Tag: Hiking Blog

Distance: 16km

The braes ascend like lofty wa's
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's
O'erhung w' fragrant spreading shaws
- The Birks of Aberfeldy, Robert Burns 1787

This ruin. I am so grateful to it. Perfectly flat bed. Quiet. Great sleep. Winner.

Off I trot this morning feeling good. The plan has worked. My feet…almost healed. Mental fortitude…good. Quicky hop, skip and jump into town. Hotel and shower and all things good. Time to get a move on.

I finish off the incline pretty quickly. Total height is 523m, but it is a lovely gradient to climb. On the top, the views are sweeping. What I’ve come to learn is typical moor land. Heather, in it’s mauve and white colours, dominates the landscape. It is easy to imagine how spectacular this place would look under a dusting of white snow. Lonely and beautiful.

I’m moving quickly along easy trails, passing a reservoir, creeks and bridges. I hone in on a place described on the map as the “Green Bothy”, the first of many I will come across on my walk. Maintained to perfection, these bothies are, primarily, ancient shacks that provide shelter to wanderers of all sorts.

I go inside and am immediately impressed by how clean it is. Multiple long benches to sit at. Fire wood stacked tightly, ready for the cold. Left over freebies set out for newcomers to enjoy. I spot some Scottish Scotch. Perfect. It’ll go great with my chips. I sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, liquor and snacks. If this is bothy life, it is great.

Onwards, and I’m soon enveloped in a sea of green. This is the largest, and nicest woodland area I’ve seen yet. The “Birks of Aberfeldy”, named after the famous poet, Robert Burns. It is a place worthy of prose. The dominant waterfall thunders through the ravine, with multiple smaller ripples adding to the flow. A series of paths, stone and wooden steps adds to the intrigue of the birks.

I had to look it up. Birks refers to the Birch tree, of which there are many. Signage tells me that this is an area where multiple exotic species were planted to add to the mystic of the native forest. It is a delight to walk through.

I love the town of Aberfeldy. It has a feeling that suits me. Casual and relaxed, but rowdy at times. I had opted for a single room in a “Room Only” hotel (the Station Hotel), in an attempt to save some cash. What a place! Usually, single rooms make me feel a bit…ordinary. This room makes is cool to be single. And the shower is the best I’ve had since getting into Scotland.

A shower, rest and I hit the town. Time to enjoy this rather rowdy Scottish crowd!

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

I wake to the sun streaming into my tent.  It’s too hot.  Almost suffocating.  Groaning I reach for my phone to check the time. 9.44am.  What now!?? How did that happen!?? I must have been feeling very comfortable indeed.

It is a quick pack up – not even my morning coffee – and I am away, still looking in awe around me as I climb to the pass.

On the other side, I see a steep mountain, and the River Almond trickling along at the base.  It’s a choose your own adventure style to get to the bottom.  I follow what I suspect is a sheep trail, and it proves to be a good choice.  A little boggy in places, but it takes me to the river in good time.  Pleasing also is that it’s an easy crossing to get to the far side, and I’m right on the gravel road I need to follow next.

It’s easy trail.  Babbling river, bird song and mountains a kaleidoscope of colours.  I see old ruins and a monument cairn to folks whom lost their lives in the great war.

I leave the trail with excitement.  I’ve been looking forward to the next section, and it doesn’t disappoint.  Steep mountains form a deep ravine, up which the track meanders above a slowly running creek.

I come across several lochs, all larger and more peaceful than the last.  The sunny day sets them afire in dazzling silvers and blues.  So much flare compared to the staid, steady mountains.  Again, the remote feeling and beauty of what I am observing makes me feel blessed in a way that only working hard and persevering to see something does.

From here, the day becomes more pragmatic.  I had been hoping to make camp somewhere around Loch Freuchie, but on looking at it, that idea is quickly ruled out.  Too many people, houses, roads and open paddocks. So, I begin a road walk which I know is eventually going to take me up a very steep incline, before levelling out on the moors.  

I’m not thrilled about going up there, uncertain if I will find somewhere sheltered enough or suitable to stay. Despite looking frantically about, I begin the climb.  Part-way up, I spot what might be a reprieve.  An old ruin.  I need to go through a fence to get in there, but the ground is flat, there are no sheep (currently) and I can pitch my tent behind a wall, so no nearby houses can see me.  

I look up the rules for Scottish wild camping again, and decide that I am comfortable enough to stay.  So, that was a big bonus.  And further, I’m already part-way up the hill! Let the good times roll on!

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

Distance: 26km

The farmer won out in the end.  It was not a comfortable bed last night, and I tossed and turned for the majority of it.  I did hear, what I thought was a tractor, this morning…but nobody came running to yell at me and / or get me up and out of bed.  It must have been ok after all.

Partly due to the lack of sleep, I’m feeling rather lethargic this morning.  I slowly make my way, on easy trail though boggy at times, into the town of Comrie.

 I haven’t said a lot about it yet, but I could stand around and gawp at all the little houses in these Scottish towns for an age.  The building materials, the colourful front doors, the carefully selected names, the well tended flower pots, the little ornamentals dotted around the gardens, the fine detail in all the housing embellishments.  I love them.

I decide to go into town properly and have a bite to eat.  See if I can’t jolt myself out of this lethargy. It works to a degree, but what works even better is actively trying to adjust my mindset after lunch.

It helps to get started in a lovely woodland.  It is so verdant green, cool and filled with bird song compared to the open plains of yesterday.  It’s been a very hot day – so to sit in the shade and watch a “wee cascade” is wonderful.

Onwards and there are clear signs that I’m going to be climbing again very soon.  The mountains are closing ranks, standing guard around a swiftly running little creek. Before getting started I sit in the cool creekbed, soaking my feet.  I fill up my water bottles from a tiny, raging waterfall. I’m intending to sleep up in the mountains tonight.

Tentatively, ever so slowly as I climb, the mountains open up.  Ben Chonzie, the highest peak is off to the right, but a huge valley is revealed to the left.  That’s my way.  I try and soak in this feeling of absolute grandeur.  The sun beaming, light, cool breeze, a string of sublime mountains, and a crystal clear creek jumping joyously over the rocks.  It’s a sight alright.

I try to find camp and it’s harder than I expect.  The first spot I try is way too damp.  The second, way too hummocky.  The third, too sloped.  The fourth, a combination.  It looks like it would be easy, but no! Eventually, I do find a suitable little spot, just prior to a mountain pass I will need to go over tomorrow.

I set up and lie back in the sun.  For the first time, it really does feel like wild camping.  My view couldn’t be any more spectacular.  I haven’t seen anybody in hours.  

The sun disappears early behind a mountain, and with that, I can’t think of anything I would rather do more than crawl into my lovely campsite bed, snuggle into my sleeping bag and read my book.  I’m sure I’ll be serenaded by the frogs tonight.

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

Distance: Possibly 36km (the GPS was playing up!)

Well, I did my homework as promised, and came to the decision that I would give myself a little more time to reach Aberfeldy.  If I don’t need it, I can book an extra night in town once I get there.

With this information rolling around in my head, I woke in a relaxed frame of mind.  Another stunning morning.  And what a view to enjoy with my morning cuppa!

I left the campsite around 9am and followed a little forestry woodland track into the town of Callender.  There was a lovely, bustling feeling in the town, with a large group of people gathered to watch a Scottish band in full kilt dress strike a tune on the bagpipes and accompanying instruments.  

I had a few interesting chats as I made my way around town, grabbing some breakfast and getting supplies for the next few days.  It appears that besides my bag, my tan is quite the focus of attention for many people!

It’s a short walk out of town before I meet what was probably the biggest hill climb challenge of the walk to date.  I surprised myself by how good I felt (probably due to the extra large breakfast and coffee!) and I reached the top in a more timely manner than I had anticipated.

On this crystal clear day, the views were stunning in all directions.  The town and lochs one way, and a vast emptiness the other.  That was the way I was going.

It was hard not to feel mixed emotions down on the plain.  The landscape was stunning.  So vast and muted in it’s colours.  Mountains crowding in on all signs and funnelling me towards the glen.  But the sparseness… I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large area completely devoid of trees before.  It was both beautiful and desolate.

The walk was relatively easy going. Little streams trickling off the impressive mountaintops.  A large squadron of deer stampeded across the top of one such mountain.  It was peaceful walking.

Further along, past some stately lodges (deer hunting!), and I’m picking my way along a boggy track, quite enjoying the cool mud splashes up my legs.

My camp spot tonight is another one of those “I’m not completely sure I should be here” deals, but what else can I do? I’ve crossed a bridge, gone through a fence and am now seated on a small bench right in front of the Waters of Ruchill.  I think it’s a sheep paddock, though there are none in here at the moment…but technically it could be an enclosed paddock? 

I’m just going to have to chance it anyhow because it’s now after 6pm and my belly is grumbling.  I’m sure it’ll be alright.  Right?

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

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

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

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

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