We left Wales as the sky turned the hills into grey mist and rain. Our train, heading north for Glasgow, was packed. It was the end of the weekend of the Queen's Platinum Jubilee and it seemed that the whole country was on the move. We ended up in the aisles most of the way with our large bags quickly forming an obstacle course for those unfortunate passengers who needed to get by. Then, our second transfer was delayed for reasons unknown, meaning our already fairly late train would be arriving even later. Apparently there have been many issues with trains in the UK recently. Staffing shortages stemming from the COVID crisis, combined with budget issues, have taken their toll.
Nonetheless, we did eventually arrive. Our voices low so as not to wake their two young children, we chatted a bit with my friends, then headed to bed. It would be an early morning.
The summer sun rises early this far north, which helped. We are the sort that take a while to come to full wakefulness. It takes time, caffeine, and the understanding that we cannot be held fully liable for the words we say. But the early sunrise really helped. The night before, we re-arranged our bags so as to take with us only what we would really need for the trail. There was only one task left - to acquire a guidebook and a map. There were some online, but internet access would be spotty and it seemed wise to have a physical map on hand.
Thus, we said our goodbyes and made our way to a bookstore near the train station. It took some searching, but we found precisely the book we were looking for, a guide written by the non-profit which manages the West Highland Way itself. It has a plastic cover to keep off the rain, a map in the back, and many beautifully written pages for each section of the Way. Book in hand, we made our way to the start.
Day 1
From a well-placed arch along a touristy road lined with shops in Milngavie (pronounced "mull-guy"), we began our journey. Ahead of us, 13 miles of Scottish countryside awaited.
This first day was not a hard one, or it should not have been. It was one of the shorter days both in terms of elevation and distance. But 13 miles when you haven't been in the habit of hiking is hard, no matter what. Adding a pack to the mix only makes it worse. In our favor, we had been traveling for the previous 2 and a half months with packs on our backs the whole way. Granted, we normally did not carry them longer than 30 minutes at a time, but it helped. Our shoulders were somewhat used to the weight.
The weather that first day was perfect. The sun was shining, the breeze was light, and the only clouds were high above, puffy, and white. As we walked, an older Scottish lady came up to us and began to chat. She lived in the area and liked to hike around when she could. Clearly, the activity was doing her well as she easily matched our pace and likely should have gone faster. She told us about the surrounding hills, which ones were good day hikes and which ones the locals liked to run up and down. She asked where we were staying along the Way and gave us some excellent recommendations for restaurants to explore. We told her about our travels, our time in Greece, visiting the National Parks in the States, and more. As we came up to a wooden gate, she bid us farewell. Alexa and I smiled and waved goodbye, pleased to already be meeting friendly characters.
Shortly afterwards, we came across a distillery that we'd heard about: Glengoyne. It had only been 7 miles, did we really deserve to go taste some whisky?
Yes. Obviously, yes. We tucked our bags and hiking poles away in a closet in the shop, then joined a tour and tasting. Glengoyne is a little unique in that they are located on the line between the Highlands and the Lowlands, so depending on who you ask, their whisky may be classified differently. They claim to make a Highlands whisky, but it is aged across the road in the Lowlands, so what is it really? Well, judging by the two wee drams I tasted, I don't care which it is. Glengoyne is a delicious, non-peated whisky that I would very happily drink again and again. The tour was really excellent, too. They had a great display showing how whisky changes with age in the cask, both in terms of color and volume, that I'll remember for a long time.
Spirits renewed, we continued our journey. It led us alongside some farms and roads, under a highway, then through a glen, up a hill, and into the town of Drymen. We found our hotel and gratefully finally lay down our bags. Both of our feet and shoulders were sore and I was beginning to develop a blister on the ball of my feet. Nothing a hot shower or bath wouldn't fix. Very happily, our room was appropriately equipped for this. And indeed, we both felt much, much better afterwards. Dinner was at a wonderful old pub called The Clachan Inn. According to the Scottish woman we'd hiked alongside, this is the oldest still-operating pub in Scotland! A sign on the building itself proudly proclaims that it was licensed in 1734, lending some credence to her claim. We enjoyed a meal and a couple pints, then headed to bed.
Day 2
Another 13 miles lay before us. A circuitous route took us the long way around, through the Trossachs and up Conic Hill, then down to the halfway point, the village of Balmaha and the shore of Loch Lomond. The first part of the journey was much like the previous day: fairly flat trails lined with nettle, birch, and bracken, and views of low hills in the distance. We turned into a national park and the trail widened. Locals passed us in either direction, out for a run or to walk their dog. A few other Way Walkers played leap-frog with us too, their faces already starting to become familiar.
We came to a crossing of trails, beyond which the land slowly ascended towards the top of Conic Hill, and recognized a pair of women sitting off to the side. They'd passed us the previous day as we were debating whether or not to visit the distillery. Enthusiastically, we waved hello and told them about our visit. The pair, Renee and Sarid, were friends from the Netherlands who we would run into several times more. They were a lively, friendly pair and we spent a fair while chatting with them while they rested and smoked a couple of cigarettes. We told them about our travels thus far and we talked a little about how we were finding the hike. Eventually, we parted ways, promising to meet up at the hostel later.
The trail wound through an open pasture, crossed a stream, then lead steeply up the side of Conic Hill. This was the first real bit of elevation we had encountered on the trail and difficult as it was, it also was somewhat welcome. The breeze whipped at us as we climbed and sweat soaked into the straps of our bags, but we were happy. It was another beautiful, sunny day, and the surrounding views were incredible. What more could we ask for? As the trail reached its highest point, we took a slight detour and climbed to the real peak of Conic Hill. From there, Loch Lomond sprawled before us. In the distance, the Highlands beckoned.
The descent was steep. The trail had become eroded from use and a generally very wet climate and there was suddenly a lot of day hikers on the trail with us. Balamha, it turns out, is a popular destination for visitors to Loch Lomond and this hike is a popular short jaunt for those who are in the area for the day. It felt a bit jarring, to be honest, to suddenly be surrounded by tourists again. We had just been beginning to sink into the wilds and I wasn't yet ready for society. On the other hand, Balmaha promised a lunch and an excellent ice cream that our waitress from the previous night had told us about.
From Balamaha, the trail's nature changes. It moves along the shore of Loch Lomond, the largest loch in Scotland, towards Rowardennan. It was such a beautiful day, it was hard not to stop along the way at a beach and dip into the loch's chilly waters. We did make a stop and Alexa did put her feet in, but we had become worried about time and so didn't pause long enough to properly swim. In retrospect, this was a slight mistake. The weather was gorgeous and we should've taken advantage of it while we could. Oh well.
It was a long 6 and a half miles, with the trail at times very rocky, but we made it to the hostel with the sun still up and even managed to secure one of their final dinners. Coincidentally, the chickpea curry they gave us was one of the best meals we had in the UK. Maybe we were just hungry, but it was really delicious!
Day 3
We awoke to rain. Our luck with the skies had ended overnight.
This was a tough day. We had 14 miles to go and the first half of it took us through some of the toughest terrain on the trail. It was also some of the most beautiful, in its own way. Like most days, the route was broken into roughly 7 mile segments. This meant there would be a natural halfway point to rest, recover, and eat. We just had to make it there!
The first 7 miles from Rowardennan took us along the eastern flank of Loch Lomond, always heading north. This section of trail was rocky, with constant ups and downs and twisting roots. There wasn't much elevation to deal with as it hug closely to the shoreline. No, it was difficult simply because the trail had devolved into a scrabbling path. I was glad to have my walking stick with me. Otherwise, this surely would have destroyed my knees, which have been problematic for the better part of the last ten years. They hadn't complained yet and I wanted to keep it that way.
This was, we would later learn, Rob Roy's old territory. He had owned land in this part of Scotland before becoming the famous outlaw we know of today. Even after turning to brigandry, he still used this area as his base of operations. In fact, there is supposedly a small cave along the way known as Rob Roy's Prison, where he would keep captive his kidnapped victims. This area is remote even today, with no roads nearby for miles. Back then, it must have felt like nowhere.
By the way, did I mention the rain? There was so much rain. We wore our raincoats, but I'm not sure how much it helped. The rain still soaked through. Luckily, our clothing acted sort of like a wet-suit. It was only when we reached our halfway point that we started to feel cold. The water had evidently been holding onto our body heat as we exercised and once we stopped moving, that was that. Still, it was nice to get off our feet for a moment and have a hot beverage.
The second half of the day was a little less rainy and the path got a little less tricky. This was great news, because we were already exhausted and feeling thoroughly soggy. I had also developed three blisters on my feet and they were not making life easier. The views, however, were amazing and absolutely made it all worth it. We gained a small amount of elevation on this part of the path and, moving alongside the loch as we were, we had a spectacular view. The northern end of Loch Lomond is quite different from the southern end. The south is broad and shallow, with many small islands. It is surrounded by low hills, rolling into the distance. The north is narrow and deep with fewer islands and dramatic drops from the dense hillsides. The clouds snaked through them, masking their crowns and lending an air of deep mystery to everything. Now, it felt, we were in the highlands.
By the time we reached our destination of Inverarnan, we were truly exhausted. We had to walk across a bridge and along a sidewalk to get to our lodging and it was really striking just how awful the cement felt beneath our feet. I had never really noticed how hard cement feels to walk in and in such an unpleasant way. But warm food, a bed, and a shower awaited us. We could deal with it.
The place we stayed in, the Drovers Inn, was so cool. It was founding in 1705 and was famously the haunt of Rob Roy. Inside, they have old tartans, muskets, flintlock pistols, longswords, and all sorts of memorabilia from the past few hundred years hanging on walls the color of charred wood. The old timbers sag in places and the plaid carpet had become worn out from overuse a decade ago. It is ancient and you can feel it, but that's the charm.
That night, we ate and slept well.