Tag: The Trek

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

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