Many years ago I used to go to school. More specifically, at the age of 11, I went to Brookvale High School. It’s funny because in those days we used to call it year one, or being a first year. This was because you’d now arrived at high school and it was your first year. Which makes sense, because you’d do your first, second, and third year at high school. Then you’d go to a college for two years (year four and five) where you’d do your GCSEs. And then, if you wanted, you’d stay and do A-levels, and that was called 6 form (I.e. year 6). It all seemed to fit.

At some point between me leaving school and my kids starting everything had changed. All of a sudden year one was year, well I don’t know what year. Despite having three children going through the school system I could never wrap my head around this change in years. If I ever called in sick for them I never had a clue what year they were in. I only knew old money. I must have looked like I didn’t have a clue what my kids were doing.

I just don’t understand why everything has to change. What was wrong with the old system. And don’t get me on to why they had to change the GCSE grades from letters to numbers.

Anyway, when I was 11 and at Brookvale High School, I used to do PE. Now, this was not a strong subject for me. A combination of thinking I was no good at any sport, and my peers telling me I was no good at any sport, had the logical outcome that I was no good at any sport.

However, I did like my PE teacher, Mr Stein. He was tough but fair, so even though I wasn’t very good, he recognised that I was well behaved and did try, so was always kind to me.

Mr Stein loved rugby. Often (or maybe just once but I’ve exaggerated it in my head), he’d come to school on a Monday morning with a black eye that he’d acquired over the weekend during a game. I think he was playing. His love of the sport meant that many of our lessons were spent on the school fields attempting to learn and play this, in my view overly complicated, game.

I still remember now, when it was freezing outside, Mr Heggs, the other PE teacher, would let his group use the gym equipment (sort of like climbing frames and such like) due to the cold. Not Mr Stein though, he’d assess the conditions as perfect for rugby, and we’d be led out onto the field to learn another element of the game.

There was an exception though. If the mercury dipped below 0, or if the fields were waterlogged, and as Mr Heggs group were headed to the gym equipment, Mr Stein would declare the weather too bad for rugby, and that instead we’d be doing cross country running in the woods next to the school.

Now, I wasn’t very good at running, I got better with age, but I did quite enjoy it. The main thing I remember though, and something Mr Stein taught me, was that it was better to run straight through a big puddle rather than trying to work out a way around it. For a start, it was quicker. But also, he said, that when your foot goes in the puddle, it pushes the water away, and by the time the water comes back, your foot has already moved on.

Now, I’m not sure if the science is exactly right, but there were a lot of big puddles today. Often I could see a sort of diversion track around them but that normally looked just as wet and also muddy. The puddles, despite being full of water, did normally have a solid base. And certainly not messing around trying to go around the puddles seemed quicker. So today, I listened to what Mr Stein told me all those years ago, and ploughed straight through the middle of them. I owe him some thanks I think as I made good progress through the many many puddles today.

Just one small caveat – my feet got very wet today. But I think that would have happened anyway, probably. His advice certainly saved me time. I still don’t understand rugby.

I need a stream

There’s been lots of water on this trip. Obviously there are the lochs. Lots of water in them. I’m thinking about all the waterfalls and streams that are everywhere. There is never a chance of running out of water. I’m often pitched up next to one, and they are very noisy, but I always seem to get a good nights sleep, dare I say, a better nights sleep. I wondered if there might be a way to install one in my bedroom.

I wonder when a stream becomes a waterfall. Because often these streams are quite steep, and I’d be tempted to describe them as a waterfall. Stream doesn’t really do them justice, but waterfall feels like an exaggeration. Whatever it was last night though, a super stream maybe, it helped to give me one of the best nights sleep of my trip.

When I woke at just before 7 I felt really invigorated and really looking forward to packing up and getting moving. It didn’t feel like a chore at all. I was on the move by 7:30 and felt refreshed and ready for the day. I knew snow was forecast, and some low temperatures were on their way, so I was pleased I’d got going so early as I didn’t know how the weather might affect my future progress.

Is history repeating itself

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about what happened last time I tried this walk in November. It was between the end of Loch Lomond and the Bridge of Orchy that it had all started to unravel. And this time, well there were some similarities. For a start, I was on the same section. Second, it was forecast to be very cold. And finally, it was snowing.

I wondered, if it did all go wrong again, as this time I’d walked to the Bridge of Orchy from Fort William, and last time I walked to the Bridge of Orchy from Milngavie, would I be able to add the two walks together and count it as a whole one. The maths certainly worked. Although it didn’t quite seem right to me.

Luckily, this was all academic, because it was different this time. I quickly realised that, even though the weather was similar, the ground conditions were not. Basically, although this time there were a few patches of ice, they were few and far between. Last time whole waterfalls (or super streams) had frozen up. Whole sections of path were ice. This time I could walk normally. Also, even though the snow was starting to settle a little, it was not slippery as it was not covering up patches of ice.

Just the right amount

I got to Tyndrum quite early and quickly made my way to the Green Welly store and picked up all the food I’d need for the remainder of my trip. The cafe was open, but if the prices in the store were anything to go by, I couldn’t afford it. So I loaded up my pack with all the new supplies and headed out of the village.

I was starting to get cold hands now as my gloves had become wet from the snow. They’re meant to be waterproof so I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I figured though, if I just keep walking and get my blood pumping round my body, my hands would warm up.

A few miles out of Tyndrum there is a big climb up onto a tree lined hill. Lots of forestry work is ongoing here so there are open sections and parts covered by trees. This is when the snow really started to fall. I was loving walking through the snow which was building up to be a few inches deep in places. I did worry a little bit that I was being reckless walking in those conditions, but the path was easy to make out, so there was no danger of getting lost. I just had to not fall over.

My time in the snow was soon over though as the path descended to wetter ground near Crainlarich. It was just the right amount really. I’d have been disappointed if I’d not had a chance to walk in the snow, but glad it didn’t become a hindrance.

Now, and for the next few miles, to the start of Loch Lomond, I just had to deal with lots of puddles. But I’d developed a technique to deal with them!

Further than you think

In my head, Crainlarich to the start of Loch Lomond, was not far. And to be fair, I have ended up about a mile down the loch. But it was a long way. The paths were very wet as well with lots of puddles, so it was quite a challenging section. At one point it did remind me of the paths on the Outer Hebrides, but I quickly realised that they were nowhere near that bad.

I went from thinking I had plenty of time, even imagining finishing the day early, to ensure my head torch had sufficient battery ready for walking in the dark. The weather had now cleared up though so I was no longer contending with any snow.

I did consider using a bothy for the night, and when I got talking to a dog walker as I neared the end of my walk he mentioned it as an option, but he told me there was someone in it already and I really didn’t fancy company. I think I prefer my tent anyway.

As always happens, I got lucky. Just around sunset I found the perfect spot to pitch my tent. My door is faced looking down Loch Lomond and I’m on flat ground. I really couldn’t ask for more. And guess what, I can hear a stream, so maybe I’ll get another good nights sleep.