Scotland's West Highland Way

The West Highland Way is a 96 mile hiking trail that traverses through Scotland starting in the Glasgow suburb of Milngavie and heading north, northwest to Fort William. Many traverse this route over 7 to 8 days. MK and I will take nine days with one rest day midway. We plan on taking our time, enjoying the sights, and moving along at an age-appropriate pace.

Milngavie to Drymen

At breakfast, I look out the window at the gray and dreary skies. What trip of ours would be complete without rain and cold for that seems to be the pattern of many of our outdoor adventures over the years.

Our attention turns to the plates of food before us. We remark on how we've been "eating bravely" as I shovel in my black pudding (pork blood and oatmeal) and bubbles and squeaks (fried potatoes and cabbage). And this is after the haggis, neeps, and tatties (sheep's organs minced with onion and spices, mashed and whipped turnips, and mashed potatoes) I had last night.

Fortified, we begin our trek at 8:15a.m. We take pictures at the obelisk in Milngavie’s town square, the West Highland Way’s official starting point.

Soon after starting, we detour off of the trail and ascend up to a country park where we find an ancient castle. Built in the 1300s, the castle is largely intact save for the fallen and since removed archways. It's an ethereal setting what with the misty rain, leaden skies, and gray surroundings.

Further on, two men, self-described volunteers with the so-called West Highland Way Association, direct us and other trekkers to the right pathway amongst a complicated intersection of several paths. I am dubious of their credentials as they ask for donations to
help maintain the trail in return for free snacks and drinks. One of them has a falcon on his arm, a wolf at his feet, and a bobcat in a nearby cage. 

Another detour takes us to the Glengoyne Distillery of Scotch whisky. We are too late for one of their guided tours of the plant. That, however, doesn’t deter me as I partake in a wee dram (ok, maybe two wee drams) of their finest 10-year-old.

We are surprised at the number of trekkers who are backpacking and camping along the Way. Given the weather forecast, they can be assured of wet and miserable conditions. We, on the other hand, will be taking the softer approach with pre-planned overnight stays in various inns, B&B’s, and hostels. We used to be avid backpackers and tent campers. But at our age, I don’t know if we will ever be able to do that again.

Drymen to Balmaha

We are learning that many people undertake this next stage in one, 14-mile push to the hotel or youth hostel in Rowardennan. We appear to be one of the few groups who have decided to split up this 14-mile segment into two days, 7 miles from Drymen to Balmaha - where we will stay for the night - then another 7 miles to Rowardennan thereafter.

Given the day's relatively leisurely mileage, we linger until 9:30 a.m. at Kip n Kirk, our lovely B&B in Drymen, before setting off for our day's walk to Balmaha. The weather is cooperating after a hard rain overnight. The low clouds resist releasing any more rain for today. In fact, by midafternoon, the sun peeks through the clouds from time to time.

Our route takes us through a forest before breaking out into hilly moorland where flocks of sheep are grazing. We soon begin to climb up onto the flanks of Conic Hill, the prominent geologic feature along a fault line made up of other hills along with prominent islands placed in a straight line out and into the adjacent Loch Lomond. From our hill top vantage point, we can clearly see the demarcation this fault line has created, with the lowlands to our south and the storied Scottish Highlands to our north. And it is through this northerly expanse that we will find ourselves for the balance of this trek.

We are remarkably tired as we descend Conic, having taken 4 hours to walk only 5-6 miles of our planned 7-mile day. We are concerned how our stamina and slow pace will hold up with the several 10 to 14 mile days we have in front of us later this week and into the next.

We find Balmaha a beehive of tourists. Our quiet, out-of-the way room at the Oak Tree Inn is our comfortable respite for the evening.

Balmaha to Rowardennan

A hard rain greets us as we awake. We scramble with our bags to get them from our detached room to the reception area in the main building while minimizing how wet they will otherwise get. It is in the reception area that our hired baggage transfer service will pick up and haul our bags to our next day's lodging. It's a nice way to trek. Each day, we will carry just our lighter day packs containing just some simple essentials while the transport service hauls our heavier luggage filled with clothing and toiletries. Many other trekkers are partaking in this service as well.

The path takes us along the shores of Loch Lomond. Portions of the path direct us onto the gravel beaches that appear from time to time.  Unfortunately, with the rain and low clouds, we cannot see what we are told are tremendous views of the hills and mountains that surround this lake.

We do take advantage of several trailside shops and camp areas where we buy a cuppa and avail ourselves of modern bathroom facilities. The day is otherwise generally unremarkable. By mid-afternoon, we arrive wet and chilled at the Rowardennan Youth Hostel, our stay for the evening.

Rowardennan to Inverarnan

The path splits in two a short distance north of Rowardennan. The path to the left, the one lower along the Loch's edge, is said to be very difficult.  We have a 13-1/2-mile day ahead of us and don't feel like making it harder than it already promises to be. So we take the path to the right, the upper path along a nice track largely within the forest. This goes on for a couple of miles after which the two paths converge back into one.

As we continue, we see one of the more interesting "honor" boxes propped up against the fence of a remote cottage. Friendly locals place along the trail water, fruit and snacks for weary hikers who are asked to pay a little something for whatever they may take by placing their coins in a slotted box. The one we see now has all sorts of goodies: cookies, homemade brownies, fruits, flavored water, and other miscellaneous treats. Given our upcoming planned lunch stop with supplies already on hand, we choose not to buy anything and regrettably move on.

We make good progress on the first half of today's march, covering 7 miles in 3-1/2 hours. After a brief stop for our lunch (and a Guinness!) at the Iversnaid Hotel, we are off again for the remaining 6 miles.

These remaining miles prove to be the toughest on the trip so far. Many rocks, roots, crags, and mud pits litter the trail. It all made for slow going until a heavy rain starts to fall. Our progress now slows considerably.

What must be placid streams and rivulets coming off of the mountains are now full, raging torrents as they dump into the Loch. Some are bridged, others are crossed by walking on dangerous and slippery rocks that are now almost fully submerged.

Rain covers and treated boots are no match for this hard, wind driven deluge. We are soaked through and chilled to the point of shivering in the mid 40 degree temperatures. Stopping to rest is not an option. Any semblance of warmth can only be had by continuing to walk.

Thankfully, the strong gale force winds are to our backs for our faces would be full of rain if it blew in any other direction. Odd how one appreciates any small, seemingly insignificant comfort in a day filled with many discomforts.

Our walk seems endless. We want this wet and cold misery to end but know we still have many miles to go. I look back behind me to see how MK is doing. I mention that these are the times when we must dig deep to face the mental challenges needed to push ourselves just as much as the physically ones. Her eyes narrowed. I am not sure if doing so is from a new found determination or from a contempt for me at my feeble try at encouragement. She lowers her head and soldiers on just when my face gets a full blast of wind and stinging rain. I learn not to look back, nor comment, too often any more.

After several more hours, we finally limp into our Beinglas camp and hotel area in Inverarnan at 5:00p.m. Our total 13-1/2-mile day took us 8-1/2 hours, well under our desired 2 miles per hour pace. I later hear a man in the bar say that today's hike was the hardest thing he's ever done in his life. I tend to agree.

Our simple room's hot shower and heavy bedding warms us. In the low light of the early evening, I take one last look out our window and see several backpackers, wet and cold themselves, trying to set up their tents on the ground full of puddles while being battered by the wind and rain.

I close the curtains and climb into bed. We sleep deeply.

Inverarnan to Tyndrum

A few early showers require us to don our rain gear once again. But soon, the skies clear somewhat and stay that way for the rest of the day to afford wonderful views of the hills and surrounding countryside.

We are held up and stand-off of the side of the trail while a herd of 20 to 30 cows make their way down the path and into another field. They are skittish and are wary as they gingerly pass us. The wait goes on for too long which prompts MK to conjure up her past 4H training. She boldly regains a dominant position on the trail, calls at the cows to give way, and is successful as they all move off and into the adjacent wet grasses and mud puddles.

We reach the Crainlarich crossroads, our half way point for today as well as the halfway point for the entire West Highland Way. MK goes down to the town to get our passbooks stamped while I linger at the crossroads to give my blistered feet some first aid treatment. Some nice campsites are scattered throughout the trees. Their flattened grasses are evidence of recent use. We continue to be surprised at how many people are camping on their West Highland Way trek.

Over one hundred 13-14 year old school children begin to materialize along the trail. We find out that they are on a school outing, part of a physical education program that requires them to walk the same 12 miles that we are walking today. They are all fit, happy, and full of energy as they easily pass us while we lumber up the trail. They will end up passing and, after resting, re-passing us for the remainder of the day all the way to Tyndrum. Can you imagine this ever being require or expected of their peers in America?

We have an early dinner of burgers and chips in Tyndrum before boarding a train to the coastal town of Oban. We will spend two nights there to take a break from what has so far been five days of trail life.

Oban

We have a relaxing morning over coffee and breakfast in our B&B before setting off to explore the town. We wander around Oban aimlessly with no specific agenda or required destination in mind. It's a nice change from the routines of the trail.

Large ferries are visible from the shore line esplanade as they come and go from the port. Fishing trawlers bob and sway in the bay. An ancient castle stands guard at the port entrance looking down on the town, still seemingly ready to guard against any enemies or invading marauders.

We duck into an old catholic cathedral for some early quiet and reflection. This is later contrasted with the loud and boisterous conviviality of several locals who have gathered in an authentic hometown tavern for beer and conversation. I have difficulty understanding the thick Scottish accent, although the meanings of an occasional "shite" and a "fike this, fike that" are clearly understood.

The main drag is lined with Fish and Chips stores which all vie for the title of "Best in Town." Other nearby taverns are ready to serve us and others their finest brews. We leave the harbor-side B&B in the early evening to patronize one of them as a hard, windy rain begins to fall. Our B&B’s proprietor hands us umbrellas for our journey. “Hold oan to thaese taightly,” he tells us. “Thare ur mair uhmbrellahs in th' bay than thare ur feesh!!”

Tyndrum to Inveroran

After an early breakfast, we board the train for our trip back to Tyndrum where we resume our march on the trail. Upon disembarking, we find the skies are again cloudy with a light rain falling.

The guidebook says we are walking in an amphitheater of mountains. MK says, disappointingly, "the mountain scenery is supposed to be spectacular; too bad we can't see it for all the rain and low clouds. I respond with, "that's like saying my six pack abs are supposed to be spectacular; too bad we can't see them through the several inches of fat."

The trail is otherwise relatively easy allowing for the swiftest progress we have experienced so far (10 miles in five hours, one of which was at a lunch break in the inn at the Bridge of Orchy).

We arrive at the remote, rain shrouded Inveroran Hotel by mid-afternoon. Hot showers and a warm bed are needed to ward off the chill that has seeped into our bones.

Inveroran to Kingshouse

We left our secluded outpost and once again, begin our day's walk into the rain. Low clouds dominate the skies in the morning. We are told we are walking through some of the most scenic and isolated wilderness in Great Britain. All we can see of it though is what is within a couple of hundred feet of the trail.

A man approaches us from the opposite direction. He tells us he is going to Inveroran to meet clients to guide them on their walk back to Kingshouse, the direction from which he is coming and to where we will stop for the day to catch our bus. He is fit and doesn't seem to mind the fact that he will be walking twice the distance we and his clients will be walking. We discuss the on-going dreary weather we have had for the week so far. He profusely apologizes for it even though he obviously can't do anything about it. "Sorry aboot th' waither, bit that's Scootlund fur ye " he says before walking off.

By mid-afternoon, we get a break and the skies somewhat clear giving us views of the towering hills in the area. Near Kingshouse, we linger at a wide spot on the road, buzzing with car and truck traffic. This is the bus stop for our ride into nearby Glencoe where we will be spending the night. The bus driver kindly agrees to let us on his 12:30 bus even though we have tickets for the one that is to arrive later at 3:30.

In Glencoe, we meet our host at their Beechwood Cottage B&B. These accommodations will prove to be the best we've had so far.

King's House to Kinlochleven

The mid-morning bus brings us back to the wide spot in the road where we left the trail yesterday. We resume our walk in cloudy but dry skies. In fact, this would be the first day without one drop of rain. Hallelujah!

We walk past the stand alone Kingshouse Hotel where many other trekkers have apparently stayed since they are all out and onto the trail at the time we arrive. The path takes us for three miles down into the Glencoe arena of mountains, much of which we can clearly be seen for the first time given the rain free skies.

But soon, the trail veers off its gentle descent and begins its climb up the Devil's Staircase, a series of demanding switchbacks that lead up to the pass that marks the highest point on the West Highland Way. Along with many others, we soak up the stupendous views while having our lunch.

A long, downhill slog follows which taxes our thighs and toes. The interminable descent finally breaks when we arrive at the outskirts of Kinlochleven. Our hostel is near the edge of town, but first, we find an inn for a restorative pint before showering and turning in for the evening.

Kinlochleven to Fort William

We eat breakfast in the hostel's kitchen from our personal larder filled with what we bought at a grocery store last night. This allows for our early 7:30 a.m. start on the long 14-15 mile final day on the trail.

From town, we are immediately greeted with a long, arduous, bowel movement inducing climb up from the valley and into the mountains. Halfway up, we pass a young woman resting on a rock, hiking alone like many other women we have seen in the trek. Her two dogs, Sam and Maisy, keep her company and, presumably safe, although they are smallish in size. Sam growls at my heels as he, his canine companion, and his human master catch up to us, clearly indicating that they are wanting to pass.

Our mountainside path soon gives way to an undulating but gently descending trail that takes us down a broad, U-shaped valley indicative of past glacial activity. The skies, while hazy, allow for long distance views of the mountains that bracket the valley. Many miles will pass before we exit this magnificence and enter deep into the forests that lie at the base of Ben Nevis, Great Britain's highest mountain.

At mile ten, the mountain is clearly visible through breaks in the trees. We are lucky in that we are able to take photos of the sunny summit before the clouds descend and obscure the broad expanse of its highest reaches. We later learn that Ben Nevis is shrouded in clouds for all or part of 340 days out of 365.

I call out that we have reached milepost eleven. "Please sir, may I have another?" is MK's reply. We are both punchy at this point, looking forward to finishing this long day.

We descend down a long gravel track used by lumbermen and sheep herders in the area and finally reach busy roads on the outskirts of Fort William.

"Milepost twelve!

"Please sir, may I have another?"

The rush of cars and truck rattles us. We are not used to the noise after many days of high mountain and peaceful valley quiet.

We enter into the town center, wearily finishing our remaining couple of hundred feet. We round a corner and find the monument announcing the completion of the trail.  We and many others pose and take pictures.

We relish in the moment in an adjacent restaurant while drinking pints and sparkling water with friends we have made while on our trek. We are content, proud of our accomplishment of walking the entire 96-mile West Highland Way.