Day Forty Five

Friday 17 September – Rowardennan to Inverarnan.

From my window at the Youth Hostel I could see the growing light over the loch, somewhat dimmed by the anti-midge net. I had so far not had the pleasure of encountering these particular natives, probably because the breeze had been fairly strong. But I hadn't lost the chance.

There was still a breeze as I set off, but not enough to spoil another lovely morning. There was a prospect of a bit of work to do today. The guide books speak of the section of the West Highland Way either side of Inversnaid (half way into today's walk) as being the toughest part of the whole 95 miles. But this was to come. First I set out along a forestry track which rose gently as it entered the trees.

At Ptarmigan Lodge, the map shows a choice of onward routes for the WHW. I think this is because the forestry route has been closed in the past while tree-felling has been going on. I peered down the steep, vegetatation-choked slope between the track and the shore for a glimpse of the lower path, but I could not see it. I suspect it would be a harder prospect than the saunter I was enjoying. Eventually the track narrows, becomes rougher, and takes on the aspect of a loch-side path.

The ups and downs are much less gentle, with rocky climbs to negotiate around or over bluffs and big trees. I heard someone quote a guidebook giving gloomy prognostications on the presence of tree roots to trip the unwary. But tree roots can be your friend as well as a playful threat. Often the roots form the very steps you need to climb or descend the hillside.

Above me, to the right, a very steep slope rose up, tree-lined to a certain height and bare above it; these were the skirts of Ben Lomond and its pals. Across the Loch to my left was a curious phenomenon – an invisible rush hour. The main A82 road runs very close to the Western shore, less than a mile away, and I could hear lots of early-morning traffic. But the trees obscured all but a few glances of the cars and trucks, which was great.

As Inversnaid grew nearer, the going got rougher - nothing to worry about, just good exercise. You drop into Inversnaid from above, the path climbing to cross Arklet Water (the outlet from Arklet Loch, far above) on a footbridge. Steps lead down to the back of the Inversnaid Hotel. A door was marked “walkers' entrance”.Inside there was room for muddy boots to be parked. Mine weren't muddy, so I kept them on. A door led to a large, empty room with a dance floor. I walked round the edge of this, nervous about sullying it, even with unmuddy boots.

Beyond was a bar, already occupied by a couple I had passed and been passed by several times since the start of the walk a couple of days ago. One other man, evidently local, was standing at the bar having a wet.

I ordered coffee and something, which was brought by a very cheerful barman, who then proceeded to empty all the paninis from a cool cabinet. ”These will have to be chucked”, he said. “they're all Friday's.” Bemusement all round. One of my fellow walkers piped up, “But it is Friday”. “It's not, is it?” from the barman, “I thought it was Saturday.” He turned to the local man: “What day is it?” The man thought it was Friday. Two American walkers then appeared, to be asked, not “What can I get you?” but “What day is it?” They plumped for Friday and the paninis went back on sale.

Resolving to check on which time zone Scotland comes into, I left to resume my walk. Things now started to get interesting. The shoreline was very rocky, with the path squeezed between the water and the rockface. There were never more than a few yards of level walking between precipitous ups and downs for the next couple of miles or so. Progress was necessarily slow, but by no means unpleasant. Dappled sunshine lighted the way, and conditions underfoot were never particularly soggy or slippery.

Rob Roy's Cave, marked on the map, should be called Rob Roy's Crevice. There were several of these clefts in the rocks along the shoreline, none offering a comfortable billet to a tired outlaw. I presume that Rob Roy came by boat, choosing this spot because it was (as I had found out) not easy to surprise him by land,rather than because it offered all – or any – mod cons.

After passing a heavily-wooded island I reached a very narrow part of the loch. The path goes behind a large headland, emerging on what I can only call a meadow, not a very Scottish Highland concept. It was positively Alpine, with sun-drenched mountains surrounding it and gorgeous views in all directions. All that was lacking was a girl in a dirndl skipping through the grass singing Rogers and Hammerstein, but sadly she couldn't make it. The Julie Andrews moment came just before a hut which is maintained as a bothy. What a terrific spot to choose for it.

The path then returned to the loch-side, but was now much gentler. As the head of the loch drew near, I crossed another meadow and climbed to pass through a valley between the high hills on the right and a neat rocky outlier on the left. When I reached waterside again, it was not the loch but its feeder, the River Falloch. My journey's end was in sight across the valley. But to reach it I had to walk on for a few hundred yards to reach Beinglass campsite.

A few tents were already erected. Some small, tent-shaped huts offered alternative accommodation, and the buildings included a cafe/restaurant and a shop. But my way led to the left, along a rough road leading to a bridge over the river. I took this, crossing the bridge and turning South briefly to reach the Drovers Inn at Inverarnan, my place of refuge for the night.

It was not very pleasant to be back beside a main road, but the inn itself was very welcoming. I gather that this place is the stuff of legend. The rooms, an informant had told me, are “odd”. Mine wasn't very odd, but the corridors and stairs twist and turn eccentrically, and I expected to meet a stuffed elk round every corner.