Before we get to the walking, I need to tell you about Tom.
Before we get to the walking, I need to tell you about Tom.
Andy and I were waiting in the hotel lounge for dinner last night, doing what two men do after a long day of walking, sitting quietly and pretending we weren't completely done, when Tom started up a conversation. Tom is 74, a former Army Engineer, has worked in India and all over the world, has a teacher wife who presumably keeps everything organised, and had just returned from his weekly walking exercises looking considerably fresher than two men twenty-odd years his junior who'd been at it for five days straight.
He was allowed one pint before being collected. He was excellent company. He had the easy confidence of someone who has genuinely seen the world and isn't particularly desperate to tell you about all of it, which is the best kind.T
Tom, if you ever read this: you were the highlight of the evening. Don't tell Andy I said that.
The meal was, once again, romantic. Andy and I, candlelight, good food, the easy conversation of two people who've been walking together long enough that silence is comfortable and words, when they come, mean something. I'm starting to think he kinda likes me. We got packed, bandaged, and breakfasted, that's now a morning routine in that exact order, and headed out along the south side of Loch Tay. This was always going to be a long day. Ten to eleven hours of walking focuses the mind on the hourly breaks in a way that shorter days don't, and we were more diligent about them than we'd been before. Sit down, eat something, let the legs remember what not-moving feels like, then go again. It works. We're learning.
Somewhere along Loch Tay, after considerable deliberation and several rejected options, Andy got his trail name. Mockingbird.
https://youtube.com/shorts/TDtTUf0b45E?si=x95RIL5z82i4lb5R
I'll let the video speak for itself, the name will make complete sense, so for now: Mockingbird and Gonzo, walking the south shore of Loch Tay, making good time, looking competent.
We looked competent. This feels important to record. Nobody expects a coffee trailer in the middle of nowhere. That's what makes finding one so disproportionately wonderful. Tay Lawyers Coffee appeared like a mirage, except real, and serving sandwiches, crisps, and what I can only describe as genuinely excellent caramel shortbread.
Whoever decided to park a coffee trailer on the banks of Loch Tay and sell caramel shortbread to passing walkers: you are doing important work and you have my full respect.
We also passed the Ardeonaig Hotel, which looked like the kind of place you'd stay if you were doing this trip with someone who likes you more than Andy does. Very nice. Noted for future reference.
Hitting Ardtalnaig we turned south through Gleann a' Chilleine, which is a beautiful glen and deserves more than one sentence, but the day was long and I'm writing this in a tent and Andy has informed me I get cranky without sleep, which is both true and none of his business.
We reached our intended end point and, in the way that's become something of a habit, decided to go further. Cutting down tomorrow's distance. Earn tomorrow's tired legs in advance. And we found it, the perfect campsite. An old croft, quaint stone walls still standing, a beautiful little grove of trees, a carpet of short grass so neat it looked intentional. The kind of place you find on a long walk and immediately start describing to people who weren't there. It was on the other side of the River Almond.
We tried. We genuinely tried. The river had a different view of the situation. No matter. One more kilometre down the track, the second greatest camping spot. It has trees. It has grass. It has the remains of what I can only describe as minimal poop, which after several nights of wild camping I'm choosing to count as a genuine endorsement. We're in our tents. Andy says I need my beauty sleep.
He's not wrong. Goodnight.