walking it out on a wet weekend...

In the past month we've had three months worth of rain. This does not result in a whole lot of walking. Following my last stroll on the Borders Abbeys Way, the penny has dropped that perhaps my boots are not performing quite as they should. Apparently it's not normal to get soaking wet feet every time. This shocking realisation has let to an anxiety-provoking 'discussion' with Gore-Tex, Mammut and Blacks and I'm still no further forward. Although the only problem is, now I know it's not right that I'm getting wet feet every time, it bothers me more.

The opportunities to get a Munro in have been few and far between recently. When the time is there, the weather is not, and when the weather is there....well, no the weather really hasn't been there. However, an opportunity arose last week at work when offered with a night in Inverarnan, on the West Highland Way. So many Munros up there, just waiting to be ambled up.

I got slightly carried away and wanted to get 4 summits conquered in one weekend. Certainly possible, and certainly will get that weekend done at some point (September?). Alas, the forecast was not on my side this time around. The ambitious plan was shelved reasonably early on.

There was a glimmer of hope when we realised that the majority of the rain had fallen in Edinburgh and the Borders, and perhaps things would be better the further north we went. This possibly would've been true if we'd kept going north, but we had to stop at some point and walk. With two cars, walking point to point was ideal. Mum and I met Dad and Ross in Killin (ancestral home) and left one car then. We then drove back to Strathyre and parked next to the Munro Inn.

The Rob Roy Way follows in the footsteps of Rob Roy MacGregor, combining walking with history - perfect. It runs from Drymen to Pitlochry and takes its place on the long list of 'walks to do'. We decided to do the Strathyre to Killin stage, although there has been subsequent debate over the exact mileage of this stage. 12 miles? 13.5 miles? 16 miles? However far we walked, it was long enough in the rain...

 

The track initially took us through the trees, and then onto a forestry track. It went fairly rapidly uphill from then on, although the climb was certainly rewarded with incredible views. Even though it did not stop raining for the 4.5-5 hours we were out and about, we did fortunately get nice views for most of the way. The clouds were doing some atmospheric things up there. Of course my camera decided to give up on me, and I was unable to find anywhere dry to put it, which probably didn't help. Thankfully my phone enabled me to get some good pics along the way.

 We descended from the forest towards Balquhidder and the 'other' Kings House Hotel.

 We decided not to take the 4 mile round-trip detour to visit Rob Roy's Grave (been there done that!) and began what would be a long stroll on the cycle-path.

Needless to say, we didn't see many cyclists (or other walkers) out there.














On and on we plodded, and wetter and wetter we got. Eventually we got towards Lochearnhead, and - still on the cycle path - we started to go up. The path zig-zagged higher and higher and I think the only thought that got us through was the thought of what was ahead....the Glen Ogle viaduct awaited us.

Loch Earn

 

Ben Vorlich in the distance...what could've been

Glen Ogle has always been a favourite of mine. A road I have travelled up and down so many times over the past few years, and it never failed to provide the 'wow factor' through the bus windows. The route was a favourite of Queen Victoria (if Sir Walter Scott was the father of tourism, she was surely the mother - now there's a thought), and she once described it as 'Scotland's Khyber Pass'. What a train journey it must have been.

I was greatly looking forward to the walk over the viaduct, having seen it out the window that many times. What I hadn't quite realised was quite how I'd feel about it - a mixture of nostalgia about times gone by, and a tingly excitement of what was ahead. I know I know it's just a bridge....but it felt like a passage from old to new.

As the cars - and buses - zoomed by on the road to our right, we ambled on over the Glen Ogle viaduct, munching on some chocolate. And there was me, realising a sense of contentment I didn't know I'd find here.

Given that we were on an old railway line, it possibly shouldn't have been a surprise that the long path kept going and going. But it really did - miles and miles! By that point - with the excitement of the bridge over - weariness was starting to set in. The wetness had set in a long time before that.

Eventually we came out at the 'top' of Glen Ogle, and made our way to the snack van, where we woke up the woman in charge. Rain and midges had kept the tourists away that day, but we enjoyed a watery cup of tea nonetheless.

 

From there we knew we were getting ever closer and closer to Killin. We were on the forestry track for the last couple of miles, and things definitely took a turn for the weird when we saw this sight:

And then - with a rush of relief and the thought of being dry again - we arrived into Killin, the former stronghold of Clan Macnab, with its ancient burial ground and roaring Falls of Dochart. Aye, tis nae a bad place tae call yer own.

We didn't spend long before jumping back in Mum's car to head back to Strathyre. It wasn't the most comfortable drive given our sodden state but it was nice to drive back past Glen Ogle and appreciate it once again from that viewpoint.

Dad and I then headed back up Glen Ogle on our way to Inverarnan. It wasn't far to go, and therefore it wasn't long before a hot shower was readily available! That has got to be the best thing about getting that wet - literally soaked to the skin - the hot shower afterwards. It was just so good.

Inverarnan is right on the West Highland Way and so we sat and people-watched as wet and weary walkers started to trudge in. The midges were out in force, my first of the year, and I still have the bites to prove it. We had a nice food - everything tastes better after that many miles (however many miles it was) - and then popped along to the legendary Drovers Inn for a pint. And a picture - of course:

Finally it was time to sleep.

No plans were made for the next day. In my heart I so wanted to conquer at least one Munro during this weekend, but in my head - and my legs - I knew it wasn't to be. It was a shame that Saturday wasn't dry and Sunday wet, as we may just have got a mountain in. But having exerted so much effort on Saturday, not even a dry spell on Sunday could force our legs to climb anything. So we made the call after breakfast on Sunday - to walk from Bridge of Orchy to Inveroran and back again.

As we drove north towards Bridge of Orchy we saw Beinn Dorain - as iconic to me as the Glen Ogle viaduct, another 'marker' for my tours - half covered in cloud. This was a relief, because if the mountain had been visible, I'd have felt guilty I wasn't on it or up it. Phew - we wouldn't have got views anyway.

From the Bridge of Orchy Hotel, the West Highland Way weaves its way over the River Orchy and up into the trees.

Although it was only two miles to Inveroran, neither me or Dad was quite prepared for the 'up' part. No it wasn't steep, but it sure felt it! But what goes up must peak before it comes down again (as they say) and so the 'up' was more than rewarded by the views we got of Loch Tulla, Rannoch Moor, and the surrounding mountains. It was awesome.

We went the other way to this sign, and left the West Highland Way behind us - for now. We strolled out on the road to the right and walked the 3 miles back to Bridge of Orchy. It was lovely to see Loch Tulla close up (rather than zooming by - you've got that right?) but it wasn't long until the rain began to fall. Waterproofs were thrown back on again but this shower passed quicker than the continuous one the day before.

The stroll on the road was easy enough, if a bit tough on the soles of our feet. Looking down to our feet we began to notice quite a number of squashed 'things' on the ground. With a leg visible here and there, we realised they were frogs, and quickly a game was invented. The squashed frog game. It was close after 3 miles, but Dad won 7-6. Thankfully we'd agreed that the winner would buy the coffees when we got back to the hotel.

And soon enough, we were back at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel. My time on the West Highland Way had been short and sweet but I will be back. We had a lovely cup of coffee and a piece of cake whilst we did some more walker-watching. We got back on the road home shortly after 1pm.

My legs have deceived me into believing they have recovered, although I am starting to get the feeling - literally - that it might be a delayed reaction.

Of course I'm a little bit sad to not get to 4 (or 5 or 6 or 7) Munros but I know they will always be there, and the right conditions are worth waiting for. I feel refreshed and clearer-headed for just getting out there, and I enjoyed my brief spells on both the Rob Roy Way and the West Highland Way.

I'm not itching to get back out there at this moment in time. I am feeling a bit sore, and more to the point, my boots are still wet...