Ireland/UK Day 16

July 6, 2023 

16 miles hiked

It’s the last day of the trail, and I’m not ready for it to be. I think that’s why it takes me so long to get ready this morning, or perhaps that’s just because of how I am as a person. In any case, I enjoy a few coffees, a yogurt, and a sausage roll down in the kitchen, read for a bit, and then finally pack up in a mad dash, get a passport stamp, and meet up with Mash out in front of the hostel. 

We walk through the town and up onto the trail as it enters the woods. Mom walks with us up to that point and takes the usual photo and video as we begin our last day of this particular journey. 

There’s a not insignificant climb at the beginning, but Mash hardly seems to notice it, as he is calm and conversational all the way up. I’m gasping a bit, meanwhile, and quickly need to pull over to take off my rain jacket. This constant weather change is one thing I won’t miss about Scotland! But the climb isn’t really that bad, all things considered, and it is green and lovely, then it leaves the trees, and then we’re in that vast treeless Highlands landscape again, and I can breathe. 

It’s almost entirely gravel road walking today, interspersed with a bit of trail and some rock-hopping across shallow creeks. We’re walking along pleasantly, side by side, when Mash asks me to get something out of the back of his pack. “Oh, there’s something else you’ll like in there if you want to get it out.” It’s a bag of Revels! One of those “share size” ones. Lol, joke’s on them, left to my own devices I’d share it with myself. For the next few minutes we add happily munching away on the mystery chocolate treats to our happy little road walk.

It does rain a bit, but not for long, and not very hard. There’s some forest, and some sort of ferny fields, but it’s largely exposed, chill road walking. There are no towns or stops at all today, so when we’ve hit about halfway and see a little informational kiosk sheltered underneath a small roof, we decide to call it lunch time. Mash spreads out his tyvek and we cram under the little overhang in case it decides to start raining again. I go off to pee, and when I come back, Mash tells me what happened while I was gone. A kid hiking with his parents had seen Mash behind the sign, bright yellow Stellar’s jay shirt, painted nails, with all his trail food spread out like a buffet, and had asked, “Mummy, what’s that man doing there?” I crack up. Every once in a while we’re reminded of what we must look like to normal hikers.

The second half of the day is partially the same kinds of roads and partially a walk along sidewalks into Fort William. At one point, we round a corner and see Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK, just visible behind a thin veil of clouds. There’s a tent set up to our left. “Ah, look,” Mash says, “another hiker who decided they weren’t ready to be finished yet.” 

We continue as the road gets rockier and steeper, down, down, towards town and the end of the journey. Mash regales me with another feral End to End story of how he’d had an enormous lunch at McDonald’s, paired with a Bucky’s, which is a caffeinated red wine kind of drink, and ended up in acute, catastrophic, and very messy digestive distress on the side of a canal. You know what they say. “You’re not a real thru hiker until you’ve shit yourself.” I’m on the verge of crying-laughing again when we enter some very pretty woods, moss on the ground, pines everywhere, and then turn left on the road that takes us into Fort William.

There’s a really similar energy here to walking into Santiago de Compostela at the end of the Camino. There are hikers everywhere, excited, proud, at varying levels of ready to be done and ready for a beer. We take a photo at the sign marking the original end of the West Highland way, and then continue onto the main pedestrian street in Fort William, passing shops, restaurants, and so many other hikers. And then we’re at the end.

It’s a little underwhelming, but then isn’t the end of every hike? Except the Appalachian Trail, maybe; Katahdin is a very dramatic ending. But think about the others: a monument in the woods. A plaque. A church. A town square. No ending will ever feel whelming enough, because you never want it to end. I do like the statue here, though: a “bench with a bloke,” as Mash puts it, and the bloke has one of his feet up and is rubbing it, as if exhausted and happy about it at the end of a long walk. There’s also a sign that reads, simply, “End of the West Highland Way.” Mom comes down and takes our photo. We did the thing! It’s done.

Mash and I make plans to meet up later, and we go to our respective Airbnbs. Mom’s and mine is incredible. It’s right on Loch Linhe, it has a super comfy couch and bed, and the kitchen has everything you could want. Also, the shower is maybe the best I’ve had this whole time. I feel like I’m going to become one with it as I wash off the trail. There’s also a washer AND dryer, like, separate entities this time. Mash comes over and we throw a load of wash in, then we go out for dinner and drinks. 

Black Isle, the pizza place-slash-brewery we were trying to go to, is full, so we wind up at a place called, simply, the Tavern. I demolish a plate of mac and cheese and Mash orders fajitas that come on a majestic three-tiered tray. We get one more drink at the brewery, now nearly empty, and I get my last WHW passport stamp there. Done. Did it. Fort William, right at the top.

We walk back to my Airbnb and say goodbye there. It’s pouring, and it’s weirdly sad, but here we are. Mash is heading to Oban tomorrow, where he’ll resupply for the Hebridean Way, meet up with Snake Charmer (from the PCT) and Paul, another End to End friend, and take a ferry across to the Hebrides to start his next little adventure. I tell him to say hi to Snake Charmer, and then say that he should hit me up if he ever wants a hiking partner on either side of the Atlantic. I think I’ve convinced him about the AT, and I think he’s at least partially convinced me about the End to End. We hug, and then he’s gone into the rainy night. Hello, goodbye. 

I feel weird. I want more trail. More time. 

I make myself a cup of tea and read for a while, until I can’t, and have to go to bed. This apartment is so comfortable. I’m sad about the hike being over, but I’m happy to be here. What’s next?