...between Guadalquivir and old Seville

18/09/2015
Glenfinnan to Inverie

If you recall the story I spent the night having nightmares in which I lost my wife and my job.  Then i woke up and found out it was true.  And my knee hurt.
I was getting good at strapping it up, so did so swiftly then went to talk to John at the station.  He said could get me on the outward steam train to Mallaig.  He was as good as his word and I got a seat with a charming family from Caste Cary. Lovely people, lovely kid.  The countryside on that journey is fabulous.  You have to try it.
The only flaw for me was that the carriages they were using in the museum were ones I remember riding in as a child in the BR Western Region.  That made me feel old.

Mallaig station

Mallaig, at the far end, was a lovely fishing and ferry port.  Full of tourists but it would be hypocritical to complain.  I got some fish and chips then took the ferry to Inverie.

The packet to Inverie

The approach to Inverie goes past a lovely set of pink gypsum rocks fronted by a statue known to the locals as Plastic Mary.

Inverie in the distance

Plastic Mary on her rock

The sea loch you head into is wonderful, sheltered glassy waters and hills around.  The whitewashed cottages of Inverie in the distance.  The local Co-Op where I had stocked up in Mallaig had sent bag after bag of goods, and the women of Inverie were there on the dock to meet it and collect the shopping.  It felt like something from the 19th century.  the main street with its pub, cafe and shop is like something from the 18th century.  It is classic Celtic Fringe fishing village.

I was aiming to stay at the bunkhouse run by the Knoydart Foundation.  This was set up to buy up the peninsula so that the locals could run it for themselves.  Booking in is possible in advance but you can just turn up and fill a space.  There are 4 bunkrooms.  A folder by the main door has the days in it, you write your name down in a slot in a room and its yours.  I arrived at the same time as a geologist called Annie and we both signed in to Room 2.  I plumped for the only single, Annie a lower bunk.  The kitchen was extensive and well equipped, the dining room was a bit cold and uninviting.  There was a big lounge with a woodburner in it that was quite lovely.  Also showers.
Another 3 girls arrived and signed in, meaning I was sharing a room with 3 ladies.  How would they contain themselves?  The smallest room was taken up by a boisterous family whose patriarch, Gordon hailed from Leeds but had been Scottenated to Edinburgh.
Having dumped my stuff, which took the weight off my knee, I went up to the Cafe.  This, with the pub, was the only eaterie available.  The pub was booked out so I went into the Cafe and had the fish Lasagne which was remarkably good.  The ladies there were laughing and joking about which flowers to have in a bridal bouquet.  One suggested thistles and nettles.  I said Sea Buckthorn because its spiky and it stinks, which summed up my marital stuation.  I folded a few flowers for them from my stock of paper, which they really liked.  One of them was single apparently...
Anyway the day ended round a log fire in the lounge drinking whiskey with Gordon.  And so to bed.

Anyway, I can't believe you want to turn the page.

This is the first section of my holiday journal from the recent, slightly abortive, trek.  Whenever I go walking I keep a diary.  Here I am trying to match it up with the pictures.
13/09/15
Ipswich-Fort William

I always find it tricky packing.  I have a tendency to overpack.  I also had very little time without people present.  I cannot concentrate on anything is someone talks to me and that was all MrsInky and Foal wanted to do.  So the planning I needed to put into it was not there.
I used the guidelines in the Cicerone guide to pack equipment.  Tent, sleeping bag, self inflating mat, clothes, waterproofs, gaiters, gloves, bothy shoes, stove, mug, cutlery, multitool, emergency kit, first aid kit, poo trowel, head torch.  All with as many dry sacks as I could find.
Of course I also had to pack food.  I had a mix of dry ingredients, peperami, spices etc.  Also several of the Mountain House dehydrated meals.  The problem is that on this trail you have to carry food because there is not much en route.  4 days at any 1 time.
My rucksack, though large, had to have lots strapped on the outside.  It is very very heavy.  I know this is a mistake but can do nothing at this stage.
I have a small bottle of whiskey along, and this journal and my kindle and origami paper.  Thats my entertainment.
I got a taxi at 13.30 with a rather strange driver.  He was a Kurdish immigrant who used to ive in the mountains.  he was a concert pianist, violinist and violator (or whatever a viola player is called).  Very friendly guy.
I caught the 14.47 down and then round the tube to Euston.  This meant a long wait for the sleeper but I would rather be early than late.  And anyway I can be alone and peaceful there.  Of course Euston had decided to close its internal  eateries so I was sitting outside and frankly the air temperature was not warm.
I am trying to master an origami unicorn but it is very very hard.  I am smoking too much e-cig.  This is mainly stress related.  I am very very very stressed out.
I ate a chilli in Ed's American Diner which was pretty reasonable.
I boarded the sleeper about 19.30, to find my bunkmate, Pete, already in.  I only just got my rucksack in the space, then went down to the cafe.  I had forgotten how small the standard bunks are.
Down at the cafe Pete and his friend Meg were sat down and i joined them as it was the only free seat.  I didnt need more food but had a Bowmore which was rather nice.  We chatted, and then by chance Meg's bunk mate failed to turn up so Pete was moved into her cab, leaving me alone in the space.  While they were arranging this I rang Foal at 9pm to say good luck- she was off on adventure camp the next week, with rucksack etc.
We talked a while in the cafe and I showed them a few origami standards, then I went to bed.
I am very conflicted about MrsInky.  She cried when we said goodbye and said how much she would miss me.  But if that is the case why is she leaving?  At times people drive me insane. Why not just say what you mean?
The motion of the sleeper is not wonderful for my joints, so my sleep is rather disturbed.