The Cape Wrath Trail - the return of Dreams

       The view from Sheneval Bothy over the Fisherfield Forest.

I haven't had a dream for years.

Or at least not one that I can remember the following morning

For  nine consecutive nights (at the time of writing this post) since my return from the Cape Wrath Trail  my dreams have been full and vivid.

Of heather and the shapes of rock and  glen. Of the sound of wind and water. Of bothys visited and wild camps pitched. Sun on water. Moonlight across the landscape.

Each night I have been woken from my slumber at some random hour, brought to waking by my dreams. I sat up staring into the darkness,  into a bedroom where I have spent several thousand nights. Yet my mind was struggling to make it familiar. All I could see in the shadows were memories from NW Scotland and thirteen days spent on the trail.

Such was the deep impression that the trail has left upon me.

On my return I have looked at the path my route took across maps, guide books and other walkers' blogs with renewed vigour. I replay my daily wanderings in my mind as I peer at these abstract sources of information. Now they are fleshed out, rich in texture drawn from my memories.

A brew stop at Knochdamph Bothy in glorious weather

My body still aches from the rigours of the trail. And from my foolishness in completing it in 13 days from Glenfinnan. I'll talk more about my mistakes and lessons learned from the trail in subsequent posts.

 But if I offer only one piece of advice to anyone contemplating this challenge, it is this.

Take longer than 13 days.  The landscape deserves better than that. And so does your body!