Good morning...

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To my own surprise, I wasn't woken up by the peaceful bleating of the sheep - which was less annoying and more idyllic - but by the light pattering of the rain. Anne and I lounged around in the tent for half an eternity. We really weren't in a hurry on our last stage, which was due today. I would have preferred to just stay on, the images from yesterday evening still flashed in my mind's eye.

 

Nothing helps...

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That's exactly what I thought in the end. When it briefly stopped raining, we took down the tent and set off. I was suddenly overcome by an incredibly melancholy and wistful feeling. It almost brought tears to my eyes, because at the end of the day yesterday, I suddenly realized that this trip was also slowly coming to an end. What's more, the wonderful landscape was changing and we were soon accompanied by the noise of forestry for a few kilometers. We were abruptly pulled back into the present and civilization, out of the idyll of yesterday and the peace and quiet that came with it. 

Unfortunately, agriculture here was mainly concerned with destroying any forest... a not exactly pretty sight of diggers, stumps and dead trees lay before our eyes. All in all, we took a VERY leisurely approach to the last stage. 

 

"Sonnja" is missing...

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To our delight, at least it wasn't raining, although "Sonnja" (the sun) would probably not have minded a long visit either. The terrain became more "civilized" again, we passed gates, saw small houses in the distance and met the first hikers again. Admittedly, my toes were aching and the path was quite long. From time to time it rained, as if the Highlands would only spit us back into civilization and the daily grind with great agony. At the latest when we came across paths that were almost overgrown with bracken, we realized that we were heading back towards populated areas and leaving the rough ground of the Highlands behind us.

 

The thing with the Highland cattles

On the way back, we realized once again that we had seen everything we had dreamed of - even more - and that everything had worked really well. The trip was really great. Just one thing. One thing was still missing. (Quote from Anne:) "I want to see some fucking Highland cattle!" Up to that point, they had given us the gift of not being there, even though you can see cattle standing around in EVERY picture of the Scottish landscape. It couldn't be that we hadn't seen a single one. We were really looking forward to seeing these gentle cuddly monsters. On the descent to Fort William - which was quite a drag on a wide, rather boring path - I mused about this, or about the pain in my toes, which put me in a state somewhere between fainting and raving madness. When we finally found the turn-off to the campsite, the yawning emptiness of my stomach added to this state of feeling and turned the dial a little more towards raving madness. And then. Suddenly. There they were. 

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THREE Highland cattle.

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In a meadow. In the middle of the houses. I could hardly believe it. The joy made me calm down a bit more. I also took my "legendary" photo here, which adorns my website. It looks as if I took it somewhere deep in the Highlands, but no :) Just in the middle of Fort Williams. 

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Arrived at the campsite

"My peace is gone", I thought when we arrived at the campsite. The stupid reception desk at the oversized campsite was simply impossible to find. Our feet were hurting so much! But after 20 minutes of asking around the site, we got it and were charged a lovely £20 for the night. But the pitch itself was fine, the showers were free and the water was pleasantly warm. After our long overdue shower (the last one had been in the evening at Glencoe Mountain Resort), we went to the neighboring pub, where we ordered a local beer and some delicious food. Anne had curry and I had a strange face, which looked like goulash with bread cake on top. It came with chips and peas.

In any case, it tasted really good. We stayed here for quite a while, chatted and let the evening come to a nice end.