Ramble
Quest - West Highland Way -- Part One: A Soggy Start.
Milngavie is a lovely little town to start the West Highland Way, but unfortunately there's a fair bit of trash on its outskirts. I pass lots of locals walking their dogs, seems to be about three dogs per person. I stop to talk several times, and each encounter contains uncomforting words: "Yer naught gonna walk the whole way are ye?"; "It's too late in the year for hiking!"; "Well, at least the midges will be done." Later, when the ongoing drizzle turns into relentlous downpour: "Yer a brave one to be out in this weather!"
Even this early in the walk, the scenery is lovely, but the rain seems to be ever so slowly, but clearly inexorably, increasing in strength as the march goes on. As every vetern hiker know, two of the worst parts of the backpacking experience are setting up and breaking down camp in a cold, nasty rain. Add the fact that darkness pounces down upon me before 4:30 and my numb little fingers have a difficult time putting up the old Walrus MicroSwift. And once in the tiny tent, by 4:41, I'm stuck in there for 16 hours of hard rain and howling winds. Some time in the middle of this long night I awake to something slimey crawling across my face. I fling it off and in the morning discover some large slugs that must have come in on my clothing.
A bit of light is the only advantage that comes with breaking down camp. Otherwise, I'm just as wet (but why do the clothes always seem wetter in the morning?) and even colder. Once I get hiking again, things invariably improve. Even though the rain shows no hint of letup, I still manage to enjoy the scenery.
Nonetheless, I come to a muddy point where I decide to backtrack a few miles to a town I'd skipped: Dryman, and could there be a more appealing name to such a wet man? I'm thinking that a warm lunch in a dry place would be heavenly, and it is! I shiver into a cafe behind a pottery shop and start to feel human again after tea and sustenance. However, once I'm relatively warm, the idea of going out into the worst deluge yet doesn't seem so appealing. In addition, I know that the next section involves climbing up to get views, which would certainly be non-existent at the moment.
I ask around town about places to stay, but everything is booked! Surprising since this is clearly off-season, but evidently there are enough people around to fill the small number of beds. But then the nice owner of the Hawthorn's phones Peter Nickols at his B&B outside of town and Peter says he will pick me up. Well, it's a hard offer to refuse, so I don't.
It's a good move. I have a nice supper and sleep warm and dry while the rains come a tumbling down. The next day is forecast as 80% chance of rain, but I'm 100% luckier and remain dry. After winding through the thickly planted pines in Garadhban Forest, I scale Conic Hill and am rewarded with the famous views out over Loch Lomand, with its still blue waters surrounding many fault-created islands.
After descending, I head into the start of a long section of hiking along Loch Lomand, beginning from Balmaha with a great lookout from Craigie Fort. The way is easy enough until just past Rowardennan, where it gets tricky due to erosion and wet slippery rocks, often treacherously coated with leaves or a thin film of mold. This is an area steeped with history. Rob Roy MacGregor lived nearby, and a hideout cave and a prison where he supposedly held hostages are just along the Way. Robert the Bruce fought in the area. Many famous Victorian tourists, including William Wordsworth, have commented on the scenery. Nathaniel Hawthorn was particularly struck by the views.
The hiking is wonderful without the rain. Plenty of waterfalls, flowing gloriously now with all the rain, drop down into the lake. I spot several of the long-haired, large-horned black goats that run wild here, smelling them long before I spot them. Nice as Loch Lomand is, I'm happy to finally leave it behind and climb up over a col. I come across a solid stone bothy outside of Inveranan and spend the night there. It even has a fireplace but alas, I have no matches. The trash outside brings plenty of animal noises in the night, but it's still a romantically lovely spot to spend the night, up above the lake and near a little stream.