Backroads Day 2 – In Which We Hike Into Storm Ali

Day Two dawned cloudy, windy and rainy. Today’s hike had three options, and one of them was nixed by our fearless leaders as being too dangerous because of the weather. It included some ledge hiking and the winds were too strong. Disappointed, but also, woah.

The trail winds through a long valley (or glen if we are being Scottish) between Beinn Eighe and Liathach. We were told there was a spot about 2.5 miles in from which you could turn around and call it a day, or you could do a through hike. Through hikes are the best, especially when someone else is coordinating the transportation, so I was inclined in that direction.

The route description said, “you may encounter a bit of mud or wet patches as you meander down through the glens.” There was also a mention of stopping for lunch. Jenny and Eileen told us that there would be an exciting opportunity to ford a river with some potentially high water due to all the recent rains. An interesting end to the Backroads Scotland season, as the U.K. summer had been marked by a heatwave and dry weather so unusual that it made the news in the states. Guests on those trips complained that it didn’t “seem like Scotland.”

On the short drive to the trailhead we mulled over the two options and searched the sky for any sign of a break. At least the mist wasn’t obscuring the hills – we might get wet, but there would be views. As we pulled into the parking lot, Keith ho-ho’d, saying in his jolly tone, “I’ve never seen this parking lot so empty before! Awesome!” As we were cinching up our rain gear in the deserted parking lot, Jenny and Eileen opened a big bag of hiking sticks. Some eyebrows were raised and doubt was expressed about whether we really needed them, being the badasses that we were. Our leaders regarded us patiently and gently recommended the sticks, mentioning again the fording of the high waters and the muddy slipperiness of the hike. We each took one.

The trail started off uphill in the pouring rain. And was gorgeous. And empty. Spirits were high.

We soldiered upward, finally arriving at the river. The stepping stones were exposed and not under water, which was by no means a sure thing. Suddenly, everyone got the whole stick thing. Apparently, Jenny and Eileen know what they are talking about.

We hiked a little further, reaching the 2.5 mile mark at a stone cairn, which was the moment of no return. Jenny, Eileen and Keith convened a trail meeting over some wee drams of whisky. It’s hard to understate how miserable the weather was. There was a definitely a heightened sense of camaraderie, souls bound together by adversity, etcetera. Here’s the deal though. Had anyone turned around they would have been faced with piercing, stinging sidewise rain and face-buffing gale force winds. It’s one thing having that at your back. It’s quite another having it in your face. Onward seemed the much saner option, and, hey, it was only 5 more miles. Keith, who would have accompanied any who wished to bail had to make the journey back to the vans alone. Next time we saw him he looked 20 years younger from his Scottish facial.

Here we are agreeing to go forward, sealing our resolve with a team cheer.

The rest of the hike was by turns raining, not raining, cloudy, misty, sun breaks, windy, not windy. All the weathers. And when I say windy, I mean we needed to stop and brace. I was up front following Jenny, and at one point I looked up and she was six feet off the trail. The wind had blown her toward a steep gully but thanks to her ninja reflexes, she was able to jump sideways onto a bank. She had a big grin on her face.

We hiked along in a spread-out train, with people speeding up and hiking with one another and then slowing down to take a picture and walking alone for a while. I took lots of photos, actually, testing the water-resistance of my iPhone. I managed to get one extra amazing one during a moment when the sun broke through and illuminated a ridge. The weather changed very quickly, so by the time you took your pole strap off your hand, took off your glove, dropped it in a puddle, picked it up again and stuck it in your teeth, unzipped the pocket of your rain pants, took out your phone, turned it on, allowed it to scan your face and open, things would have likely changed completely. There was a lot of fate involved.

One of my favorite moments was listening to Irwin and Bob talk about Star Trek, and by that I mean the original series. I started to participate but then realized that these guys could name episodes and quote a lot of dialogue. Bowing to the masters, I listened appreciatively to their pro-level geekiness until the trail spread us apart again.

Throughout most of the hike, even in those conditions, I either had a smile on my face or was smiling internally to avoid a weather-related dental procedure. I never felt whiny or scared or worried or that it sucked. You simply could not believe that you were outside in this weather at all, much less the middle of nowhere, and the whole concept was fabulous. And with every step you marveled at the wild, remote Highlands beauty. It was exhilarating and emotional and hilarious. Even though there was no “stopping for lunch.” We came across only two other walkers on the entire hike, one of whom had one leg. I mean. It’s really hard to complain.

Thinking about it now, I wondered if I should have been having some deep thoughts about the meaning of life as I traversed the glen in the storm with my stick. Actually, my mind was completely blank. It wasn’t churning over anything, or narrating my experience. I was just walking. Taking it all in. Being in the moment, as they say. It was marvelous and quiet and wild. I felt happy and at peace.

Finally, as we hiked down toward the vans, along a river, a waterfall and surrounded by reddish-brown ferns, the sun came out for real. As we had spread out quit a bit over the hours of walking, Jenny and Keith took me and Bob (those Canadians are not only super nice, but also highly intrepid) back to the hotel for tea and a hot shower.

Back in my room, I managed to get enough internet to briefly check the news. As it turns out, the storm we had just hiked 8 miles through had been given a name by the British government, which meant that it was “deemed to have a substantial impact” on the UK. Storm Ali packed a punch. Winds of 100 mph had been clocked somewhere in the Highlands. Train service had been halted completely from both Edinburgh and Glasgow. Roads were closed due to downed trees. Edinburgh Castle was closed. Ferry service was disrupted. 70,000 people were without power.

And twelve of us were out hiking in the Highlands. And I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.