Contact — Penelope Janu

Today was a day of walking the (remaining) 20 kilometres of the 39km length of Loch Lomond, and another four kilometres beyond it. There was wonderful scenery, and birdsong, and we saw feral goats with rather magnificent horns. I apologise for the ‘squatting’ photo, and the dead wood and lichen photo, but Mr Darcy insisted I include them as they have ‘artistic merit'.’

Now to jump straight into the good, the bad and the I didn’t know that.

First, the bad:

My horse leg is sore!

I was bravely hobbling downhill when Mr Darcy asked: ‘Is it your horse leg again?’ My horse leg has nothing to do with fetlocks and pasterns, but everything to do with my horse (a thoroughbred called Cascade) who fell on my leg when I was fourteen. We were cantering around an abandoned race track in the mud when he slipped over (onto his side) and landed on my leg. It was one of those moments one doesn’t forget. Me, lying in the ground and thinking, ‘Cascade is on my leg and I wish he’d get off.’ Luckily for both of us, he finally stood on his four legs, and then looked down curiously at me while I struggled to one of mine. I hopped to a fence and managed to get back into the saddle (no mobile phones in those days – and I had to ride 5km home before dark!).

But I digress. No bones broken, but my leg swelled up to twice its normal size, and ever since, I’ve had a numb and sensitive patch on the outside of my right knee. Which might (to any medical professionals reading) have NOTHING whatsoever to do with my ‘horse leg’ but when it cramps and is sore, I always think ‘that’s the one Cascade fell on.’ Hence Mr Darcy (long being appraised of the occasional shortcomings of said leg) said today: ‘Is it your horse leg again?’

My leg stiffened up within an hour of our walk. It actually worked reasonably well on the flat, but as 85% of our 24km walk today involved scrambling downhill and uphill, it was a difficult day. Mr Darcy was good about it – holding out his arm at relevant points (as one would expect when assisting a woman from a carriage in the late 18th Century) to assist me, and hauling me aside when other walkers (few and far between as a walk on the shoreline over boulders and hundreds of year old tree roots wasn’t a walk for the faint hearted) wanted to pass.

We did bring poles and I used one of them to assist me (as I prefer one pole to two). Mr Darcy, encouraging me to take the second pole, held it aloft like a cross between Gene Kelly’s cane and Harry Potter’s wand (on that, if I could have apparited to our night’s accommodation, I would have).

And now for the good.

Lovely scenery. Beautiful people. A very nice room tonight, which was happily adjacent to a pub. Also, we’ve seen a lovely young couple a number of times and like to make up stories about them (not in a creepy way), and quote Andrew Lang’s The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lamond (which is actually as song about Jacobites and sad in a Waltzing Matilda way, but that’s another story…

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

The ‘I didn’t know that?’

In Scotland there are thistles (easily avoided), nettles (avoid or else) and midges. The latter are ghastly creatures (see picture - midge posing with bottle cap while faking own death and plotting blood curdling annihilation). Midges are small but terrifying insects (like miniature mosquitos) that rise from the ground in formation and surround the vulnerable). Many Scotsmen deny they are a problem (so long as one walks at faster than 5kmh in dry conditions (ha!), smothers oneself in disgusting smelling insect repellent and wears a ‘midge shield’ (basically a mosquito net you wrap around your face until you are blinded).

We have heard, ‘watch out for midges’ so many times. And when we ask follow up questions, everyone has a different answer. June is worst. You should be fine by July. August is the month to avoid. Do alternative activities when they are about - like go-karting, indoor pursuits, whiskey consumption.

These little beasties are endemic in the highlands and simply LOVE to suck blood (particularly in damp and warm conditions). We haven’t been troubled by them in the past few days, but today they were out in force. Not a problem when moving along (and we have repellent) but if it is necessary to stop (because you only have one working leg, for example, and you are hobbling on a 24km trek with no rest points, shops or shelters) they are, like Scotsmen of a bygone era baring swords and shields, a little problematic.

A modicum of rain and a gushing stream…

But back to my knee… I have Voltarin (which spell corrects to Voltaire) and Nurofen on board. And much to Mr Darcy’s horror, we have twin beds. So I am hopeful that my horse leg will be feeling much better for our 18km hike tomorrow and thereafter.

On an environmental note, many of the forests we’re walking through were once cleared for stock, or pine plantations, but are being ‘re-wilded’ which is a wonderful initiative fully supported by Scotland’s insects, birds and other wildlife.