The West Highland Way

By Oliver Forti Jevremov

Midges. I’d never experienced such a swarm of biting, minute-gap-finding, relentless creatures. I’d been warned many times, but nothing could have prepared me for the invasion I endured on that drizzly, damp, cold night, while we were setting up tents on the banks of the River Orchy, some 30 feet from the Bridge of Orchy.

It was enough to make any man descend into madness, but honestly, I still loved it. I was getting the unadulterated Scottish Highland experience. It was bliss, even after hiking more than 20 miles per day for the last three days and lugging around a 35-pound pack; even after I sprayed myself in the eye with bug spray while frantically trying to brush my teeth and set up camp before being consumed by those tiny, almost-nothing flies. I wouldn’t change a thing.

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It had been almost 10 years since the three of us had done any serious hiking together. The last time was another underprepared gauntlet into the Swiss Alps. My now-partner, Maren, and I had only been dating a few months then. Steven, my childhood friend (we met at age five), was making the most of any time we had together after I left my pastoral youth in South Buckinghamshire for the euphoric and eventually soul-crushing high of New York City.

It had been high time for us to take on another half-baked adventure, hoping it would all work out in the end.

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A few months before we set out in June 2025, Maren and I had been restlessly dreaming of some new far-off adventure. Japan, New Zealand, and Chile were all on the list. But as our work schedules and bank account would only allow for something shorter and closer, we settled on Scotland — a place close to my heart, as my maternal grandmother’s family came from the banks of Loch Lomond…

This story appears in Revelry Collection / Volume 003. Coming out in November 2026.

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