Blisters and Beauty: Walking Scotland’s West Highland Way in my forties
There’s something about Scotland that feels like coming home — even when you’re far from it. When I set out to hike the West Highland Way in my forties, alongside two wonderful Canadian friends, I thought I knew what to expect. I’d walked these hills before in my younger years, chasing freedom and misty horizons. But this time, it was different. This time, it was about rediscovering what adventure means when your knees ache a little more, your pack feels a little heavier, and your heart is fuller than ever.
The Journey Begins
The trail starts quietly in Milngavie, just outside Glasgow. There’s a small stone obelisk marking the beginning — unassuming, almost shy — but it’s the gateway to 96 miles of wild, untamed beauty. The first day felt deceptively easy: gentle woodland paths, laughter echoing between us, and the comforting rhythm of boots on soil. We were full of energy, full of plans, and blissfully unaware of how much the road ahead would test us.
By the time we reached Loch Lomond, the adventure had truly begun. The loch stretched endlessly, its surface glinting in the rare Scottish sunshine. Yes — sunshine. We found ourselves hiking through a heatwave in Scotland, something we joked about every step of the way. The air shimmered, our packs grew heavier, and we learned the hard way that even the Highlands can burn.
The Middle Miles: Beauty and Pain Intertwined
The days blurred together in a beautiful, exhausting rhythm. Mornings began with stiff knees and instant coffee brewed beside the tent. We’d pack up slowly, shoulders already protesting, and set out again — always forward. The path wound along rocky lochside trails, through forests that smelled of pine and earth, and over open moorland that seemed to stretch into forever.
There were moments of silence, when conversation gave way to the sound of our own breathing and the crunch of gravel underfoot. And then there were bursts of laughter — the kind that bubbles up from shared struggle. We joked about our aching feet, our overpacked bags, and how we should have known better by now. Every unnecessary item felt like a small lesson in humility.
But in the evenings, when we pitched our tents beside still waters and watched the sun melt behind the hills, the pain faded. The bagpipes from a distant village carried across the loch one night — soft, haunting, and perfect. It was one of those moments that stitched itself into memory, the kind you know you’ll carry long after the journey ends.
The Highlands Rise
As we moved north, the landscape grew wilder, more dramatic. The smooth hills of the south gave way to the rugged majesty of Rannoch Moor and the towering peaks of Glencoe. The air felt thinner, the silence deeper. On the climb up the Devil’s Staircase, sweat stung our eyes and our legs burned, but the view from the top was worth every step — a panorama of mountains and sky that made us feel small in the best possible way.
There were times when we doubted ourselves. When the path seemed endless, when our bodies protested, when the thought of one more hill felt impossible. But the Highlands have a way of humbling you, of reminding you that perseverance is part of the reward. Each step forward was a quiet victory.
The lochs are must see for any trip to Scotland.
The Final Miles
The last day into Fort William was bittersweet. We were tired — bone tired — but also reluctant to see it end. The sight of Ben Nevis in the distance felt like a promise kept. When we finally reached the finish line, dusty and sunburned, we stood in silence for a moment before the smiles came. The pride was overwhelming. We had done it — every mile, every blister, every laugh and groan along the way.
That night, over a well-earned meal and a dram of whisky (before I gave up alcohol), we talked about the journey — not just the miles, but what they meant. The West Highland Way had reminded us that adventure doesn’t belong to the young; it belongs to the willing. It’s about showing up, pushing through, and finding beauty in the struggle.
Reflections Beside the Loch
Now, when I think back, it’s not the pain I remember. It’s the stillness of the lochs, the distant echo of bagpipes, the golden light over the glens. It’s the laughter of friends and the quiet pride of finishing something truly hard. The West Highland Way wasn’t just a hike — it was a reminder that life, like the trail, is best lived one step at a time.
The West Highland Way tested us, healed us, and left us changed. It’s a journey I’ll never forget — not because it was easy, but because it was real.
If reading about the West Highland Way has you dreaming of exploring more of Scotland, G Adventures offers the perfect way to do it. Their small-group trips blend scenic hikes, historic landmarks, and local culture—taking you from the Highlands to the Isle of Skye and beyond. With expert guides and a focus on authentic, sustainable travel, it’s an ideal way to experience Scotland’s wild beauty and rich heritage up close.
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