Day 2 – Drymen to Rowardennan
15:78 miles (14.5 miles officially)
I was pleased with myself for being able to get up Conic Hill without feeling too short of breath. I followed the adage about taking exaggeratedly short strides on the steeper uphill, and we took our time, both of which helped. The thing about being part of a big group is that you will inevitably get a wider range of ability and fitness. So, some of the group strode up and along without too much difficulty, and some required moments where they just needed to quietly chip away at the path in front of them, at their pace. I do remember times like that in our Coast to Coast Walk. I think I was less hill ready than I am this time.
Our walk out of Drymen involved a bit of road to get out of the village, and then quickly we were into fields that were gently climbing up. The path here was pretty good and again, the forecast of a beautiful day was proving to be correct. Already, most of the wet weather clothes had been left in our suitcases which would be shipped to our next stay, as we were pretty sure our luck would hold, for at least the rest of the day.
The gradual incline became more steep at just over five miles into the walk. Stony steps had been created, which sometimes helped and sometimes required more effort. Heather was bringing up the rear with her walking poles, and I suggested the short-stride method to her. She has asthma, so keeping the oxygen flowing in the lungs is doubly important. She said she could notice the difference in her breathing, which was great to hear.
The official West Highland Way path does not go right to the summit of Conic Hill. The final hundred and fifty metres or so is up a precariously uneven stone path. We were all momentarily about to bypass it, and then Ian piped up.
‘I’m just going up to take a little look,’ and bounded up.
It was a small phrase that percolated in our brains momentarily, and then four of us followed, while the other five carried on over the other side.
Ian has a great amount of stamina, and quite often goes on hikes with Val and other walking groups (apparently there are other walking groups). Day One which had been so tiring for me, had barely registered with him, so taking in this extra bit was no great shakes. I’m glad I followed because the views were terrific. We were directly in line with the group of islands that form a line across the loch and apparently mark the divide between the Highlands and the Lowlands.
Going down over the other side of this hill then would take us into the Highlands of Scotland then, which sounded momentous. Going down over the other side of this hill proved to be even more precarious than going up. It was steeper and stonier, and although I gained a little relief from taking it at a light jog instead of walking, it still made my toes feel crushed and bruised by the end.
Our lunch was right by the loch, near a statue of Tom Weir, a broadcaster and advocate for the protection of the Scottish natural environment. And from then on, we kept the loch to a greater or lesser extent on our left, as we went up into the bluebell studded woodland or down by the gently lapping water’s edge. Periodically, our afternoon was studded with inclines to test us, but not to the same extent as Conic Hill, and although I did dip into a moany hour because the day was getting long (my Garmin’s mileage for that day hit almost sixteen miles), I did take multiple moments to just soak in the wonderful beauty of this part of our adventure.
The hotel at Rowardennan sat close to the water, and almost directly by the path that led up to Ben Lomond. It was my least favourite place to stay – it wasn’t bad, but I think it suffered from the lack of enough staff – we didn’t get any food til almost an hour had gone by, and that is enough to rile any walker.
Day 3 – Rowardennan to Ardlui
12.72 miles ( 14.1 miles officially)
The problem with the MAC Adventures maps is that they are generic. They start and stop at set points on the route, regardless of whether you are stopping or starting there. For example, at the end of our walk today we stopped two miles short of the official point because our hotel was in Ardlui which required a ferry ride across the loch. This did mean that the hill at the end of the map was left out until the morning after, so I guess that was at least pleasing.
The ferry arrived at ten past the hour if you hoisted a big orange ball up to say that you were waiting, before the hour mark. We had been absolutely certain that we’d be on the 16:10 ferry, when we had our lunch break in Inversnaid, because we had made great tracks in the morning through pine forests, on generally wide, comfortable paths. Heather’s brother who had done this whole walk in a stunning five days with his son, had suggested to her that the second half of our day was going to be tough, but the elevation profile, although a little bit up and down, didn’t seem anywhere on the scale of yesterday.
It was a day of bluebells. Bluebells and wooden bridges. As Rowardennan Hotel was right on the loch, the only way was up, but not too high, and it wasn’t too difficult either, with the paths wide enough so that you felt like you were strolling along in good company. We passed fields that were just carpeted with the velvety, drooping flowers that were the British variety, rather than the more robust looking Spanish versions. We walked among towering pines, so the first few miles were cooler. The loch seemed far below us, but after only a few downward inclines we were at the edge again and heard the lapping waves to our left. This climb and fall happened a couple of times before we reached Inversnaid, where the picnic benches were plentiful, but the hotel had a snotty policy of asking walkers to take their boots off before venturing into the bar, even on such a dry day as this.
We were just over six miles in at this point and it was coming up to one o’clock. At two miles an hour with breaks, which was slower than our morning pace, we’d easily get there. Within minutes of leaving Inversnaid’s hotel, the wide paths gave way to narrow single-file undulations that hugged the edge of the loch. But we were not marching along like Colonel Hathi’s elephants in ‘The Jungle Book‘. We were carefully clambering up stones and snarly tree roots, and then painstakingly inching our way down uneven rocks. It was interesting to begin with. Small puzzles for our brains to work on, wondering about the best place to put our feet. Occasionally, I stopped and looked around. The glistening, gently rasping water, the bluebells, and the woodland surroundings were beautiful. I could only see this view intermittently, however, as my eyes were firmly fixed on my feet while we were moving.
When we crossed the several wooden bridges along the path, their flatness gave us the smallest of respites from the nearly two miles of precarious undulations. Our collective pace had plummeted – although some of the speedier members could have made it, we reassessed midway and decided to take it easy, and just aim for the next ferry. It was a wise decision, because although it was relatively a short day, at twelve and a half miles, the concentration required for those two miles towards the end made me feel quite exhausted.
We reached the jetty at around half four. The ball was already up as a couple of people were already waiting. One young chap who came after us, stripped down to his boxers and decided to test the waters. He gingerly walked in to his low thighs and then bent down and dunked his head in for a little adrenalin boost, as he didn’t want to get his underwear wet.
The boat took only twelve so the chap and his mates had a slightly longer wait. The Ardlui hotel was just along from the jetty on the other side. Quite a nice place and the food was generally okay.
I found out that Brian was ‘corrupting’ the husbands he bunked with by encouraging them to have an extra drink after dinner, and I thought I was doing well by offering the wives a little squeeze of my peppermint foot cream!
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