West Highland Way Day 4.
Distance today: 20.2 miles.
Total distance: 337.4 miles.
Accommodation: campsite.
Today was a tough day.
It all starts well enough with a relatively easy uphill hike to reach the first viewpoint of Loch Lomond. And what a viewpoint. Looking down the length of the loch, it is picture perfect. Loch meandering through the middle, hills on either side, big sky above. Stunning.
If you zoomed in on the altitude profile for the next section, it looks relatively flat because for most of the time you are skirting the edge of Loch Lomond. What this doesn’t tell you is that the path has to thread its way through very rocky terrain requiring you to negotiate either steep steps or big boulders. After a while this becomes pretty monotonous, particularly when you are surrounded by woodland and there’s not much to see. Apart from trees and rocks. To add insult to injury/aches/tiredness, as with the Great Glen Way, there were times when the waymarkers let you down. There was meant to be a point where you could choose either a high route or a low route. A couple I’d met earlier had warned me not to take the low route but even though I saw signs possibly indicating a high route, it was never 100% clear. The last thing I wanted was another mountain misadventure and so I inevitably ended up doing the more tricky low route.
When you did break out into the open there was another treat waiting: the hills and pasture lands were covered in bluebells. A beautiful purple carpet everywhere you looked. It’s hard to stay frustrated by the trail when you get moments like this.
At one point, I passed my first bothy of the whole trip. Strange to think how that is the case given that I have now walked more than 300 miles. It was a simple stone building which was very bare bones inside – nothing more than a fireplace at one end and a few raised platforms on which to lay your sleeping bag. I’d met someone who’d stayed there, recounting how it had been absolutely hammering down when she arrived and some of the occupants – let’s call them Americans – were keen to point out that there was no more room. Happily, they were overruled. As they were when a few more people arrived later. It reminded me of the maxim that applied to almost all transport I’d been on in developing countries: the bus is never full.
The route passed by Inversnaid Hotel which seemed to be doing a good trade in snacks judging by the number of walkers sat at the outside tables. To go inside the hotel, people were requested to first remove muddy boots. For whatever reason – most likely tiredness – I decided I couldn’t be bothered and continued on my way. In hindsight, this was probably a mistake. I think my body needed refueling. It took until much later in the afternoon before I found somewhere else to get food. Hats off to the enterprising owners of Ben Lomond Cottage who had provided a trail pitstop in the form of an unmanned mini-shop offering snacks and drinks. The two cheese rolls went down very well. God, I was hungry.
If you wanted to do the West Highland Way in 5 days then ideally you were meant to reach Balmaha by the end of the 4th day. I didn’t quite make it. I decided that Milarrochy Bay Camping and Caravanning would be far enough but I didn’t quite make it there either. At around 6.30 I arrived at Cashel Campsite and initially just assumed it was Milarrochy. By the time I had realized my mistake, I was too knackered to care. The campsite was pretty basic but it would do. I was done for the day.
Soon after I’d pitched my tent, another walker arrived and pitched in the same area. We got chatting and it turned out he was doing LEJOG! Finally, someone else doing something similar. I really had expected to bump into more people doing the challenge. Tom was a really cool young guy. Very laid back, doing the walk for himself. No charity, no posting on social media, just him and the trail. I think he was working with a tighter budget than I was and had managed to wild camp most of the way. His advice for finding a place when walking on a coastal path was to look for some woodland a kilometre or two inland. That way you were much less likely to be disturbed. Food-wise he reckoned he mainly lived off oats (soaked in water for 10 minutes) mixed with dried fruit and a bit of syrup. His treat was having an occasional beer. I was curious about how many days off he’d had while walking. None. Damn, I’m such a slacker. I could totally understand the logic. You do get this sense of momentum where walking just becomes the thing you do. To not do it then feels strange, almost tempting fate that your body will somehow cease up. It will be a minor miracle if my body doesn’t cease up, days off or not.
