Monday Oct. 2, 2023
- Start: Inverarnan (mile 41.5)
- End: Tydrum (mile 53.8)
- Distance Hiked: 13.4 miles (12.3 miles on WHW + 1.1 miles to/from lodging)
No ghosts came to visit me during my stay at the Drovers Inn last night, so I’m not sure how haunted the place really is. But I woke up with my sinuses feeling better than they have in a week, which was nice bonus.
Down at breakfast though, I could hear enough sniffles and coughs this morning to realize I wasn’t the only one fighting a cold. One poor man just sat there with his eyes closed through much of the meal, and he barely seemed able to even eat a bowl of porridge (oatmeal).
I hope that doesn’t mean I’m going to kick the crud I’ve been fighting since Ireland, only to get infected with a different strain of crud from Scotland.
HIGHPOINTERS
I left the Inn at a leisurely pace around 8:45 this morning. And I was walking the half mile back to the Beinglas Campground to rejoin the West Highland Way when I saw something that made me cock my head.
Up ahead of me, were two ladies who also seemed to be walking back to the trail. They had rain jackets on and were wearing their daypacks. But on the back of their packs, each woman had a bright red ball cap strapped to it.
I felt myself sharply inhale. Tell me those ladies didn’t bring red MAGA hats over to this country. That is the last thing we need Americans exporting abroad! Oh, hell NO! As I closed the gap between us, I internally pleaded, Please, oh please, tell me those hats aren’t what I think they are.
But then a wave of relief washed over me. They weren’t obnoxious MAGA hats. It was something far, FAR more interesting instead. Each of the hats had, WHEELER PEAK printed on its front in white lettering.
My mind immediately tried to put this new information in context. I knew about Wheeler Peak in New Mexico, it’s the highest point in the state at 13,161 feet. And there was also a Wheeler Peak in eastern Nevada – which is the second highest mountain in that state. But why would they have hats for that either of those mountains in Scotland?
So once I pulled shoulder to shoulder with the ladies, I turned and asked them if they could tell me about their hats. In just a few words, they told me they got their hats to celebrated hiking up to the summit of New Mexico’s high point, which they’d recently climbed together. No way! That was amazing! Wheeler Peak was one of my two favorite state high points ever!
What’s more, it turns out that these two ladies were from Oklahoma and they’d recently started highpointing. They had four of states under their belt already and were looking to add more in the future. What a strange and amazing coincidence – meeting two people out here on the West Highland Way with the same obscure hobby as me!
Of course, since they were from Oklahoma and had both already bagged that state’s high point, I had to share the story about my unique visit to Black Mesa with them before we parted ways.
HALFWAY THERE
Crossing paths with Vicky & Samantha put me in a great mood for the morning. I felt buoyed as the trail paralleled the Fillan River with its rocky rapids and robust waterfalls for the next few miles.
One of these epic waterfalls was the Falls of Falloch. From what I read about this popular spot, the waterfall drops down into a large pool known as Rob Roy’s bathtub. Yep, one more place named in honor of the famous Scottish outlaw and folk hero, Rob Roy McGregor.
Thereafter, the trail exited the forested landscape gave way to the spectacular highlands under cloudy skies. My heart pumped, and my muscles felt the effort as I trekked up and down the rolling hills.
Today was bound to be a more physical day. I’d started out at a meager 30 feet above sea level down back in Inveranan. And the trail was suppose to climb above 1,000 feet up to the cut-off to Crainlarich, before dropping back down again.
Somewhere near the West Highland Way’s halfway mark, I found myself standing in front of a tunnel that crossed under the railroad tracks. Unlike most underpasses though, this one had a ridiculously low overhead clearance, That because it was actually a “sheep creep” designed for livestock to pass under the railroad lines.
The opening on my side of the tunnel was fairly low (around 5 feet high), but then the ground sloped upward so it seemed as if the sheep creep was getting shorter and shorter as you got further into it. Lucky for me, there were signs beside the tunnel’s opening warning hikers of this unusual circumstance, and I didn’t end up smacking myself unconscious!
Just beyond the sheep creep, the trail passed though a second, much larger tunnel made from a culvert running under A82 (the main road between Glasgow and Fort William).
I hadn’t seen the highway thus far during my journey because it ran along Loch Lomond’s western shoreline, while the West Highland Way stuck to the long lake’s eastern side. But the West Highland Way would pretty much paralleled the highway from Inverarnan (last night’s stop) all the way up to Kinghouse. So I was pretty certain I’d be seeing A82 over and over again for the next three days.
SHEEP EVERYWHERE
As the trail climbed higher and higher toward the cut-off to Crainlarich, I passed dozens of sheep grazing loose on the hills. Not a thing separated them from the trail or the hikers. They just roamed freely on both sides of the trail.
If I didn’t know better, I might have been slightly apprehensive about all this loose livestock. Many of the sheep had horns that looked like they could really cause some damage if they rammed you. But these fellas seemed to possess pretty docile temperaments, and they barely stopped grazing as I walked within feet of them.
Even amid the gray, overcast skies today, it was quite a scenic walk through the Highlands. For much of the morning, the trail followed an old military road as it gently ascended above the A82 and the hilly terrain.
The morning’s climb up toward 1,100 feet elevation was much easier than the ascent up Conic Hill two days ago. But on the flip side, today’s summit didn’t have any of those same sweeping picturesque views like Conic Hill. Instead, the the West Highland Way just crossed over the shoulder of the grassy hillside before dipping down into the trees toward Ewich Forest.
DANGER!!
As I continued north, signs beside the trail warned me of forest logging up ahead. The interesting thing about these temporary signs wasn’t that they warned hikers about the danger, but rather (1) the absurd number of signs that had been posted; and (2) how ominous the warnings on them were.
Bright yellow triangles admonished me about the risk of death (!!!) if I approached the machinery or stood on the stack of timbers. Common sense would have prevented me from doing either of those prohibited acts, but clearly these loggers weren’t messing around!
I suspect the reason for the alarming nature (and quantity) of the signs had to do with how little timber harvesting occurs here in Scotland these days.
Scotland is 30,000 square miles in size – or roughly the same area as South Carolina. And based on the West Highland Way’s route along Loch Lomond, you could easily make the mistake of assuming the Scottish countryside was covered in forests or woodlands like the long trails in the US. But that’s where you’d be wrong.
Throughout Scotland’s history, little was done to protect its forested habitat. Once the trees were harvested, livestock grazing – especially in the Highlands regions – actively limited tree regeneration, and the forests shrunk smaller and smaller.
By the time the Romans invaded modern-day Scotland in 82 AD, at least 50% of Scotland’s natural woodlands were already gone. And thereafter, even more trees were harvested for fuel during the Industrial Revolution. So by the beginning of the 20th century, only 5% (!!) of the Scotland’s land area remained as woodlands. Shocking, I know!
In 1919, Scotland finally created a Forest Commission to respond to this massive decline in trees, and through very careful management, the Government was able to increase the amount of woodlands to roughly 17% of the land area now.
These conservation efforts don’t preclude logging and timber operations in Scotland entirely – as my walk through today’s area would ultimately prove. But now, the forests are much more tightly regulated and managed.
BROWN SHEEP
At the end of Ewich Forest, the West Highland Way sent me back down toward A82, where I crossed underneath a some lovely stone arches supporting the railway. Then the trail crossed over to the east side of the highway.
There was no equally scenic underpass or bridge over the highway though, so hikers were forced to dart across A82 during a breaks in traffic.
The hike through the floodplains of the River Fillan was some of the most interesting of the day. The trial went through a private farm and a number of information signs dotted the landscape explaining my surroundings.
The first of these signs was for the Crainlarich Hills to my south. Thanks to the labels and the relatively good visibility, I was able to clearly identify the summits of three of the munros in the area – Ben More (1,174 m.), Stop Binnein (1,165 m.) and Cruach Adrian (1,046 m)
A short while later, I passed a small cluster of sheep on the Kirkton Farm that looked radically different than all the others I’ve seen on my hike. There are at least 10 breeds of sheep originating here in Scotland. But the majority of the sheep I’ve encountered have been the Scottish blackface sheep – with their white wooly coats, black faces, and crescent-moon horns (like the ones from this morning).
This cluster of sheep were a whole different category though. Their coats were long and brown, and I’m fairly sure they were Herbridean sheep – a breed of small, dark sheep that can grow double horns. That’s right! Four horns on their small little heads!! Maybe that’s the reason they were isolated to their own little pasture.
SAINT FILLAN
Beyond the farm’s sheep pens, the path passed more information signs, including one identifying the ruins of St. Fillan’s priory. This 14th century historical site was built by Scottish King Robert the Bruce as a means of thanking St. Fillan for his divine help at the Battle of Bannockburn during the First War of Scottish Independence.
Saint Fillan was an Irish missionary who came to Scotland in the 7th century and established a monastery just south of Tyndrum. Six centuries later, Robert the Bruce brought one of St. Fillan’s relics to the Battle of Bannockburn. And against all odds, the Scots won the battle – liberating them from British rule. So to thank the saint for their decisive victory, King Robert the Bruce had a priory built in 1317 on the same grounds of St Fillan’s earlier monastery.
Nowadays, the ruins are crumbling and covered in moss. But I suspect the building must have been magnificent back in its heyday because the stone building stretched 50 meters long. What’s more, some of the priory’s relics are even in the National Museum of Scotland.
A bit further ahead, I’d also learn how St. Fillan became the patron saint of the mentally ill. As the trail turned back toward the highway, a sign pointed me toward a detour for the Holy Pool. This “pool” was essentially a curve in the river where the water deepened and broadened over some rocks causing it slow to a near standstill.
People afflicted with various mental disorders would often come here hoping to have the saint perform miracle cures. The healing ritual required the afflicted patients to immerse themselves in the Holy Pool while their relatives prayed nearby.
Before leaving the water, the patients collected nine stones from the riverbed, and then once back on dry land, they walked clockwise around three cairns depositing the stones onto the cairns along with the piece of clothing most associated with their ailment.
The patient was then transferred to the priory ruins where St. Fillan was buried and lashed onto a wooden rack-like structure know as “St. Fillan’s Bed” before being covered with hay and left alone overnight. The next morning, their relatives would return to check the ropes. If they were loosened, the patient would recover. If they were still tied, the family would just have to try again!
Honestly, it sounded like a pretty awful experience and probably caused more damage to these fragile neurodivergent patients than actual cures. But history is filled with wacky interventions, and I suppose it’s not any worse than bloodletting with leeches or lobotomies.
AMBUSHED
As the West Highland Way returned to the west side of A82 again, I was pulled from my pondering over St. Fillan to a bit of additional Scottish history that awaited me.
A sign beside the trail informed me I was passing the spot where the Battle of Dalrigh was fought in 1306. This battle also featured King Robert the Bruce’s army, but rather than fighting the English, he was fighting the Clan MacDougall and their private army of 1,000 men.
After losing another battle with the English, Robert the Bruce and his royal forces retreated west toward the Argylls, only to find their path blocked by MacDougalls. The English troops were in pursuit, so Robert the Bruce and his little army of 300-500 had no opportunity to change course when they were ambushed the MacDougalls near Tyndrum.
Things did not go well for the king, and his remaining horses were killed by MacDougall axemen. In fact this was such close combat, that one of the assailants was even able to tear his studded brooch from Robert the Bruce’s cloak.
The royal army was able to hold off the MacDougalls, but the humiliating clash essentially destroyed the king’s forces. Soon thereafter, Robert the Bruce was dismissed in English propaganda as nothing more than a fugitive being pursued by his enemies, both foreign and domestic.
Of course, this defeat wasn’t the end of Robert the Bruce. Not by a long shot. Instead, he would return to engage in a highly successful guerrilla warfare and defeat his opponents in a series of victories between 1310 and 1314.
But for now, the signs at this battlefield didn’t leave anyone with much confidence about King Robert the Bruce’s prospects. Thank goodness I already knew the end of the story, having just hiked passed St. Fillan’s priory and learning the outcome of the defining Battle of Bannockburn!
TREASURE HUNTERS
As I put the battlefield behind me, one final tale of King Robert the Bruce waited for me. This time it was the mystery surrounding the Lochan of the Lost Sword.
According to folklore, the king directed his forces to lighten themselves after the Battle of Dalrigh so they could get to safety. He ordered his troops to throw their heavy weapons into the a lochan (small lake) along their route, and one of these discarded weapons was Robert the Bruce’s own legendary sword, Claymore, which was 5 foot, 9 inches in length!
Of course, the idea that Robert the Bruce’s priceless sword might be laying at the bottom of one of these shallow lochans has encouraged many local treasure hunters to try to recover it. But none of them has been successful in their search.
In 2015, a team from MacDonald Armouries in Edinburgh even came with metal detectors to search the battlefield and local lochans. But they didn’t find any evidence of dumped weapons or the legendary sword. So the it’s left to each of us to determine whether the story is merely a tall tale, or whether the treasure hunters and historians just haven’t stumbled upon the right loch yet.
TYNDRUM
With my Scottish history lessons complete, it was time to finish the walk into the small village of Tyndrum. Despite the tiny population of less than 200 full-time residents, the town had quite a few amenities for tourists traveling up and down A82.
In addition to the B&Bs, there was a RV campground, a handful of restaurants, and an outdoor laundromat. It was also home to the Green Welly Stop – popular tourist stop selling food, souvenirs, with decent-sized outdoor/hiking store.
Tynrdum was mostly notable to me, less for these amenities, but because I’d planned to stay here for two nights. The next leg of the West Highland Way only has three towns for hikers to stay in: Bridge of Orchy (7 miles ahead), Inveroran (9 miles ahead), and Kingshouse (19 miles ahead). That meant, tomorrow I had the option of doing a really short day (7-9 miles) or a really long one (~19 miles).
But as I dove into the logistical planning for this trip three months ago, I realized I wouldn’t be staying in either of the first two towns on my West Highland Way trek. That’s because the sole hotel in Bridge of Orchy was ridiculously expensive (rooms starting at $325/night) while the Inveroran Hotel was already fully booked for my dates!
The loss of these two hotel options seemed to force my hand into adding a 19-mile day of hiking to my itinerary. And it wasn’t impossible for me to hike straight through to Kingshouse. I did that type of mileage all the time when I was backpacking. Except I didn’t really want to hike bigger mileage days in Scotland. I’d come on this trip as an exercise in slowing down and savoring a journey. So I wracked my brain for an alternate solution.
In the end, I came up with a compromise that would let me break this upcoming leg to Kingshouse into two days. All I needed to do was utilize the public transportation running between Bridge of Orchy and Tyndrum.
And that’s why I booked my B&B in Tyndrum for two nights. Tomorrow I’d hike the 7 miles from Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy before taking the train or bus back to Tyndrum again. The following day, I’d take the bus/train back up to Bridge of Orchy and pick up where I left off for the final 12 miles to Kingshouse.
It would result in two very easy days of hiking, but that really quite ideal for my goals. I was on vacation. I didn’t need to hike the West Highland Way fast. My ultimate goal was to have relaxing adventure where I could recharge both mentally and physically.
