August 17, 2013: Strathyre to Killin
Misty Glen Ogle
At breakfast on the fourth day of our walk we learned from some other residents that yesterday’s cruise on one of the local lochs had been cancelled because someone had used the loo to dispose of a nappy and the entire system had gone into meltdown. Meltdown is a good word for our prospects today because a steady rain was falling as we ate our breakfast, received our packed lunches and donned full raingear. I had conferred with Jackie and she had confirmed yesterday’s rumor about a Rob Roy Way diversion ahead; logging operations on the hillside between Strathyre and the Kings House Hotel had led to the closure of the forestry track route – and we would be using riverside paths instead. After we had cleared some white cottages at the northern end of the village we would be directed across the highway and down to a path along the river.
At 9:00 therefore we said our goodbyes and felt the first moisture trickling down our suits – with me there is as much internal moisture, from perspiration, as there is external. In spite of all the wet I persisted in taking pictures – as we found the diversion sign and followed a path down to the river. The zipper pocket in my rain jacket seemed to offer good protection for my Canon but after three or four shots the device failed to respond when I pushed the “on” button and I had to hope that I would only have to use my battery charger to get it going at the end of the day. I do enjoy scouting out likely viewpoints for my camera but I was not too upset since Gavan, who had, indeed, enjoyed success with his new phone charger, was memorializing our adventure with lots of shot on both phone and waterproof Nikon.
We had a good path to get us started along the river and some useful signage but after we had rounded a cape and reversed directions it all went wrong. We crossed a footbridge over a feeder stream but the path soon degenerated into a wet slash in the knee-high foliage. I was out in front here, fighting for footholds in the swamp, but Gavan began to insist that this couldn’t be our path and so we turned around and retreated to the footbridge – he also pointed out that there was a basic fallacy in following the river to the Kings House Hotel since it didn’t go there! Near the footbridge there was a gate onto a track heading in the direction of the highway and we used it – almost immediately stumbling on a useful and well-surfaced lane, marked in white on the OS map, one which headed unerringly for Kingshouse.
Perhaps we could glimpse the hotel by looking through an underpass on our right as we reached the Balquhidder road – but our continuation, on well-graded tracks, was clear on the opposite side. Here, at last, there was also some useful signage for pedestrian and cyclist: it was ten miles to Killin. I knew that the route forward was very straightforward and so I was not too disappointed to store my own map case, which was already taking in moisture. I always kept a sheet in this object detailing the name and precise location of our next b&b; if this got too wet we wouldn’t know where to head at the end of the day. As it was, the OS xeroxes for this section had begun to dissolve; when they dried out at the end of the day they looked like works of art – impressionist watercolors of maps.
We advised some walkers heading our way on what to do when they reached the end of the track we had used to get up here (use the highway to complete the journey to Strathyre) and we began our own northerly trek. Once we got up a good rhythm we made decent enough time on a rising track – with the A85 over on our right making its own ascent of Glen Ogle. We passed a memorial to a young music teacher, killed in a nearby cycling accident – there were lots of cyclists around today for, again, much of the route was shared with Cycle Route 7.
After several miles there was a turnoff for the village of Lochearnhead (which we did not take) and soon we were able to catch the occasional glimpse, as the murky weather lifted, of Loch Earn itself. A few more miles brought us to the dramatic Glen Ogle Viaduct, whose views on both sides we were able to enjoy in sunlight! There seemed to be a lot of people about now and I was glad that no one had claimed the twin wooden seats at the northern end of this structure – for this would be a good place for us to enjoy our lunch.
While we nibbling away I noticed a tall young man heading our way; he was swinging his arms wildly and punching the air and as he drew closer I could see he was wearing large earphones as well. Behind him came two women, one of whom paused to explain that we had just seen her severely autistic son and that we were not to eat too much for there was a snack wagon awaiting us. She said she was from Aviemore (though she had never done the Speyside Way) and that her party was doing the Rob Roy Way (and enjoying it very much) from north to south. This was the only occasion on this trip when we were to encounter other RRW walkers.
Lochan near pass
What a difference the sun made to the passing scene – which one again provided much to enjoy. After a while we approached a parking lot on the highway – the attraction here was a lovely lochan. I kept asking Gavan when we were going to encounter this famous snack wagon but he told me we would have to cross the Glen Ogle Road, now at its summit, and continue forward amid the heather for a short distance. Here we found Julia’s Snack Bar and, after the Germans had finished examining the condiments, I had a cup of tea while we sat at a little table in the wind.
We still had three miles or so to go but it was all downhill. So passing a monument to two RAF pilots whose Tornado crashed near here in 1994, we began our descent. I must say that my toes protested mightily over this angle, often steep, and, under any circumstances, views of our destination village, were obscured. Much of the territory through which we passed was given over to forestry – even to some of those densely packed wedges of timber whose sunless interiors used to anger Wainwright so. At last things leveled off a bit and we reached the highway again, just south of our village.
Dochart Falls
The scene was unusual in a number of ways. Before us were the first stages of a magnificent cascade, the Falls of Dochart. Many people had parked their cars on the A85 in order to take pictures – Gavan took many shots too. Then, on our right, we encountered a number of front yards decorated with scarecrows, effigies in various guises – part of the festivities accompanying an agricultural fair in the village. We now walked over a bridge with more views of the roiling waters and entered Killin. It was 4:15 and we had walked twelve and a half miles.
There seemed to be quite a contrast between the splendid falls and the straggling village – which seemed half abandoned and half under construction. We passed our b&b – hunting for a pub – and eventually reached the Co-op market, where I purchased some shaving gel and some more Diet Coke. Someone suggested the bar in the hotel around the corner but this would have taken us even further away from our b&b so, amid loudspeaker sounds from the nearby fair, we retraced our steps (forced often into the street) and thus reached the steps of the Old Bank Manse.
Our landlady produced a tray for our boots and newspaper to stuff into these damp objects and we carried the tray up to our first floor room – Gavan again hefting my case and his big backpack. We had a bit of a rest now and I tried to reduce the length of my little toenails before encasing my sore toes in adhesive.
We had passed some restaurants as we entered town and as these were nearby we decided to aim for one called The Capercaillie. This place had a bar and so we had no trouble getting our drinks but dinner was a long time in coming because a huge party occupied a table behind us and other orders had to be filled as well before I got my lasagna. I used my mobile phone (the only time on this trip) to let them know in London that I had survived the first half of the venture and, with darkness falling at last, we retreated to our room for a well-deserved rest. I had left my camera battery charging while we were out but, re-inserted, it failed to open my machine. I would take no more photographs on this trip.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: