I set off in the early morning haze and make my way up to Loch Oich, the apex of the Caledonian Canal, about 40 m above sea level. The season seems to be over; the few boats that are still out and about (no one is out this early anyway) are spread out over about 100 km of the Great Glen – I am far and away the only one here; dark but surprisingly warm water below me, around me the seemingly endless green of the forests and meadows, above me the cloudless, bright blue of a sunny day about to dawn, and above the mountain ranges to the left and right this Scottish haze, more tangible than visible, that seems to wrap up the Great Glen (and me in the middle of it). Wonderful.
I could quickly be in Fort Williams, the next major town on the Atlantic on the west side of Scotland. But suddenly the sun breaks through completely and I look around, moor up on a jetty, go for a swim, lie down in the cabin to sunbathe, and do nothing. Finally arrived, somehow.
Later, at some point, I can’t help it, I look at the weather app: around 150 km to the north, the announced storm is raging from the Outer Hebrides, along Scotland’s north coast, to the Orkneys.
There’s not even a hint of a breeze here. Lucky me! Today is my day – it lasts what feels like an eternity.
Towards evening I continue through Loch Lochy and the canal to Banavie, a nest with maybe 30 houses, a whisky brewery and at least two souvenir shops. I spend the night above the eight-stage lock that will take me down to the Atlantic tomorrow morning. Some more fitness, a shower, and a nice quiet evening comes to an end with the first sip of that Baileys I bought in Viimsi a long time ago… It took a while – now I can enjoy the moment.