At the end of Loch Lomond, and my feet are hurting, hurting hard. I have a strong desire to throw my entire backpack into the Loch, and run free like a crazy woman along the forest path, slapping at midges and wearing only one change of clothes until they have holes. (The latter part not far from the truth).
Yesterday I picked my way over the roots and rocks and boulders of Inversnaid Nature Preserve, through an on and off drizzle and clouds of midges that swarmed every exposed piece of skin if I stood still for five seconds.
It was one of those days where I wouldn’t have chosen to hike, if I had a choice and a warm bed. I suppose I do have a choice, but I also have a schedule. A challenge is a challenge for a reason, I guess, and dealing with pain and discomfort sometimes lead to more fullfillment in the end.
But it was one of those days. And around 11:30 I realized I had only walked 3 miles, and that was so ridiculous that I actually laughed out loud. The walk was up and down through forest, up steep hills, and convulted around roads and railway stations. I’d seen prettier places. It wasn’t bad, but didn’t compare to the mountains I was coming from, especially now as the clouds were hanging low overhead. Maybe that’s why most people should go south to north, because after the northern section everything else comes off a bit lackluster.
So I was walking along in a mood matching the weather, but when I got to Loch Lomond two things happened: first, my pace slowed way down, because suddenly I was picking my way over slippery, knotted, mossy, rocky trail. Second, the trail became much, much more interesting. My feet still hurt, but I was entranced enough to continue walking.
While the scenery in the north is big and full of views, the forest became a micro-bounty of wonderful things. Blue and white flowers spread across the forest floor. Ferns uncurled themselves towards the misty sky. Waterfalls and streams spurt from every rock wall. If fairies existed, they would live here.
This unexpected beauty gave me a little more energy, enough to find a good camping spot, set up my tent in the worsening drizzle, and say goodnight at 9:00.
Marisa Walks Across 