Day nine. I didn’t care. I was a broken man. The West Highland Way had broken me. Actually, to be fair (cousin Stu), it was my boots that broke me. But somehow, cousin Stu convinced me we could do the last fifteen miles or so (can’t remember – just look at me) in one stretch. He was, as you can see, feeling quite chipper.
Consider yourselves lucky, I was all zipped up!
Didn’t last long, though, as we had to keep going.
It’s also possible we paid a tonne of money to spend the previous night in a hobbit house. Honestly, I can’t remember. It’s all a blur. But there was just this last stretch. And it was all down. Lowercase. Awful.
Good views though, if you like that sort of thing.
I mean, that was supposed to be the point, and if I hadn’t been broken I might have enjoyed it more.
Okay, full confession, I enjoyed a lot, and I’m really milking the whole “broken” and down (lowercase, no ‘D’) part of the hike. But as we got close to the foot of Ben Nevis, I was pleased we scrapped the whole idea of climbing it, somewhere along Loch Lomond – day 2.
As for what you, dear reader, have gotten out of this, if you’re still with me, you might be wondering about… well… everything. But there’s a reason I write fiction. I’m not a non-fiction guy. I mean, I like reading it, but all those details… It’s much more fun to make things up. 😉
But let’s wrap this up, shall we? We’re almost there!