I guess it was 1020 before we got going, but not before a young family of red deer showed up to take their breakfast out of Shiona's hand. A band of noisy Scandinavians ruined the moment, and we set off, fortunately in the opposite direction to the Swedes. The early half mile of the walk was along the old road towards Glencoe, now superseded by the A82. A surreal five minutes was provided by the appearance of a whole coachload of German tourists, immaculately dressed in their best street clothes, walking towards us down this uneven track. They had been dropped off at the main road and were walking to Kingshouse to be picked up again. The most incongruous sight of the day.
After following the A82, uncomfortably close at times, for another half mile or so, the WHW then swung away at a right angle towards The Devil's Staircase, twisting its way sinuously to the top of the ridge. Strenuous, and quite warm, work, but the reward was tremendous. As was the utterly empty and beautiful world to be found over the top. For the best part of two hours, there was not a building or even a fence to be seen. If I live to be 99, I shall never picnic in a more remote and beautiful spot.
The final part of the descent into Kinlochleven was, in truth, fairly tiresome. The WHW shared its route with a rock-strewn track, gouged out by rainwater, designed for Land Rovers to be able to get to the HEP plant high up on the mountainside. It probably took the best part of two frustrating hours to get to Kinlochleven, which we had first spotted from right on the top. Arriving in the main drag, again we bumped into couples and family groups which we have been accidentally shadowing for the last seven days. And it will happen again tomorrow, I guess.
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