Day 22: Loch Ness

Start: Inver Collie campsite (Loch Ness)

End: Drumnadrochit

Distance: 17 miles

I had a restful night at the campsite and slept all the way through, making up for the previous night. As I organised my gear, midges swarmed around me which I frantically but ineffectively tried to swat away. When telling people my plans to hike in the Highlands in August, the predominant response was a sharp intake of breath, followed by a negative comment about midges. This was my first encounter with them on this whole route and really was only a minor irritation that can be mitigated with repellent and the use of a head net to avoid bites. They like dawn and dusk mostly, they can't keep up with you when walking and any sun or wind deters them too. As I began walking the sun burnt through the clouds to reveal patches of blue sky and Loch Ness glistened in the morning light.

As I reached the small settlement of Invermoriston, I took time to admire Invermoriston Falls which were stunning. I ate some snacks on a bench as I watched and listened to the power of the water, cutting through the rocks. From here the route climbed steeply out of the village, where a sign presented me with two options, "Low route" or "High route". Given the good weather conditions and the promising forecast I took the high route, which ascended steeply through woodland, high above Loch Ness.

The views of the surrounding mountains and the Loch were stunning. The pine woodland lining the trail was thick and dense, barely allowing sunlight to pass through. I thought about the animals thriving in there; the red squirrels, pine martins and deer. Up ahead a small deer emerged from the trees and stared at me before darting into the safety of the forest.

The miles today were remote and I hardly saw anyone, other than a couple of men on mountain bikes. As I arrived at camp, I pitched my tent and lay on my sleeping mat on the grass to rest my feet. A man from Germany asked if he could pitch near me and we laughed as not only did he have the same tent brand and design as me, we also had the same guide book. We followed the same routine: pitching the inner of the tent while spreading the outer layer out in the sun to dry, organising sleeping mats and bags before reviewing the progress on the map accompanied by snacks.

I am ahead of schedule with this route, with 19 miles between here and Inverness. I have a room booked in Inverness on Tuesday so I plan to complete the bulk of the miles tomorrow, camp just shy of town and then have a short day to finish on Tuesday. When adventures draw to a conclusion, it always prompts a mix of emotions that is difficult to describe. Once the dream has been attained, there is an overwhelming flash of joy that temporarily overrides the physical exhaustion. Depending on the nature of the adventure, this feeling could last days or weeks, however it will inevitability fade. Once you return home and normality resumes, you slowly descend into the hungry abyss of fulfilled purpose. You’ll recall this if you’ve ever worked tirelessly for something, been single minded or pre-occupied for a significant period of time. That moment when you find yourself alone with your memories, on the other side of it all, asking yourself, “Now what?” I guess the feeling is not merely restricted to the completion of adventures or expeditions, but resonates with anyone that has experienced something significant or important in your life coming to a conclusion. I have experienced this feeling on many levels over the last 10 years of pursuing adventures, but last year following the completion of some weighty, long-term goals in quick succession - this feeling intensified. I think this feeling is inevitable and I’d be in denial to think I could avoid the ‘post adventure blues’. The lifestyle you adopt out here become the norm. The campsites, the sore feet, the endless miles, the constant scenery, progression, accomplishment, daily rewards. You relive your adventure through story telling when you return, but ultimately you and only you will ever know what the journey meant. The irony is that even when you share your tales, you are still alone in that world of remembering. Following last year, I have learnt to not simply plan for the adventure itself, but the return too. How to transition back into a normal existence, being acutely aware that this may be a greater challenge than the adventure itself. With the right management, this feeling will pass and ultimately, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it. It’s not physically sustainable to live like this permanently and the normality of everyday life is necessary to appreciate the stark contrast between the comforts of home and the nomadic lifestyle adopted during an adventure. I'm looking forward to the final miles and couldn't have asked more from Scotland so far.