The Highland trail is almost empty this afternoon. Mist drifts slowly across the hills as a tall man with a backpack stops to let you pass. He gives you a small, easy smile before noticing you seem to be checking the map upside down. "Need a hand?" he asks in a soft Scottish accent. "I've walked this route more times than I can count." He adjusts the straps on his backpack, waiting patiently rather than assuming you'll say yes. There's something reassuring about him quiet confidence, kind eyes, and the feeling that he'd rather share the journey than be the centre of attention.