West Highland Way

Brendan O'Hara Excerpts

Wednesday 16th March 2016 Westminster Hall

[Brendan O'Hara (Argyll and Bute) (SNP)]

I congratulate my hon. Friend the Member for Stirling (Steven Paterson) on securing the debate. It not only celebrates one of the most scenic walking routes in the world, but recognises the economic importance of the West Highland Way to so many businesses and individuals in so many of our constituencies.

My hon. Friend has made an excellent and compelling case for the economic importance of the West Highland Way. I would argue that of equal importance is its social and cultural role, because for tens of thousands of young Scotsmen and women, particularly those from west-central Scotland and the industrial belt, discovering the west highlands was a transformational experience. When they discovered what was on their doorstep, it changed their lives entirely.

Two examples of people who experienced that are the renowned outdoorsman and adventurer Cameron McNeish and the actor David Hayman, with whom I had the pleasure of making my last ever television series for Scottish Television before coming to this place, which was about David following in the footsteps of that other great hillwalker and rambler, Tom Weir. Both Cameron and David were born and raised in Glasgow, but just one taste of the west highlands of Scotland and their lives were changed forever. They are not unique—far from it. Tens of thousands of urban-dwelling Scots have discovered a love of our outstanding natural environment since the West Highland Way was opened.

I, too, pay tribute to the late Tom Hunter, who, as my hon. Friend said, died only last month. He had the vision and tenacity to make the West Highland Way a reality, and his wonderful legacy will, I am sure, be a great comfort to his family.

I am fortunate to have walked the West Highland Way on a number of occasions, as has my hon. Friend. Despite following exactly the same path, each walk has been a vastly different experience from the one before. I have been washed away in May and burnt to a crisp in October. Equally, I have been burnt to a crisp in May and washed away in October—but braving the Scottish weather is part of the fun and adventure of the West Highland Way. It being Scotland, of course, we have no idea what weather will be coming over the mountains at us.

As I said, I have made the 96-mile trek a number of times but, as with most things in life, it is the first time we do something that we remember most fondly. Having been born in Glasgow in the 1960s and growing up in the 1970s, the West Highland Way was for my generation almost a rite of passage. I would love to think that it still is. It was something we had to do. We wanted to stand with our peer group and say, “I have done it.” I remember the first time I did it, and the circumstances will be familiar to many.

I ask people to picture the scene: the pub, the idea, the dismissal of the idea, the Guinness, the re-emergence of the idea, the Guinness, the solemn vow that we will all do it together, the announcement to everyone in earshot that this time next week we were doing the West Highland Way, the cheers, the slaps on the back, the good wishes and more Guinness. The following morning, the realisation of what I had agreed to and knowing that there was no way to back out—the fear!

Within a week, however, we were ready to go—I say “ready”, but only according to a very rough definition of the word. I had a borrowed tent, a sleeping bag, a rucksack that might have been waterproof when it came back from the desert campaign in 1945, a pair of Dunlop Green Flash sannies—for the benefit of Hansard, some might call those plimsolls—a cagoule, a spare pair of Wrangler denims and, just in case a disco was happening when we reached Fort William, a clean shirt. Add to that half a dozen individually tinfoil-wrapped cheese rolls and a glass bottle of Irn-Bru, which was actually heavier than the tent, all packed into a Fine Fare bag, and we were ready to head off on our great adventure.

What an adventure it was—but, sadly, I can say no more, because a strict omertà is in place. Hon. Members will have to go and experience the adventure for themselves. What I can say is that for a young man who grew up in the east end of Glasgow, it was my window on the world. We could not afford to go on foreign holidays, but on the West Highland Way the world came to us.

The path takes us north along the side of Loch Lomond, through the Trossachs, over the bridge of Orchy, across the Rannoch moor, skirting round the majestic Buachaille Etive Mòr, through Glencoe and up the never more appropriately named Devil’s Staircase over to Kinlochleven, and then down into the final leg to Fort William at the foot of Ben Nevis.

[Steven Paterson]

My hon. Friend reminded me that after coming over the Devil’s Staircase and back down the other side—a big, long descent—at the bottom there in Kinlochleven was the tastiest pint of lager I have ever had. Perhaps he will be speaking about something similar.

[Brendan O'Hara]

I should be saying to my hon. Friend that my stupidity in drinking Guinness and agreeing to do the walk put me off alcohol forever—but, yes, I share a memory of the King’s House hotel in Kinlochleven, at the foot there.

On the way, one would meet so many different nationalities: Dutch, Germans, Swedes, Australians, Canadians, Americans and many more. As I said, it is where the world came to us. Believe me, the sense of achievement when sitting exhausted at Fort William bus station waiting for the bus back to Glasgow is something that I will never forget—but, for the record, sadly, there was no disco for my clean shirt.

I do not have a single unhappy memory of the West Highland Way, even though in the weeks that I was on it I was soaked to the skin, burned to a crisp and eaten alive by midgies, and I had blistered feet and the occasional hangover.

[Martin Docherty-Hughes]

My hon. Friend is telling us about the great pest known as the midge. Will he advise the House whether he used Skin So Soft or just drank whisky to get through it?

[Brendan O'Hara]

Probably the best advice that I can give is to use a potent mixture of both.

I remember lying in a tent with rain coming down like stair rods and only my hands poking out, trying to cook rice on a wee gas stove. If even eating half-cooked savoury rice in a nylon tent in the pitch dark in the middle of a monsoon does not register as a bad memory, that should give people an idea of what a wonderful experience it was.

As I said, the West Highland Way was and, I sincerely hope, still is a rite of passage for young men and women, particularly those from west-central Scotland. I urge everyone to get out and discover what an incredible country we have and are lucky enough to live in. We should challenge ourselves to do the things that we did not think we could do, and to meet people of other nationalities and cultures whom we would otherwise never meet. Do it. It is on our doorstep. And with any luck, just like Cameron McNeish and David Hayman, you, too, will become addicted to it.

[Sir Roger Gale (in the Chair)]

Mr Blackford, you have a hard act to follow, and I reckon that you have about five minutes to do it in.