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Crazy: The West Highland Way
How sharing a room with a psychopath gave me the best night’s sleep in days
“Ya doin’ the Way, lads?”
We nodded at the Hulk who’d just walked into our small, shared two bunk-bedded room in the bunkhouse. When I booked the room, the bunkhouse owners clarified that two others would be sharing. I just hoped they weren’t mass murderers. As the only property at this stage on the long distance footpath, surely the only other guests would be hikers, too?
A scrawny, acne-faced kid followed behind him.
A series of screams, shouts, and cheers echoed along the corridor from the school-kid-filled dormitory further along. Trust us to have booked for the same night as the class from hell.
“Hamish.” He offered a huge tattooed hand, stretching to reach me perched on my top bunk. I winced as he crushed my hand. Then he offered it to my walking-trip companion Matt on the bunk beneath.
“Good ta meet fellow West Highland Way walkers,” he continued. He threw his saturated rucksack on the floor beside the bottom bunk. “This is ma youngest, Alex.” He thumbed behind him as his son clambered onto the top bunk. Matt and I nodded, but were ignored.
