June 26, 1991: Inverarnan to Crianlarich
The Falls of Falloch
There was no urgency in our morning preparations on June 26th, a Wednesday, for I had planned this as a seven mile “rest day,” one that would allow us to recover from the rigors of the lakeside scrambles of Monday and Tuesday. We didn’t get down to breakfast until 9:00 – by which time most of the other walkers were long gone. I stumbled once when I stepped on the head of the polar bear – which served as a rug in the Drover’s Inn dining room.
We left the hotel at 9:50. There was some sunshine but clouds crowded the sky as well. We could now walk back to our route on the other side of the Falloch – with that wonderful view of the Bein Glas waterfall directly in front of us. We rounded the back of the farm buildings and headed uphill on a track that paralleled the river on our left. We continued this relatively gentle ascent for well over an hour while I shared with Gavan my recollections of a 1977 trip to Israel. Once we sheltered under some trees while a shower and some other walkers overtook us.
The river, when we were close enough, provided a wonderful series of cascades below. We crossed to its west side at Derrydarroch and followed a very muddy footpath beneath trees for another kilometer. Gavan was often far ahead of me during this stretch, lost in thought, and I was worried that a sudden squall would leave me without the assistance required to get into my rain cape.
At Carmyle Cottage we left the river, first passing under the railway line by a very low sheep creep that did not give easy passage for those with tall packs, and then by some steps up to the highway. Then we had a short but steep climb to reach the track of an old military road. This provided fairly easy walking, without major ups and downs. Across the top of the Glen we could see the isolated pines of the old Caledonian Forest, lone survivors of a very ancient woodland. The countryside was opening up around us all the time, and it was obvious that we were in the true mountainous highlands now.
Approaching Keilator Farm
Keilator Farm took a long time to reach on our weary legs but at last we passed it and continued forward, accompanied by a dry stone wall, up Bogle Glen to a high stile in a forest fence. This was the turn off for Crianlarich. Other walkers were sprawled about, waiting for a member of their party to return from the village with food supplies. They very much exaggerated the distance (perhaps their messenger had stopped off for a pint as well); one of them said Crianlarich was two miles away, but, of course, it was less than a mile.
Crianlarich
We descended on a well-graded path through a pine plantation, with views of the highways, the railway lines, and the town itself becoming ever sharper. We crossed the highway near the railway station and continued, under the viaduct, to the town crossroads – where we turned right in search of The Rod And Reel pub. Gavan also stopped the local policeman for information on our b&b – which proved to be only a few houses beyond the pub.
It was 2:30 and they were still serving food in the bar so I had an open-faced prawn sandwich and chips. Gavan began mainlining lager and I gave way to Famous Grouse. I knew we could not get into our b&b this early and, besides, we met some nice schoolteachers from Glasgow who were accompanying a walking party (one was on crutches after doing in his Achilles tendon during a games period). Gavan kept trying to get me drunk by increasing the dosage of Grouse in my glass.
At 4:30 or thereabouts we walked on to our guesthouse and were shown to a tidy room by our landlady. This woman, we soon concluded, was certainly the most anal hostess on our holiday. Every surface was spotless and much was covered in decorator touches unknown at the Inverarnan Hotel. Furthermore there were all sorts of signs about so that we would know all the rules: no sanitary napkins in the toilet, no smoking in the bedrooms, no baths in the morning. Needless to say our mucky boots got no further than the front door.
We each has a shower (it being the afternoon) and got cleaned up a bit. I showed Gavan how to shave. After a nice rest we went down to dinner, a very nice meal indeed. To celebrate our having passed the halfway point we had a bottle of Muscadet. Then we sat in the lounge while Gavan looked at a copy of Wainwright In Scotland and I talked to a couple from Leeds about Emmerdale Farm. It was a lovely evening outside so we took a stroll.
We visited the Spar, where they did not have a battery for my failing light meter, and the train station, where I checked on return times from Fort William. From twin phone booths we phoned London, Gavan emerging from his call with news of his summer salary (which cheered him) and more family crises (which depressed him). Indeed, this depression may explain his further recourse to alcohol at The Rod And Reel, where we went next. In spite of my admonitions he drank too much and when we went back to our b&b he was quite dizzy. I had visions of his vomiting all over our landlady’s pristine counterpane and we even put the waste basket by his bedside should he feel the urge. Fortunately, he was able to get off to sleep without losing his dinner. I took a pill and at last got some rest myself.
To continue with the next stage of our walk you need: