The musical Brigadoon is about a Scottish island that appears out of the mist once every hundred years. Gazing out the window this morning, Mer commented on how she could see why Brigadoon was set in Scotland.

When we woke up, we could not see across the loch because of mist and fog, but by the time we went down for breakfast, we could see a little ways up the mountains on the other side. By the time we were finished with breakfast, they were fogbound again, and settled into a fog ceiling about fifty feet off the water. My plans of going hiking today clearly (foggily?) had to be changed.

Our hotel had a binder in our room that included things to do in the area. One item caught my eye – “The Hollow Mountain” – a hydro-electric station built one kilometer into a mountain. I think Mom had told me about it, or one like it, so away we went. It was about an hour away, and the fog lifted quite a bit, so that by the time we got to the station, Cruachan, you could make out most of the low-lying mountains, and an on-and-off rain was falling. Not that that matters much underground.

Cruachan was the first pump-and-generate station in the world, finished in 1965. They can bring power online in less than two minutes to meet high demand times. The do that by using water stored in an upper loch that falls down into the mountain to run turbines, and then empties into the lower loch. The station can operate for up to fourteen hours straight if needed. Then, when the demand for power goes down (like after midnight), the station buys cheap excess power to pump the water back up to the upper lock to be used at next peak demand times. For comparison, it takes up to eight hours to bring oil or coal plants online, whereas if the Cruachan technicians think demand may be coming, they can pre-spin the turbines and have additional power online in forty seconds. Nifty.

Our tour took us into the mountain on a bus, while a cute-accented Scottish woman talked all nerdy to me. I need a moment. We got to look into the main chamber where the top of the spin-up generators are for pumping the water back up; the actual turbines are below those, thirty feet below where we could see. The space was enormous, and took fifteen hundred men at a time five years to excavate it, all by compressed air and dynamite, in twelve-hour shifts. For the noise, dirt, hard labor, and dangerous environment, they were paid about twenty times the average wage, but still, most men quit after eighteen months.

We grabbed lunch at the cafe, and so we spent over two hours at the plant – thirty minutes for the tour, and the rest in looking at the small museum and then lunch. When we came out, the fog had lifted, but there was a steady heavy mist/light rain falling. We headed back to the hotel, and as we got close, the rain stopped. It looked as if my hike might be back on! Because of my last-minute booking, the hotel was able to accommodate me for two nights, so we had to move rooms. The new room has sliding-glass doors looking out over the loch, so the room with a view got even better.

On to the hike! Because the fog had been moving in and out, I decided on a hike called “The Study” which was an easy hike along the valley floor near Glencoe. It was supposed to have great views of the valley, and if the fog was obscuring the mountains, then we would have a nice walk. It was past the Signal Rock walk from yesterday, on the same road, so we drove on. And on. And on. I was looking for signs, and finally I pulled into a pull-off and saw a sign. “The Devil’s Staircase.” This was actually my first choice for a hike, but it was labeled as “strenuous” in the guidebook and topped out at eighteen hundred feet, which would be a drag if the top was in a cloud. But sometimes fate hands you a different hike, and who was I to question that, especially in a country where turning the car around can take three miles?

The fog and rain were still holding off when we started the hike. At first, the path was wearisomely muddy; it would be unpleasant to trudge up in mud for an hour. But the mud was replaced with gravel in only a few hundred yards, so we were in business. The path wound uphill next to a mountain stream, and that was pleasant. The incline was noticeable, but not bad. For the first two thirds of the path. Then it got steeper. But the path wound back and forth, and we took frequent breaks to look around, so it was manageable. We had the path mostly to ourselves – there were two other groups behind us, but the relative solitude made each turn feel like a discovery. The mist swirled around the upper reaches of the surrounding mountains, which made it feel a little magical. We laughed when we saw a small slate sign proclaiming “Shop – 1500 m.” I wasn’t not sure why someone would haul that up the hill for a joke, but they did. And then we saw a sign again at 500 m. and again at 200m. And then there were two tents set up with an honor-system store of various snacks, each one pound apiece, with a tupperware container for the money. Honest folks, these hikers.

The views from the top were grand. We could see a new ridge of hills, and the path continued on for several miles to the next town. Since our car was behind us, we were turning around, but we lingered at the top for a bit, until it began to look as if the rain was coming. We walked down, walking in and out of variously light and hard mist, so that by the time we got to the car, we both looked as if we were covered in dew. For a day that had started out with scrambling for new plans, the hike was a huge success.

We went home to our swanky room, and did something we have never done – ordered room service. It was just too good a view to give up. After supper, Mer flicked on the TV and we got hooked on a show about Welsh and Scottish castles under King Edward I of England around 1300. The nerd runs deep in these two. Mer then got caught up in watching Men in Black, so I wandered to the lounge to type up Ye Olde Bloge. A day of healthy mind and healthy body.