Friday Sept. 29, 2023
- Start: Glasgow, Scotland
- End: Dryman (mile 12.1)
- Distance Traveled: 7.4 miles from Glasgow to Milgavnie (via ScotRail)
- Distance Hiked: 13.7 miles (12.1 miles on WHW, 1-mile detour to/from Mugdock Castle, 0.5 miles to Drymen)
I was awake before sunrise on this cloudy, gray Glasgow morning. And I should have been excitedly jumping out of bed to experience my first day on the West Highland Way. But today was my fourth consecutive day of being sick, so I just lay there in the comfy bed for 30 extra minutes instead.
My miserable head cold didn’t magically disappear overnight. My sinuses were still congested. I had a wicked headache too. The only improvement seemed to be my fever, which seems to have abated after yesterday’s 400-mile train ride. I’d just have to ‘suck it up’ and hike though because all my reservations for the next eight days on the West Highland Way were already fully paid in full.
On a more positive note, my accommodations in Glasgow last night were incredibly comfortable. I’d stayed at the Grasshoppers Hotel near the Central Train Station, and it exceeded all my expectations. The bed was super comfortable, the room was large, and I slept very well. I’d definitely recommend Grasshoppers to anyone looking for a launching off point for this hike.
Another positive was that my hotel was just a few blocks over from the Queen Street Train Station. This was where I’d catch a 20-minute ride out to the southern terminus of the West Highland Way. And it was still early enough on my walk to the station that I caught the sun coming up over the picturesque Glasgow City Chambers – an 18th century structure that looked more like a church than a municipal building.
As I entered the train station, I hitched my duffel bag up onto my achy shoulder and felt grateful that I wouldn’t have to carry it for much longer today. Typically, when I’m out hiking a long-distance trail, I carry my backpack with all my gear and camp in my tent.
But I’m mixing it up for the West Highland Way. I’ve pre-arranged to stay in local inns and B&Bs each day, and I even booked a baggage transfer service to transport my bag for me. This little luxury means I’ll only need to wear a small daypack with some basic necessities (food, water, rain layers) as I hike from town to town. And today’s mileage for the first stage of the West Highland Way is a mere 12 miles – a wholly feasible distance even while feeling under the weather.
The Southern Terminus
My train arrived in the quaint town of Milngavie (pronounced Mull-guy) around 8:35 am, and I easily located the AMS baggage transfer van parked outside the station. This was where I’d make my initial bag drop, and then it was up to the driver to get my things safely to tonight’s lodging in Drymen.
There’s a part of me freaking out a bit about this whole bag transfer thing. What if all my stuff goes missing? Did I just pay someone £70 to steal my hiking clothes and underwear? I guess I’d just have to trust the process because I wasn’t going to lug my duffel across the countryside for the next 12 miles.
After surrendering my bag, I was a full 20 pounds lighter, and it was time to find coffee. The one thing guaranteed to get me through a day of hiking while feeling sick was some warm, delicious caffeine and milk. Or so I hoped!
I found a Costa coffee shop near the starting point for the West Highland Way, and used their bathroom for good measure. Who knew the next time I’d see a toilet? And I suspected the first few miles might be a bit too populated to just look for somewhere discreet to pee.
It was after 9:15 am before I was finally ready to head out into the gray morning to nab a few quick photos of the southern terminus. A scrum of gray-haired American walkers – identifiable by their accents and loud enthusiasm – were already huddled around the granite monument while taking selfies on their phones. This was the second sign that I was definitely not alone in this shoulder season hike.
My first clue of the trail’s enormous popularity had been the luggage van where I’d dropped my bag off. It appeared to already have nearly a dozen suitcases piled inside it this morning. And now I could see the people who would surround me on this journey. So many hikers!
I patiently waiting for them to finish their photos, and secretly hoping that we’d be able to quickly spread out once we got walking. I didn’t want to remain in a tight cluster of people like I was walking the final 100 kilometers of the Camino de Santiago.
I wasn’t naive enough to expect I’d be 100% alone out here this time of year. It’s just that want the West Highland Way to be a more tranquil adventure so I could mentally reset and zone out a bit after my Ireland trip with Amy.
I absolutely enjoyed my time walking with her these past 10 days. That was always the goal during our trip. But I rarely spend that much time constantly in another person’s company. I usually have more “me” time, and my introverted nature had me craving a bit of that right now.
GETTING STARTED
I bid goodbye to the trail’s southern terminus and headed onto a tree-covered path that paralleled the Allander Water, a swift flowing creek and one of the three tributaries of the River Kelvin. After dreaming about this trail for the past five years, I finally on the West Highland Way!! Only 96 more miles (or 155 kilometers) to the northern terminus in Fort William!
It was a drizzly morning, and the weather forecast for the entire upcoming week looked as if I will be wearing my rain gear every day. But at least it was warm (mid-50s) so I shouldn’t be too cold as I walked north.
A mixture of trail signs cropped up along the first mile to keep walkers on track on the web of walking paths that crisscrossed each other. Some of the way markers merely read “West Highland Way” while other contained the iconic thistle symbol for Scotland’s Great Trails (the 29 long-distance trails in the country).
The West Highland Way isn’t the longest of Scotland’s Great Trails. That honor belongs to the Southern Upland Way, a 344-kilometer coast-to-coast path from the town of Portpatrick to Cockburnspath. But the West Highland Way was the first among Scotland’s Great Trails to be established (circa 1980) and it’s, by far, the most popular Scottish Trail.
A number of the other signs I encountered listed the distances to the various towns ahead and behind me. As I examined them, I found it curious that the distances weren’t listed in kilometers and/or walking time like so many of the other European trails I’ve walked. These signs actually listed the distances in miles.
It turns out Scotland is a lot like the US that regard. The entire UK uses metric measurements (e.g. kilos, liters, celsius) for most items, but they oddly use imperial units for distances and speeds (e.g., mile, mph). So the West Highland Way is measured in miles, rather than kilometers. I honestly did not know this bit of trivia until today. Just one more distinguishing factor between the UK and the EU.
MY FIRST DETOUR
Barely two miles into my hike, I decided to take my first detour off the trail to see Mugdock Castle. A signpost told me it was only 1/2-mile to get there, and that seemed like a totally reasonable distance to meander off-trail to see a castle from the 13th century, in my opinion.
The route up to the castle wasn’t easy though, first taking me across a muddy trail, then up these stone steps that were smooth and slick.
Then, just as I climbed the final hill to get there, the sky decided to turn from a mere drizzle to a massive downpour, forcing me to break out my rain gear – jacket, rain pants, and even a plastic poncho.
I normally don’t hike with a poncho, but I made an unfortunate discovery in a heavy downpour Ireland just about a week ago. My Cotopaxi travel day pack is a mix of 7-8 colors, and once the pack got soaking wet, some of the bright fabrics bled directly onto my nice white Patagonia rain jacket! So now I had two red stripes on my shoulders and armpits from the maroon piping of the pack’s shoulder straps.
This damage to my expensive coat was not a happy discovery. And I vowed going forward to wear a poncho over my Cotopaxi daypack so it would stay drier and (hopefully) avoid bleeding any further onto my rain jacket during this trip. Thus, when I got to Glasgow yesterday, I found a touristy souvenir shop and bought a cheap yellow plastic poncho onto for £4.
The downpour only lasted about five minutes, and then it stopped almost as suddenly as it had started and then the sun came out. It was as if the rain gods were just testing me to see how quickly I could don all the elements of my rain gear.
Now there was even some blue peeking out in the sky as I walked around the castle grounds with the Scottish flag snapping in the wind on its square fortified tower.
The detour to the castle was definitely worth my effort as I enjoyed walking through the old structure. Some of the stone walls were crumbling, but much of Mugdock Castle still sat intact and interpretive signs explained the building’s layout and the purpose of each element.
As I made my way out one of the entrances, a local man emerged with his dogs. At first I thought it was just three small dogs running in my direction. But then a fourth emerged. Then a fifth. And then a sixth! This man was out walking with six dogs!!! And while none of them were on a leash, they were behaving and minding their Ps and Qs.
I would later discover that Scotland might be the most dog-friendly nation on earth. There were dogs just about everywhere along the West Highland Way, and some of the restaurants and bars even let you bring your dog in to sit beside the table while you ate!!
WEATHER MAYHEM
After returning back to the West Highland Way, I found myself surrounded my completely new people, most of whom were walking way slower than me. This created the uncomfortable need to pass when there just weren’t many places to do so.
The trail itself was wide enough much of the time, but it was also now flooded in low spots or along the edges. And so I spent an inordinate about of time slowly walking behind other people until I could find a dry enough place to pass without seeming rude for wanting to maintain my 3-mph pace.
The next few hours were a mixed bag of weather too. The sun would come out and warm things up just enough that I felt safe to remove my rain pants, and then the gray clouds and rain showers would suddenly start again.
So even though I’d packed several layers in my daypack, I just couldn’t seem to get them right for more than about 20 minutes before the weather shifted again on me again. The maxim that you get all fours seasons in a day while walking in Scotland appeared to be rooted in some truth.
My favorite sight along this next stretch included a red-trimmed cabin sitting adjacent to the trail. The Shire, as it was called, was charmingly cute and I stopped to take a few photos. But a sign on the gate gave me pause. It read, “Haste Ye Back.”
I began to suspect more than a few tourists must have trespassed to photograph the quaint abode, and assumed this sign was meant to keep passersby out. But I’d later discover this Scottish phrase is actually a common farewell saying that is the rough equivalent of “Y’all, come back soon.” Man, I’m just learning all kinds of new things today.
RAINBOWS & PONIES
Around 11:30 am, another heavy rainstorm poured down on me and forced me to don all my rain gear yet again. The weather’s fickleness was turning into a bad joke – particularly since today was the one day of my entire journey where the weather forecast actually said it was supposed to be dry. This is why I stopped believing weather forecasts long ago.
The rain brought at least one splendid sights though. As I crested a hill, and a giant rainbow stretched out in front of me and it appeared to meet the trail in the distance. It was just one of those perfectly timed moments you’d never see if you try to hide indoors to wait the rain out. Sometimes facing the music head on has its reward!
About a mile later, I crossed paths with a my most unique hikers I’d meet today. He was just standing beside the trail with a cute tan and white dog and wearing a giant (perhaps 80L) pack on his back. What’s more, he was also holding a large grocery tote in one hand that was filled with I don’t know what (maybe stuff for the dog?!?)
All that extra gear wasn’t what made him so memorable though. The element that did that was his bluetooth speaker blaring music. Oh, for crying out loud!!!
Why do some people insist on doing this? Don’t they understand that no matter how good (or bad) their taste in music might be, nobody else wants to hear it? I don’t care if it’s monks doing Gregorian chants or heavy metal guitar solos. Seriously! Pack some headphones if you need music to keep you going on trail. Don’t ruin my outdoor experience with your noise.
I tried my best to walk briskly enough past him, but (of course) that was the moment he chose to finish his break and get back on the trail. I deliberately picked up my pace to avoid the infuriating nonsense, but he was keeping a pesky and irregular pace. One minute I’d seem to be far enough ahead of him to no longer hear his music, and the next moment he seemed to be on my heels before dropping back again.
Finally, I just stropped to take some photos of sheep laying in a field. I figured if I couldn’t stay far enough ahead of him to break contact with the noise, I’d just slow my pace to drop behind him instead.
The scenery seemed to get even better after that too, especially when I approached the Beech Tree Inn and Restaurant. Off to my left there were three Shetland Ponies in a small pasture and signs nearby beckoned me to stop for a lunchtime bite to eat.
Welcome to mudDY Scotland!
The Beech Tree seemed like the perfect respite for lunch. They had hiker-friendly picnic tables outside and a menu of warm food. But there was one downside. The music-playing hiker was there too.
As I waited for my food to be delivered, he came over and introduced himself and asked if I wanted to “request a record.” I demurred and told him I was fine eating lunch without music and he seemed to take the hint and turned it off entirely.
He pegged me as American from my accent, and I asked him where he was from in return. It turns out he was from England and his poor soaking wet dog was named Benjamin.
I later overheard him telling one of the barmaids that he was planing to walk all the way to Rowardennan today. I nearly spit out my soup when he said that. It seemed like a ridiculous goal and one that almost certainly wasn’t going to come to fruition.
First off, making it to Rowardennan would mean hiking a 27-mile day. That’s a huge first day on trail, and I very much doubt it’s a good idea when hiking with a dog. Secondly, he was barely 7 miles into the West Highland Way at noon. The chance of him walking 20 miles further today seemed highly unlikely – even if he was willing to walk in the dark. But what do I know? More power to him.
Once my lunch was done, I grabbed my daypack and decided to head out for my final five miles to Drymen before the music started up again. I waved a pleasant goodbye to Benjamin and his human (who was now vaping and drinking a beer) and continued north again.
The next section of trail can only be described as a muddy, mucky mess. The center of the dirt path was flooded with standing water, while the sides of trail were squishy mud with few suitable places to step. The choices seemed to be: (1) slick; or (2) juicy, and neither option made me happy.
Eventually though, the trail gave way to pavement near mile 10 and things started to look up again. Then, as I turned left onto a paved road and made my way across a bridge over Endrick Water, I spotted a sign for an Honesty Box. This was essentially an unmanned roadside snack stand where hikers left money for whatever they purchased.
I just loved the idea of this novelty. It restores my faith in people to know that there are enough ‘honest’ people paying for their snacks to make the little stand worth the owner’s effort.
DRYMEN
The final few paved miles toward Drymen had one other delight in store for me too. Blackberries! Nothing reminds me of home like wild blackberries growing alongside a road or a river. And while it’s pretty late in the season for them to grow, there were still plenty of ripe berries calling my name and waiting to be popped into my mouth.
Just before the end of my day, the West Highland Way departed the pavement and worked its way across a green field and up a hill with a worn trail marker. As I trucked through the grass, I no longer even cared where I stepped. My trail shoes were long past the point of being soaked. They were just squishy and gross now. But at least I didn’t seem to have any blisters on my feet (yet).
Mostly, though I was grateful my day was coming to an end. My leg muscles and feet felt fine, but my cold medicine had long since worn off. I could feel my energy was plummeting, and I just needed to lay down and rest.
Luckily, Drymen (pronounced Drim-men) was only about 0.5 miles off trail. I was staying at the Drymen Inn this evening, and was ecstatic to discover that my duffel bag was safely waiting for me in the bar when I arrived. I merely needed to check in and head upstairs with my luggage.
Hopefully a good night’s rest, some warm food in the hotel’s bar, and more Sudafed would finally put this head cold to rest.
Tomorrow would be a new day, but it would also be a more physically difficult ones. Conic Hill – one of the highest points along the West Highland Way – lay just 5.8 miles ahead.
