Departure in the morning

 

This morning, too, the biorhythm could be relied on. Punctually at 5 a.m. I set out to swing the shovel. Then I lay on my ear again for an hour or two. When the camp was dismantled and everything was stowed away waterproof in the backpack, things could go on. The weather today didn't look as promising as yesterday. In addition, this stage was also shown in the travel guide as not particularly easy in bad weather. No matter. Nevertheless, we started the new day in good spirits. After all, the haze could disappear at any time and the sun could look through the clouds again. At the Victoria Bridge (a little further from our place, about 500 meters) we noticed that there were other wild campers who had all chosen a place near the bridge. Nice too, but the solitude up in the woods had clear advantages. On the bridge itself, we were presented with a thoroughly idyllic sight: on the banks of the wild river, three deer grazed in front of a breathtaking mountain panorama. And here we met a couple of old friends: Mr. Sandaletti (the one who slipped to Crianlarich in sandals) and the flower rucksacks. Mr. Sandaletti was once again noticed with illogical behavior. Today, exceptionally equipped with sneakers, he met us on the way and carried a bag in his hand, only to overtake us later. Without a bag. By the time he was at the end of the WHW, he must have run twice the distance and boasted 310 km in his bones. But he had probably just brought his luggage for transport. We'll never find out.

 

Cloudy weather

 

We quickly discarded the thoughts of Mr. Sandaletti and devoted all our energies to the path. It was cloudy, it was constantly drizzling and no tree protected us from the steadily roaring wind. Just like the travel guide predicted. Exceptionally. But if the weather were the same as on our Crianlarich stage, it would be even more difficult. So it could be worse. Actually, the way was really not difficult, but because of the cold we didn't have any real opportunity to sit down and take a longer break. The ground was soaked everywhere and it was constantly drizzling. Therefore we pulled the stage through Rannoch Moor almost without a break to the Glencoe Mountain Resort. Once there, we dragged the last few meters to the café and indulged ourselves there for lunch, because our stomachs were empty again. We briefly considered whether we should take the lift to the top of the mountain later. But 12 pounds and the high probability of seeing nothing but clouds above put us off. So we stayed in the warm room and then rented the campsite. At least we were able to take a hot shower tonight. As always, the tent was set up quickly and then we placed our backpacks in the drying room and sat back in the warm café, equipped with slippers (at least me), charging cables and leggings, where we ended the evening with french fries for dinner. Down in the meadow by the tent, the midges romped about and again we were happy about the head nets .

 

Cozy end

 

The showers were super dirty and cost £ 1 for 5 minutes. Quite a usury for having to shower with brown water and it didn't even drain properly, so that the whole bathroom was flooded and we had to stand up to our knees in the pubic hair of strangers. IT was questionable whether we were dirtier after showering or before showering. Anne hit the nail on the head by stating, "If I don't get athlete's foot now, I'll never get one." She was right. I will probably adopt this saying in my repertoire with wisdom. After showering, we retired to our tent. It was incredibly cold and we put a warming blanket (like those in first aid kits) underneath in order to be doubly protected from the wet and cold. At some point the cold sucked us to sleep and I hoped to wake up the next morning and not end up miserably as a block of ice in this muddy hole.