Scottish National Trail Archives - Page 2 of 3

A Scottish Story – Day 12, On the Rob Roy Way to Loch Venacher

Distance: 33km

Oh how nice it is to sleep in a bed! I feel nice and rested when I get up. It’s the usual routine. Pack, get food, tape the feet. Go.

Again I have been unbelievably blessed with the weather. It’s another shimmering sunny blue day, not a breath of wind, barely a cloud in the sky.

I’m following the Rob Roy Way today. Essentially I’m walking on forestry trails most of the day. It reminds me a lot of all the forestry trails I’ve walked at home. Some nice parts here, some parts that look completely devastated here, weedy tangles along the road verge, few places that incentivise you to stop and take a rest.

I sit on the outskirts of the town of Aberfoyle to have my lunch. I’ve been really enjoying the opportunity to carry sandwiches, and today it’s a “breakfast with the lot”. Yummo.

Up to this point in the day the walk has been extremely straightforward, primarily flat with no major challenges. It’s a bit of a shock after so many days without any major uphills to come across one! The challenge is good for me, and breaks up some of the monotony I had begun to feel.

The final few kilometres of the day are the ones to really celebrate. The Loch comes into view. A vast body of the bluest water surrounded by spiky green mountains on all sides. I reach my predetermined camping spot (a permit is required here) and nab a quiet spot, right on the beach of the Loch.

The sun is glinting off the water and it is such a pleasurable feeling to bathe in it’s glow whilst I soak my poor feet in the icy waters. It’s a popular spot later in the afternoon, with locals enjoying this unusually balmy weather. Squeals can be heard in all directions as a number of brave souls take the full plunge.

I have a bit of study to do this afternoon. I had given myself 3 nights to walk to the next major township, however, I’m thinking I might have to push that out to 4 nights, just to try and give my feet (and body honestly) a bit more of a break by doing some shorter days. Time to check the maps and try to make some decisions!

It’s hard though when I’m stretched out in the sand, snacks by my side and toasty warm in the sun. That study might have to wait for a bit. I think I’ve earnt some time to relax.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

Scottish National Trail – Day 11, A day on the West Highlands Way

Distance: 21km

Different day, different scenery. I wake up pretty excited. First things first, I tape my feet up. Frankenstein’s monster style. Still sore when I put my shoes on, but hopefully things won’t get worse.

It’s a quick trot into town and suddenly I am at the start of the West Highland Way walk. This is one of Scotland’s premier walks, and there is palpable excitement from a dozen hikers milling around the start. By far more hikers than I’ve seen altogether in almost two weeks of walking. The buzz is nice, and everybody excitedly gets underway.

It’s not long before I meet up with John, a guy about my age who is carrying an absolutely enormous bag. We spend the next couple of hours walking and talking. (He’s partnered up – calm down people!) It is really nice to chat to someone for a while. Our topics range from mythical stories in Australia and Scotland, to the current political climates in both countries.

Eventually, because this is what long distance hiking does, he tells me the reason for his walk on the West Highland Way. He is carrying his fathers ashes along the trail. This is the reason his pack is so big. His father is inside. John tells me that his father had always wanted to walk the trail, and that a break in busy life had meant the opportunity to take him had come along.

It is silent for a while. I say to him that I’m sorry. That I’m trying to imagine what that is like…Carrying a parent in your bag. I tell him I can’t imagine it at all. I can’t even bear to think about it. We both reflect on what it means to live life while you can.

We reach a rest stop and I tell John I’m going to stop and take a break. My feet are still pretty sore, and I’m not in a rush today. We say our goodbyes. I had enjoyed our few hours of discussion immensely. Hopefully I will see a few more people on the trail moving forwards.

Whilst we have been walking, the landscape has opened up. There are mountains all around, and I can see the possibilities of the next few days floating in front of me.

There is a lot of road walking in the lead up to Drymen, where I am staying the night in a hotel. I am really happy to arrive right on check in time, get to my room, shower and relax for a bit. My feet are still a worry, so I head to the pharmacy to buy them out of blister products. It makes me feel a little more confident about the coming days.

A wine or two. Dinner in the bar. Life is good. I leave the West Highland Way now, so I might be back to being on my own again. But it’s so nice to be excited about the walk again!

The dream

This article was first published on The Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 10, Canals, canals, canals all the way to Milngavie

Distance: 37km

The fact that I only took three photos all day kind of explains everything. I’ve definitely already passed by the highlights of the canals. But still, they continue. On and on. I move from the Union canal to the Forth and Clyde canal. No change. It’s not completely unpleasant. Just repetitive. And long. In addition, if I hear another bike bell anytime soon, I’m likely to scream a lot louder than that damn bell!

No more dinging. Please. PLEASE!

My worst fears have also materialised. The tar is ripping my feet up. I’m very unsurprised. Perfect for an afternoon walk from home with a light load. But under long distances with a heavy backpack, the tar rips up tender feet so badly.

I’m trying to see the positives. At times it’s green and beautiful. I see an older couple. They’ve bought their own stools and are watching the birdlife, hand in hand, feet up on their stools. It makes me smile. I see no other hikers at all.

After what seems an age, I finally get to the turnoff away from the canals. Hooray!! My mood is boosted immediately! Even if I am only walking through a plethora of golf courses…

I stop just out of town. It’s part of a gold course I think, so potentially not really allowed. But it’s wooded, flattish, pretty private and I can’t walk another step. So, it’s decided. I’m staying. Despite the distance it’s a restless night. It doesn’t escape my attention that my best sleeping is happening after 4am, once it is starting to get light. I think I feel a little more comfortable once that happens. From this point forwards though I’m starting to leave the most populated area and wild camping should be a little easier. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.

This article was originally posted on The Trek and can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 9, Canal continuation between Linlithgow and a forest near Bonnybridge

Distance: 27km

I woke up this morning to find a little gift had been left for me outside the tent. It’s a crochet bee with the words “I’m not lost. Just alone. If I made you smile, please take me home”. It did make me smile. I wear a necklace with very similar words inscribed on it (excluding the take me home part!). I didn’t take it with me…my bag is full and heavy enough. I hope somebody sees it in the bathroom, where I carefully stowed it, and does take it home with them. It was a magical little way to begin the day.

I was working hard to see the positives this morning. With little change in the conditions of yesterday there wasn’t a heap of anticipatory excitement going on. Around the half way mark I spied a huge Tesco supermarket just off the track, the words “Cafe” glinting at me like a beacon. I spent an enjoyable hour having a toasted ham and cheese sandwich (but the cheese was melted on the outside of the sandwich!), seasoned fries, coffee and a Coke, whilst overlooking the bustling shoppers from its upstairs vantage point.

This did make me laugh. This dog is the sigil for Linlithgow, but obviously someone decided to have a little fun with it!

The hike become a little more interesting after the break. First, a huge underground tunnel (630m long) moodily lit, dripping with both water and atmosphere. Next, a shorter tunnel (180m long), but emitting more of a party atmosphere with lights of blue, green and pink. Finally, the mighty Falkirk Wheel, a huge, elegant boat lift which uses precise weights of water to lift boats up and down from the basin to the aqueduct canal, a distance of 24 metres.

It’s a bit of a carnival atmosphere with cafes, shops and rides for the kids. I enjoy more fries and another drink. If I can’t do it now, when can I do it?

Thats one way of getting boats into and out of the water!

On reaching Bonnybridge I stop into the shop to get a small amount of food and then continue on, hot on the hunt for a suitable wild campsite. I had scoped something out on a map and tentatively made my way towards it. Through a broken fence, but that’s ok isn’t it?

I reach the site and it looks ok. Private. Not annoying anybody. Hard to be seen. Potentially overlooking a prison. (I’m not actually sure what the building is, probably manufacturing, but it just gives prison like vibes). A random dog walker passed me earlier and didn’t seem concerned. So, I assume I’m good. Tent is set up and ready to go. At least it’s a lot quieter than it was last night! And I have just a little bottle of wine to calm my nerves. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

The “prison” is about 150m away….

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 8, Drifting along the canals between the city and Linlithgow

Distance: 36km

Somehow in my mind I’d built up a bit of a road block when it comes to the next section of the walk. For three days I’m to walk the tow paths of the canals, so named because horses used to walk alongside the canals and tow small punts up them.

My fears were two-fold. Firstly, I was just worried about how my feet were going to cope with pounding the pavement for three days straight. And secondly, a culmination of probable boredom, long distances and limited camping opportunities.

The first problem I’ve tried to solve with some cushioned inner soles. The second, wait, see, and wing it.

I was up reasonably early and nervously ready at the train station to catch a ride back to Slateford, where I would rejoin the hike. I bought tickets and then looked at the schedule board. More than an hour wait! Kaa duu. I’m actually pretty proud of myself for this quick pivot. I immediately decided I couldn’t waste that time and found the taxi stand. I was a little poorer, but at the starting point 10 minutes later. I’d walked a full 7km by the time I would have reached the starting point, had I stuck with the train. So, a win to me.

The canals were…ok A combination of the sun shining and the long weekend meant that exercisers were out in droves. The sound of bike bells dinging is still ringing in my ears. Aside from forced people watching, there wasn’t much variety in scenery. Sometimes the tow path wound through lush, green forest. Sometimes it ran alongside the motorway. The distance was fine on the flattest of surfaces. The hardest part of the day was trying to find appropriate opportunities for toilet stops. With no public toilets the whole way, you’ve got to be quick – that’s all I can say. The highlight of the day was meeting a group of incredibly friendly female Indian bike riders whom I shared a lunch spot with. They literally cheered me on when they rode away.

As I felt uncomfortable about camping so close to the tow path or the busy roads, I’m staying at a caravan park in Linlithgow. It’s not somewhere I would stay given a choice, squeezed as it is into a small space between two major roads. Still, I’ve been able to have a shower (now THAT was the most dangerous part of the day – a running loop of scalding hot water one minute and freezing cold the next!) and I’m tucked onto some stairs, having a wine and listening to 80’s power ballards blasting from one of the caravans. Not sure what sort of sleep it will be tonight….But at least I feel safe and secure and am enjoying the tunes!

This articles was originally published on The Tek and can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 7, Banks of the North Esk Reservoir to living the high life in the city

Distance – 20km

An undisturbed night. That is, except for a few wayward sheep that decided to graze near the tent. They moved on pretty quickly, and it was a good night.

The morning starts cool. The first spots of rain, and I hastily get into my rain gear ready for the onslaught. It doesn’t eventuate, and moments later I’m stopping to take it off again. Not today so it seems. Not today.

Once again the track meanders through enormous sheep paddocks. In contrast to the bright blues of yesterday, the greyness mutes the landscape to colours of flax, mauve and olive. It might just be a sheep paddock, but it is stunning.

I quickly reach the township of Belerno and pick up the Waters of Leith trail. The Leith River snakes its way through the suburban landscape providing a tunnel of green through the brick throng. The highlight of this section is the walk through the old railway bridge at Colinton which has been utterly transformed by mural from start the finish, based on the poem “From a Railway Carriage” (Robert Louie Stevenson 1855). Potentially, the best tunnel I’ve ever been in!

I move pretty quickly as I am keen to get to my hotel. It’s a long weekend in the big smoke, and hotel prices have sky rocketed to reflect that. With exchange rates, this is going to be by far the most expensive room I’ve ever stayed in, in my life!

As it turns out, the joint was not salubrious. Far from it. I actually didn’t know what to say to myself when the lift opened and I saw plastic builders wrap all over the floor, and right up to my room. Thank goodness, the room itself is fine, though they are doing renovations on the room right next to mine….first world problems.

I’ve had a nice rest day in Edinburgh, and am ready to rock and roll again tomorrow. Will finish this with a few photos from Jupiter Artland, a sculptural exhibition set in a large woodland, which I visited this afternoon.

We worship groves and their very silences

Spotted on an installation at Jupiter Artland

Don’t mind if I do!

Hopefully not me at the end of tomorrow! It’s going to be a really long day….

This article was originally published on The Trek and can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 6, Turning it around, Peebles to the banks of the North Esk Reservoir

Distance: 33km

Four words can essentially sum up todays hike. Hot sun. Sheep paddocks. Sounds like home! This could be a very short post!

I’m pleased to say that today, although a lot longer, was so much better than the day I had yesterday. I purposely showed up with my A-game this morning. Adequate breakfast eaten before setting out, water drunk, awareness of the route, sunscreen slathered on, a plan to stop every so often, plenty to eat, a positive attitude. All good.

It was such a hot, sunny day in Scotland, that it seemed that even the Scots were surprised. Those I talked to anyway. I only saw a couple of people out on the trails all day.

Essentially today I was following an ancient trading route, the Cross Drove Rd, sometimes refered to as “Thieves Rd”, as ruffians would try to steel stock during the night. The trail was easy to follow and well marked. A few steep sections, but nothing overly difficult. The hardest thing about today was trying to find some shade to have a rest in!

I was feeling pretty relieved when I reached my intended campsite – such a long , hot day. I had spied a body of water called the North Esk Reservoir on the map, and thought it looked a pretty sweet spot to camp. I was quite surprised to arrive and find the entrance covered in no camping posters. I had thought something like that might have been written in the track notes.

Not to mind. I found a sweet little spot just outside the reserve (which, to be fair, is a wildlife reserve within an area of special significance). To further sweeten the deal, I had access to a nicely running stream for water, and after the hot day I was feeling rather parched! The cherry on top came when I decided to have a look at a nearby bird hide. Inside was a little table, stools and cushions, which on closer inspection, bore the brand name “Malinda”. It was meant to be.

So now I sit on the comfort of these cushioned stools, cooking myself up some dinner and watching the birds on the water. So far I have seen Mallards, Mute Swan, Canada geese, Curlews, Lapwings, chaff chaff, robins, common sandpiper and a person in a tiny, little blue row boat.

Very happy with how this all turned out. Hooray to being back in the game!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be viewed here.

A Scottish Story – Day 5, On the road from Hare Law to the town of Peebles.

Distance – 19km

Well. After the highs of yesterday, honestly it all fell apart a little bit today. Not in a major way. Just…in little increments that culminated bit by bit and drained the enthusiasm. I’m fine again now, and keen to continue on, but it just goes to show how quickly things can turn.

It started last night. The tent was on a bit of a slope, so I keep sliding towards the side wall, thrashing about, tossing and turning. At one point I was ripped out of a pretty vivid dream to the sound of a tenacious little dog, yapping at me from outside the tent, repeatedly and ferociously. I had thought I must be dreaming. I hadn’t seen anybody in hours. What was this dog doing here?

I heard somebody calling it. A woman. Eventually the sound of the yapping faded into the distance. I looked at the time. 12.15am. For some reason it discombobulated me a little. People can come so close at any time. And when you’re on your own….well….it can be unnerving. The upshot is that I didn’t get much sleep.

The day dawned beautiful and bright. Dazzling sunshine and the clearest of views. I came to the turnoff which led to the top of Minch Moor and decided, in this weather, it would be a crime not to climb to the top. It was the highlight of the day. Incredible views for miles around, and the whole place to myself.

Fom there, things started to take a…downhill turn. Quite literally. Down, down, down I travelled, mostly through logged pine plantations, the bases of the big old trunks baking in the sun.

Once at the bottom, road walking. Turns out road walking is the same regardless of the country. Kind of uncomfortable, hard on the feet, and with cars whizzing by with little regard for the hiker on the road.

With relief I reached the track turn off. I had now left the signposted Southern Upland way and was following written descriptions and a GPS route map. I spotted a little stone seat and decided to take advantage of it and read my track notes. I sat down.

YEEEOOOOWWWWW!!! Burning. Burning. BURNING! Intense burning on my legs. I sprung up, not knowing what was going on. Looking at the seat, it dawned on me. I had become horribly acquainted with the Scottish stinging nettle!

The shitful seat

My legs were burning and I was starting to bake. It wasn’t helping the stings. I quickly hit another dirt road where I found a track closure sign due to Forestry works. More road walking on the busy road. And no toilets, absolutely anywhere. Sometimes, there is no worse feeling or distraction for interrupting your hiking enjoyment.

On top of this I had earlier contacted the hotel to let them know I would be there around 1 pm. The owner was going to turn up to let me in. Time was a ticking, and for the first time on the trip I felt pressure to be punctual. I was running late.

Golfing dreams dad. Golfing dreams.

It meant that I pushed it. Not drinking enough. Not eating enough. It felt like forever, even though it was only 19 km. I got into the room exhausted, face as red as a beetroot. I’d been completed sizzled by the Scottish sun.

The owner of the Neidpath Inn was kind, and there was four bottles of ice cold sparkling water in the fridge. Heaven. A cold shower and out for a feed, and I feel a new person. Legs still itching like anything, but that’s ok.

Tomorrow is a new day.

This article was first published on The Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 2, Cessford Castle to the banks of the Tweed

Distance: 26km

Fair maiden Lilliard
Lies under this stone
Little was her stature
But muckle was her fame
Upon the English loon
She laid monie thumps
And when her legs were cuttit off
She fought upon her stumps

Found on the gravestone of the Fair Maiden Lilliard (1544) and now representing the grit, fight and might of all Scottish women who fought in the wars of the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries

I enjoyed my evening watching the little lambs get bolder and friskier as the afternoon wore on, springing and fighting and clambering all over each other. Eventually they surrounded my tent in a gang, and whenever my back was turned they would curiously nose into my possessions. I’ve not spent so much time with sheep before, and I have to say they were pleasant company. A couple of punks ramming into my tent (and then sniggering I’m sure of it), but overall they were quiet and respectful once evening fell.

The walk today, whilst not as spectacular, had a lovely mix of everything. The tracks, consisting mainly of paddocks, forest verges and quiet roads were easy to follow and relatively flat.

Highlights for the day included wandering through several mixed woodland forests, listening to the variety of bird calls and trying to identify the species (with the use of an app). Springing out of a field I was surprised by a Roe deer, a native deer of Scotland that had been in steep decline prior to a dedicated recovery effort. The Roe deer is relatively easy to identify with it’s buxom, pure white tail.

So far, two things have become clear. The first is that not many people have heard of the Scottish National Trail. The SNT starts by following the St Cuthbert’s Way, an old pilgrimage route. There’s quite a few people out on the track, but many are surprised that I am carrying quite a bit of gear. When I explain, more often than not, a perplexed look follows.

Secondly. Nobody here has ever seen or heard of an Aarn backpack before. Most are extremely flummoxed when I walk by. Most think I’m carrying an enormous load because of the look of the three bag system. “Looks like you’ve got everything but the kitchen sink!” I’m no ultralighter, that’s for sure, but I do just carry sensible stuff! When I explain it, I can see it making sense to people. Pretty sure I need to come up with a stock-standard response. It’s going to be a long 5-6 weeks of this same quizzical look and comments!

The gravesite of the fair maiden Lilliard

I enjoyed a superb lunch of piping hot vegetarian meatball melts and fizzy ginger beer at The Artisan cafe in Harestanes before continuing on for another 10km to the banks of the Tweed. I sit now, at a perfectly set up little blogging desk, listening to the sound of the river and watching black-headed gulls dive into the water in search of fish.

Another stellar day. In fact, even though I’ve been applying sunscreen, I’ve been burnt again. My sun soaked Aussie skin isn’t handling the harsh brutality of the Scottish summer sun!

Finally, a quick check in in relation to my stated goals of a couple of days ago:

Take it easy – I think that’s a tick

Master wild camping – Well, I managed last night and I’ve got a pretty sweet spot again tonight. So, tick.

Romance – “Tell her she’s dreaming”

Enjoyment levels – Thorough. Another tick.

Three out of four ain’t bad!

This article was originally published on the Trek which can be found here

A Scottish Story – Day 1, Kirk Yetholm to Cessford Castle

Distance: 16km

Hey! I’m easing into this okay! What an absolute ripper of a day!

To backtrack. I know what I had in mind when I booked the Plough Inn. A lively Scottish pub brimming with folks whom I could spin a bit of a yarn with and enjoy a pint or two. Not how it turned out. I was the only person booked in, and so thoroughly enjoyed a delicious dinner on my own in the bar. I wondered later whether anybody else actually stayed on the premises overnight, or whether I was the sole occupant in that big, old pub. Regardless, I slept great. And enjoyed breakfast with the works, solo of course, in the dining room. Here’s to meeting some folks to chat with a little further down the track!

A quick stop at the small shop for a days supplies and I was on my way. Once again, the weather didn’t disappoint with the sun beaming strongly and just a mild chill in the air.

It doesn’t take long to start climbing. Up a wee hill, which quickly turned into a large mound which reformed into what I would describe as a mountain. No time like the present to get straight into it! The views were amazing, framed beautifully by the solemn stone walls. I saw my first pheasant! Majestic large birds with long tail feathers and ferociously dark red napes.

Up and up and up!

Up and over the mountain, I began to follow a little used road, enjoying the sound of an adjacent babbling brook. Despite my late start, I’d made really good time and so was resolved to enjoy a pub lunch in Morebattle and while away a bit of time. Unfortunately, the pub was closed. So onto the general store (which was great and had a great deal more variety than the store in Kirk Yetholm) where I devoured a sandwich, drink and conversation with a few friendly locals and hikers.

A physical challenge, an amazing walkway and a bubbly little creek

Walking into Morebattle

It wasn’t a place to just hang around (though I did find out just as I was leaving that there was a picnic area set up out the back), so onwards it was. Before long, there she was. Cessford Castle. A place I’ve been dreaming about for several months now. Always, when I was thinking about this Scotland trip, it would be Cessford Castle, and camping at Cessford Castle, that would pop into my head and motivate me to both plan and train for this hike.

I always think canola fields look incredible

And there she is! Cessnock Castle. A place I have been dreaming about for months.

Now here she is. And she is beautiful. Originally constructed in the 14th century, she boasted walls that were 4 metres thick to keep warring families at bay. Now, she stands, resplendent still in the landscape, many centuries later. It’s still really early, but I just have to stay and see this through. I need to camp at the castle.

Just casually camping near a castle

I wait around for a bit, not at all used to not being able to set up my camp spot right away. The castle is also home to a gang of curious sheep and their lambs, and so I spend some time chatting and getting to know them. It’s windy however, and I’m starting to feel the chill. I Google “When can you set up a tent when wild camping in Scotland?” Mixed response. But I do see a number of posts about leaving no trace being more important than the timing for setting and packing up. Makes sense to me…I pick a surreptitious spot and go for it.

So, tonight I will camp at a castle. And hopefully these sheep now like me enough to leave me in peace!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be viewed here