The Devil’s Staircase

When the breakfast room opened at 8:15 a.m., I was the first in the door. It only made sense. The hotel was full of any number of families and they were lined up to follow me in. The van driver told me the day before that my pickup would be at 9:10 a.m. I wanted to be ready before then, and getting my breakfast order in late would have pushed me back into an uncomfortable time frame.

I felt a little adventurous so I actually tried the haggis for breakfast. Full disclosure, it was vegetarian haggis. I'm glad I tried it. I don't know if I would order it again.

My bag needed to be in the lobby before 9:00, and so at 8:50 I dropped it off, looked out the window, and the van was already in the parking lot. It was a great way to start the day.

I guess I cheated a little today. Instead of taking the van ride back to where I'd gotten off the trail yesterday, I had the driver drop me off at the King's House. I shaved less than half a mile off my journey, but there was nothing to see between the Black Cottage and where the driver deposited me. I was eager to get on the trail, face the midges, and climb the Devil's Staircase.

There are two stories as to how this feature earned its name. It was originally constructed in 1750 by the British army to allow them easier access to remote villages. Supposedly, scaling the hill many times for construction and then marching back and forth created discontent among the troops. So, when they were told they had to cover the distance, they referred to the difficult trek as climbing the Devil’s Staircase. It fell into disuse in 1789.

The other story relates to a group of Irish workmen known as navvies. Their work camp, at the turn of the 20th century, was on the bleak moor. Their only day off was Sunday. They would hike down the hill to go to the King's House and drink their wages away. Returning up the hill, it was not uncommon for the inebriated to fall off the trail and become injured or die of hypothermia. The reference to the devil is about the alcohol that would create a situation where workers might perish.

The climb itself was not horrible. There was definitely a moderate level of exertion, but the more irksome feature was the massing of all the midges. The night before was wet and the air was still. The bugs were thick all the way up the hill. There was no breeze until getting over the top, which created the ideal environment for them to pounce on any passersby.

About a third of the way up the staircase I ran into Clive, from Portsmouth, England, and Vladimir from Ukraine. Vladimir's English was very limited, but we exchanged pleasantries and traveled in close proximity up to the peak. About 2/3 of the way up the midges got so thick that it was apparent Vladimir was at a level of distraction to the point of frustration. I offered him one of my extra head nets and he gladly took it. His relief was immediate.

Once the mist cleared away it was a perfect temperature and around each bend there was a new panorama to enjoy. It was still early enough in the morning that much of the mist was still rolling down the valley. The white clouds cascading over the green of the trees and the brown earth was beautiful.

A mile or so out of town, Clive caught up to me. Amazingly, this is his first serious hike involving camping. He's done very well and has learned many lessons. It's interesting to hear the stories of how easy it is to be disturbed while trying to sleep in a tent. Good neighbors are the key to a solid night's sleep. Clive had to deal with some stormy nights and some drunken fellow campers. It only serves to show how important simple pleasures like a hot shower can be.

We took an alternate route that passed by the campsite where Clive will be staying tonight, and then by the hydroelectric power plant. It was way too early to check in to my accommodation or his campsite, so we went to the local pub. As we were sitting at the table, JB and Kristen came up from the other direction.

By the time we finished our beer, we had seen several people we knew from the trail. Many of them congregated in the park across the street waiting for an opportunity to check in to their places for the night. It was still before 2:00 in the afternoon.

This evening I'm staying at my first B&B. I usually prefer the anonymity of staying at a hotel or an inn. Staying in someone else's home is a little odd for me. However, Jo, the proprietor, was kind enough to respond to my phone call with a text and let me know I could check in early. It was only a five-minute walk down the street.

Heading toward the B&B, I passed a couple of gnome gardens. Some homes featured a few, and one or two were loaded to the max. It was both quaint and creepy.

It was a tight squeeze past Jo’s car through the gate to her home. She explained that people park their cars right along the fence to prevent the deer from coming in and denting the automobiles by trying to navigate the fences to get at vegetation in the garden. It all makes sense. There's an overpopulation of deer in this area and they have been fed by people, so it is only natural for them to enter civilization in search of food.

Jo gave me the grand tour.  Essentially I have the upstairs area all to myself. Bedroom, bathroom, and sitting room across the hall. She actually pulled a relief map from underneath the couch in the sitting room, and showed me exactly where we were, what elevation I had traveled, and what I could expect next. I remarked that I really did not want to know what was ahead of me. I'd rather be surprised.

My accommodations are very clean, comfortable, and convenient. I'm actually that extra five minutes down the trail for my start tomorrow morning. I plan to start out shortly after Jo sets me up with breakfast.

I met Clive, JB, and Kristen for dinner back at the restaurant where we had our afternoon beverage. There weren't many options. The town does have a well-stocked grocery store. It was there that I picked up some food for lunch tomorrow.

I even learned a new Gaelic word today: sgudal. Based on its location, I am pretty sure I can derive the meaning.

The guidebook says that the 15 miles of walking tomorrow should take about seven hours. There are always mixed emotions on the last day of hiking. You want to cross the finish line, but at the same time, you don't want the experience to end.

I'm hoping for good weather again tomorrow. That way my memory of the last day can be about the scenery, as opposed to the sogginess. Either way, I will be grateful for this experience.