As we were staying a second night in Kinlochleven, we were able to walk without bags today, which was a real bonus. Our taxi driver delivered us back to Kingshouse, and we set off along the Glen Coe valley, with mountains towering above with their peaks in the clouds. Rain was forecast but we were lucky once again. We climbed up on the steep zig zag path known as the ‘Devil’s Staircase’ until we reached the summit: the highest point on the West Highland Way at 548m. From there the sight of mountains ahead of us was amazing, but clouds were too low to identify Ben Nevis. The route across to Kinlochleven was a good road (again General Wade’s road) descending for several miles. We were glad that it was a shorter day, as tomorrow will be a long one.

A Backward Glance

We were in the Glen Coe valley and we had to get out of it somehow. The West Highland Way route chose a very long, steep path peopled with Americans. Americans have evolved into a different species to the rest of us, who they see as quaint remnants of a past that they’re anxious to explore before it’s gone the way of the dinosaurs. I got speaking with an American lady, who couldn’t believe that we’d passed several people on our walk even older than us, granted most already buried in church yards, but it would be rude not to include them, right? She gave me a long detailed account of her dog’s injuries sustained along the West Highland Way, including complicated shoulder damage caused by impact on the stony ground, together with sore front paws it’s now developed. I looked up the hill at the big black imported creature that looked more like a grizzly bear running up and down the rocky path ahead of her husband who was now chatting to Carol. “Look’s like we’re exchanging walking partners”, I said. “Oh, my husband’s got back problems and he’s crippled his feet. We’re using luggage transfer now, you’ve got to listen to your body on walks like this.” I hastily made my way up to get back my more agreeable walking partner. When we eventually got to the top of The Devil’s Staircase, the American lady’s husband realised this was a lifetime achievement and insisted on taking a photo of us together, so we could mark the occasion. From the very top of the West Highland Way route, we made our way down into a misty world of ancient stillness captured in an ocean of time. It was a Scot named James Hutton who about 250 years ago pushed aside the Biblical age of Earth from 6027 years (on my birthday 4004 BC to be exact) to billions of years, based on studies he made of rocks, and measurements of their composition and decomposition rates. The door to deep time had been opened and the walk among mountain clocks today took my imagination through it.