(the ‘lads’ walks’ have taken place most years for the past 20 years to wild places such as Dartmoor and Exmoor and along the West Highland Way, the Isles of Scilly, Brittany, Arran, Hadrians Wall and many more. I think it’s time to tell the stories behind the walks. So names of people and hotels have been changed to protect the guilty)
So what you may ask are the stories behind the walks? Well the honest one word answer is drugs. We still do the walks, one is in planning for later this year – but nowadays the drugs are mostly Prozac, Paracetamol, Ibuprofen (for the hardcore amongst us) and of course arthritic cream – but this wasn’t always the case.
One year we decided to do the West Highland Way and this post better describes the background to the censored version which is at
As we were to fly from Bristol to Glasgow it was considered prudent to post the skunk weed, the only drug for this particular jaunt, ahead. This we carefully wrapped in silver foil and two envelopes and posted it , recorded delivery, to the youth hostel we had booked near Ben Nevis.
We had however overlooked that two of us were each carrying a ‘budbomb’.
A budbomb is a beautifully engineered metal smoking device allowing surreptitious toking as it doesn’t emit any smoke but as it’s name suggests it is the shape of a bomb and this was post 911 and we were going on a plane.
Luckily for us, Bristol airport, although they will dismantle your cellphone and leave you standing in holed socks and tugging your trousers up and being bereft of any water you had or desperately wanting to urinate because you decided to dispense it down your own gullet, don’t seem to have a remit for anything that comes up on the X-ray machine looking like a small bomb. So, slightly relieved we go on to the flight, one that is so quick that Nigel, the other budbomb carrier, had only just managed to fasten his seat belt as the call came over the PA to fasten your seat belts as we’re about to land.
It was then a beautiful train journey from Glasgow to Fort William through stunning scenery that we were to walk back through. On our trouble free arrival at the hostel I nonchalantly asked if we had any post and the receptionist said that we had indeed got a padded latter which she assumed was either a package full of cat piss or something smelling of a similar nature and then she queried that if it was the latter would it be ok to ‘have a little bit’.
Seeing as we hadn’t been met by the Scottish Constabulary, we thought a thank you was in order.
Walking the West Highland Way – the wrong way as high as kites is the only way to do it on both counts. We’d started from Fort William after a day up Ben Nevis and were heading Southwards. The benefit of doing any trail the wrong way is that you have it to yourself after meeting a mile of people at around 10am all fresh out of their B&B’s obediently going the other ‘correct’ way and apart from a lone walker or a few straddlers the mountains are yours. The backpacks can seem feather light or like leaden weights depending where your thoughts decide to attach on your stoned mind. Rest stops are frequent and long and sheep become very interesting, but not in a Welsh way I might add, and chats about William Wallace and his conquest are the order of the day. One such revelation was that he and his army marched from the Highlands, at one point, to sack Carlisle, a distance of 153 miles as the crow flies. But they didn’t fly by crow, they didn’t have cars or even roads to speak of but did this over freezing cold midge invested bogs and fields of thistles that are chest high, whilst wearing kilts no less, itchy woolen kilts at that, and for the grace of God go I, no underpants! I hope Carlisle was worth it. And then they went back!
After a couple of days sauntering we came over and down Glen Coe to our one posh overnight stop, the rest being bunkhouses and hostels and this was a Friday and the top hotel was fully booked and the restaurant too. We all showered and dressed back in the clothes we’d been wearing and headed down to the Walkers bar at the back where you can wear your boots and basically be loud. Easily seen through the bar is the packed posh restaurant with many a silver haired, plaid adorned, hungry customer.
We must have had an odour about us because one of the bar staff asked if we happened to have some cannabis in tow and could he have some. It was agreed and he came to the corner of the bar where you are able to lean behind a large plant and do suspicious things. He hadn’t seen a budbomb before and Nigel instructed him on its usage which was on the lines of hold lighter to end and then suck lightly. He was an adept at the holding the lighter at the end bit but obviously didn’t listen to the suck lightly part. After two huge pulls he asked if he thought that would work to which we inquired whether he is intending to work the rest of his shift. He said that he ‘had only just come on’ and ‘had a full restaurant to serve’. Nigel turned to the other four of us and we knew that tonight was going to be interesting to say the least. It was then that the hotel manager approached….(to be continued)