Saturday Sept. 30, 2023
- Start: Dryman (mile 12.1)
- End: Rowardennan (mile 26.8)
- Distance Hiked: 15.2 miles (0.5 miles from Drymen + 14.7 miles on WHW)
Last night, I stayed in the Drymen Inn, my first Scottish inn along the West Highland Way. Unfortunately, my head cold was in full mayhem mode when I arrived there. My sinus ached. I had a horrible headache. And all I wanted to do was take some more Sudafed, lay down in my room, and sleep.
But here’s the top 5 things you should know if you have the misfortune of being sick in Dryman on a Friday night:
- The Dryman Inn’s bar is directly downstairs from (read: beneath) the guest rooms.
- The music and patrons in the bar can get very loud, and some folks will even wander upstairs after 10 pm looking for the bathroom whilst talking in their “outside voice.”
- The DJ continues playing music until 11:30 pm, regardless of whether you want to go to sleep for an early day of hiking the next day.
- Nowhere in Drymen (or Scotland, for that matter) sells Nyquil, so you’re not going to knock your symptom-riddled body unconscious, unless you go downstairs and order a whiskey.
- Somebody is convinced Dolly Parton’s hit 1980’s song, “9-to-5” is a Friday night crowd-pleaser, because I swear I mush have heard the DJ play it at least six times.
Sadly, those are the main reasons I didn’t fall asleep early last night. But when I woke a bit before 7 am, I wan’t in terribly bad shape. My head cold hadn’t fully disappeared, but the symptoms were slightly improved from yesterday. And I did sleep very soundly on the comfortable mattress at the Dryman Inn.
A DRYMEN START
And so, I went downstairs to fetch breakfast around 8 am, only to discover that the small restaurant was already bustling. I’d deliberately chosen to make my breakfast reservation on the front end of their window of time slots, but it seemed everyone else who was walking today had the same idea.
Today’s weather forecast (which, of course, I don’t actually trust) showed the dry weather holding until lunchtime, so I was eager to get hiking as today as soon as possible. It was going to be a 15-mile day with the big climb up and over Conic Hill. And my large breakfast of smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee proved to be just the fuel I needed. I was able to eat breakfast, get my bag set for the luggage pick-up, and hit the road out of Drymen before 9 am.
As I walked the half- mile from Drymen back to the West Highland Way, I couldn’t help but noticing that it was a cool morning. The mercury was barely nudging 50 degrees, and I almost certainly overdressed for this morning’s uphill hike. Thank goodness for layers!
Once I spotted a wooden signpost with the familiar thistle marker used for Scotlands Great Trails, I was back on track. The route sent me down a narrow, muddy path between two hedgerows that was completely encapsulated in foliage. It was the prettiest start to the day, and I hoped it would foreshadow what was ahead.
A Scottish STAND-OFF
After emerging from my little cocoon of hedges, the West Highland Way turned uphill toward some green rolling hills, and that’s when an interesting sight caught my attention. A pickup truck (the first one I think I’ve seen in Scotland) was towing a long metal livestock trailer down a grassy field.
When it crested the hill, all the cows out to pasture seemed to notice the truck at the same time, and they started running toward the pickup truck. Perhaps they knew this was their ride and they were eager to move to greener pastures. But while all the others cows seemed excited to see the truck, there was one heifer who clearly wasn’t having it.
This solitary brown cow stood right on the dirt road as the truck approached, almost like bovine version of the Chinese guy holding out his arm to defy the tank in Tianamen Square. The truck’s driver wasn’t impressed by this defiance, and honked his horn and just drove closer to the obstinate cow without even slowing.
That minor provocation sparked a reaction from all the rest of the cows who started running away from the very same truck they were so eager to greet only moments before. I caught their retreat on video and had a healthy chuckle at the absurdity of it all. It’s amazing what will entertain you once you get outdoors.
Soon thereafter, the West Highland Way transitioned from a path between private grazing pastures to a stretch of Scottish National Forestry land, and the fall colors were in full display beside the trail. This really was a beautiful time of year to hike.
The forest land was also a nice departure from the wide open areas I walked through most of yesterday afternoon, and I genuinely appreciated the diverse undergrowth protected by the tall trees – including some fuzzy moss-covered rocks and colorful orange ferns and plants.
As I casually walked through forest, I crossed paths with a fair number of locals out with their dogs for a Saturday morning hike or trail run – proving yet again the Scottish people’s connection with their dogs. This canine aspect, along with the ‘freedom to roam,’ makes me just love Scotland even more than I already did.
Speaking of animals, I came across my first Scottish reptile on this stretch of forest land too. I thought it was a snake at first glance. But its coppery-brown exterior seemed far too wet and shiny, and its head was too small to be a snake. This mysterious 18-20″ tubular creature was actually a legless lizard called a slow worm. It’s native to western Eurasia, so I guess it’s no wonder I’d never seen one on any of my North American hikes.
CONIC HILL
As I continued deeper into the forest land, I also got my first glimpses of Loch Lomond under the gray cloudy skies. This 23-mile long lake was to be my constant companion for the next few days. But first I would need to get to it, and there was still one major obstacle in to tackle before I made it there — the infamous Conic Hill.
About an hour into the day, I reached a point where the West Highland Way forked. The route to my right was the ‘upper route’ which climbed Conic Hill before sharply dropping 1,000 vertical feet down to Balmaha on the shores of Loch Lomond. Meanwhile, a shorter ‘low route’ to my left provided walkers with a safer alternative in bad weather.
The weather today was mild, so I opted for the high route and made my way to through some lambing fields and where Conic Hill stood prominantly stood in the distance. The impressive summit sits on the Highland Boundary Fault – a major fault line traversing Scotland and splitting the country’s topography into the Highlands and the Lowlands.
In the spring and summertime, this 1,100-foot hill above Loch Lomond is covered in green grass and foliage. But this time of year it was in its autumnal splendor with shades of rusty orange, red, and umber. This would be my first real physical challenge on the West Highland Way.
The route to Conic Hill approached from the east, alongside a long rock wall that seemed to stretch on forever. Signs warned walkers that dogs were not permitted on this route between April 10th and May 31st as those date coincided with lambing season, when the sheep would be giving birth.
Farmers tend to pay extra attention to their flocks during this six-week period to ensure the health and survival of the ewes and newborn lambs. And curious or rambunctious dogs are not helpful addition to this birthing process as the ewes need to be calm so they can remain focused on birthing and nursing.
From here, the trail wound its way up Conic Hill’s northern side, and it was every bit as physically challenging as a prominent hill like this should be. Yet the steep climb was offset by great views made it well worth the effort, in my opinion.
Below me sat Loch Lomond, the largest lake in Scotland with a surface area of 27.5 square miles – or roughly similar in size to Crater Lake in my home state of Oregon. What’s more, there’s something like 30 islands within the lake. And the elevation of Conic Hill seemed to afford me miles of visibility all the way across Loch Lomond’s southern end.
As I neared the top of the climb, I was slightly disappointed to learn the West Highland Way bypassed Conic Hill’s summit. I needed to take a short (but even steeper) detour up the final hundred vertical feet to get to the pinnacle of the hill. But the summit was where the best views would be, so it was a no-brainer to head off-trail to get there.
The ascent up this prominent peak wouldn’t be the hardest part of my morning either. That challenge still lay ahead with the tricky descent back down irregularly shaped stone steps down Conic Hill’s western side. These steps would have been utterly treacherous during wet weather, and I now fully comprehended the need for the low route.
Nevertheless, the tan and pink color of the stones made for stunning photos as I rapidly dropped down the steep path toward the lakeside village of Balmaha below.
About halfway down to the lake, the trail returned to the forest and I passed signs signaling that I was now entering Loch Lomond & The Trossachs National Park – Scotland’s first national park. I would remain within this protected natural area all that way up to the town of Tyndrum, which was still a few days walk to the north.
While I knew a little bit about Loch Lomond, I didn’t knew what the heck ‘The Trossachs’ were and why they would need to be protected as part of this national park. Was this a mountain range in Scotland? Or a particular type of tree – like the giant Sequoias and Redwoods we protect on the West Coast of the U.S.?
A quick visit to the park’s visitor center solved the mystery. The Trossachs referred to the wooded valleys, hills, and lochs to the east of Ben Lomond – the peak just north of where I’d be stopping this evening. And although this national park was relatively young (it was established in 2002), The Trossachs has long been a popular spot for hikers, cyclists, and tourists due to its close proximity to Glasgow and Stirling.
BALMAHA
Once I was back down to a mere 50 feet about above sea level and on the shores of Loch Lomond, the West Highland Way took me over to a cute little cluster of buildings and a cafe where I intended to stop for lunch. The town’s name was Balmaha, but my mind mentally kept mixing up these letters, and I desperately wanted to call it “Bahama” instead.
In reality, the name Balmaha derives from the Gaelic name Bealoch Mo-cha – meaning ‘the pass of St. Mocha.’ This saint was an Irish widow named Kentigerna who came to Loch Lomond after her husband’s death and lived as an anchoress on Inchcailloch, one of the loch’s bigger islands.
I decided to pop into the St. Mocha Coffee Shop, and ended up ordering a coffee and something called macaroni cheese pie for lunch. This small hearty dish was essentially a gooey homemade mac-and-cheese inside a buttery tart crust. The vast amount of butter, cream, and cheese in my lunch made it taste divine, but it had to be the rough equivalent of a dirty bomb for my cholesterol!
And as I ate my meal, I noticed saw a small placard on my table reminding me that the Scots really do love their dogs just as much as their people. This indoor table held was identified as doggy friendly seating while a list of rules for “doggy diners” was posted just above me. Just fantastic!
RACING THE RAIN
After Balmaha, the West Highland Way stuck mostly to the shores of Loch Lomond, but this didn’t mean it was flat. There were several times during the remaining seven miles of my afternoon that I wondered how the area could be so dang hilly.
The path heading north kept me in sight of the water though. So even when I wasn’t level with it, I could usually see the Loch Lomond from the forested path and even hear the water lapping against the dirt or pebbles of the shoreline.
As the afternoon wore on, I wondered how much time I had left before the rain stated. The forecast promised rain around lunchtime, and while I’d been lucky to avoid it on the ascent (and steep descent) of Conic Hill, I knew it was coming. The gray clouds above me all day didn’t lie. It was only a matter of time.
Despite the rainy weather forecast, a healthy number of locals seemed to be out and about enjoying the trails this Saturday afternoon. And that’s how I inadvertently discovered another quirk of the Scottish culture.
Whenever I crossed paths with a Scot, they never greeted me with “Hi” or “Hello,” or even “Good afternoon.” Instead, their preferred greeting seemed to be something that sounded like “high-ya” in that chipper Scottish brogue. Or maybe it was meant to be, “Hi, ya.” I’m still not 100% sure. But I know I heard it at least two dozen times today, so it seemed to be a normal phrase.
The rain finally begin to pelt me around 1:30 pm, and quickly stopped to don my rain jacket. I hoped the trees overhead would filter out some of the rainfall and eliminate the need for me to add my rain pants too. But after a half mile, I realized this was just a dress rehearsal because the rain had already stopped.
It was like Mother Nature was teasing me. She dropped just enough rain to convince me that I needed some protection and then laughed as I started sweating inside my rain jacket in the humid air. With the short shower now over, the inside of my rain jacket was more wet than the outside of it.
CAMPING & CLIMBING
Around 12.5 miles into my day, I passed the Sallochy Campsite – an established campground run by the Scottish Forest and Park Service right on the banks of Loch Lomond. This was just 2.5 miles shy of the my destination of Rowardennan this evening, and I briefly wondered if this was where Benjamin’s human (i.e., the guy with the bluetooth speaker) was trying to end up yesterday.
He’d told the barmaid at the Beech Tree Inn that he was heading all the way to Rowardennan on his first day. And the two of them were almost certainly camping, given the man’s huge backpack. But I didn’t know if that meant camping in a proper campground like this one or wild camping somewhere along the trail itself.
Before I had too much time to think about it though, my attention was back on the trail. It was climbing a steep hill that nearly took my breath away. This steep hill was nothing compared to Conic Hill. It was only 0.3 miles long, but it was a real chore to climb this late in the day when I was already so tired. And that was also the moment when the rain I’d been promised decided to return in full force!.
I trudged the remainder of the way to the Rowardennan Hotel in my rain gear, and was grateful it was directly on the West Highland Way. I wouldn’t have to detour off trail into a town today.
It had been a 15-mile day, and even though I was only carrying a daypack, I felt far more tired than I should have. This must have been the lingering effects of my head cold zapping all my energy. I couldn’t wait to get to my room, take a warm shower, and just put my feet up.
WHERE’S MY BAG???
Unfortunately, a shower and clean clothes would have to wait. After checking in at the inn’s front desk, the clerk told me to head outside where there were two locked luggage storage sheds. One door was marked arrivals, and the other departures.
A group of four American ladies was heading over to the shed just ahead of me, and I overheard them saying, “Maybe our bags have arrived now.” It turns out their luggage hadn’t been in the arrivals shed when the ladies checked in an hour earlier. Maybe the transfer service just hadn’t dropped them off yet.
As they unlocked the door and peered inside though, there were only two suitcases there. And none of them belonged the group. I peeked in right after them, and my duffel bag was missing too. Huh! It was already 3pm. Our bags really should have arrived by now. It was a mere a 10- or 11-mile drive from Drymen to Rowardennan, and they were supposed to get picked up 5+ hours ago.
Knowing there were at least three bag transfer services operating on the West Highland Way, I asked the ladies which service they’d used. It turns out we’d all gone with AMS. So we were in the same boat – completely bagless.
Forty minutes later, I decided to head back out to the luggage shed in the now-drizzling rain to see if there was any update in my status. Had my duffel bag and all my clothes arrived yet?
When the front desk clerk saw where I was headed, she helpfully suggested that I check both the arrivals and departures sheds. It turns out the four ladies found their bags, but they’d mistakenly been placed in the wrong shed. And sure enough, that was the ticket! My duffel still wasn’t in the arrivals shed, but I did find it patiently waiting for me in the departures one. All’s well that ends well.
