June 25, 1991: Rowardennan to Inverarnan
In raingear, I pose near I Vow.
The other walkers were well into their breakfasts when Gavan and I entered the dining room on the morning of Tuesday, June 25th. We ate with one eye on the weather, which was not good – a fine drizzle descending from leaden skies. I used a check to pay our bill and we were ready to depart, in full battle gear, at 8:50.
Our route took us past the youth hostel on a dirt track toward Ptarmigan Lodge. Here the West Highland Way divides, with a lower level path providing loch-side scrambling and the forestry road continuing uphill with restricted vistas. On this day, however, views were not forthcoming from any vantage point – and the decision was taken from our hands by signs warning us that the lower route had been closed because the path had been washed away in spots. Thus we continued on up our track, making slow progress as we rose almost to the 650-foot mark. Shortly after Rowchoish, just past the four-mile mark, the lower route rejoined the upper and the united way continued forward on the track for a short distance.
This then gave way to a path that wound down through wet woodland to Cailness Burn. Route finding was not a problem, for it was always possible to see the muddy or rocky imprint of the path plunging up and down hill but the going was often tough in places, with much scrambling over the faces of mica crags. This was very hot work, especially as I was still wearing my rain cape against recurrent moisture. Things became a little easier as we neared the loch shore. The presence of casual strollers indicated that we were nearing our noon-time goal and after turning a corner and passing over bridges in a wonderful waterfall scene embowered in pink rhododendrons, steps deposited us at the back door of the pub of the Inversnaid Hotel. It was 1:30.
We had to take off our boots and leave our packs in the vestibule. My t-shirt was soaking wet and I took it off and replaced it with my UCLA sweatshirt before strolling over the polished dance floor and the deep carpets to the bar. It was quite a shock, though a pleasant one, to come so abruptly from the rigors of the trail into such posh surroundings. We ordered lunch and I again dined on scampi and chips while downing my pint. A few minutes later and we would have been offered only pizza or sandwiches.
Although we were close to the half way mark at this point I knew that the worse was yet to come so after an hour of peace we rebuckled the armor and set off. There was a brief flash of sun as I was relacing my boots but this had no sequel. Though the rain now became more intermittent it was very damp throughout the afternoon and footing was not good – as I was soon to discover.
About a kilometer north of the hotel there is a crevice in the rock face called Rob Roy’s Cave. We never saw it, nor did anyone else we talked to. Instead we found extremely tough going up and down the rocky chutes that served as our route. When we weren’t scrambling on wet mica-schist we were snaking through cramped passages behind trees or stumbling over muddy roots. Only rarely was there a level stretch and we didn’t always seem to be making much northerly progress at all. Complaining and suffering walkers, passing us in both directions, were muttering in protest.
I fell down in the mud, having lost control on a downward stretch. Gavan helped me get up from the seated position in which I had landed but a few minutes later I went over on my side. This happened four or five times. Once I rolled off the trail and over the side of a grassy bank, my muddy hands holding on to the edge of the path and my feet dangling below. A fastidious Gavan, not wanting to get his hands dirty, pulled me up by my wrists and I tore my rain cape on a projecting root. Once I fell on my chest; it knocked a little of my breath out and left a nasty black and blue mark below my heart. Fortunately my legs and feet survived all these encounters with Loch Lomondside; I have no doubt that weeks of running on the Paddington track had give me the physical conditioning needed to complete this arduous stretch.
We had put the OS map away but I was able to follow our progress in the xeroxed sections of the official guide that I was carrying in the map case. We passed several wonderful lakeside waterfalls as we pulled up opposite the wooded island of I Vow and I extracted the camera from the back of Gavan’s pack. After almost four miles of this ordeal we neared the bay south of Doune. This was a very welcome encounter because I knew that the last of the really hard scrambling was now behind us. Someone later told me that army engineers had gotten out their measuring equipment and added seven or eight miles to the mileage totals listed in the guidebooks for the lakeside stretch of the Way. I believe it.
Signs pointed inland here and we began to follow a path away from the lake. Because I didn’t have the map I was a little uncertain if this was the correct route to Doune Bothy; it was certainly boggy enough, but near the top of a hill covered in larches we came across the restored Doune Farm. A curl of smoke was rising from the little walker’s shelter that has been created in an outbuilding and an angry woman walker was pouring over her map in the front yard. She had lost her way, having walked all the distance from Tyndrum already, and had ended up in a pathless lochside scramble. We confirmed that she was on the right track for Inversnaid and she pointed out how we were to continue to the north. I could tell she was lost because I knew her directions to us were completely mistaken.
A last view of Loch Lomond
We descended to the bay near Ardleish, passing the flagpole with the white buoys that are to be raised if you need the ferry from Ardlui. Unfortunately we now had quite an ascent to undertake (insult following injury) as we took our leave of the lakeshore, and climbed up to a boggy col. Skies were brightening all the time and the view back down the long lake was magnificent from this spot. It was growing late but there was still a mile or so of walking through scrub woods after we had passed the reedy shores of a little tarn, Dubh Lochan. Sheep stared at us as we at last began a descent into Glen Falloch.
Bein Glas, a wonderful waterfall, thundered down the mountains on our right as we reached the red buildings of Bein Glass Farm. Here (my mile 1900) we abandoned the main path, which headed up the Glen toward Crianlarich, and crossed the wet valley bottom to approach the farm access bridge over the Guinness-colored Falloch River. Views back to the waterfall were wonderful from this spot. There was even some late evening sun to brighten our last few minutes on the trail.
The access road put us out among the fast moving traffic of the A82, but only a few hundred yards to the south we discovered the ancient Drover’s Inn – which also calls itself the Inverarnan Hotel. It was 7:50, a very late arrival time for a full day of walking.
Somewhat dryer, I pose in front of the Drover’s Inn, Inverarnan.
A kilted barman lead us up to our room on the second floor. He wasn’t bothered by our mucky boots and I could tell that the Drover’s Inn was definitely more rough cut than any of then other hostelries on this route. We were warned not to wait too long before ordering food so we changed quickly and headed downstairs. I observed, on the way, that the toilet on our floor was broken. It was hard to tear ourselves away from the foyer. It was the antithesis of spartan, being crammed with stuffed birds and minor mammals, swords and armor, Scottish nationalist propaganda, and ancient photos (one had the Queen Mum drinking a pint).
Near the crowded bar we found a small table and ordered food, something and chips. The chap who had told me to expect only plain walls pointed out with glee a fluff encrusted chandelier that hadn’t been dusted since 1933. He bought me a malt and Gavan a lager. Cathy Nutty Jr. dried her socks and her guidebook on the fire next to us. We sipped Famous Grouse, after the malt was exhausted, and I called Dorothy. We were very tired, after covering the fourteen and half official miles, and very glad that I had planned only a half day’s walk for the morrow.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: