WHW Day 3 Inversnaid(ish) to Crianlarich

I woke from a nightmare in which I was arguing with the ex who I did the walk with before. I could hear something going on outside the tent. Big rumbling and lashing noises were coming at me. Checking my watch it had just gone 2AM. The weather that had been gloriously sunny had changed; a front was coming through. I poked my head out of the tent door and shone my torch to see what the Loch was doing. There were waves pounding the beach at an angle, the wind was howling outside and slamming rain down. I wondered if the waves were likely to reach my tent. The waves were encroaching slightly but remembering where the grass had been established and a faint line of washed up debris drew a contour, I felt okay.

I had a bit of a fitful sleep after that, but a few hours later I got up, cleared the tent away in a brief lull in the weather, had breakfast and a brew and set off walking. It was pretty early so I doubted Tony would be up and about; he'd said he normally set off between half 8 and 9; I was reluctant to go wake him so I just decided to go.

The rain had made everything slippy and I skidded and slided over the rocks and tree roots, around boulders and trunks, and then with a thud managed to end up on my bum on a wooden footbridge. Somehow I manage to fall over on average almost once a day. Hopefully this would be it for today! I was okay but a couple of days later noticed a massive bruise on the underside of my right arm. I don't remember quite how I got that there though!

From the Harveys map, now on the fourth panel, I could see that there was an island (I Vow) less than a mile ahead, and the bothy at Doune a mile further on. The scenery was lovely despite the low cloud; occasionally it even lifted and I could see a hill!

The section after passing the island opened out into a small meadow and and the rain seemed to ease off very slightly. The footpath headed towards a wooded area that was blissful to walk through, birch trees and brooks, very much like where I used to walk at home. I enjoyed how the path meandered through, being more careful on the wooden planks laying across the boggy areas. Getting back into the open was a bit dismal with the rain beating down again, but after a short while I spied a group of buildings. Doune Bothy! Initially I thought it was the white building on the left, but saw smoke spilling out of the chimney of a grey building and on closer inspection saw that that was the bothy itself.

I knocked and went in, out of the rain. Out of the smoky grey darkness appeared a french couple, the guy warming himself next to the fire and the woman packing away their things. I didn't want to hang around, but sorted something out of my pack and after exchanging the usual "Where are you walking today?", "You on your own?", "You're brave", I headed back outside.

The short break at the bothy had given me a lift and I enjoyed the next section alongside the Loch. I felt quite tired after walking about 20 miles yesterday and having such disturbed sleep, but kept up a reasonable pace until around Ardleish, the point where the ferry goes to Ardlui. I remembered the funny ball that you had to raise for the ferry though wondered if they would be able to see it on the other side if someone wanted it today!

After ascending slightly towards Dubh Lochan I came across two young lads who had halted on the path, looking incredibly wet and bedraggled. I felt a bit sorry for them. They were young and looked keen but fed up at the same time. As has become a theme, I had a chat with them and found out that they were originally three but that their mate had left on the first day so had shared out his kit between the two of them. Their packs were indeed huge! They were debating whether to finish the walk or not and asked me for advice and what their options might be. I got them to think about what they had achieved so far and what the pros and cons might be of finishing so early. They were articulate and told me how they had enjoyed the walk mostly, they'd swam in the Loch (I think I'd passed them the previous day), had some decent camping, but were just fed up with the weather and had seen a severe weather warning for the next day or so which had really put them off. They were also due to get their exam results the following day and that seemed to be a massive pull towards home.

They seemed to want to walk with me so we carried on, me walking in the middle of them, the lad behind sometimes seeming to lag behind. I felt almost parental towards them (which is a bit bizarre for me!) and they reminded me a bit of my brother when he did his DofE with a stupidly heavy pack.If they hadn't have been carrying such heavy packs I would have done more to encourage them to carry on, but at the time it seemed like the right decision for them. I think too, that we had all been spoiled by the largely sunny weather we'd had over the last couple of days. Any rain that we'd had soon dried up, as did our clothes, but this looked set to stay for the duration!

We walked as far as Beinglas Farm which looked radically different to when I last was there. Back then it was little more than a stone barn with a field to camp in. Now it had a cafe and a couple of wooden lodge type buildings. Massively different.

Even though I'd only walked about 5.5 miles so far, I was starting to feel the effects of the last two days walking and was feeling pretty fatigued. I'd not really done any multi-day-pack-carrying training and knew my body needed a break soon. The weather didn't help my outlook at all. There was already a plan to have a day off of some description on Sunday, aiming to meet up with a friend at the Bridge of Orchy, but I chanced my luck with a call to see if he'd meet me early. Originally I'd had plans to walk up Beinn Dorain but I couldn't see that happening on this trip. I gave him the news; he'd already shelved his Munro plans for the day because of the weather and agreed to meet up later after he'd seen a mate in Fort William.

The two lads and I went our separate ways. Them heading over to the Drovers Inn at Inverarnan, me continuing on the path up towards the Falls of Falloch. It felt different. This was different, new territory for me and was a sort of watershed mentally.

The track was easy walking but someone had pitched their one man Vango Banshee tent on the side and took refuge from the weather in there. I don't blame them; it was still lashing down. Gaining ground towards the Falls of Falloch I could hear the falls well before I could see them. With all the rain we'd had overnight and through the morning, all the burns were in spate, sometimes flooding the paths and being diverted down them instead of down the streams.

I passed the series of cascades and falls and stopped to have something to eat, soggily trying to avoid the midges that seemed to actively enjoy the rain, the heavier the better it seemed! Not stopping for long I carried on up the track towards Derrydaroch which was pretty featureless until nearing the cottage.

And looking back...

The next stretch after the cottage was like walking through a dingle-dell, following the River Falloch upstream and sometimes pretty much walking through a stream itself as a lot of water was by now just running freely down the path.

A great source of amusement came when I got to the low bridge going under the railway track. I called it the Alice in Wonderland bridge as when you enter it, already bent over, you have to bend lower and lower as it seems to shrink as you enter!

The rain had started to ease the further north I walked; the cloud seemed to get caught up in the glens further south. The burns were shunting the water off the hills and everywhere was the sound of running water. Walking on towards and past Keiltor Farm I felt tired and wondered how the developing blisters were getting on. There was no hope of keeping my feet dry so I just accepted it and carried on.

Feeling pretty weary now I soon reached the T junction where I would branch off down to Crianlarich. I looked wistfully up the track towards Tyndrum; at that moment I was having a bit of a battle of wills, part of me wanting to go up there, another part wanting to just give up. Looking back I'm not sure why I felt like that. I wonder if it was the feeling of having passed my previous finishing point and now looking for a reason to walk. I didn't have to 'beat' anything now (I didn't realise I was so competitive). Did I have the will to just carry on? Now I write this I laugh at myself but at the time I felt low.

Turning down the path to Crianlarich I knew I'd made the right decision to have a break. My right knee was painful from an old rugby injury so I was thankful for my poles to take the weight a bit. But it was interesting to walk through the plantation, seeing a lot of toadstools and mushrooms and took me out of myself. I only met two people as I was coming down. They were the first people I had seen since leaving the boys at Beinglas.

I dropped down into Crianlarich and after asking at the Post Office where I bought a couple of postcards (my family would be upset if I didn't do this ritual), I made my way to the recommended Rod and Reel pub. My poor old bod seemed to just stiffen up then. Even the prospect of a pint of lager shandy didn't seem to get it to shift very quickly! I struggled to get any signal or activity out of my now sodden phone but eventually managed to convey where I was. So with my feet up I settled in for the duration, listening to Hotel California on my iPod (the pub felt a bit like that!) and enjoying my pint!