Day 10: Arriving at Fort William! And another pub.

The last day of the hike was also the longest: over 15 miles from Kinlochleven to Fort William, with no other habitation in between to break up the walk. By this time there was no question of my doing even part of the hike with her. But it so happened that the place to pick up the trail was pretty much just across the street from our hotel, and down a few yards. (As I may not have made quite clear in Day 9, the trail coming into town was more or less on the other side of town.)

Because the path was so long, Debbie made a point of leaving early. Well before I was ready to leave the hotel I walked her to the trailhead, gave her a quick kiss for good luck, and watched her set out. This particular part of the trail looked like a comfortable amble through a city park, and I felt sorry that I wasn't going with her. But I also knew that 15 miles would be more than I could handle.

Then I checked out of the hotel, and made my way to the bus stop for Fort William. For quite a while there was nobody else there; then finally one middle-aged woman showed up, and then after a few more minutes a couple of others. I nodded and said a word or two in greeting. As soon as they opened their mouths, it was obvious that the middle-aged woman was another American, and the others were locals. I made polite chit-chat with the American. Then after a few more minutes the bus pulled up. And by 10:00 in the morning we were in Fort William.

Fort William is the endpoint of the West Highland Way, as Milngavie is its beginning. What's more, I learned after arriving that Fort William is a terminus on half a dozen other hiking paths in the area. It advertises itself as "the outdoor capital of the United Kingdom." As a result, the High Street downtown is a pedestrian area lined with tourist shops, pubs, and restaurants. Our guide book to the West Highland Way deplored that the last mile of the walk is so "spoiled" with such "crass commercialization," but I loved it. 

I had five hours before I could even check into our hotel, so I walked up and down the High Street finding things. For several days now, Debbie had wanted to find a post office where she could buy stamps to mail her postcards; I located the post office. Tomorrow, on Day 11, we were going to take the train to Glasgow; I found the train station and then walked around inside to locate the ticket window and the gate to the tracks. I checked the menus posted in the windows of every restaurant I could find, looking for which ones had extensive gluten-free offerings and ranking them roughly in my head based on how they appealed to me. I checked out the bookstore because I love bookstores.

Then, when I had learned everything I expected to learn about the High Street, I followed it up out of the center of town to try to find where it connected with the rest of the Way. I didn't find that, because in fact there are several such connections: the path followed by the West Highland Way into Fort William presents options and is not exactly deterministic. But I did find a lovely park up out of the downtown area, and I settled down there for a couple of hours to enjoy the surroundings and make a few notes about the trip up till now.

Time passed. By 3:00, I was able to check into the hotel, and to retrieve our luggage from the storage where it had been dumped by the transfer company. A couple hours later, right around 5:00, I got a call from Debbie that she was entering Fort William. (She had started out at 8:15 in the morning, so this walk really did take her all day. In general, it seems that when I walked with her I cut her speed in about half, so that tells you what a bad idea it would have been for me to join her on this last lap.) As soon as I got the call, I walked out to meet her, and we took selfies next to the iconic statue "Sore Feet" which marks the official end of the West Highland Way.

Once at the hotel, Debbie took a shower. Then we went out to dinner at one of the restaurants that I best liked the look of. When we first arrived there were no tables available; so we left our name and went to sit in the bar. Debbie got a pint of gluten-free cider; I got a pint of beer. As we sat in the bar waiting, we struck up a conversation with a Dutch couple who told us about all the traveling they do, and who showed us pictures of their grandchildren. After a while, a table came open. When the waitress came to take our order, she also asked if we wanted refills on our drinks. Right away Debbie said, "A half pint of the same for me, and a full pint of the same for him." Then she said to me, "My cider is only 4.5% alcohol. What is your beer … maybe three times that?" 

I laughed. "No Debbie, no beer in the world is that strong. Three times your 4.5% is more like the strength of a wine, and even many wines are weaker than that. No, from what they listed on the menu when I ordered, my beer is 4.27%."

Then Debbie laughed. "So your beer is weaker than my cider? Wow. I guess I don't know much about beers, do I?"

No sweetheart, you don't. It's kind of charming. I didn't say that out loud.

We finished dinner, walked back to our hotel, and went to bed.