Day 329: Corrour to Spean Bridge

This time last year, I wild camped across the southern coastline of Mull, woken by the sounds of bellowing stags. I’ve barely progressed north, still captivated by the breathtaking landscape through Glen Coe, across Rannoch Moor, up to Fort William. There’s unfinished business on the moors and Munros to summit with Cal on the Ring of Steall before venturing into the challenging terrain of the Morvern Peninsula.

It’s late autumn and the forecast is for unsettled weather. Of course it is. I suspect I’ll learn a great deal about hiking in the Highlands in autumn and winter, and discover more about myself. I think I’m a hardy soul now, but is that enough?

I’m initially based for four nights in a hobbit hut on the Glen Nevis Campsite. Despite a long journey from home, the evening is so nice that I saunter down to the River Nevis for a view of the mighty Ben that Cal and I climbed back in April: Day 299: Ben Nevis.

The riverside path dips beneath the trees, shadows gathering under the early sunset.

What’s this?

I’m not wearing that. I’ve read the folklore and watched the movies, having no desire to be possessed or sacrificed.

My refuge from the night is the Ben Nevis Inn. It’s lovely, but not what I’d expected, full of couples and families, many driving up, rather than a hikers’ bar. It’s also extremely busy, and without a reservation, I struggle to find a place to enjoy a pint. Perhaps I’ve chosen a bad time. I did not realise it was school half-term holidays. However, the beer is good, if shockingly expensive, and the food looks tasty.

Returning to the campsite in the dark, guided by the beam of my headtorch, I’m surprised to see lights descending the Tourist Path down Ben Nevis, twinkling like fireflies. I cross paths with one party moving at a snail’s pace, using only the light from their phones. No wonder the Mountain Rescue Services are busier every year.

Next day

Enjoying an early morning coffee and bacon roll on the station concourse at Fort William, a wizard walks past sporting a large pointy hat and staff. I only had one beer last night.

Strange folk are bound for the “Potter Express”, a steam train that runs to Mallaig. One for the future.

My train pulls across the moors, stopping at Corrour station, the highest railway station in the UK, accessible only by train or a 16-mile walk. The guard warns that only one carriage door will open. Five hikers step down to the platform and gaze at the empty vastness before setting off in different directions.

I’ve hiked here before from Rannoch Moor station. This time I’m hiking out, across the moorland and through the glens to Spean Bridge.

The Caledonian Sleeper passes. I pick my way carefully across the bog to the rails to get a good view up and down the line. I’m unlikely to be surprised by another train.

A stony track shadows the railway line.

The firm path is soon replaced by bog, a lot of bog, diverting away from the railway and round the southern end of Loch Treig. A hermit, Ken Smith, has lived in a log cabin on the shores of the loch for 40 years. I tried to read his book, without success. It looks as though someone is following in his footsteps, perhaps less permanently. I’d not like to live in that through the winter.

Rounding a hill, a wonderfully remote house comes into view. Who lives here?

The house is abandoned and securely locked, although the flat grass surrounding it would make for a fine wild camping pitch.

Crossing a pretty bridge, draped in autumn colours, I’m surprised to see a signpost west for Glen Nevis. I’m hiking part of that route with Cal tomorrow, so stick to my plan and follow the sign north.

The route is colourful and varied.

It winds up through Lairig Leacach, the “pass of the flagstones”.

I lose the faint track several times, but it’s easy enough to follow the river.

I’m half an hour behind schedule to make the train from Spean Bridge to Fort William when I arrive at a popular bothy.

The hut looks well-kept.

I need to pick up the pace. Fortunately, the descent to Spean Bridge is much easier, along a wide stony track, one of the old drove roads for driving cattle from the northwest to the markets. A drive could stretch for over a mile. Having delivered the cattle safely to the markets, the sheepdogs were sent home alone, fed by inns along the way by prior arrangement.

A woman stands motionless by a bench with her back to me. It’s not until I’m closer that I realise it’s a carved wooden statue, rather sinister looking. The “Wee Minister” is said to bring good luck to climbers and hikers. I’ll not turn that down.

A helicopter flies down the valley. Is someone in trouble despite the Wee Minister?

I arrive at the train station with time to spare, connecting with the initial section of the East Highland Way that I hiked in 2023. Apart from two fit-looking young lads, likely armed forces, that I passed at the house by the loch, I’ve not seen another person on the walk. A peaceful, low-level hike that is easy to follow, if a little boggy.

Date of walk: Thursday 16 October 2025.

Walk distance: 16 miles.

Total distance: 5,357 miles.