"You were with me when I was all alone on Ben Lomond;
helping to guide my feet before the darkness covered me with its threat
to consume the pathway in front of me."
One of the most memorable times in Scotland was the day I decided to hike Ben Lomond. I had planned in advance that this was going to be part of my itinerary, and you would think that because I had planned it, that I would have gotten up at the crack of dawn and made sure I was there nice and early, but as things panned out, and with the help of Google maps which seems to have a very loose estimation of how long it takes to reach places, I had completely miscalculated how long the drive would take, and by the time I had arrived at my destination to begin my hike, it was already approaching 2pm.
It really was lucky for me that I had bumped into another Aussie lady who had been hiking several days all over Scotland, and that she had convinced me to download the Alltrails app. I don't normally like to use apps, preferring to use a physical map if its available; I am a bit of a Luddite when it comes to apps, always struggling to understand how to use them. But thankfully, that day, I took her advice, as she breathed as sigh of relief, saying, "I could not live with myself if you got lost somewhere in the highlands". I thanked my lucky stars later on that day for having listened to her, discovering that there were times when the path simply disappears among a crop of rocks, and without that map you would have to guestimate where it picked up again. Just as an aside, this is not a paid endorsement, but given my experience that day, I feel it is almost a necessary survival tool. That, as well as having a powerbank to help power your phone.
It was also helpful to know where I was and how much further I had to trek. I had decided to take the clockwise direction which takes you up a much steeper incline, and my expected 5 hour hike turned into a much longer one;
Having that Alltrails map also served as a reminder to me that there was still a LONG way to go, and the sun was going to set eventually. The thought of being stuck somewhere on top of Ben Lomond, without a torch, without food , and just a small bottle of water from the hotel I had stayed at the night before, did not seem like a promising prospect. I was fairly confident that I could survive without food, being well adapted to intermittent fasting, and having being assured by locals that water is safe to drink from the mountain streams, but it was not a concept I wanted to test. The thought of plummeting temperatures and the potential of rainfall, put the fear of god into me and a spring in my step that I didn't think was possible for my aching body.
Whenever the signal was available, I was frantically texting my friends, sending them updates on my progress, so that if they had not heard from me by 9pm, they could contact the authorities and give them a last known location. It was around Ptarmigan ridge that I had started to feel very alone. The people descending the mountain in the opposite direction were starting to make me doubt my choice to go in the clockwise direction. The locals surely know the best approach, and I seemed to be the only fool going in this direction.
Their smiles as they passed me without seeming to work up a sweat did not give me the courage that one would expect. It was the "not knowing" of what was up ahead, and the realisation, that there were fewer and fewer people passing me in the "opposite" direction. However the thought of turning around and backtracking the way I had come seemed equally anxiety inducing. It was pleasant enough while the sun was shining, but I didn't fancy that route in the darkness, or in the event that it had started to rain. So onward I pushed into the unknown.
I remember having a short discussion with a local lady walking with her dog, and asking her about the condition of the path up ahead. I was told that I would be almost a the last ascent once I had passed a flooded and muddy area, and that there really wasn't anything up ahead that would impede my journey. This gave me a little bit more confidence, but it was a confidence that was short lived, a confidence that began to fade as time wore on and my progress was a lot slower than expected.
I had not seen anyone pass me in quite a while and as I approached the first bend on the mountain and had lost sight of Loch Lomond, I started getting jittery. The sight of Loch Lomond was a friendly landmark that somehow gave me a sense of being connected to life. Now with it out of sight, a new sense of fear came over me. I felt alone. I was alone, and with the realisation that my survival was now very much dependent upon my ability to keep going forward. I didn't dare stop for long periods of time, I didn't dare give my body a sense of false calm. I wanted it to be on alert and to keep going. It was at this point that I felt the presence of a man next to me. It was a sense of, rather than an actual vision of, someone from yesteryear, wearing clothing that resembled the cut of 1930's styling, with a khaki coloured kilt. That energy latched onto me and walked beside me for the rest of the hike. I welcomed it. It stayed respectfully at a distance of about one meter and always to the right hand side of me. I didn't know if it was just my mind playing tricks on me, or if it was the spirit of a man who had passed, it didn't matter to me. It felt good not to be alone anymore. I passed my last humans wearing camo gear, heading in the opposite direction, one of them with a large muddy streak down his pants. He had clearly gone for a slide; I made a mental note to be more careful with my footing.
By now I was truly alone and it was too late to turn back. I was committed to my course of action. The only way was forward and up. The path disappeared at the final summit and turned into a rocky outcrop. I once again thanked my lucky stars that I had my Alltrails app. to reassure me that I was not wandering off the path. Black bags full of giant rocks had been deposited randomly all over the mountain, many times blocking the actual safety of the path and forcing walkers to go off trail and onto wet mossy and grassy sections with the potential of loose stone. The council left friendly signage next to the bags cautioning us to be careful not to disturb the bags which had the potential of crushing us if they shifted. I made a mental note of that as I used the handle of one of those bags to help hoist myself up, and steady myself against the wind that seemed to be determined to blow me off the mountain. It was either lose my footing and slide down the mountain, or be crushed by rocks. I took my chances with the rocks. I looked down, and reaffirmed my desire to live. "Not today...I am not dying on Ben Lomond." I told myself. I reached the summit at 5:11pm. A quick stop to deposit my little rock on top of the triangulation pillar, and I forced my weary legs to keep moving, reminding myself of the people on Mt Everest who died for lingering too long. This was not Mt Everest, to be sure, but every wilderness area promises us the potential of turning against us if we become complacent, and time was getting away. It had taken me 3 hours to reach the summit. My body was tired, but I did not dare stop as there was another 6km left to walk. Thankfully the rest of the way was down the mountain, and even more importantly, it was a milder descent. At this point I was glad that I didn't have to descend the way I had come. Every step still had to be placed carefully, as the path changed between a walking path and a rocky outcrops. One false move could have resulted in a twisted ankle.
Being able to see Loch Lomond brought me a sense of joy I cannot explain. There were still hours of walking ahead of me, but somehow seeing that Loch made me feel like I was home free. I could see the treeline and remember thinking, surely that must be where the carpark is. My ghostly friend suggested that I would be fine on my own from here on in, to which I quickly replied with, "To hell I am, you're staying with me." He didn't argue with that. We pressed on, and by this point my body was so exhausted and functioning almost entirely on autopilot. I had to force myself to stop and to try to send my location or to take a photo. It was already 6:43pm, and I was grateful for the fact that the sun is not in a hurry to set in Scotland.
It was somewhere between Sron Aonaich and Coille Mhor that I stopped to check my map and send my potential rescue message. Over an hour had passed since I had seen a human soul heading in my direction, so you can imagine my surprise when I saw a wet footprint on one of the rocks in front of me, and facing in my direction. It was as if someone was climbing up the mountain, and given the time, it was way too late for anyone to be hiking in the anti clockwise direction. I decided they must be just somewhere in the area, perhaps having a picnic.
Grateful for the thought of a potential human companion I decided to "Cooe" and let them know of my presence. We could walk back to the carpark together, I thought.
"Coooooooeeee," the sound of my voice seemed alien. No response, "Cooooooooeeeeee,' no response. The hair on the back of my neck began to stand. I looked in the direction of my ghostly companion and said to him in my mind "You will protect me won't you?"
I reached the treeline by 7pm. However, far from bringing the relief I expected to feel, my level of anxiety seemed to increase, and in the sections where it was possible, I almost broke into a run. I couldn't shake the image of the lone wet footstep on the rock heading up the mountain. It seemed to defy logic, and though I accepted the friendly companion to my right, the thought of stepping upon another ghost while on the path filled me with dread. It seemed like such an aggressive act to meet a ghost head on, so I picked up the pace, determined to get to the car park before the sun went down. Rationality seems over rated in moments like this, after all, who is to say that a ghost is more likely to appear in the dark? Had I not just seen an inexplicable footstep in broad daylight?
Let me tell you that you had never seen a woman so relieved to reach that car park. I managed to do so just as a young local lad was closing the toilets in order to clean them. I asked to use the facilities before my drive. I briefly considered asking him if he had heard of any ghostly experiences on Ben Lomond, still shaken by the presence of that ghostly, lone footstep, but upon reflection decided against it. He was going to be by himself with night falling, cleaning up creepy looking toilet blocks without another single living soul present. It would not have been fair to leave him to do his job with that suggestion in his mind, and so I left him blissful in his ignorance. Visions of some lost hiker who had died on the path flooded my mind.
The drive to my next accommodation seemed to take longer than expected, with the exhaustion my body forcing me to stop on the side of the road for a quick nap in the car. I was disappointed to be driving after sundown, because I had hoped to enjoy the beauty of the surrounding landscape. Night time driving in Scotland is a lost opportunity to regale your senses with the beauty of the countryside.
Feeling grateful to be back in the comfort and safety of my car.
As for my friendly ghostly presence? To this day I cannot say if it was just a figment of my imagination, or an actual spirit. But I had forgotten to dismiss him when I got to the carpark, and upon my return to Australia, I started noticing strange activity in the house which I found difficult to explain.
I recently decided to formally thank him and to release him from his bond, offering him a final dram before symbolically walking him to the door with promises to come and visit him once day on Ben Lomond. The house has been so quiet, and feels so empty since our farewell.
I will leave it up to the reader to decide for themselves. As for me, as far as I am concerned, I have the promise of a future date with a ghost on top of Ben Lomond.
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