We set off in early September, hacking and heaving our bags through the entangled bank of Waverley Station. The rectangular light of the Edinburgh-Glasgow train door beckons us through the buzz of flesh and bone.
PLEASE TAKE CARE, WHEN ALIGHTING FROM THIS TRAIN.
I bustle past a small boy, a frail couple, and a beef-tub with a red mohawk, who by far gives me the biggest appraisal. Darwinism in progress. Strange, considering Red Mohawk’s eccentric appearance, yet I am not surprised to see others at the platform gawk; inquisitive, bemused. It is hard to ascertain exactly what we are doing from a mere glance, and in a train station everybody loves a glance.
Hamish – our camp leader – is sporting a brown fur hunter jacket and looks by far the most qualified. His hulking kit eclipses his body frame, so from behind it appears there is a rucksack on legs, snooping for a seat (preferably a table). To my rear, Angus shakes an inverted tin of Tennents above his yawping gob, spilling a droplet of dreg on his Hibernian FC jumper.
At least my two companions are adorned with the signatures; big bag with big straps, tied up sleeping bag, clipped on tent. Meanwhile, my JD Bag tied to an ASDA bag, tied to a man-bag and all hinging on my old school rucksack, is the main cause of the gawking.
We would march briskly. Humorously. A free holiday. The whisky in our bellies sending us 100 miles up the West Coast to Fort William - or so the train prattle went. In hindsight, we were ignorant, chortling piggies racing toward a slaughterhouse for sloths. Our naivety and complacency would be paid for in full by our journey’s end.
We were midway through day one. A day that had seen much Grouse-fed optimism and not a whole lot of scenery. We had been denied the forecast of rainy doom looming on the week’s edge. The City of Glasgow had receded into the woods behind us; the fields ahead of us. We pushed through a rusted gate and exited a bank of crooning trees.
Swiftly, we were stunned into awesome silence.
Before us lay the Trossachs. Cacophony of life. Wars between societies of bugs and birds, between termites and trees, of water running over rock. All was happening consequentially, simultaneously before our eyes. The grey blue hills reminiscent of the Glasgow skyline; Ben Ledi alike the SEC Armadillo; Ben Vorlich as alive as the Clyde Arc Bridge; the celadon zeniths of Lui and Oss – spires of Glasgow Cathedral.
Taking a moment to rest, Hamish started toward a shrub of berries. Holding each of the sweets in our palm, we picked apart every tasty morsel, looking for signs of worm squatters inside their berry homes. Thankfully, there were none and the tangy fruit tasted sour on the tongue.
Satiating our hunger and our thirst, the berries provided sustenance for another hour’s walk – until Angus at the appropriate time halted us.
Wee dram boys?
The second day came and passed without a great deal of trouble. The September showers had begun. We were taking the odd spattering of rain but not allowing our spirits (the whisky) to dampen. Stopping for a deserved smoke atop Conic Hill, we saw we were entrapped within the Highlands of our country for the first time. Contorting our heads like Barn Owls, the horizon was lined only with the pastel colours of rural countryside. We were immersed.
Wiping a bready crumb from his lip and swilling down some stream-water, Hamish grabbed Angus and I round the shoulders into a bearhug, the worst was to come.
The rain had persisted throughout the night as we headed into our third day. Taking a treacherous route around the edges of Loch Lomond, the rain lashed hard into our eyes. The water of Loch Lomond stretched on endlessly. Infinite was the downpour. Stinging and burning through sodden gear, all we could do was blindly tear through the forest – praying for some respite. Marching through the torrent for a torturous amount of time, I spotted an overhanging boulder off the path, inviting me in like a living room. I dove in for cover. I changed from my soaking outfit into a moist one and waited, paranoia running like a fever in my veins.
Finally, I was re-joined by my companions. Draining the bottle between us, we re-emerged from our shelter and trudged on with renewed vigour. I planted my foot on a branch beneath.
The path gave way.
I felt myself sliding towards the hungry banks of Loch Lomond. A tree branch snapped in my slippery hand as I tried to break my fall.
All I remember next is levitating momentarily.
Bouncing helplessly down the dirt slope, my descent was halted by a mound of branches propped by the water’s edge. Ironic that I should be betrayed and saved by the same type of entity. I lay for what felt like an age, staring at the globules that battered my face. Finding the strength to stand, I watched as my man-bag floated away across the cruel, smirking Loch Lomond.
Your sandwiches are mine now she said, my midges will feast upon your tinned anchovies!
Hauled back to the path by Angus, a brief embrace and reassuring look in the eye was all we had time for. We would laugh about this one day. The rain was un-relenting and light was fading. Desperately we needed to find some way of drying off. It seemed impossible.
We decided to venture deeper through the Lomond forest, Hamish remembering previous talk with another hiker about a “hostel” on the forest’s periphery. Light was low and fear was high; the forest peeled back. We emerged onto a bog, and beyond, a grassy hill. Walking ahead, desperate for confirmation I reached the hills crest. I felt my soul spew forth, as a stone roofed croft came sharply into view.
HELLO!! HELP HELP HEELLP!!
Answering my cry, a bald eagle of a man came hurrying out.
GET YERSEL’ INSIDE SON! THERE’S A FIRE OAN….
I still view this as one of the most challenging moments of my life. Yet, it was what I had come for, to live, for a time, in the habitat of all life. To engross myself in the experience of every other being we share the Earth with – to test my human spirit against the grit it was born from. After 8 laborious days we made it in the end to Fort William. After 8 hours of sitting on a train, we were back in Edinburgh.
