West Highland Way: Part Two

“Don’t forget…we’re doing this for fun!” – Sympathetic Man after seeing our pained faces on Day 2

I’m hoping I didn’t paint an unduly negative picture of the trip thus far. While there was a bit of pain involved, the absolute majesty of the surroundings more than made up for it. Right, so where were we?

Day Three: Ardlui to Tyndrum (15 miles)

It was pretty tough to get going that morning as each of our joints were protesting very loudly about having to do any work. What helped was the fact that it was yet another lovely sunny morning. So much for the BBC weather forecast predicting a week of downpour!

The ferry ride from Ardlui back to the WHW was much more enjoyable in the morning and under sunny skies. The landscape at the start of the day was especially gorgeous, walking through forests at the foot of mountains with their snow-capped peaks. The run-off from the snow created many little waterfalls that would rejoin the River Falloch (the river which begins where Loch Lomond ends, just north of Ardlui) which the path followed for most of the morning. Within an hour we were climbing and able to overlook the gorgeous Glen Falloch below. The valley was filled with forests, streams, and hundreds of sheep with all their newly born lambs bleating up a wee storm. The sheep would be skittish at our approach, but the lambs were curious and would stare and sometimes even tentatively approach before mother would gently nudge them away. Very cute. A slight drizzle had started at this point so when we came across Beinglas Farm (with a pub, wigwams and wild camping facilities) we went in for a quick coffee. By the time we finished, the sun had returned.

The path then crossed the river over to the west bank, and then left the river altogether shortly thereafter. A tunnel was necessary to get us under the railway (we had to duck to get through) and then the path joined an old military road. We came across a herd of cattle (not heilan) where two calves who were having a wee rest stared at us the entire time as we walked by – the baby animals must love us! The old military road was tough going as it was very muddy and the footing was very rocky, but the views down to the farm and the river were stunning. By about midday we came across another path which diverted off to the town of Crianlarich. This point marks the unofficial halfway point, so as it was a nice day we decided to avoid the town and instead picnic on a ridge which overlooked the town and nearby valley and provided stunning views to a snow-capped Ben More. The view (and sun) was incredibly comforting so it was tough to get up and going again. And of course, with any stop came the stiff legs and back. But as these things are always relative, we felt much better this day dealing with the pain since the previous day had been so tough.

The path from here then entered a forest, and the path itself was soft and downy (due to the pine needles) which made for much nicer walking than the craggy stone of the previous stretch. While not obvious at first, the path gradually climbed a good 300 metres before dropping down into a lovely farming valley. We crossed over the River Fillan and into the valley which contained several small farmhouses and hundreds of sheep. Looking back towards Ben More, we saw that the cloud cover had dropped quickly. It made for a dramatic view as we could literally see the black clouds swarming towards us. Once the temperature starting dropping we knew that our streak of good weather was about to come to an end.

We did make it to the eerily beautiful remains of St. Fillan’s Priory (founded by an Irish priest hundreds of years ago) before the rain came on in earnest. Fortunately our rain gear was holding up nicely, and again before long we came across another spot where we could stop for tea, Auchtertyre Farm. It didn’t look like the sun was coming back out that day, but the rain had tapered off to a drizzle by the time we were ready to head out.

The path now crossed the A82 motorway before rejoining another old military road which travels by Lochan nan Arm, a lochan thought to contain Robert the Bruce’s sword that he apparently had to throw away while fleeing enemies. Within an hour we had reached our destination for the day, the town of Tyndrum. We were staying at a place called By The Way (very clever, that) in a private cabin. We both got a kick out of this as it was a nice change from guesthouses. We had our own kitchen facilities, so we headed into town to buy a few supplies. We had a lovely dinner of pasta and veg and shared a nice bottle of white wine to celebrate the first 3 of our 6 days on the road.

Day Four: Tyndrum to Inveroran Hotel (10 miles)

Before we had begun this trip, I had been slightly annoyed at the prospect of only doing 10 miles on Day Four. However, three days into this I was looking forward to an easier day. Even now I’m not quite sure how it had happened, but my right foot was really hurting, almost like I had fractured a bone. Once I got going (and the painkillers we had bought had kicked in) it was okay, but for the first hour that day every step was agony.

We awoke to a bit of drizzle, but nothing too serious. Tyndrum was the last major urban centre for the next few days, so we made sure to stock up on water and food before heading out. Today the path would run parallel to the motorway on an old military road, but luckily the motorway was far enough away so that it didn’t affect the appreciation of the surroundings. The drizzle became sporadic rather than constant, but the low cloud cover gave the sense that a full downpour could start at any moment. The walk itself was very flat, with more stunning views of the nearby mountains (especially Beinn Dorain) and down to the forested valleys. To my delight we came across another path a few hours into the day which I immediately recognised as the one I had walked on a few months earlier (that of the infamous downpour, flooding rivers and near-hypothermia incident). We continued on near the base of Beinn Dorain, listening to the sounds of the trickling waterfalls created by snow runoff, and marvelling at the moss that was acting like a sponge and was bloated with water. We passed a field full of grazing heilan coos (finally!) where one cheeky coo left the field to walk into the swiftly moving river to grab a drink. His coo friends were staring at him with what I could only imagine was incredulity. By lunchtime we had reached the small town of Bridge of Orchy where we grabbed a few very tasty pints of Deuchars IPA. Normally I wouldn’t have drunk more than a pint mid-walk, but we were only a few miles away from our destination, so why not live dangerously?

We crossed the old stone bridge over the River Orchy which was built in 1750 (and also provided the name for the town). The path ascended quickly through a forest and then onto mountainous terrain overlooking the beautiful Loch Tulla as well as the atmospheric and barren Rannoch Moor which would be our destination on Day Five. After reaching the cairn which marked the peak of 300 metres, we could see the clouds which had threatened all day finally come in for the kill. It wasn’t long before the skies opened up and we got a proper soaking. Luckily (again with the luck!) it was only about a 20-minute walk before we reached our destination for the day, the Inveroran Hotel. The hotel, built in 1708, is very secluded with literally nothing around for miles. Despite the fact we had arrived early (only about 3 o’clock), we were both quite happy to call it a day. It wasn’t long before we were in the hotel pub where we found several other groups of walkers that we had seen at various points on the trail. It ended up being a brilliant night with the beer flowing freely, good chat with fellow walkers, and a delicious home-cooked meal of pork and applesauce. The rain was relentless that evening, and would be all that night. A few of the campers that we drank with looked less than enthusiastic about going back out in the night to deal with a wet tent and a terrible sleep. They all shot back a few whisky’s before heading out in order to “hopefully knock [them]selves out”. We saw them the next morning – it clearly hadn’t worked. Was I ever thankful that we had chosen not to camp!