West Highland Way Day 3.
Distance today: 20.2 miles.
Total distance: 317.2 miles.
Accommodation: campsite.
Today felt like a nice breather, a respite from the smorgasbord of steep, rocky, and wet trails I had experienced over the last 2 days. More of a gentle 20 mile ramble than an arduous hike. As ever, what helps the miles pass by more easily is a regular change in scenery. Maybe not the drama of Glencoe but a lovely mix of magical woodland and misty mountains. Even the weather was cooperating by threatening but never actually getting round to raining.
At around 11 o’ clock I arrived at Tyndrum and paid a visit to the Green Welly Stop. “Whisky, Wellies, Gifts and so much more”. It felt a bit like a glorified garden centre with its fair share of tat but it did have a restaurant. Cooked breakfasts seemed popular not to say tempting – 5 items for £9.50 or 7 items for £10.50 – but I just opted for a coffee and a granola slice because I am very worthy. As I was about to leave, an old couple set down at my table and wanted to know what I was doing and where I was going. After explaining the details of my trip, they very kindly handed over 2 fivers for the cause. In the loveliest way, it felt very much like I could have been raising money for anything because ultimately they were investing in me and therefore whatever I thought was important enough to make me do this challenge was fine with them. So a big thanks to Anne (with an e) and Brian.
My stopping place for the night was the Beinglas campsite. Conveniently just off the track, if not on it, it was nestled in a pretty valley location with open views of the surrounding hills. They were definitely well set up to deal with hordes of campers and campervans, though perhaps not on the scale of Glen Nevis. As well as a shop with the biggest display of Compeed plasters I have ever seen, more importantly, they had an on-site pub called … wait for it … the Stagger Inn which also served food. An amenity I was happy to take advantage of once I’d pitched my tent and had a shower. It was probably just my lazy Sassanach hearing, but there was something slightly disconcerting about the harsh Scottish accents of the bar staff. It really sounded like I should be in a grimy Glasgow pub rather than the beautiful countryside. It genuinely felt like everything they said was an accusation. As I say, strange. Still, the pint and the lasagna were much appreciated.
