Sunday, 28 July 2024

Walking the West Highland Way, Part One - Milngavie to Rowardennan

The start of the West Highland Way, Milngavie

Sometime in the summer of 2023 my husband suggested that we walk the West Highland Way, Scotland’s first long distance trail, and one known for the variety of its stunning scenery. I eagerly agreed, not really considering how much it would take over our lives. We were not beginning from a point of peak physical fitness and so training was to be an important part of our preparations. Weekends were consumed with long walks, leaving us feeling that we were losing our one day of rest a week. I’d be lying if I said we always set off enthusiastically but I was (almost) always glad to have been. As the seasons changed and the levels of mud slowly decreased it was cheering to see the scenery change and the landscape gradually come alive once more. Various patches of ill health and injury meant we set off for Scotland feeling less well prepared to undertake a 96 mile walk than I would have hoped. We’d done as much as we could and would just have to hope it would be enough.
Day one views

After a difficult journey to the starting line with a cancelled train and no available seats for several hours we set out on a semi-sunny Sunday morning from Milngavie. I admit that I had expected the scenery on the first day to be fairly underwhelming but was pleasantly surprised. We may have been starting the day in a small town but we were soon among the trees and it wasn’t long before we were walking through vast landscapes with panoramic views. I was also struck by the sheer volume of wildflowers lining the route, adding colour and attracting a variety of insects.

Wildflowers on day one


The Beech Tree was a welcome stop for lunch, many other walkers gratefully taking off their packs and resting their sore feet. Not only were we able to get a hearty meal, we were greeted by Shetland ponies, fluffy quails were roaming the garden, and there was a play area for children. After a short rest and a little bit of rain we were on our way again to the first overnight stop, Drymen. We arrived in time to stretch and shower before dinner at Scotland’s oldest licensed pub, the first stop of many along the route which boast an impressive history.


Conic Hill and Loch Lomond
We awoke the next day achey but excited to see what day two had in store for us, little expecting quite how many inclines lay between us and our beds in Rowardennan. After some narrow, overgrown paths we were soon on wider woodland track with our first glimpses of Loch Lomond through the trees. Conic Hill, our first major incline, was visible in the distance long before we started the ascent. Walking ever closer you get excellent views of the loch in the distance and the distinctive shape which gives the hill its ‘dragon’s back’ nickname.


A tiring climb rewards you with gorgeous views across the loch and its islands. The descent was a long series of stone steps, recently repaired. Ascending via these from Balmaha would be fairly relentless but made an easier descent than the loose gravel and rocks would have done.

Balmaha


Balmaha is small but picturesque, nestled on the shore with a visitor centre, pub, and shop. The remainder of the day’s walk followed the edge of the loch, which you’d be forgiven for thinking would be fairly flat. Far from it, you do nonetheless have some time walking alongside a series of small, secluded beaches. One larger expanse was full of people enjoying the sunshine and paddling in the water. It was incredibly tempting to go in the water, glistening on what was a beautiful summer’s day, but with a long way still to go we kept moving. 


The path along the loch
The surrounds were lush green, the proliferation of ferns giving something of a pre-historic feel. On reaching Sallochy campsite we thought ourselves almost there but we hadn’t reckoned on the final steep climb of the day. We arrived exhausted around ten hours after setting off, just scraping in in time for dinner in a beer garden with glorious views on the loch and Ben Lomond. Despite being a tiring day I realised that all the quips about this not being a relaxing holiday, or indeed really a break at all were wrong. Yes, it was physically challenging but it was rejuvenating in a way that a city break wouldn’t be. Time in nature is so incredibly precious.

Beer garden views at The Clansman Bar, Rowardennan


We stayed two nights in Rowardennan to allow ourselves time to climb Ben Lomond. The forecast on the night we arrived didn’t look promising and so we were beginning to prepare ourselves for a day of rest. However, the next day dawned beautifully clear and the forecast had shifted the start of the rain until late afternoon so we risked it, thinking that we’d likely be most of the way down by the time the rain kicked in.


Our legs protested at the slightest incline but we persevered, one step at a time. About two thirds of the way up I became concerned by the strength of the wind, the gusts challenging my stability. With encouragement, we kept going, the wind barely letting up. As we approached the final scramble via a narrow path next to a steep drop, edging our way along, the wind buffeting against us, I felt incredibly unsafe and that we’d been foolish to not have turned back. The views across Loch Lomond are undeniably beautiful, but there was no time to enjoy the fruits of our efforts as the first drops of rain fell. 

Views across the loch from Ben Lomond

What followed was a difficult descent, the wind whipping around us and screeching in our ears was more unbearable for its persistence than the rain that was being directed at us, colliding with our skin like cold needle pricks. On our way up we’d passed people working on improving the path and I was surprised to discover they were continuing on. 


It was a slow descent, the wind trying to sweep my feet out from under me on each steep step down, and making me stumble even on the smoother sections. It felt interminable and I say with all sincerity that I thought we might die on that mountain, and that it would be our own fault for racing the weather and continuing on when it began to feel unsafe. The existence of this post signals the fact we made it down, mercifully unharmed, but I write this as a warning - please don’t underestimate even relatively short mountains, and listen to your instincts, if you feel unsafe, turn back. Our experience may have been less than ideal but in better weather I think it would have been a pleasant climb. The path is well maintained, fairly solid and stable, and varied enough that if you’re not too keen on one type of terrain you won’t have to put up with it for long. As you ascend more and more of the loch reveals itself, and the peak allows views of a sea of mountains. On a good day, it’s a walk I’d recommend.

Views from Ben Lomond


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