August 16, 2013: Callander to Strathyre
Rosebay Willowherb lines the path after Callander.
Rain had returned as we rose for our third day on the Rob Roy Way – but, fortunately, it came to an end before we had to make our first step outside. After all of my work on my walking trousers (a new pair since I had ripped my old pair on a sharp rock on the Jersey Coastal Path in June) I was able to wear this well-stained garment to breakfast – but I decided to add my rain paints to this ensemble. On this day I frequently added my rain jacket as well.
We left at 9:10, heading west through the length of Callander’s main street. There was one stop as Gavan continued his search for a charger cord – but he had no luck at an ironmonger’s coyly calling itself “Screw-It.” Our hosts had said something about seeing if Tesco might have such a useful object and just as were clearing the last of the Callander houses Gavan darted across the street to check out a Tesco Express. He returned with a device that might do the trick and we were thus in position to abandon the highway at the start of a fairly level trackway (also home of Cycle Route 7) that headed for the waters of Garbh Uisge. The sun was trying to break though high clouds above us and everything was lovely, fresh and green.
Ahead of us a woman was walking a fluffy white dog, a lively chap who had two sticks in his mouth. (We also spotted a pile of disgorged dog food and a lake of soupy grass – the same kind, as I write this, disgorged this morning by my dog.) Truth to tell I was having some difficulty ticking off the landmarks on my OS xeroxes but it was impossible to get lost and we made a steady progress. We were keeping an eye out for the Falls of Leny on our right and at one point we left our route to approach the river for a better view – but, although there were rapids and cascades between us and the motor road on the opposite bank, we were never certain which portion of this watercourse constituted the falls themselves. A footbridge over the river permitted some wonderful views.
Loch Lubnaig nears its bend
On our right we soon had the southern end of a lovely long sliver of a lake, Loch Lubnaig (“the loch with a bend”), and on our left we soon reached some forestry holiday cabins, and to our surprise, an open café! We took advantage of this place for a brief sit-down (I drank most of a Fanta orange while Gavan had a cappuccino). The cabins were equipped with hot tubs on their porches and, as we got started again, Gavan was even able to point out the obligatory rubber ducky perched on the rim of one of these. I must say that I found this to be a delightful stretch – there was now some distance between us and the roaring traffic, the trackway made for easy walking, wildflowers bloomed at our feet and even a little rain at lunch time did not dampen our spirits.
We cleared the northern end of Loch Lubnaig and, now approaching our destination village, Strathyre, we found a bench with a wonderful viewpoint and sat down for a long rest and chat. I remember that the subject was grief. Gavan said that he had read that a year is added to the grieving process for every five years that a couple had been together. I had been married for forty-three years and Gavan was still in mourning over the loss of his partner – indeed his trips to Poland were part of this process.
Looking back at Loch Lubnaig.
Rain began in earnest again as we left our trackway to cross the River Balvag (where people were wading) and enter the back streets of Strathyre. It was 3:30 and we had walked nine and a half miles. We were examining the war memorial on the main road when Gavan decided to ask a passing citizen for the location of the Munro Inn, a landmark for the next day and a place we might repair to for some refreshment now. The woman seemed quite annoyed by this question and mumbled something about straight ahead on the right. It was the only time on this entire expedition that we had encountered anything resembling “dour” behavior – the Scots in general were invariably polite and friendly.
We continued on along the village highway, heading in the same northerly direction that had been dominant today, and even passed our b&b. But there seemed to be no pub in sight and Gavan was beginning to despair when a lady in a car pulled up and asked if she could help. Soon we were in the car of this kindly Samaritan (a local b&b hostess, but not our own) who told us that the Munro Inn had closed almost a year ago, that there would be a major Rob Roy Way diversion tomorrow, and that she would take us to the surviving town pub, the Inn & Bistro. This she did and we were soon deep into our pints.
Gavan began every such entry (and those in our b&bs as well) by asking about wi-fi. Soon he was tapping away at his phone while I was taking a picture of a local dog, who, having been released on entry, had jumped up on the tartan banquette on our right for a nice snooze. Behind the bar a woman was feeding two teen-aged sons and wanted to know where one had left his iPad since she had wanted a little face time this afternoon (our modern mothers). We made dinner reservations for 7:00 and walked back to Airlie House, where, at 4:30, we received a nice welcome from our landlady, Jackie. She showed us to our ground floor room and when Gavan asked if she had a drying room she offered to wash and dry his socks and t-shirt! He accepted with gratitude.
We had a bit of a clean-up and a nice rest and then headed back to the Inn & Bistro. The place was crowded so it was just as well had made a reservation. Gavan ordered a pork dish, which he found to be outstanding, and I had a very satisfactory burger and chips. Around us were a number of dogs, including this afternoon’s sheepdog, a Weimaraner, a Fox Terrier and the dog who topped them all in popularity on this trip (and appropriately so) a West Highland Terrier. It was just growing darker as we headed back to our b&b for another early night.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: