Good morning! I’m really happy to share that it’s official and recorded: I now hold the women’s self-supported Fastest Known Time on the Swiss Via Alpina!

There’s an easy trap to fall into: “If I accomplish X, I will be whole and satisfied.”

Three summers ago I booked tickets to Zurich for an eight day trip before I even knew what I was going to do out there. I perused Fastest Known Time’s search engine for trails and came across Via Alpina: Switzerland, a route that traverses the entire country of Switzerland via the Alps. Sold!

It was such a fun and exciting trip in that everything was new. It was my first solo trek outside of the US. I was totally charmed by all of the mountain villages and the epic, sweeping beauty around me. The combined sheer steepness and length of the high passes was shocking. The entire trip was very exploratory and it felt like exactly like the kind of adventure I was craving.

The following summer, I had the amazing opportunity to join Mountain Hardwear on my first photo/video campaign with them, also in Switzerland!

While I was out there, I learned that Elena Fernández López had lowered the women’s self-supported record on the Swiss Via Alpina by three hours. I was simultaneously happy for her and also felt like, “I have to go back!”

It wasn’t that I had to be THE BEST. I’ve accepted that there will always be better and faster athletes than me out there. I think it’s just that I knew deep down that I could do better than my initial run, and this was sort of the kick in the pants that got me thinking about how I’d like to return and try again one day. I think that’s also cool part about the women’s side of multi-day FKTs continuing to grow–the more women that go for it, the more we see what’s possible, push each other, and get the best out of ourselves.

The following summer I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in my quest for a Fastest Known Time. I remember thinking during that long and often remote journey about how appealing going for the Swiss Via Alpina FKT again would be. “Only” six days of hiking, and with so many amenities along the way–I can’t say I could pull off of the PCT at any given moment for an apfelstrudel and espresso!

Fast forward to this summer: after two years of thinking how I might do things differently a second time around, I finally got to find out if my plan could work.

I made some small but hugely time-saving tweaks, like starting in the morning (7:30am) versus my 12:52pm start in 2023, straight off of a red eye flight. This would give me more of a full day in the beginning and eliminate one unnecessary night of sleep. Since I began and ended with a half day in 2023, simply combining those into one full day would automatically shave off a bunch of time from my initial record.

I also now knew which passes would be the toughest, and mapped out more conservative goals for the days that I’d go over them, including a penultimate day of just 30 miles, knowing that I’d be coming off of a big day with some tough passes the day prior, plus covering the highest point of the trail first thing in the AM. My legs would be toast. And to make up for that, I planned a much longer 55 mile day for the end, knowing that the terrain would be much more gentle by comparison (my final day in 2026 was actually my final two days of 2023 combined).

So the plan I made for myself this year had me finishing under 6 days by a comfortable margin. Whether I’d be able to pull it off, I wasn’t sure. In addition to the challenging high passes, I knew my biggest nemeses would be the extreme heat and daily storms.

My solution for both the heat and avoiding being on the high and exposed passes during the storms was doing a ton of night hiking.

Here were my start times for each day:

Day 1 - 7:30am start. This was just determined by the bus schedule to the start, but I also favored a late start because I knew I could run for much of this day, given the flatter terrain, and make great time. I figured the later I started, combined with more running, the more time I “saved” for myself on the last day. There were also no storms forecasted this day, so I made it over Foo Pass toward the end of the day with no issue.

Day 2 - 12:15am start

Day 3 - 12:44am start

Day 4 - 10:59pm start - This day hinged on my getting over Sefinenfurgge pass (8,570 ft, the second-highest pass of the trail) toward the end of the day, before the forecasted storms began. My plan of starting very early paid off big time, because I made it over the pass, and it did storm like crazy just a couple hours later!

Day 5 - 2:27am start

Day 6 - 4:32am start - I had actually meant to start my day closer to 10pm and hike through most of the night, but somehow I forgot to set my alarm. I swear I have a memory of setting my alarm, but maybe my brain was just loopy at that point. Everything had gone pretty much exactly to plan, except this one major blunder at the end! It stormed just as I was reaching the final pass of the day, Rochers de Naye, which was scary and caused some delays (e.g. waiting below treeline while a storm passed before continuing through an exposed area).

In the end, I reached my A+ goal of finishing under six days. My final time was 5 days, 17 hours, 40 minutes.

I truly didn’t know if I would be able to achieve my goal. I’m ecstatic that I did! Then there’s what one could consider either my best or most toxic trait of immediately thinking of all of the ways I could do better next time.

The overall self-supported record on the Swiss Via Alpina of 4 days, 7 hours, 9 minutes is held by Wouter Berghuijs. What he accomplished blows my mind. He went further on his first day than I did in my first two days this summer combined. Those numbers always seemed impossible to me, and I never bothered even thinking about trying to do that myself. In 2023 I finished a little over 64 hours behind Wouter. This year I took another 30 hours off of my previous time, and finished 34 hours behind Wouter.

My average time on my feet, from the day’s start point to the day’s end point, including breaks, was 16 hours, 19 minutes per day for six days. My shortest day was 11 hours 38 minutes and longest day was 20 hours 38 minutes. This feels exciting to me, because it shows there is still a lot of wiggle room and time to play with. I now know more about myself and the route, and I know there is still plenty of room for improvement.

My husband Chris has been reminding me to savor this win and to feel proud of what I accomplished. Whenever I start to think of the “would haves” or “should haves” I keep trying to look at this from the lens of Liz from two weeks ago, who wasn’t sure if she could even do what she was setting out to do. Past Liz would be thrilled, and therefore so am I… even if I need a little extra reminding!

I think I am continually accepting that the itch to keep striving will never go away, therefore there may be no such thing as truly being satisfied in this world of chasing fast times. I think this is a good reminder that any wholeness found in life will not come from accomplishments, because that ceaseless itch to reaching toward them in the first place will keep rearing its head no matter how great the results are.

This could read as incredibly depressing, but in a weird way I find this both comforting and freeing. It takes some of the power away from the end result and has me coming back to the root of it all and what I love about about running and endurance hiking: being curious about what I can do with my own unique set of skills, limitations, and potential.

💫

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‘Til next week! ~Liz (Mercury)

Start: 4:32am

End: 1:10am

Miles: 54.3 (252.0 miles down, 0 to go!) (strava track)

Elevation gain: +13,915 ft

Elevation loss: -16,275 ft

Passes: 12, 13, & 14 of 14 - Trütlisbergpass, Col de Jabari, Rochers de Naye

I woke up in a daze and checked the time on my phone- nearly 3am! Oh no! I had planned to hike through most of the night, or at the very least get going by midnight. I had so many miles to cover (53+) and as usual, storms were in the forecast in the afternoon and evening. I could have sworn I set my alarm, but apparently I didn’t!

So, it was a much later start to the day than planned, but being upset wouldn’t have helped anything. And if nothing else I was really well rested going into the final day!

The day started with a very nice climb over old country paths from Lenk to Gstaad. I was treated to a beautiful sunrise. It was so nice to have a walkable path, versus the scrambly climbs of the day prior.

In Gstaad I stopped for a quick pastry, espresso, and various soft drinks. It was getting really hot and I still had such a long way to go.

Along the path up and out of town I met a German couple, a man and a woman, out for a day hike on the side of the trail picking raspberries. It looked so idyllic I decided to join them for a moment. We had a nice chat and I shared about what I was doing. The man exclaimed several times, “I don’t believe it!”

The next pass reminded me of the Appalachian Trail. It was single track, forested, mossy, rooty, and overall pretty enchanting.

By the time I reached the next town of Château d’Œx I was 26 miles in, about halfway through. The air was stagnant and muggy. I had my last town food, a veggie and hummus sandwich and a coke to get through the hot afternoon.

The next mountain I remembered well. On the way up there are some steep dropoffs, but there are metal ropes you can hang onto if needed. Last time this part felt really scary to me and I clung to the ropes for dear life. This time it didn’t seem bad at all and I didn’t feel the need to hang on once. I do think I’m a more experienced and confident hiker after three years! Along the way up I heard the first rumbles of thunder.

I remembered the back side of the mountain with steep switchbacks going straight through a cow pasture. I reeeeeally hoped it wouldn’t rain, because it was a steep, muddy, slippery slope with lots of cow dung. It was bad enough without the rain!

Well, it rained. It rained a lot! The afternoon storms began just as I neared the top of the mountain. I hid under some trees and waited for a giant storm cell and very heavy rain to pass over before racing across a grassy, exposed, treeless section near the top of the mountain.

This photo really doesn’t do justice to the scale of the storm!

Shortly after, another storm rumbled closer and closer. I had another exposed section I needed to get through, but it felt too dangerous. I didn’t want to get struck by lightning. I hid under a tractor shed, and at the small house across the way a young man emerged at the door and waved me over. He was Romanian and didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Romanian, but we did our best to communicate with each other. He wondered why I didn’t have an umbrella and offered to fill up my water bottle. I stayed for about ten minutes and kept peering outside. He was boiling potatoes on the stove and asked if I wanted coffee or beer? Both sounded great, but I really needed to keep moving. I thanked him for the water and letting me take shelter, and continued up the mountain.

Minutes later, I heard a vehicle approaching behind me. It was my new Romanian friend! He smiled and waved at me to get in the car and motioned that he’d take me as far up as the mountain road would go. I said thank you, but sorry, no! How could I explain to him with our language barrier that I was going for a record on foot and couldn’t get in the vehicle? He kept insisting and was so eager to help, but finally accepted my “no thank you!” and we smiled and waved goodbye.

As I reached the next exposed section, the sky looked iffy but I hadn’t heard thunder in about 5-10 minutes. I did a silly little crouchy walk (as if that would make a difference) and scurried my way across.

Time to go down what I’m now dubbing “mud pie hill”. I said hello to the cows sheltering in a barn near the top of the mountain and began the muddy, ruddy, and dungy descent in the rain. The trail itself was so slippery and basically impassable. I tip toed my way down carefully along the trail in the grass, trying not to face plant. This went on for 1,500 vertical feet over the course of a mile or so. Very slow going! I tried to ignore the occasional solitary tree, reduced to a burnt crisp from past lightning strikes.

I walked by a farmhouse at the bottom of the hill. It had been raining for a while. Everything was wet, including me and the electric string fences along the property. I got zapped as I was fumbling with getting one of the gates open.

Next was a nice ascent along a paved road toward Rocher de Nayes, the last mountain before Montreux, my destination. It got dark and continued raining intermittently. It had been raining for hours now.

The road gave way to a single track trail and I continued up the mountain in the dark. The sprinkling rain, that had seemed to be tapering off, grew more steady, then it turned into a downpour. I walked along the iconic ridgeline of Rocher de Nayes with city lights to my left, a country valley to my right, wind gusting from my left, and rain soaking me to the bone. It got foggy and I had to turn my headlamp lower so I could see better.

The traverse felt endless and the weather just kept getting worse. It was one of those wilderness moments where I had a thought of how things can go from “fine” to “really bad” very quickly. Now would be a bad time to have an accidental slip or gear malfunction. I needed to get off this mountain.

I felt stressed and scared, but tried not to panic and moved calmly and carefully. It was a huge relief to get to the top, because now I could start the final, long descent to Montreux.

I followed the signs for “1” signifying the Via Alpina. The trail was still very exposed and I hit the worst windy section yet. Okay, now I felt even more scared. I wasn’t in danger of falling but the sheer force of the wind felt frightening.

I jogged as much as I could to get down below treeline as quickly as possible. The rain continued for a while still. It had been raining for many hours at this point. It was getting late. My feet were starting to throb and I still had so many miles to go, all downhill.

By the time I reached the city limits, still miles away from the end, I was wincing and whimpering. The pedestrian paths cut straight downhill, slicing through the more gradually graded roads. Sort of like the line down the middle of a dollar sign ($). The impact on my feet was torturous. The total elevation loss from the top of the mountain to the lake is over 6,000 ft, all in one go.

My headlamp began to dim, so I pulled out a spare battery that I had tested before the hike. After I replaced it, the headlamp wouldn’t turn on. Umm, not good! I tried my second spare battery and that one didn’t work either. Okay. The batteries had gotten wet in the rain, so maybe that’s why they weren’t working. Back to the first battery, which still worked, though it wouldn’t last long.

I still had one non-city section to go through, a park featuring a waterfall in a canyon, with no lights, at least a mile long. I continued forward with my headlamp on the lowest setting.

I shuffled along, now less worried about my throbbing feet, and more worried about whether I’d lose my light source. How dumb would it be if I had to stop and stay put in the pitch black just miles before finishing the entire trail?

I did my best to make good time while not panicking. But just as I was taking a step off of a bridge, it happened. My headlamp went out and it was pitch black. My phone still had battery, so I turned the flashlight on from my phone and hoped for the best.

I spent the next half mile feeling very tense with my phone lighting the way, until finally I saw some soft street lamp lighting appearing through the trees. Thank goodness. Moments later I left the park and entered the city and wouldn’t need my flashlight again.

Earlier I’d thought how it was too bad I couldn’t really enjoy these final miles of my hike. They were mostly very stressful and painful. But as I got closer to the lake I began to reflect on the last six days and all I had seen and how far I’d come. And Chris had left me a voice memo pointing out that I’d be finishing in about 5 days 18 hours. Those numbers didn’t seem real. I did that! I allowed myself to enjoy and embrace the final bit of my hike for everything it was.

I couldn’t really speed up at the end, but I slowly and calmly jogged my way through the train station, across the street toward Lake Geneva, and touched the simple yellow sign marking the end of the Swiss Via Alpina.

My view of the lake after getting some sleep!

My total time was 5 days, 17 hours, 40 minutes–1 day 2 hours faster than the current women’s record, and 1 day 5 hours faster than my previous time from 2023! I averaged over 42 miles (68 kilometers) per day and 13,400 feet (4,000 meters) of elevation gain per day.

This was one of those rare occasions where I did exactly what I set out to do. Every single day went to plan! My only snafu (with a consequence) was accidentally sleeping in on the last day, making for a late night and likely adding several hours to my overall time.

I feel so extremely fortunate to have been able to experience the Swiss Alps in this way- moving over these beautiful mountains and through historic villages all across Switzerland on my own two feet. I feel aware of how I won’t be able to do things like this forever in this exact way, so I am especially cherishing the experience and feel so grateful.

💫

Thank you for reading and joining me on the Swiss Via Alpina!

Please consider supporting Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional handwritten letters from around the world. You can bet I will be spending the next day or two relaxing and recovering by a lake and writing letters from Switzerland!

Thank you Mountain Hardwear for making my Swiss Alpine adventure possible and providing the best gear!

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your Strava subscription.

À bientôt! ~Liz (Mercury)

Start: 2:27am

End: 5:23pm

Miles: 31.9 (197.7 down, ~55 to go) (strava track)

Elevation gain: 11,132 ft

Elevation loss: 12,021 ft

Passes: 9, 10, & 11 of 14 - Höhterli, Bunderchrinde, Hahnenmoospass

Very tough day mostly due to the challenging first two passes. Höhterli was the highest point of the route at over 9,000 ft and Bunderchrinde had a very steep and scrambly ascent and descent. Most of the day felt like it was straight up or straight down until I got to the town of Adelboden. The last pass was very chill in comparison.

It was hot and humid and I had some stomach upset toward the end of the day. I made my goal of getting to Lenk. This was where I ended on day 6 the first time I hiked this trail (today is day 5)! It was a “short” day at 30 miles but I’m glad I only planned that much because it was a hard day!

I somehow either missed or didn’t set my alarm. My hope/goal is to finish the remaining 55 miles of trail to Montreux tonight. I’m getting a later start than planned, but the route is much less technical from here. If I’m able to shuffle/jog as much as I can I think I can still make good time.

The record held by Elena is 6 days 20 hours and my previous time is 6 days 23 hours. I started last Thursday at 7:30am so if I can get to Montreux by 7:30am tomorrow morning I’ll finish under 6 days! Time to get a move on!

💫

Thanks for reading!

You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional handwritten letters from around the world.

Thank you Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear!

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your Strava subscription.

More from the trail (hopefully Montreux) soon! ~Liz

Start: 10:59pm

End: 5:20pm

Miles: 42.4 (165.8 down, ~87.6 to go) (strava track)

Elevation gain: 14,698 ft

Elevation loss: 11,906 ft

Passes: 6, 7, & 8 of 14 - Grosse Scheidegg, Kleine Scheidegg, Sefinenfurgge

I tried to sleep for the precious 2-3 hours I had, but could only manage to doze for about 30 minutes. I felt stressed about whether I’d be able to get over the final and highest pass in my plan before the afternoon storms began. If I really wanted to ensure that, I should probably start hiking again by 10pm. But it was already past 8pm and I wasn’t even asleep yet. And to make matters worse, my legs and feet felt massively inflamed and in pain. I couldn’t imagine going back out there so soon. But I also could hardly sleep. So finally I got out of bed and started getting ready for the day and was hiking by 11pm. Compromise!🤪

My legs felt alright once I got moving, and it seemed that resting a few hours had helped, despite not sleeping much. Whether I’d given myself enough time to make it over the pass was a bit of a gamble. Thankfully the weather forecast kept trending toward storms being later and later in the day. I had already hiked 26 of the 42 miles I needed by 9am. It was going to be okay!

No longer as stressed for time, I stopped for a few rests throughout the day for the sake of my feet and to make sure I was eating and drinking enough. The final pass was the highest yet at over 8,000ft and the most technical so far.

Today my goal is to cover about 30 miles including the highest and most challenging pass Hohtürli (9,114 ft) followed by Bunderchrinde (7,825 ft) and Hahnenmoos (6,400 ft). Then get a good rest and send it for the last ~55 miles if I can.

I’m about half a day ahead of my past self. Getting over that final pass yesterday was critical for staying on track. It was a tough and critical day and I feel proud of myself for making it!

💫

Thanks for reading!

Support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional handwritten letters from around the world.

Thank you Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear!

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your Strava subscription

More from the trail soon! ~Liz (Mercury)

Start: 12:44am

End: 5:20pm

Miles: 41.0 (165.8 down, ~87.6 to go) (strava track)

Elevation gain: 12,700 ft

Elevation loss: 12,126 ft

Passes: 4 & 5 of 14 - Surenenpass and Jochpass

Another pass in the dark early morning, and this time there was a small snow field to cross! Planned a midnight start but it was storming so I left 44 minutes later. Awesome traverse from Jochpass (knife edge style)! Last few miles were in a biblical deluge. Sleeping for a few hours then into the night we go. Tomorrow there is a critical pass (Sefininfurgge) that I hope to finish well before the storms begin in the early afternoon. I booked a hut stay about 1,000 ft below and before the pass (which is at 8,570 ft) so that I have an option to stay put if things look dicey.

Straight to sleep!

~Liz (Mercury)

💫

Start: 12:15am

End: 4:05pm

Miles: 42.6 (82.4 down, ~176 to go) (strava track)

Elevation gain: 11,184 ft

Elevation loss: 12,776 ft

Passes: 2 & 3 of 14 - Richetli Pass, Klausenpass

Ice cream cones consumed: 0 (but I did have a yummy slice of pie)

My plan of starting early paid off, because I just started descending Klausenpass as the first afternoon storm rolled in! I reached Richetli Pass just before 4am. It was extremely spooky climbing the pass at night and I was thankful for a nearly full moon (and my headlamp) lighting the way. Another very hot day where I was glad to be up high for a good portion of it!

💫

Thanks for reading!

You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently!

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. MHW items I’m bringing on the Via Alpina include the Lickety Split Pack 20L, Dynama Dress(same as the PCT!), Crater Lake Hoody, and Cloud Cipher Rain Jacket.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on this trek). Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your Strava subscription.

More from the trail soon! ~Liz

Start: 7:30am

End: 7:20pm

Miles: 39.8 of 242 (strava track)

Elevation gain: 8061 ft

Elevation loss: 9964 ft

Passes: 1 of 14 - Foo Pass!

Ice cream cones consumed: 2

It was very hot but overall a good day. I did exactly what I set out to do. Setting alarm for a midnight start tomorrow because there will be storms in the afternoon, and I want to make sure I’m off the high passes when they roll in!

~Liz (Mercury)

Photo by Sean Haworth

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three years since my first traverse across Switzerland on the 242 mile Swiss Via Alpina. It was my first time traveling solo outside of the US. I booked the flight to Zurich before I even knew what my plan was or where I would go.

I learned about the Swiss Via Alpina simply by searching Fastest Known Time for trails in Switzerland that I thought could reasonably be completed within one week, which was exactly how much time I had given myself. I completed the trail self-supported in 6 days and 23 hours.

I learned a lot about myself then, including a lesson I often still need a reminder of: that when things are good, it’s okay to just trust in that and believe things are good. Just a couple weeks prior to the trip I met Chris for the first time. I liked him so much! I had all of those nervous and excited butterflies. I hoped I wasn’t setting myself up for heartbreak. Fast forward to this summer and we’re happy newly weds. I think it’s safe to say he felt the same way!

I had some brilliant-for-me days on that trek where I felt like, “this is what I’m made for!” And then I had other days where I seriously doubted my ability. I started to back pedal and set more conservative daily goals for myself out of fear of disappointment that I wouldn’t be able to reach the more ambitious ones. The last couple days turned out to be less hard than expected. I had braced myself for the worst, then it turned out to be not so bad. I wasn’t as far off as I thought and I wasn’t wrong for initially setting more ambitious goals for myself. There’s no reason to think I can’t do what I set out to do, though surely my brain will try to trick me when things get hard.

So here I am, back at the start in Lichtenstein. I know the route now, and I know myself a little better. I’m excited to get out there and embrace the challenge fully!

I’ll share updates on my progress here via my newsletter and snippets here and there on Instagram.

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If you’re interested in seeing the gear I’m carrying, check it out here on on YouTube!

💫

Thanks for reading!

You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently!

Subscribe now

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. MHW items I’m bringing on the Via Alpina include the Lickety Split Pack 20L, Dynama Dress (same as the PCT!), Crater Lake Hoody, and Cloud Cipher Rain Jacket.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on this trek). Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

Strava - For navigation on the Via Alpina, I uploaded all my routes to my Strava app and made them available offline- it’s an extremely useful feature! Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your Strava subscription.

More from the trail soon! ~Liz

Photo by Jacob Banta

This weekend I got to help crew my friend Tara Dower, one of the toughest ultramarathoners out there, at the Hardrock 100, one of the toughest ultramarathons out there. Hardrock’s slogan is “Wild and Tough” and wow, did she and the race live up to those words.

Beginning and ending in Silverton, Colorado, the course is 101.8 miles long, has 33,441 feet of gain and descent for a total elevation change of 66,882 feet, and takes place at an average elevation of about 11,000 feet. The high point at Handies Peak is 14,048 feet. The course was designed to feature old mining roads connecting the historic mining towns of Silverton, Telluride, Ouray, and the ghost town of Sherman.

Tara and I met back in 2020, when she joined me for two days on my northbound FKT on the Appalachian Trail. Since then, we’ve connected for all sorts of wild adventures throughout the US that usually involve suffering while going extreme distances on foot, including her incredible overall record on the AT in 2024.

Me and Tara during her overall AT record!

This was Tara’s second time running Hardrock, and this year she had the unique opportunity to run the incredibly competitive and fast Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run AND Hardrock, just 13 days apart. She placed 6th for women at WSER in a historically competitive field. Her finish time of 16:13 would have gotten her on the podium any other year. To race Hardrock with such a short turnaround was a really tall order (literally, ha!).

This was my first time being part of a crew for a professional runner in an organized race. My main objective was to be helpful to Tara and the rest of the crew while also not being in the way.

The night before the race, we had a crew meeting at our home base in Silverton. Tara displayed a meticulously organized spreadsheet on the TV screen in the living room. There was a row for each aid station, a column for each crew member, and a cell displaying what each member’s task was at each aid station. For the most part, I’d be on lube, sunscreen, and headlamp duty!

The crew would be divided up into two cars, driven by two local drivers, Scooter and Inga, who were comfortable and familiar with navigating all of the rugged mountain roads and gnarly passes.

The Start - Mile 0

Just a quick note that I’m recounting this as best as I can, but there might be little things I’m not remembering perfectly. So if I get any tiny details wrong, that’s on me and my post-travel run brain!

The morning of the race I woke up around 3:30am, and I was joined at the kitchen table by Tara shortly after. We quietly went about our morning routines as more and more crew members began to mill about.

The race start was just down the road. We made sure we had what we needed for the day, piled into some cars, and took the dirt road into town.

Shortly before the start, Tara made her way to the finish line, receiving lots of well wishes from friends and spectators. She and her teammate Careth Arnold, who was also racing, found each and clutched each other in a really long hug. When they let go, I saw there were tears streaming down Tara’s face. That made me start crying! The enormity of what they were about to do was overwhelming.

We (the crew) each gave Tara a hug then made our way down the course a hundred meters or so to see her off. We were a bit far away to hear everything, but I thought maybe I heard “The Star-Spangled Banner” playing just a few minutes before the start. But no, it was something orchestral, but definitely not the national anthem. Robyn, another crew member and one of Tara’s pacers, Shazamed it for us. It was from Igor Stravinsky’s ballet, The Firebird!

I don’t know why they selected that, or if it is a tradition to play it (kind of like how they play Ravel’s Boléro before the Berlin Marathon). But in reading about the ballet, I found that its subject was inspired by a poem written in 1844 by Yakov Polonsky that includes the lines:

And in my dreams I see myself on a wolf's back
Riding along a forest path
To do battle with a sorcerer-tsar
In that land where a princess sits under lock and key,
Pining behind massive walls.
There gardens surround a palace all of glass;
There Firebirds sing by night
And peck at golden fruit.

If that’s not befitting a great quest into the mountains, I don’t know what is.

Watching Tara and all the runners take off gave me chills… and more tears. The runners’ epic quest had begun and it was time for the crew to head to our first meeting point: Chapman Aid Station.

I was in the crew car with Inga driving. She told us how she’d been driving these mountain roads long before she had even moved here (about twenty years ago, I think). Though we had just met, I fully trusted she knew what she was doing. I kind of had to!

Getting to drive up and over the rocky mountain pass was one of those cool life experiences right up there with hopping on that four-wheeler in the remote Scottish Highlands just a couple weeks ago! The higher we climbed, the more the trees and vegetation faded away, until we were surrounded by nothing but rocks. It was as if we were on our own personal rover on another planet.

Chapman Aid Station - Mile 18.1

We arrived at Chapman Aid Station with hours to spare. There was no cell phone service and I didn’t really bring anything to do, so it was time to just chill out and find my zen (something I’m decidedly not good at). I walked a little bit of the course with Anna Brannon, who was there to film and take photos. The path went pretty much straight up and I gasped for breath just walking. We wondered if the path would even out at all and it seemed like it wouldn’t, so we walked back down the hill.

I sat on my sleeping pad. I pet someone’s dog. I thought about how I could probably use this time to go for a run, but the air was just so thin and I thought it might be best to conserve my energy.

I’ve never worn glitter for a race but I did for Tara! Closeup photo by Jacob Banta

Finally the runners began to trickle in. I got to see Ludovic “Ludo” Pommeret, the eventual winner, for the first and only time during the race. He was in and out so incredibly quickly. Jimmy, who had arranged all of the drivers for the elite runners, waved a huge French flag in his honor. It was very exciting.

Another exciting moment was seeing Courtney Dauwalter come through. I’d never seen her race in person. Her demeanor was cool as a cucumber, giving a smile and a wave to everyone as she entered and departed, and otherwise very dialed in and just in the zone as she got what she needed from her crew person, which didn’t seem to be much!

Feeling antsy and wanting to do the best job for Tara, I began to get the supplies that I was in charge of ready, with the help of her partner Scott. For the lube, I would take a latex glove (pink for Tara, of course), wear it on one hand, then scoop up about a quarter-size of Squirrel Nut Butter from a jar into my palm. Then, I would carefully peel the glove off inside-out, so that the lube would be on the inside, but leaving the fingers right side-in, creating perfect little finger holes. That way, when Tara arrived, the glove would be easy for her to slip onto her hand and apply to any areas that are chafing as needed, OR, we could stuff it into the side pocket of her hydration vest without getting lube everywhere, and she could use it while out on the course.

Okay, lube glove, check! My other job was to be on sunscreen duty. She had mentioned preferring sun cream to spray, since once she had accidentally gotten sprayed in the face with sunscreen at a previous race.

So, I held the inside-out lube glove in one hand, and squirted out some suncream into my other hand, ready to spring into action as soon she arrived.

We heard some cheers as someone spotted Tara descending the hill toward the aid station, and sure enough, there she was with her easily-identifiable pink vest.

She arrived wide-eyed and a little bloody on her legs. She sputtered something about running down a pass and another runner (unintentionally) kicking rocks down behind her, which then hit her legs. The crew and I swarmed around her like flies to honey. Simultaneously, we got to work wiping down her legs, applying sunscreen, feeding her, swapping out hydration bottles, talking with and listening to her, taking any unnecessary gear.

Tara took the lube glove when I offered, and I flitted around the other crew members surrounding her, making sure to get sunscreen on her arms, neck, and face. I felt so bad just unceremoniously touching her face. She stated, “There are a lot of people touching me.” And it was true! I can only imagine how overstimulating it all must have been. It was my duty to get that sunscreen on, and I tried to do it in the most gentle and least violating way possible. I think I got everything except for her nose. I’d get her nose next time! We had her in and out of the aid station in two minutes.

Next we walked a mile or two down the road to the very tiny town of Ophir, where Inga was waiting with her car. We piled in and headed to Telluride, where we’d see Tara next.

Telluride Aid Station - Mile 27.8

Whereas Chapman AS was sort of nestled into a forested valley, Telluride AS was staged at a community park right in the mountain town. There were lots of families picnicking, playing games, and milling around the local pool.

Once again we got to see Courtney come through, looking super chill and very smooth. Careth was in second place for women, and she floated in looking chipper and okay. I prepared the lube glove, of which I was now a total expert, and readied some sunscreen once more.

When Tara arrived she looked distraught. She said at the last pass, Oscar’s, she got really scared and didn’t know where she was. She looked absolutely frightened. She looked deep into Reese’s eyes (I believe) and kept repeating, “I’m scared, I’m scared.” We asked her some questions, like did she know where she was now? Who’s the current president? Reese and Brooke checked how much salt she had stashed in her vest to evaluate how much she’d taken since we last saw her.

We made sure she ate the entire portion of rice the aid station volunteers had prepared for her and reminded her to take salt every 30 minutes (versus every hour). Our interpretation of the situation was, the altitude was seriously affecting her and she really needed to keep eating and taking electrolytes. She also seemed extremely shaken up, and I wished badly that we could have sent a pacer with her, just so she could have someone to talk to. Pacers weren’t yet allowed with runners on the course.

It was unnerving to just send Tara back out into the mountains. She was so shaken up. Regardless of that, she was in and out of the aid station in four minutes. How she could be so shaken up and scared, and continue on anyway, kind of blew my mind.

In that interaction, we wondered if being so exposed to and surrounded by cameras from the press and livestream were a bit overwhelming for Tara. When she was sharing how she was feeling with us, she was barely speaking above a whisper, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear. We decided we would need to come up with a strategy for the next aid station in Ouray that could offer Tara a bit more privacy, if it seemed like she needed it.

That reminded me of an image that stuck with me from last year’s livestream of UTMB (Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc). Courtney Dauwalter was charging up a hill on the course, just absolutely surrounded by people following her with cameras. When I think of some of my own races or FKT efforts, I honestly can’t imagine the stress of being surrounded with cameras like that. Zero privacy while being in a vulnerable state of exhaustion. I suppose that’s just something that comes with being one of the best runners in the world, no different than an Olympian zipping around a track in a packed stadium or an elite marathoner racing down the streets of Boston on a live broadcast. But it is another element that has to be factored in when you’re an ultramarathoner of this level. How do you tune out the swarm of cameras (and even drones), stay relaxed, and keep doing your thing?

The crew packed up and we collectively placed an order for sandwiches from a local shop–gotta take care of ourselves too!–and as we were on our way out a woman walked up to me and asked if we were crewing for Candy Mama (Tara’s trail name). I said yes, and she handed me a $50 bill (which I gave to Scott) and told us that our next coffee is on her. She said she’s a thru-hiker and a fan of Tara’s and appreciated what we were doing. How extremely kind and generous is that?

Ouray - Mile 43.9

As Inga drove us to Ouray, I hit a bit of a lull and treated myself to a coke at the gas station on the way. Coke was like my magic special drink on the PCT that would bring me back to life. I hoped it would do the same out here.

As we continued on, there was a large plume of smoke from a local wildfire rising to our right. No one on the course was in danger, but it was unnerving to see all the same.

The aid station set up at Ouray was super lively. There were tons of tents set up by Tara’s sponsor, lots of families around spectating, and kids playing games out on the large field close by.

Where the tents were set up, media was not allowed past a certain point. And to extra-ensure some privacy for Tara, we asked for and received permission from the aid station crew to temporarily put up some tent flaps on one of the tents to offer Tara some privacy from the cameras if she needed it.

As we waited in the tent area, some kids came up to the tent and called out, “Rachel, Rachel!” to Rachel Entrekin (the overall Cocodona 250 champ in 2025!) who was part of the crew and would pace Tara later on. They asked if she would like a Hardrock 100 bracelet they had made, and offered some to the rest of the crew too, and one to save for Tara. It was so sweet, and such a special memento from the day.

Seeing Tara come through the last aid station at Telluride was pretty harrowing, so I think we were mentally and emotionally preparing for more of the same. Very thankfully, Tara seemed to be in better spirits relatively at this stop, and best of all, she would get to depart with Jacob Banta, her teammate and first pacer of the day.

It would likely be our last time seeing her before it got dark out, so in addition to the lube glove and sunscreen, it was my job to make sure she had her headlamp and batteries with her. Reese ended up taking care of anything related to what was going in her pack, but at the very least I triple-checked that she definitely had packed those items. Very important! I remembered to get a dab of sunscreen on Tara’s nose, and this time we packed two lube gloves just to be extra-sure she had what she needed.

It made me really happy to see Tara and Jacob head out together, and especially happy that she seemed in better spirits, all things considered. There was nothing easy about what she was doing, but there was something inside her that kept pushing her forward anyway.

The Night Shift

Little did I know, that would be my last time seeing Tara before the Cunningham Aid Station at mile 92.5. There wasn’t enough room for every crew person to come, and one crew member Ethan hadn’t been able to join yet. So Ethan took my place, and my headlamp/lube night duties, and I got to sleep back in Silverton. This felt kind of wrong and made me feel incredibly guilty, but Scott assured me that it’s better for the crew if we’re not all completely sleep-deprived toward the later miles, and it would be better for at least some of us to be fresh in the morning. So I slept!

While I slept, Rachel took over for Jacob as Tara’s pacer, then Robyn took over for Rachel. The night report was that things were… not great. It sounded like keeping food down was an issue, something that has plagued Tara in past races. Despite that, it seemed like she was moving well. To be feeling that way and moving at all, let alone maintaining a place on the women’s podium, was honestly incredible.

The rest of the crew returned home in Silverton for a little bit of rest in the wee hours of the morning before heading out. I had already woken up, but learned I had about an extra hour to spare. So as wrong as it felt to be doing something for leisure while Tara was out there doing a very hard thing, I took the opportunity to go for a five mile run.

Cunningham - Mile 92.5

It was light out when we drove to the Cunningham Aid Station. I was there with Scott, Reese, Ethan, Jacob, and Emily (she was filming Tara all throughout the day and night along with Anna, who I’d been with at the first AS).

I forgot to bring my phone and we didn’t have reception anyway. We were sandwiched right between two mountain passes near a gravel road and camping area. The runners were especially spread out at this point. It was very cold and I kept willing the sunlight to reach us from over the mountain.

We could see each incoming runner waaaay up the mountainside as they descended into the valley. Whenever we could spot one, we’d whoop, cheer, and ring some cowbells.

Courtney Dauwalter, bless her soul, had finished the race already in record time by 8 minutes. We were waiting on Careth to come in to the aid station, and hoped Tara wouldn’t be too far behind her. All of the tracking info we had was hearsay, since we didn’t have reception. From what we gathered, there was a large gap between Careth and Tara, but Tara seemed to be steadily narrowing that gap. Would there be enough miles left in the race to close it?

Seeing Careth come scampering down the mountain with her pacer Lottie was very exciting. As she reached the bottom of the valley and entered the aid station though, things did not seem okay. Careth’s eyes were wide, as if in shock. Her hair was disheveled (as one would expect 90+ miles into a race). She looked like she’d seen a ghost. She looked like a ghost! Every time I’d seen Careth during the race, she looked so chipper and light on her feet. This time, it looked like she had seen some things, and she did not look okay. My heart panged for her. I felt so bad. Her crew was right there for her. A new pacer took over for her last leg to Silverton. She wasn’t at the aid station long and it seemed evident that every single step from there to the end would be very difficult. I think she was crying when she departed the aid station. We all clapped and cheered for her as she began the ascent from the aid station, up Little Giant Peak, the last pass of the course. It was an emotional moment.

A little bit of time passed before we saw Tara running down the mountain accompanied by Robyn, two little specks of pink and white way up in the distance. I was ready for my final task of wet-wiping Tara’s legs and applying a topical NSAID to her legs.

When she came in, physically she looked like she was moving well, but her face was twisted up in a scowl and she seemed to be in a world of pain. She let us know her legs really hurt. I got to work wiping down her legs and applying ointment while everyone else dove in to take care of their respective jobs, NASCAR pit crew-style.

Photos by Jacob Banta

Tara was wondering how far back the next woman was. We shared that she was still way on the other side of the mountain that Tara had just come across, and that as long as she kept moving, she had nothing to worry about. That didn’t seem to convince her though. She seemed almost mad at us as we tried to assure her she was okay, perhaps because she couldn’t allow herself to believe it was true.

It reminded me of how I’ve felt when coming so close to a big goal, that I wouldn’t let myself believe that I had it, even when it was so clear in hindsight that I did. I felt that way as I neared the end of the AT, and I felt the same way toward the end of the Long Trail. It’s like you can’t let yourself relax or believe that things will work out. Like something could just snatch it away from you at the last moment, because in life there are never any guarantees. It’s a torturous way to think, but perhaps not as torturous as having something not work out the way you hoped after allowing yourself to believe it’s possible.

I don’t know exactly what was going through Tara’s mind in that moment, but I felt like I could understand. The only thing left for her to do was to keep going, leg pain, psychological agony, and all. We did everything we could for her.

Scott with Ethan, watching Tara and Robyn head up the final mountain Little Giant, photo by Jacob Banta

Scott wanted to stay to watch Tara go all the way up the mountain as far as we could see her go, and I’m glad we did. We had watched many runners zig-zag up the same switchbacks and agreed no runner that we’d seen yet had moved up the mountain as well as she did. It was beautiful and inspiring to watch, especially knowing how badly she was feeling. I felt so much love for my friend.

The Finish - 101.8 miles

Back in Silverton I hardly knew what to do with myself. I sat at a western-style saloon and ordered a cheeseburger and lemonade. I walked to the finish line and paced around. I walked a quarter mile down the course then turned around and walked back. I felt very antsy and helpless.

When her time to finish got closer I could feel the anticipation building. Spectators began to gather around the finish chute. The medics confirmed with our crew that they were on standby and ready to help Tara. I kept holding back tears thinking about how she must be feeling and how much she fought for this finish. To run over a hundred miles and pretty much not feel good the entire way. Most people would quit. I would probably quit!

Seeing Tara round the final corner is something I’ll never forget. Robyn and Scott had been running with her, and they let Tara go for the final stretch, and gave each other a huge hug as Tara ran with everything she had toward the finish line.

Photo by Jacob Banta

The crew lined ourselves up along the finish chute and cheered and cried as Tara ran with her arms outstretched toward the huge painted rock signifying the beginning and end of the race. Per tradition, she completed her race by planting a kiss on the rock. She finished 3rd for women, and 14th overall. She stepped backward, and the moment she looked a tad unsteady, medics jumped to her side and immediately escorted her to the nearby gym so she could get medical attention.

A little while later, Tara felt well enough to be released and she slowly walked back to the rock with Scott and Reese’s help after all the hoopla was over, and we all got to enjoy a quiet moment sitting by the rock together.

Photo by Jacob Banta

💫

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Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. A couple days after Hardrock, I ran a large portion of the course over several days (aka “Softrock”) with the Lickety Split Pack 20L, Dynama Dress (same as the PCT!), Crater Lake Hoody, and Cloud Cipher Rain Jacket. Check out more photos from the trip here!

Photo by Emily Cameron

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I wore the T1 on my Softrock adventure). Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes.

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Til next week! ~Liz

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I love a good old fashioned do over. I spent the day after I’d arrived in Fort William making my way back up north to Kinlochbervie by bus, with one connection in Inverness. I had done all of this before; I knew the drill! I fastened my seatbelt on the Far North Bus, now expecting the many sudden stops that come with vehicles hurtling toward each other on single lane country roads.

I bought the same exact frozen pizza from the SPAR grocery store and stayed at the same cozy seaside cabin in Oldnorthshore as from the first night. I remembered how apprehensive I felt when I arrived here the first time, feeling a little nervous about the hike ahead–the wayfinding, the weather, the bogs, the bugs. Now I was on the other side of it. Since that first night, I’d hiked almost the entire Cape Wrath Trail (or at least one variation of it, given all the options). It no longer felt like a deep dive into the unknown; the trail felt friendly, familiar, and not so scary.

The next morning I set off on my final leg of the journey–the coastal stretch from Oldshoremore to the Cape Wrath Lighthouse.

It began with a couple miles of road, followed by a couple miles of trail through open, golden, grassy meadow that eventually led toward Sandwood Bay Beach, a secluded coastal stretch only accessible by foot. Well, and by sea. It used to be a stopover for Viking longboats. The bay has also been host to many shipwrecks before the Cape Wrath Lighthouse was constructed in 1828.

Presently, there were two tents pitched on a dune above the shoreline, and otherwise the beach was totally devoid of human presence.

Next, I took a trail variation heading slightly inland to the Strathchailleach Bothy. This is the bothy I was most excited about visiting along the entire trail. The dwelling was likely built sometime in the 1840s and it was occupied by shepherds until around the turn of the century. The last residents likely lived there until about the 1940s, and by the 1950s it was empty. It’s a primitive dwelling and doesn’t have a kitchen, bathroom, electricity, telephone, or running water. A man named James McRory Smith made it his home for 32 years (~1964-1998).

In a rare newspaper interview, he said “I enjoy the simple life. I moved to this area when I decided to drop out of the rat race. Now my life is perfect and I would like to stay here forever. Walking keeps me healthy and I reckon I’ve trekked thousands of miles to collect my pension and my messages. The only trouble is that I keep wearing out my wellies.”

There was hardly a distinguishable trail to get to the bothy; maybe just a vague path of muddy meadow that was too sloppy to actually walk through. Its location was about as nestled in as it could be among the open, sloping foothills all around. It actually wouldn’t be very easy to spot unless you were deliberately looking for it.

Inside, even though it’s been nearly 30 years since McRory Smith lived here, signs of his living there remain. Mainly, his paintings on the walls. There are also some framed photos of him that were likely placed after he left. I’m impressed that they’ve been left put by visitors. Maybe it’s that anyone who’s taken the time to tromp their way through miles of boggy meadows to get there respects those items and their history enough to let them be.

Here’s a fascinating article written by James Carron, who authored a detailed biography about McRory Smith called Highland Hermit.

It was time to continue north. The wind majorly picked up from the southwest as I went on, evident from the rippling meadows and being practically pushed forward as I walked, making me very glad that I was heading the same direction.

Only a few sloping highland hills remained between me and Cape Wrath.

All I can say is, wow, what an epic end point to an epic trail. I said it before, but I’m so glad I got to save this moment for the end, rather than the less-inspiring road walk and ferry into Fort William. There hadn’t been any trail to follow at all since departing from the bothy. Literally just hiking over meadows in a general direction toward the land tapering off toward the ocean.

Just toward the very end I reached a country road that would take me the final couple miles. The lighthouse came into view and I couldn’t stop smiling.

I walked by a building with a little sign for a café, and saw a man (who must have been the caretaker John) dart inside, looking like he was doing some chores. Besides him, I didn’t see anyone around. No hikers, no tourists. Just the blue sky, whipping wind, some sheep hanging around nearby, and the historic Cape Wrath Lighthouse. I took a few selfies and a video to celebrate and that was that!

I went inside the café to say hello to John. He had me sign the guestbook and offered to whip me up some mac n’ cheese, toast, and a pot of coffee.

It was only around 1pm. The tricky part now would be figuring out an easy way to get back to Durness. I asked him if he knew if the afternoon ferry would be running today, and he said no, it had been cancelled due to the high winds. He said I could stay there for the night if I’d like. I waffled about whether I’d like to stay, or hike out the long way to Durness, about a 12ish mile commitment involving some slow-going, trail-less, boggy walking.

A few minutes later, a young German cyclist walked in. He had somehow ridden his bike from Sandwood Bay (perhaps he was in one of the tents I saw?), and had taken an even more rugged route closer to the coast than I had. From the sound of it, it wasn’t so much riding as much as it was pushing and carrying across all those boggy meadows and hills. Wow! John whipped up a plate of mac n’ toast for him too.

Then not long after that, another man rolled up to the café on his ATV and came in to get a coffee. John told me that was Malcolm, the ferryman, and maybe he’d be willing to run the ferry for me and the cyclist. Turns out, he was! The ferry was an 8 mile walk down the dirt country road. This would have been fine. Then Malcolm asked if I’d like a lift. Why not??

We thanked John and paid for our food. The cyclist went ahead and got a head start down the road, I hopped on the back of Malcolm’s four wheeler, and off we went. Similarly to my train car stay a couple nights ago, I can’t say I expected my day to end up how it did. I’d never ridden on an ATV before and honestly, it was thrilling! I finally understand the appeal. I loved the fresh air, the wind whipping around, and we just happened to be in an incredibly beautiful place. The meadows, the coastal cliffs, the dramatic clouds and landscape.

We piled into the ferry, a small motorboat, and across the water we went.

I learned that Malcolm is friends with Duncan, the historian I met near Ullapool. Everyone knows everyone! We sent him this photo.

We all said farewell and I walked the 2-3ish miles back to Durness, grabbed a burger from the same food cart I visited back in the beginning of the trip, and started to plan what was next.

EPILOGUE

I had completed the trail. Mostly. But it bothered me that I had technically missed a section on my first day by taking a recommended road detour around due to a high river crossing.

It hadn’t rained very much over the last few days, so the river was probably fine now. I decided that the next day I’d hike that final section to officially officially complete the trail. Or at least a variation of the trail, given there are so many options.

I took the now-very-familiar Far North Bus down to the trailhead by Ben Neavie, where I’d first officially set foot on an actual trail (back in the beginning). Instead of hiking south toward Ben Neavie, which I’d already done, I walked across the road and hiked trail-north by the mountain Arkle, and along Loch a' Garbh-bhaid Mòr, a narrow freshwater lake. It was a beautiful section of trail, and just as boggy and slowgoing as described; though not as much as it would have been on that first rainy day!

I waved hello to some fisherman that were out on a boat just before crossing the main river that feeds into the lake. I was careful, but ultimately it was no big deal at all.

The rest of the walk to Rhiconich, where I’d connect back with the part of the CWT I’d already hiked, was very chill and easygoing. Not quite the epic hike as it was to Cape Wrath, but it was very pretty and incredibly satisfying. I did what I’d set out to do!

💫

Thanks for joining me on the Cape Wrath Trail! I am also publishing daily videos from the trek on my YouTube channel here if you’d like to see more!

You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently!

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

It was a totally beautiful morning departing Glenfinnan. I started around 6:00am and walked by the Glenfinnan Monument commemorating the 1745 Jacobite Uprising and marking the (supposed) spot where Bonnie Prince Charlie raised his royal standard and set off on a fateful campaign to regain the British throne for a Stuart king.

After meeting a historian at an archaeological survey site the week prior, I became curious about learning more about the stories behind all the farmland ruins I’d come across during my hike. Seemingly abandoned homesteads, old crumbling stone fences, and many signs of Highland communities from hundreds of years past.

I learned that following the Jacobite rising, a significant number of people were forced to leave their homes by their Highland landlords to make room for large-scale sheep and cattle farming.

I also learned that the Scottish Highlands used to have many more forested areas, and it had apex predators like wolves, bears, and boar. Many of the trees were felled due to farming and war, and the predators have been hunted to extinction.

While the places I’ve hiked on this trek have all seemed very wild, they’ve been lived on and impacted by generations and generations of people. I’m just one in many over aeons to pass through.

The rest of this day was very serene and undramatic. I was treated to blue skies and mostly nice trail.

I came across three hikers just beginning their Cape Wrath Trail journey northbound. One of them asked me how it was. It’s hard to wrap it up in just a few words. Amazing. Hard. Beautiful. Boggy. I wished them well and they congratulated me on being almost finished.

My blurry attempt at a non-selfie photo on trail!

The trail turned to a gravel road, then the gravel road turned into a paved road. I followed it a very long way all the way to the ferry dock.

I arrived just a few minutes before the ferry and hopped on for the quick ride over to Fort William, marking the southern end of the trail.

True to the entire experience, there was no trail marker, monument, sign, or otherwise. I made it to Fort William two days earlier than planned, which was perfect, because I had some unfinished business up north. You might remember that my “Day One” on trail was a bust because the ferry to Cape Wrath, the northernmost part of the trail, was canceled, so I began the trip by skipping the entire first section of the trail and heading south.

My plan from here is to rest up at Fort William, then tomorrow head back up north to Kinlochbervie, and hike from there north to Cape Wrath to officially complete the trail! This makes me happy because ending my hike in a much more scenic and remote place, with a really cool historic lighthouse unofficially marking the northern end of the trail, feels like a much more climactic and fitting way to end the hike!

I had all kinds of plans to explore Fort William, but I was so tired and my feet were so sore that I mostly just laid around and eventually made myself get up and walk down the street to pickup some takeaway pizza. It was delicious. Onward!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

The day began with mist rising over the green, and puffy golden clouds all around. The matted grass and moss squished below my feet with every step. I began the day climbing up and over a pass toward my first check point of the day, Sourlies Bothy, on the other side.

On the other side of the pass, the route went through a very very wet meadow with no particular track to follow. I really had to be careful with each step, because every so often a deep and narrow ravine cut through the field. It would be so easy to not pay attention and suddenly have a 3 foot plunge!

I saw no one in this stretch, but I did see a lot of deer. We seem to be on the same wake up schedule!

I hiked further than planned yesterday, and Sourlies Bothy was originally one of my potential ending points today. I reached it at 9:50am. Definitely moving on!

There were lots of people here, at least six (that’s a lot for this trail!), some sleeping inside and some camping outside. I was almost afraid to ask the hikers how the next section would be, and hoped they wouldn’t ask me the same, because I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news (lots of mud). Sometimes it’s better just not to know!

The next section was quite nice in comparison with a track to follow and more solo miles.

The track turned into a road and I followed it into a rare forested section.

I saw a few more hikers in this stretch heading northbound. It dawned on me that I was getting really close to the southern end of the trail. These hikers were just beginning their journeys. I spoke with two men hiking together, and they said the trail would be pretty nice for me from here, some muddy sections, but not bad. The next hiker I saw down the way looked at me with wide eyes and warned me that the trail ahead would be really, really bad and that I was in for a tough time.

Clearly, it all comes down to perspective. At first I was a little freaked out by what the last guy had told me. Then I thought about how I’d already hiked most of the trail. If those other guys didn’t think it was so bad, and if I’d already made it through most of the trail, I’d probably be fine.

It reminded me of running into southbounders up in Washingon on the PCT. They shared horror stories of how bad the blowdowns were. Then I’d get to the supposedly horrible sections and they weren’t bad at all compared to some of the burn sections with massive blowdowns in Northern California. It’s just that the southbounders hadn’t experienced anything worse yet. We had different definitions of bad. And likewise, I had a different definition of “boggy” compared with northbounders just beginning their Cape Wrath journey.

The rest of the way was pretty easygoing. I had walked so far beyond my goals for the day. Past Sourlies Bothy, A’Chuil Bothy, and even past my stretch goal of Corryhully Bothy. It was only another 5K or so into Glenfinnan, the next town, so on I went.

As I got closer to Glenfinnan, a massive bridge came into view. There were people milling all around it, and up a steep hillside trail next to it. I didn’t know anything about it, thinking it was maybe some ancient aqueduct. Well, once I had a reception, a quick google search told me it was the Glenfinnan Viaduct, a railway bridge completed in 1901. But what makes it really famous is that it was featured in four of the Harry Potter films. Ah, that would explain the crowds!

I really didn’t have a plan for where I’d sleep, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask around if there were any hiker-friendly places to sleep or camp in or near town. A very nice lady at the reception desk of a local bnb told me I should ask at the train station if they had a place for me to sleep. Seemed a bit random, but why not?

I walked over to the Glenfinnan Train Station, where there was a small train museum. I said hello to the man working there, told him I was a hiker and that someone recommended that I asked him if they had an available place for me to sleep. I fully expected to be turned away, but he said yes, and just to wait a moment while he closed up the museum.

He then showed me the museum’s stationary sleeper car, which they had preserved over the years and turned into a private hostel. It’s not something they advertise, but it’s available to friends of the museum. He said they just ask that I become a member of the museum (£10) and encourage a small donation. Sounded good to me! No one else was staying there that night, so I ended up having the entire car to myself, complete with little dining booths, bunk rooms, a full kitchen, laundry, and bathroom/shower. I definitely wasn’t expecting my day to end this way! What a treat!

I was now only a little over 20 miles away from Fort William, the southern end point of the trail. I could do that tomorrow, and have plenty of time to make my way back up north to hike the final section of the Cape Wrath Trail, the one I missed right in the beginning.

It feels a little strange to be on a hike without breakneck speed goals. I very purposely gave myself a pretty relaxed schedule so that I wouldn’t feel the pressure of a goal. But I also really enjoy seeing how far I can go and making the most of every day. I also really like having a set plan, and it’s pretty unlike me to wander into a town without any plan at all. In this case, not having everything planned out led to a pretty neat surprise ending to the day.

I nestled into my little bunk, the sky still totally light, as it was until past 10pm every day. Another sleep, then onward to Fort William!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

It rained a ton overnight, so I took my sweet time in the morning and didn’t start hiking until about 10:30am. My latest start by far!

I crossed the Shiel Bridge and entered the next valley, green and completely saturated.

The path went alongside a river for a while. I double-checked my map and realized I accidentally missed a turn. It was easy to miss, given the turn is not on a set trail and it goes right over the river.

The river was rushing and swollen. I have to cross that?? I thought, there’s no way. I went up and down the riverbank looking for a good way across. Where the river was at its widest, I could see that it was shallow enough to cross, in spite of the raging current. I told myself to just take it one step at a time, and if it felt too scary, I could turn around.

I was very glad that I’d gone back to retrieve my hiking pole at the bus stop on that first day, because I definitely needed it now. I went one step at a time, and only moved forward if I felt totally sure that I was stable amidst the slippery rocks of the riverbed. Once I was safely to the other side, I noticed how much my heart was pounding. Moving on!

I made my way up the next valley. It was very wet. There was a lot of mist swirling around and it continued to rain off and on.

Out of the mist from the mountaintop, a figure emerged- a man wearing orange. Two more men appeared behind him. He approached me and asked me what my name was, then he said, “We’ve been looking for you!” Huh??

I asked him what he meant, and then he asked me my name again. It turned out, they were looking for a young blonde woman who had seemingly gone missing. Her GPS tracker had stopped over the way I was coming from. Her father was concerned and called emergency rescue on her behalf. They showed me her photo (which was difficult as it was raining, making it hard for the rescuer to navigate the touchscreen of his cell phone).

They asked if I had seen anyone, and unfortunately I hadn’t. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. They said if I see her to ask her to call the police, or to call the police myself. They said they would share about their search online if she didn’t turn up. I haven’t seen anything online about her disappearance since, so hopefully that means she is safe and well!

I continued along the ridge and was treated to more swirling mist and fog, with an occasional view to the valley below.

After this I had some options. There was a place to camp in the next little town. I got there much sooner than expected, and the ground looked very wet and muddy, so I pressed on. If I went another 6 miles or so, I could reach the Barrisdale Bothy, a hut with bunkrooms and running water.

I’m glad I kept going, because the next part was a slog. The path around the lake was extremely muddy, and the trail was narrow and often lined with trees, so there was no way to avoid the mud other than doing an awkward straddle walk. I just thought, I’m doing this now so future Liz doesn’t have to!

The way was slow, but it sure was pretty.

The mist and rain lifted, and gave way to a dry, cold, stiff wind. The bothy was a very welcome site.

I met the caretakers outside. I was the only hiker there. We were in a place that was pretty remote and not easily accessible. Just for fun, just now I tried plugging in driving directions there via Google Maps and it simply doesn’t know a route to get there.

I had my usual cold peanut noodle dinner while re-listening to an audiobook since I didn’t have any service or a way to download something new. It was a very simple and solitary evening!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

Today the weather was misty and raining off and on. I had two choices from my starting point in Strathcarron. One began low through some farmland, then up to the Falls of Glomach, before descending to Morvich. The other went high up into the mountains, dipped down to a valley, then up the same route to the Falls of Glomach and same the rest of the way.

I felt a bit nervous about the slippery and steep ascent up to the falls I’d read about, combined with possible bad weather. I decided to take the low route through the farmland in the first half of the day, so that I could make better time to the falls and take my time getting up there if the weather worsened later in the day.

One challenge of the Cape Wrath Trail is the decision making. Most trails have one path. No brainer! This trail has many variations and options, and I find myself getting caught up in a moral dilemma of which way to go. Like if I don’t choose the hardest/toughest way, that reflects poorly on me as a person. I know that’s not true, but I’m surprised at how much I find myself tying my self-worth into which path I choose, as if there is only one truly correct way to go. I wonder about what I could be missing out by choosing one way over the other. Then again, some of the highlights on this trek only happened because I happened to choose that way- I could have just as easily missed out by going the other way and never have known. Such is life!

I hiked the lovely back country roads, glistening wet from the on-and-off rain, and crossed the occasional grass field over farmland, getting my shoes and socks wet too. Not a day has gone by without wet feet!

I had a few stamped postcards with me that I’d written to supporting newsletter members that I’d been meaning to drop in a mailbox. Coincidentally, a mailman pulled over right in front of me. I waved and asked if I could give him my postcards and he said sure! I had written on them a day or two prior, and they were getting a bit tattered as I’d been carrying them with me for miles. To members who receive postcards from Scotland, just consider them authentically worn from the trail!

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I continued cruising down a road when I looked up and suddenly saw a highland cow, the kind with horns, with her calf about 50 yards ahead of me in the middle of the road next to a barn. Huh!

This is just a stock photo from Wikipedia!⬆️

I don’t have experience with highland cows, but they look a lot like bulls, and my only experience with a bull was back in my college running days on the country roads of Illinois. It was provoked easily and would chase me and my teammates from behind a fence as we ran by. Even separated by a fence, it was pretty scary!

Not wanting to take any chances, I tromped way up onto a hillside and made a wide semicircle around the cow (and saw there were actually multiple cows) and back down to the road. As I was making my way down the hill, I went undetected by a group of hikers in orange heading down the road the opposite way as me, toward the cow. They were entirely unworried, waved their arms to make themselves appear big, and walked right by without a problem.

Anyway, time to see a waterfall! I was so glad I was going up to this waterfall and not going back down the same way. The trail went up a steep and rocky slope with many switchbacks, chock with wet rocks, grass, and mud.

It also began to rain. I threw on my Mountain Hardwear Cloud Cipher Jacket, took my time, and was careful with each step.

The Glomach Falls were a highlight of the trek! I’m always reluctant to deviate from my route–must be moving forward at all times! In this case, if I wanted a view of the falls, I’d have to take a little side trail to do so. If this were an FKT attempt, forget it. But this wasn’t an FKT attempt! I carefully trotted down a wet and muddy meadowed hillside to catch a glimpse.

The trail continued up the meadow and over a pass before a very long and chill descent toward Morvich.

I saw two day hikers walking together on the way down. I said hello and passed by them and asked if they had also seen the falls. They said yes then commented, “You are very fast.” I laughed and said, “I’m very motivated to get to town!”

I reached Morvich sooner than expected. I had read in a guide (that my friend Rachel had made for me in a word doc) that there was a store along the next road that carried snacks and provisions and such. I realized if I didn’t go now, I’d have to wait until they opened in the morning, which could mean waiting for a long time! So I went on to the store and stocked up on all kinds of goodies. I had plenty of meal-type food on me (Indo-mie noodles and shelf-stable tamales) but I was running low on snacks so I procured a variety of fun UK treats.

Another mile or so down the road was a tavern full of tourists, cyclists, bikers, hikers. It’s wild how solitary it is up in the mountains and totally popping on the roadside. It makes me feel appreciative of where my legs can take me and being able to have this experience. I had a hot meal of venison, peas, carrots, and mashed potatoes, feeling extra appreciative for it and another day up in the highlands.

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

I’ve been making a concerted effort to stop worrying so much about how the day will go. I’ve been waking up so early, like 1am, without an alarm! The sun rises at 3am, which makes my early wake up calls feel not so wild, but I think I just worry things will take longer than expected and I hate to finish late in the day. But so far, every day has been totally fine. Even if there’s bad weather, even if it’s slow going. Nothing to worry about.

The day started pretty mildly. The sun peeked out of the clouds for just a bit. I noticed darker clouds lingering over some higher peaks in the landscape. Then I realized, oh, I’m going straight into that!

As the path shifted toward the southwest and I started climbing a hill, the wind picked up a lot, and I was heading straight into it. The sort of alarming part was that if I was going uphill toward the wind, that meant the hill had to at least be partially blocking the wind from the other side. As in, whenever I crested the hill, it was going to get a lot stronger!

When I reached the crest, I found myself surrounded by a bowl of sloping mountaintops. I hadn’t reached another side; I had reached the lip of a sort of bowl of mountains all around me.

I felt very small and awestruck by the looming peaks and clouds whipping across the sky. I took some video just before rain started to pelt down from the sky.

The rain came in waves. It would rain hard for a while, then stop. Rinse and repeat. The wind kept changing directions. Sometimes it blew so hard I had to make sure I had at least two of my three points of contact to the ground down at all times–my one hiking pole and two feet. It was like moving through the current of a rushing river.

I like to talk to the weather and as the wind kept trying to knock me over I shouted something along the lines of, “Yes, I get it! You’re very strong! Thank you very much! I respect you!”

Thankfully my gear was doing exactly what it was designed to do, keeping me and my belongings warm and dry. Thank you Mountain Hardwear Cloud Cipher Jacket and Alakazam Pack!

I was concentrating so hard on moving forward that I missed a turn, and started making my way down the completely wrong mountainside. I was a mile off course before I realized my mistake. Back up to the mountain bowl we go!

I found the turn, completely unmarked and easy to miss (as most of this trail goes!), and made my way down the correct mountainside. The lower I got, the calmer the weather became. It stopped raining for the most part, and the wind died down.

I think I just experienced some sort of microclimate, a mountain cluster with its own weather system!

I reached my destination for the day, the Coire Fionnaraich Bothy, but it was still early in the day. I made better time than anticipated, even with the wrong turn. I continued on my way down to the town of Strathcarron, motivated and enticed by the thought of a hot meal! I plopped down in the local tavern and ordered the national dish of Scotland: Haggis, Neeps, & Tatties (savory meat pudding, yellow turnips, and mashed potatoes). Nothing better than a hot meal after a cold and wet day!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

I didn’t have very far to go, about 20 miles or a little more to my next stop. But I think the unknown is what frightens me sometimes. What if the trail (or non-trail) really hard and slowgoing? Better give myself the most time possible!

The day began with a gravel road similar to how I had ended yesterday day to Oykel Bridge. Very easygoing and chill!

I saw that I had a big climb ahead and imagined the absolute worst. It would be hard to navigate! It would be boggy and muddy! I’d have to move at a snail’s pace!

Well, it was boggy and muddy! But every day is boggy and muddy! And it’s fine. Once you get through the first few squishes and accept your feet will be wet all day, it’s really not a big deal.

I left the lovely gravel road, passed by a beautiful lake, and went back up into the mountains. This time the way lead over an incredibly beautiful (and steep!) grassy slope. Hardly any rocks, just smooth meadow. It reminded me of Kungsleden in Sweden.

As I neared the top and stopped to catch my breath, I looked up and saw a lone stag at the top looking down at me! I waved and said hi, and he bolted as if he’d seen a ghost. Sorry buddy!

As I crossed the meadowscape, way way off in the distance, I spotted four human figures, a dog, and a car. I hadn’t seen any people yet that day, and I was in a pretty remote area. What were they doing out here? How did they have a car out here??

If you look closely you can see the archeology/film crew and their car!

As I got closer I waved and they waved back at me. One man approached me and called out, “Are you an archaeologist?” I smiled and called back, “No… are you??”

We walked toward each other to hear each other better. He introduced himself, Duncan, and he was there with a filmmaker Richard. They were surveying the land and believed they had found a round house and from the Iron Age, as well as an ancient tomb. Wow! I asked if they planned to publish their findings, and it turns out Richard had worked with Duncan to make a film that had been aired on the BBC about the hidden history of a highland village called Balblair. Now they were in the process of making a new documentary about their latest discoveries in the area. How cool! I was walking amongst history on ancient grounds!

I descended another 4W road for a long way down the mountain until reaching town.

I called a local taxi to get a ride to the grocery store ten miles down the road. The driver’s name was Dorene. We asked each other questions and I shared about my day including the run-in with an archaeologist. It turned out she knew exactly who I was talking about, and she said they’re good friends. In all my interactions so far in the Highlands, I get the sense that everyone knows each other, which is really cool.

I ended my day at a shared bunkhouse, where I enjoyed a frozen pizza, fresh fruit, and I finished my book Project Hail Mary. Coincidentally I also just finished the audiobook Atmosphere while hiking. Two emotional space odysseys! I don’t know if my heart can take it! If anyone has recommendations for what to read or listen to next, I would love to hear them.

Who needs plates, anyway? Onward!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

The trail took me over the lower slope of a mountain before bringing me to another bothy, Glendoul, just a little over four miles from where I started. The trail would split from here and I was hoping to meet some other hikers and ask which way they had taken. I peeked into the bothy. It was about 7am and nobody was there! I stepped in and checked the guestbook in the front room. The last visitor had come through two days ago. There really aren’t many people out here!

While one way on the map looked a bit shorter on paper, I went the way that seemed to be more popular, based on other hikers whose routes I’d studied beforehand (found on the FKT page, naturally)! Sometimes shorter doesn’t always equal better.

I made my way into the valley beyond the bothy, away from the lake. The terrain was very marshy and I squished and squashed with every step.

To my right was a magnificent waterfall, just so casually there. As in, you’d think it would be some kind of major tourist attraction like Multnomah Falls in Oregon. But here, beyond not being very accessible, it seems to just be one of many brilliant waterfalls.

I feel like the photo doesn’t do it justice!

Soon it was time to climb out of the valley and up toward the next mountain pass. I followed the not-always-distinguishable (or existent) path along a ravine, basically straight uphill. The climb felt reminiscent of the many straight-up, straight-down ascents and descents of the Appalachian Trail.

As I crested the first sort of layer of foothills, I entered this magical land of fields, ponds, and rocks, totally surrounded by mountains. It reminded me of the Presidential Traverse in the White Mountains. Up at the pass, still very alone, I marveled at how I could possibly have this all seemingly to myself. How were there not hundreds of people out here? Maybe I’ve become too accustomed to crowded trails?

I followed a more distinct trail down toward the next town, except before reaching town, I’d be making a sharp left turn to continue following the Cape Wrath Trail. As I was descending, I could see a 4W road zig-zagging up into the mountains. My heart fluttered and I wondered if maybe that was the trail. After a very trail-less first half of the day, the thought of just brainlessly following a track without wondering which way to go sounded delightful. Once I made the sharp left turn, it turned out yes, the road was the trail!! Heck yeah!

I fully enjoyed walking back up into the mountains without thinking about every single step. It was nice while it lasted. Then it was time to tackle the next pass. The trail turned to single track again, and eventually disappeared as I followed a ravine uphill.

The ravine eventually created a large chasm separating one foothill from the other. I stayed to the left, which is how my map said to go, but I actually needed to get to the other side eventually. How would that worked out? I kept climbing uphill, feeling a bit apprehensive, when I saw another hiker up ahead of me making his way down. Phew!

I asked him which way he had come from, and he looked a bit perplexed and just gestured vaguely toward the pass looming ahead. He told me to just find my way up to the pass, that there’s no set way, and that it was quite difficult. Okay!

Now I felt nervous. And I had to figure out how to get to the other side of this ravine. I kept climbing up and up, while keeping an eye on the embankment to my right, looking for any way to get cross. Finally, I spotted an area with a slightly more gentle slope, the ravine not too wide or raging, and hopped across no problem.

From there, it was a giant uphill field. Occasionally I could find a track to follow, then it would just disappear. But I could see very clearly which direction I needed to go (the lowest point of the pass ahead).

Once I reached the top, a magnificent valley opened up in front me. This was magical! Down below I could see a ribbon of river- the Oykel! All I needed to do was follow the river from here.

The way was not easy, mainly because it was so incredibly wet, slick, boggy, and muddy. Theme of the trek! Eventually I found another 4W road, which was at an angle, and still very muddy, making it quite difficult to follow while staying upright.

After many miles, the track turned to a more stable gravel road. I’d have around 9(ish?) miles of gravel road walking from here, only interrupted once by a downhill, trackless walk in a patch of forest.

It was my first time in a forest so far in this hike. The trees were thick and barely let any light through, despite the sun being high in the sky. The ground was soft and very mossy. Tiny patches of light dotted the way. Very eerie and magical!

I reached around 32 miles or a little over for the day! I ended at the Oykel Bridge Hotel and stayed in one of their bothy rooms (they cater to fishers and hikers). I got to shower, do laundry, and had an awesome grilled haddock and potato dinner at their tavern. It was a very good day!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Subscribe now

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

I woke in my cabin and peeked out the window to see… a blue sky? Huh!

I had breakfast and packed all my things, and by the time I set out for my first real day of hiking, it was raining steadily.

I walked the two or so miles down the road into town and the rain just got heavier. I popped into the public restroom by the grocery store for a brief respite, listening to the rain pouring outside. “I have to be brave!”, I told myself.

Back into the elements. I walked another four or so miles to Rhiconich. I was on a road that is part of the Cape Wrath Trail. I saw a familiar looking bus drive by- it was the same driver from yesterday, the one who let me out to walk back and retrieve my hiking pole! We excitedly waved at each other. Yesterday I learned that he is married to Susan, the nice woman that had given me a ride yesterday.

Speaking of Susan, yesterday she shared that she’s lived in the area for years and has never been to Cape Wrath (Durness is where Cape Wrath is most accessible from, via ferry). Amanda, her friend that also had given me a ride yesterday, had lived there for eight years and had also never been to Cape Wrath. It made me feel less bad that the ferry wasn’t running, preventing me from going there myself. I’m just doing how the locals do!

I walked right by where the Cape Wrath Trail continued down a ravine, which leads to a valley and lakeside walk full of stream and river crossings. I had been warned by a grocery clerk that the water levels were high, and that one of the crossings may be dangerous, so I opted to take a road detour as some other hikers had done. This made me feel kind of lame, as I hadn’t yet set a foot off pavement, but I also didn’t want to be stupid and get in over my head (literally!).

After many miles of road walking, the rain beginning to subside, I finally approached a range of mountains and foothills that I’d be going right up into. I turn right up a green, grassy, squishy, muddy slope. Into the highlands, finally!!

It was as if a switch turned on. I felt alive and elated going up into the mountains. Before long, I could turn around and see the road I had just been walking on and couldn’t believe how far down it was already.

I followed the track uphill for a little while, then accordingly to my map I’d need to continue into a valley, then take the best route up onto a mountain ridge. Best route as in, use my eyes and do my best. There was no certain trail to follow. I can see why, too. If one tried to design a trail here, it would just become a muddy mess. You’re basically finding the best way around streams, bogs, and general wet patches among grass and moss patches.

I had been a bit nervous about wayfinding, but this was actually really fun. I knew based on my map (which I had a gps version of on phone, and a waterproof paper version and compass handy), where I needed to go. I made my way up the ridge of Ben Dreavie with a strong wind whipping up behind me.

Once up top, I walked parallel to another mountain to my left. I couldn’t see the top of that mountain because it was covered in fog. Just as I reached the high point, a wall of fog and rain swept up behind me and enveloped me too. It’s amazing how rapidly things can change. One minute you can see the landscape all around you, the next you can’t. Thankfully I knew exactly where I was going, and thankfully there was a track to follow down the other side of the mountain. No compass required this time.

I followed the track the rest of the way down to a lake, and walked along the lake edge until I reached the place I hoped to stay that night, the Glendhu Bothy (a Bothy is a hut with no services; it usually has a fireplace and room for hikers to sleep). If it was full of hikers, I could always walk another four miles over a small pass to Glencoul Bothy.

Well, this Bothy had two main living areas and two rooms to sleep in upstairs, and I had the entire place to myself. I put my belongings in one room upstairs and sat by a window looking out at the lake downstairs, while having my dinner and reading my book. A perfect evening.

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

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Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “Big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription

After journeying by plane, train, bus, and lastly on foot, I finally arrived in the tiny town of Durness, nestled in the northernmost point of Scotland.

I sat in the back elevated row of the bus peering out the window while the driver confidently careened around bends, only interrupted by the occasional sudden slam of the brakes when another car came flying toward us from the other direction. It’s a one lane highway with two-way traffic! This didn’t seem to phase the driver or passengers in the slightest. They were used to it!

The lush green hills rose all around us, with mist forming in pockets between valleys. If these were the views we were getting treated to from the road, I couldn’t imagine what the more untouched landscape would reveal by foot.

Well, it’s now a day later and I have yet to find out! I had reserved a seat on a ferry and bus to Cape Wrath this morning, where the iconic lighthouse marks the northern terminus of the Cape Wrath Trail. I could hardly sleep last night as I was tossing and turning with excitement, and some nerves too. Outside the wind was howling and rain was blowing sideways! I was going to be out hiking in that??

This morning I emailed the tour company to see if the ferry was still running. They wrote back about an hour before departure: it was not. Too windy! It would be windy tomorrow too. And the next four days after that, the area would be inaccessible due to a planned military firearms training.

I knew the unexpected would happen on this trip, but not before even beginning my hike!

I packed up and walked the couple miles into town, where the central hub consisted of a grocery store, post office, and gas station. I saw there was one bus departing south today, and the only time it was doing so was in fifteen minutes.

I made a quick decision to hop on the bus and get to the next town on trail, where I’d planned to end my first day. We made it about five miles down the road when my stomach dropped. My pole. I realized I didn’t have my hiking pole, and must have left it propped up by the grocery store. Weighing my options, and thinking about the streams and rivers I would be fording on this hike, I knew there was only one choice: I had to go back. I apologized profusely to the bus driver and asked if we could pull over so I could get out. He (and the other two hikers that had completed their hike the night before) understood and wished me well.

So now I’m walking along the beautiful one lane highway that I’d been gazing out the bus window from the evening before, enjoying the same views again by foot, and back in the same direction toward Durness.

This is fine.

A couple miles later, a van pulled up behind me. Driving it was a woman I’d met in the parking lot of the grocery store earlier. She asked if I’d like a lift. Her name was Susan. Bless you, Susan!

And just a few minutes later I was back where I began, and thankfully my pole was right where I’d left it. Back to square one. Susan had a friend in town with a private driving service, Amanda, who would meet me at the store an hour later. In the meantime I explored some more on foot. I saw a beautiful rainbow (ironically right over Cape Wrath) and had a fabulous croissant at a little bakery.

I met Amanda back at the store. She was already heading the direction I’d been planning. She dropped me off at Kinlochbervie, the town I’d planned to end my first day of hiking. I picked up a dinner to go at the grocery store there, and walked 2.5 miles up the road, which was actually part of the Cape Wrath Trail, to the little cabin I’d be staying in at Oldshoremore. I dropped my pack and walked along the gorgeous coastline before the rain really started to come down, feeling very happy to be there and trying not to feel too down about missing out on my first true day of hiking in the highlands.

The weather is going to get worse before it gets better: heavy wind and heavy rain through tomorrow around noon. At the store, I was warned of a river crossing that gets dangerously high in these conditions, and that hikers were taking a road detour to get around. I am planning to take the same detour.

It’s hard not to feel I’m just utterly failing at this hike I’d planned for myself so far, but I’m trying to remind myself that as always, some things, like weather and ferry crossings, are just not within my control. And how lucky am I to be holed up in a cozy tiny cabin on the northwest coast of Scotland, with hardly any cell service, a frozen pizza, and paperback book to keep me company?

Tomorrow is going to be wet, but the worst of the rain will be before noon. My plan is to take a combination of road detour and trail to get to one of two bothies (similar to White Mountain Huts, but with no services or toilets), around 25-30 miles away. I have my Nimbus UL1 tent with me in case plans change. With sunrise at 3am and sunset at 10pm, daylight is on my side. On we go!

💫

Thanks for reading! You can support Pink Feathers by sharing this letter and joining as a supporting member. Supporting members receive my deepest thanks, exclusive content, and occasional mementos from my travels which I’m mailing out in batches this summer. Members, please let me know if your address has changed recently.

Huge thanks to my sponsor Mountain Hardwear for making my outdoor adventures possible and providing the best gear. In addition to the same “big 3” setup I used on the PCT (Nimbus UL1 tent, Alakazam Pack, custom 40F Ghoul sleeping bag), my crucial pieces of gear on this Scottish Highlands trek include the Cloud Cipher Jacket and Threshold Rain Hat.

Thanks also to my affiliate partners for their support:

Mount to Coast footwear (I’m wearing the T1 on the Cape Wrath Trail!) Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 10% off your next pair of shoes

Strava - Use my code PINKFEATHERS for 20% off your subscription