the Highlands, 5

At the darkest point of the night (maybe around 1 or 2 a.m.), the light still comes through...

(out my window)

 

 

Weather in the Highlands doesn't really set the pace for most who come here. Expecting the worst, you dont recoil when it arrives -- you just pull out appropriate gear and keep going. They have lots of pairs of Wellies for your use at the Torridon. Mud wont slow you down.

I've not had to give any of this much thought, because the weather has been unusually agreeable in the days I've been in the Highlands. Mostly cloudy, but not only. One sprinkle, but otherwise dry. Temps hovering in the 60sF (so upper teens C). But for my remaining time here, we enter the iffy territory that is so much the hallmark of Scottish weather. It might rain. Sometime in the course of the day. How long, when and how much? A big shrug. 

I get up to clouds outside. They multiply.

I switch around clothes. Tomorrow will be colder, I think. I'll save the warm socks and long sleeves for then. But it's all rather a guessing game.

Breakfast at the Torridon is predictably traditional. Eggs with that British trim of mushrooms, trout, tomato. Porridge (meaning oatmeal) with drams of whiskey. Toast in racks. You choose!

(I pick eggs with wild mushrooms and trout)

They, like every good hotel, are mindful of guest comments and a recurring theme on sites is the complaint that you have to wait too long for breakfast. Most hotels get this grumble at some point. The Torridon preemptively tells guests that the busiest time is between 8:45 and 9:15 and so if you want to avoid a wait, you should avoid that time slot. I and everyone else, therefore, came earlier! There wasn't really a wait, but it was funny to see everyone pack in quickly before what turned out to be a very quiet half hour.

And now what? They have kayaking options, but not Mondays and tomorrow promises to be windy and wet. (Scottish weather promises mean nothing, but still...) So how about a hike?

After a rather sedentary Sunday, I opt for the long forested hike. It's misty and drizzly as I set out. Perfect for a Highland forest!

The trail is 10 or 11 kilometers long and it has two possible add-ons if you want, for a grand total of 18 kilometers (maybe 11-12 miles). That seems to be not a big deal. Right? Right??

It's not a big deal, but for the gross mistake on my part.

It strikes me that so much of our anxiety and misery is of our own making. Not all of it, to be sure, but so much! I would say that this held true for me today, especially in the second half of my adventure. 

The thing is, I didn't take water. I thought I'd be gone no more than a couple of hours (I wasn't thinking). I didn't have my day pack. I didn't want to carry water. A heavy camera and a tiny cross bag were enough.  And very quickly I realized that this was a terrible mistake. Especially after the salty breakfast. And especially since I opted to do the add-ons. I walked a total of 4.5 hours, not excessively hilly but not flat either. (22 000 steps for those who measure life that way.) 

Initially I was fine. And especially while the path meandered through the forest. 

 

 

 

It's as if those mighty trees were watching over me. Their canopy is awesome. Their limbs embracing. Shielding from all harm. Don't you feel that way when you walk through a forest? I do.

(dense cloud cover)

(misty and wet)

(lobster traps? fish nets?)

A forest shares its calm with you if you let it. But once the path veered upwards toward a treeless ridge, suddenly I felt vulnerable and thirsty.

(From here, you can take a detour to a waterfall gushing from somewhere in that mountain)

(here it is!)

It's not a totally isolated trek. In the forest itself, I encountered three sets of hikers -- one Polish, actually, though we didn't exchange nationality information. One of the Scottish couples I met, paused to encourage me to do the addition that juts out into the water. Great views! -- she tells me. I was here 8 years ago and they were even better, because some trees have filled in the empty spaces since then, but still, definitely worth it! How could I say "no, I am limp from thirst, tired from not taking a pause..."? And for all I know, the views will be gone soon as trees grow even taller! So I took the extra path. And I did not regret it, especially since I survived in the end and drank about ten glasses of water the minute I got home. 

(yes, the view was worth the second detour)

(three photos when the sun poked through, just a little: )

I encountered no wildlife except at the very end. This guy. We eyed each other and once again I conveyed greetings from Wisconsin. He seemed mildly interested.

At the hotel again I sat down in their living room and ordered a cream tea: a pot of their blend, along with a freshly baked scone with homemade jam and clotted cream. (And LOTS of water.)

This was the time to learn more about the hotel. Because it really is a very carefully restored, special place. Family owned and cared for since it first went up as a hunting lodge back in 1887 for the Earl of Lovelace. He was an English dude and he did one thing that put him in the history books for many: he married Ada. This woman:

Ada was Lord Byron's only legitimate daughter and she was one spunky woman. Her bio tells me that she wrote the first computer algorithm. She was heavily into mathematics. Read about her here.

The Torridon house remained the family's hunting lodge until the 1960s, when it first opened as a hotel. (A road was built this way and suddenly a hotel was possible. Though even the staff here complain that the road is too narrow! Unless you drive a narrow car, you are going to slip off the pavement. There seems to be little interest in widening it, which is a shame.) In the 1990s the Torridon (then under a different name) was bought by the Gregory family and eventually, their daughter Rohaise married, and along with her husband, took over the place. A dynamic, modern couple! They know good food, they're absolutely committed to good service. You will notice this at the Torridon: people smile at you and offer a hand at every turn.

 

Evening: I join the throngs in the "living room" for drinks -- a Negroni for me, with yet a different gin. Scotland has probably as many gin varieties as it has whiskeys; I know none of them except the Botannical gin from Islay, but the bartender is quite the powerhouse of info on this stuff. He asks if I want a spicy Negroni, I say sure!

 

 

Then I walk over to the building next door, to eat at the casual restaurant again -- the Bo & Muc. Today's choice? Shetland Mussels first, then my one nod to fish and peas and potatoes: Shieldaig pollock with mashed peas and spuds (Shieldaig is a coastal village just up the road from Torridon). 

Oh, and Scottish Cranachan for dessert. I'd never heard of it, but apparently it's quite common here: cream, berries, oats and either a dash of honey or whiskey -- I'm not sure!

I'm done shortly after 8. And here's where I really did something totally nutty: I decided to go for a walk again. The evening is absolutely lovely! No more drizzle. The sun hasn't set yet. And yesterday's evening walk in the forest was so pleasant!

 

 

All that makes sense, but here's the really stupid part: I opted for the one trail I haven't done yet. The one that goes straight up the mountain to the back of us. I thought it was only about a mile and a half each way, but in fact it's a never ending path and more importantly, it's quite the incline. I wasn't even wearing my hiking shoes! No hiking stick either. Just me and my camera and my purse. All the way up.

(I think I recognizes these low bushes from my childhood days in the Polish countryside. One solo blueberry remains. Will I eat it? Of course I will.)

I should have stopped climbing, once I learned that this was no small piece of cake, but you know how it is -- just a little more, just a little more...

An hour and fifteen minutes later I finally acknowledged that this was insane, that the trail just keeps going without an end, or at least not one reachable by a 71 year old woman who has already hiked a dozen miles today and who is longing for a comfy chair or better yet, a comfy bed with a big quilt on top of it.

(looking back and down...)

 

 

So I did an about face and turned back. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The descent for me is always easier, though the rocky path and the poor shoe selection (I wore my Allbirds, which are meant for Paris streets not for Highland trails) threatened to twist my ankles and send me tumbling. Luckily I did neither and by 10 p.m. I was back at the hotel, feeling much relieved that this day ended without some major calamity.

I did learn something about myself: first, that I really am nutty and there's no limit to the craziness of the ideas that will pop into my head, but secondly  -- that I am way stronger than I think I am, my enduring cough notwithstanding. My watch tells me I walked 30 000 mountain steps today. I know many who would beat that by a mile, or indeed many miles, but for me, that felt good. Well, once I drank water and sat down in a comfy chair to rest.

And now it's night, though never totally dark.

What I have loved about both Lundies and the Torridon is the absolute quiet of the room. I'm sensitive to evening noise. Other people's TVs, thumps, squawks and groans aren't my favorite. If hotel reviewers write "thin walls," you can be sure I will look elsewhere for overnights. These two Highland hotels have been absolute gems in that regard. Total silence. Thick walls. Peace prevails. And in the mornings? Only the song of the Song Thrush out my window. But now? Just restful quiet.

with love...