And now, what you’ve all been waiting for: some stats
One more day, one more mountain, and then I could finally rest.
The recovery was now just something that was happening passively in the background while I lived my life
I trudged into the night. The rain got harder and the darkness pressed in. I could no longer tell how far along on the path I was
Look how far I had come.
The choice lay before me: heaven or the underworld?
The path along the lochside was easy, pleasant, and scenic. It did occasionally see fit to climb over a low hill, but I couldn’t begrudge it this flightiness.
The West Highland Way – even the very name must resonate with all hikers and lovers of the outdoors across the United Kingdom and beyond. It conjures up images of lochs and rivers and misty glens, moors and mountains, high roads, low roads, and blooming heather.
When, on one day, a group came back chuckling that one of them had almost died when he slipped, but another had grabbed him by the backpack, my heart turned over.
The last few kilometres were a haze of pain, weariness, wariness, pinpricks of drizzle under orange street lights, and bright advertisements on bus shelters. At long last, I arrived at the hostel.