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The barmaid in the first pub you reach when you walk into Kinlochleven is keeping busy pulling drafts. Lots and lots of drafts. It is around 1:30 p.m. and the place is filled with hikers who already completed their 9.5 miles from Kingshouse.

There is a celebratory feel to the day’s finish, probably because one and all have conquered the steep switchback challenges of the Devil’s Staircase, the highest point along the entire West Highland Way.

They all have something else in common: Check-in time for lodgings all over Kinlochleven — as if by mandate — is 3 p.m. Hikers who aren’t filling the pub are sunning themselves in the nearby park, lounging on sidewalk benches, picking up supplies at the Co-op, or seeking other pubs and restaurants.

In other words, killing time.

“That 3 p.m. check-in keeps you busy,” I observe.

The barmaid looks up with a sly grin, “Hey, we’re not dummies.”

She chuckles as she pours yet another ale. “Our rooms were ready at 1 p.m.”

Good to know the Highland brigands and highwaymen didn’t all pass away with Rob Roy and Robert the Bruce.

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This day began in an air of trepidation. And a lot of low-hanging clouds.

Devil’s Staircase. The name alone conjures all sorts of issues.

If the rocky roller-coaster stretch along Loch Lomond is considered the toughest on the West Highland Way, what fresh hell is this? After several days of fairly gradual climbing, we’re now about to scrabble upward to the highest point on the entire 96-mile trail.

Lord have mercy.

Walking from Kingshouse to the foot of the Devil’s Staircase:

The soldiers who scraped this pathway into being around 1750 had some sense of humor. Surely there are better ways to Fort William than clambering up 1,850 feet with wagons, cannons, and hefty backpacks.

Well, their agony has been our gain, since 1980.

Thousands of hikers have beaten the Devil and I’ll wager a high percentage reached the same conclusion as I did: “Is this what all the fuss was about?”

Walking up Devil’s Staircase, with apologies: No pictures do it justice:

If you are from San Diego and have ever hiked Cowles Mountain, you’ve got a sense of what to expect on the Devil’s Staircase. It requires stamina, high steps, some exertion, an occasional stop to admire the ever-widening vistas (and catch your breath), and a snack or two along the way.

It helps that the low clouds hang like a curtain around your destination. Otherwise, seeing just how much more climbing is ahead could prove intimidating.

But suddenly, you are there, adding your own rock to the pile at the top, admiring the sun’s power as it scrapes through the low clouds to the east, savoring the light breeze, and re-lacing your shoes for the backside’s downward trek.

It is a good feeling up on top. But as you rotate through the vista, a hard realization sets in: This is small potatoes compared to the soaring peaks in all directions, now revealing themselves as the sunlight strengthens.

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Why, just a mile before the staircase, we’d met Derrick, hiking in the opposite direction.

“Good morning,” I said. “Did you just come down the Devil’s Staircase?”

“No,” says Derrick, “I’m in the car park just below it.”

“Beautiful day for a hike,” says I.

“Tis indeed,” replies the Scot. “I just hope the clouds lift soon.”

“You don’t like the clouds? They offer a nice cover for hiking.”

“Not where I’m headed,” says Derreck. He points toward a steep craggy seam in the hillside behind me. Derrick, it turns out, isn’t so much a hiker as a climber. He prefers his travels to be steep and ever-upward. This one, which he calls Pink Rib, is a favorite. He’s climbed it about 20 times in all seasons and all weather.

Derrick says it will take him about two hours to summit, about as long as it took him to drive here.

That’s a good day’s recreation in the Highlands.

Derrick points to the towering mountains across the glen and calls them out by their Scottish names, like the old friends that they are. “They’re known as Big Shepherd and Little Shepherd,” he says, watching the morning clouds slowly lift to reveal their mighty peaks. “They watch over the glen and all who travel through it. You’re in good hands today.”

How could we not walk on with a lighter step after that?

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My step was a bit lighter because Rose walked with me today. We left ahead of the crowd, while the air still had a bite to it and the misty drizzle and low clouds kept the sunlight at bay. It was like the good old days, hiking Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way and Portugal’s Camino: I took many a great picture of Rose’s back, 30 or 40 yards down the trail. But we shared much of the walk and many of the most breathtaking views together, and that made them all the better.

Cheerfully, we walked into Kinlochleven side-by-side.

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Hiking down the back side of Devil’s Staircase, toward Kinlochleven:

The literature says that the descent from Devil’s Staircase is more treacherous than the climb. I don’t know why. Maybe in rainy weather. It has its moments but it is mostly a gorgeous walk turning sharply northward with fresh mountains, fertile glens, and enticing glimpses of forests and lochs.

No kidding, every sharp turn, elicited gasps from hikers.

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Descending into Kinlochleven:

All too soon the trail turns into a service road that descends with surprising steepness … and just never seems to stop. It curves through woodlands, past fairyland burns, and rippling overflows from modest forest-ensconced dams.

On the right side of the road, we parallel a series of six large iron pipes aimed toward Kenlochleven.

There is bragging rights in those pipes. The town was once the site of an aluminum smeltering plant which required an enormous amount of electricity to do its thing. If the Highlands has one thing, it is water at high elevations and it was harnessed to provide the power.

Here’s the thing: With all the surplus electricity available, Kinlochleven became the first community in the world to be fully electrified — every single shop, home, and streetlight. Today, its hydroelectric plant provides power to the greater region. And the town itself is being reinvented as a centre for outdoors activities — like mountain biking, climbing, camping, kayaking, and hiking. It even has an indoor ice-climbing wall.

When 3 p.m. arrives, there is a furious scurrying about the town as hikers head for their night’s lodgings. There will be ample time for dinner and a beverage or two but not long into the night.

For tomorrow is the last leg — and the longest — 15.5 miles to Fort William and, finally, some trailside views of mighty Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in all of the United Kingdom.

Sleep well for tomorrow we walk. And walk. And walk.