I’ve done it.
I made it

A bloke hovering around with a dog offers to take my photo, and surprises me when he addresses me by name – it’s the husband of Lesley, one of the Six Ladies.

Back to the B&B – ground floor room with bag in it, result.

Host wants to know what I’ll be having for breakfast and leaves me to it. Wet boots and wet socks off, shower and brief collapse.

Head back along to the Wetherspoons (“The Great Glen”) where I get a pint and a scampi and chips (which I barely eat), before joining the Six Ladies for another pint and a chat about our adventures.

Job done.

* The Old Kirk Road is a footpath in the Pentlands. At one point it crosses a burn using a stepping stone. I got stuck and had to ask a passer by to hold my hand. This incident led to a lot of pre-WHW anxiety.

** A while back I did the first stretch of the John Muir Way from Helensburgh to Balloch. It was before the footpath had been improved and it was truly awful in terms of muddy, slippy and steep.
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Re: A solo WHW the leisurely way (B&B & baggage transfer)

Postby Buggiba » Wed Apr 17, 2019 10:51 am

A fascinating and interesting account of the WHW. It makes me realise why the decisions I made when I walked it in 2016 were so important. Always walk early. Six out of seven days we started at 6am. Meant finishing much earlier and time to get wet clothing dry. Never do it in midge season. Early to mid May is favourite as daylight hours are good. Weather is pure guesswork.Always use a bag-carrying service and have a comfortable nights sleep. Arrange accommodation as close to the Way as possible and book early.
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