Glasgow Hospital, and The Duck House

Setting the scene:

I’ve recorded various hiking adventures (and misadventures) in the past couple of weeks, but now our hike is over, I was intending to end my blog posts (because reading about someone else’s holiday has its limitations). But my friends, family and readers have been so generous in their support, that I thought they deserved to have the icing (or more accurately casting) on the cake. So I’ll round off our hike with a post about…. .

What happened next:

Remember the sore shin I referred to on my Day 7 post? Our walk was over! We went out to dinner! I was walking very slowly, but surely after a good night’s sleep all would be well?’

Only, it wasn’t. When we hopped on a bus to Glasgow after our final day, my shin was still very painful. Our little hotel was lovely and I didn’t want to leave it, but I had to. We’d already established a piggy back from Mr Darcy wasn’t the solution to my problems, so it was time to get my lower leg (which was now red and puffy) examined. Since I could no longer walk very well, we caught an expensive taxi to the hospital (it was only 5km away - I was so annoyed that we couldn’t walk!) There was a four hour wait, but the nurses and doctors were great. And the prognosis, while not ideal, at least gave me certainty. I have a stress fracture in my tibia.

Walking on my leg (in the absence of trojan soldiers to lift me Cleopatra-like, or a helicopter airlift, or a horse) on the last 20km of our hike was patently overdoing things a little. On the bright side, I now have a moon boot, and I can blame my hobbling on that!

The Duck House:

We are now staying in The Duck House in Kent, England. The Duck House is a tiny cottage with beautiful gardens, built on the grounds of a much larger house (conveniently located in the middle of nowhere). The willow tree that gracefully dips its fronds into of the ponds reminds me of the willows I read about in childhood. And the interior of the cottage is charming (a very appropriate English word!). But the very best thing about being here is that our daughter Michaela, who has been working in London for a year (so far), is with us. We’ve already been out and about, exploring so much of what I love about England. The country towns, the gardens, the old buildings. But, besides friends and other family (including the four legged members), I’m starting to miss a lot of things from home. Items at the top of that list? The sounds of the waves on the shore, my very own bed, and the scent of eucalyptus. But…

Back to work:

It won’t all be bush tracks when I get home (not only because I can’t walk very well). I’m up to the next round of edits for Shelter from the Storm, which I can’t wait to get stuck into (hard work, but it always makes the book the best that it can be). I’m also excited about attending the Romance Writers of Australia conference in Fremantle mid-August, together with an Australian Romance Readers Association signing event. In early September, my good friend Pamela Cook and I are going to the snow (moon boots and ski boots are interchangeable, aren’t they?). Later in the month, I have a family wedding! And from 23 - 25 September, I’ll be attending the Northern Beaches Reader’s Festival, which all Sydney (for very good reason!) is talking about. There is so much to look forward to after our wonderful Scottish adventure. And so much to plan before we go on our next walk.

In the meantime, thank you for reading this blog. Letters are currently out of style, but recording our daily events has reminded me that letters and other correspondence play such an important part in our lives. It has been wonderful to reflect on not only the walk, but the scenery and events I loved (and endured) along the way, and it’s been equally wonderful to read your comments here and on my socials 💕

Boot style number three….

Day 7: Kinlochleven to Fort William 25km

Our day started with a long climb back into the heart of the highlands. The weather was fine, the breeze was brisk, the clouds were high in the sky. But then…

Another boot issue:

Mr Darcy: Why are you limping?

Me: These new boots are good for my sore toes, but the left boot hurts the back of my heel, and the band aid I put on last night isn’t helping. I wish I could hack off the top of the boot.

Mr Darcy: After today, I’m throwing your boots out.

Me: But I’ve hardly worn them.

Mr Darcy: I have a knife. I’ll cut the bloody top off.

See photo below. It was an excellent excision, and problem solved. But then…

My horse leg and more…

As you’ll all know, I’ve had a slight problem with my right leg (my ‘horse leg,’ because my horse fell on it) but it had always been manageable, and at the start of each day we hit the road in relatively good form. At the end of Day 6, the bottom of the shin of my horse leg was tender, but I put it down to the boots and loosened the laces. However, a few hours into Day 7, when we were well and truly in the highlands and the only way to (ultimately) rest was to keep on walking to our destination, my shin began to hurt A LOT. And as it was my horse leg, that had implications for my horse leg issue too. While we had generally been able to cover 4 km an hour, we were lucky to be making 3km an hour (I know this because, when Mr Darcy wasn’t looking sympathetically at me, he was looking at his Garmin and wincing). To sum things up, we left our excellent B & B at 8.15am this morning and, with only three brief breaks, we arrived at the next B & B after 6pm… . Not an easy day, but some nice things happened (and they were strangely linked).

Firstly, we were walking along a ridge with a mountain one side of us, a mountain on the other and a river down in the valley below, when we heard the unmistakable roar (now I know what it was, it was ‘an unmistakeable roar’) of a jet engine. There was no time to take out the camera (and I don’t think we even wanted to because it would have spoiled the moment) but a sleek black jet flew through the valley, seemingly only metres from the water. And then another one. And another and another. Four jets! It was amazing and VERY Tom Cruise in Top Gun! I even forgot the pain in my shin! I have tried to find an image of said jet, though this one is a different colour. Do jets come in different colours?

Secondly, other hikers obviously noticed my limp, because as we were overtaken on the track (there were more people hiking on this stretch, which is popular for day trips), hiker looked back very sympathetically at me (and Mr Darcy for being burdened with me). But then, one woman stopped, held out her hand and offered to pray for me. Wasn’t that kind? She wore a fetching headscarf and looked extremely pious and concerned, so of course I said yes. There was a little confusion (her English wasn’t great, and my Romanian is totally non-existent) because I had to put down my pole (that was propping me up) to take her hand while she said a few words. We waved her off (I didn’t like to attempt to walk and risk seeing her disappointed face that her praying hadn’t worked), but as she disappeared over the rise, holding bravely to Mr Darcy’s arm (which I alternated with the pole) we took off again. And then….

The third miracle! Tom arrived in person! To be honest, he wasn’t actually Tom Cruise, but his name was certainly Tom, and he was an American paramedic. Was the woman who prayed for me in fact a Scientologist? It didn’t matter, because Tom had backpack full of stuff. We weren’t sure what the problem was, but he provided a knee brace and a stretch bandage, with the following advice (in so many words):

Give this a go, and I hope the next 12km are easier than the 13km you’ve already done, but I can’t see how they will be.

Tom’s medical supplies (we tracked him down and returned them that night) didn’t really help, but it was thoughtful of him to offer them, and for other hikers to express condolences (many with understandable ‘I’m glad I’m not you’ expressions).

To pass the time, Mr Darcy and I spent a few kilometres thinking about how we would help each other if one of us collapsed. I’ve always joked that if Mr Darcy twisted an ankle or couldn’t walk for some reason, I would simply roll him down the hills. He’s never liked the idea of this, insisting he’d be more injured by the rolling than the initial injury. And he’s also been concerned that with my woeful sense of direction, if I left him in search of help, I’d get lost and have no chance of finding it. Also, while someone would eventually find him on the track, they wouldn’t be able to find me. But I digress. That was my plan for him. but it was me who couldn’t walk very well. This is our exchange about me:

Mr Darcy: If I could carry you I would, but you’re a bit heavy.

Me: You carry both our cases (around 20kg each) and a 5kg back pack down the stairs to the baggage transport people every morning, and I’m not that much heavier than all those things.

Mr Darcy: My back pack is strapped to my back, and our cases have handles. These items aren’t ‘flailing around’ or ‘out of balance’ like you would be.

Me: What about a piggy back?

Mr Darcy: My back pack would have to be on my front, and as we’re on uneven rocky paths, I might overbalance and fall. Anyway, even if I were able to to carry you and everything else, I don’t think I could walk much more than 50 metres.

Me: That’s something.

Mr Darcy: We have 11,500 metres to go. And if I collapsed, who would look after you?

Me: Point taken.

This was not a terribly heroic state of affairs, admittedly, but Mr Darcy was already carrying a loaded day pack to relieve me of carrying anything myself, and it was also a matter of strength and agility. He’s 82 kg and fit (most especially on a bicycle) and I’m 51kg. The path was rough. The day was long. The hills were high. The valleys were deep. It was NOT going to work. So we went through other options…

Mr Darcy: If I see anyone strong enough to carry you, I’ll pay them whatever they ask to do it.

Me: Thank you, darling.

Not seeing anyone with appropriate potential, we fantasised. What if an army troop went past, and the sergeant offered the services of his strapping soldiers (I could be hoist between them like Cleopatra on a chariot!) Sadly, this army troupe didn’t eventuate, and I kept hobbling all the way to Fort William. Which is why the final 1.5km (which was NOT in the guide book) was particularly unhelpful. Our B & B was also up a hill, and the room was on the first floor (also unhelpful, but Darcy, true to his word, carried our 20kg bags, and the back pack, up the stairs with nary a complaint).

To conclude, a nice cup of coffee and shortbreads later (plus a long shower), and I was able to hobble the short distance into town for dinner and an obligatory celebratory glass of wine (or two). 'It’s not about the destination, but the journey.’ I said happily as we walked back to our room. That might have been the wine talking, as it was quite a shitty day, but on the whole we enjoyed ourselves, and we did finish the walk of 170km in 7 days.

The good:

Undisputedly, more magnificent scenery! And much as the jets were out of place, we enjoyed them too. Particularly as my dad, who was in the airforce in the 1950s, told me just before we left home that he hadn’t walked in the highlands, but had flown over them many times while based in Scotland!

The even more good:

In an earlier post, I wrote about a young couple we’d seen on our hike. They talked, held hands, and picnicked together. No head phones or ear pods, laptops or phones. They wore sensible clothes and had sweat-soaked hair. And we’ve seen many young couples (and older couples and families) since then. Long distance walks - even day trips of six or seven hours - means that you spend a lot of time together chatting and laughing (and, granted, complaining) but you do it together, and it’s such a great opportunity to get to know each others’ strengths and weaknesses.

The bad:

I’m sure peri-menopausal, menopausal and post menopausal woman feel the heat more than any man. Sure, I start the day in as many layers as the next man, but within thirty minutes (or within 5 minutes if it’s a steep climb), I’m shedding layers like a cicada in the early months of summer. I don’t mind my feet and legs being hot, but anything above the breast line I find extremely uncomfortable (like a permanent hot flush).

Also, peeing is difficult for women, particularly on a barren moor with midges about (see earlier post).

The ‘I didn’t know that:’

Nothing tastes better than a cup of tea and a McVities chocolate wheaten biscuit when hiking.

Tomorrow, a final round up! 💙

Day 6: Kingshouse to Kinlochleven 14km

The weather was far better today (though yesterday’s squalls, sideways rain, mists, winds and flooded paths - as well as the 31km hike - made for a memorable day) . We enjoyed the views from the isolated and historic Kingshouse Hotel (which has been beautifully modernised) and we also used the drying room for my boots and our bags. Mr Darcy made the most of the bath , and I was happy to take a shower with good water pressure.

Today’s hike was 14km, much of it weaving through mountainous passes and hills (to the left, right, straight ahead and behind us!) on cobbled mountain paths. There was also a significant elevation, known as the Devil’s Staircase, which offered spectacular views. To quote Robbie Burns’s Yon Wild Mossy Mountains:

Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores,
To me hae the charms o'yon wild, mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely, sequestered stream,
Besides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

If Mr Darcy was a fan of Robbie Burns, I’m sure he would have recited this poem (I quoted a lot of Burns when I wrote Up on Horseshoe Hill, as Finn Blackwood was Scottish!.) But back to Mr Darcy’s song…

We were at the end of our hike and I was hobbling down a particularly steep (and prolonged) stretch of path, when Mr Darcy quoted an ode that his mother used to sing - The Happy Wanderer:

I love to go a-wandering,
Along the mountain track,
And as I go, I love to sing,
My knapsack on my back.

Chorus:
Val-deri,Val-dera,
Val-deri,
Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Val-deri,Val-dera.
My knapsack on my back.

I love to wander by the stream
That dances in the sun,
So joyously it calls to me,
"Come! Join my happy song!"

Much as I’m sure this is an excellent song (there was a lot of enthusiasm in a yodelling sense with the Val-derai Val-dera), I’m not sure I needed so much joy at the end of the hike. But… Mr Darcy has all my gear in his backpack (including items I might need ‘just in case’ like clean socks and chocolate), so I tolerated his song. Most importantly I loved his unintentional prompt - two young and enthusiastic singing hikers from Romania who passed us on the track.

And this brings me to my next point. Fellow hikers have been uniformly friendly and helpful. There aren’t so many of us that complete the whole 160km hike in a limited amount of time, so we tend to come across each other occasionally. We started our relationships with a cheery wave and, much as many of us aren’t now as sprightly on our feet as we were at the beginning of the trek, we continue to smile and ask each other how things are going. Mr Darcy and I are on the high end of the age demographic, but the lovely thing about challenging climbs is that there is an equalising factor irrespective of age (and my readers over 50 will appreciate the importance of this!) Darcy and I can offer a blister band aid, or midge cream, or an apricot or biscuit (because we are always prepared!) to a young hiker. And they are likely to offer a sympathetic ear, weather advice or a tip on the next town (and where to go for a coffee or beer). We met a group of Italian cyclists in a large drain (literally) and they very enthusiastically offered us a shot of coffee. Many hikers spend their nights in tents, while we are ensconced in B & B’s and small hotels, but we all meet up in the local pub every night and exchange a word or two on the day’s adventures. I really love this aspect of the hike!

And tonight’s accomodation at the Alt Na Leven? Excellent! Mr Darcy thinks it’s more Mr Collins’s taste than his own, but I think it charming. So many towels and such interesting wallpaper. The rooms we stay in vary every night. Sometimes the memories are excellent, sometimes less so. The brioche bun? Choosing between midges and a small room with no ventilation? The grumpy host who insisted I had to have the ‘full Scottish breakfast’ (including the black pudding, haggis, mushrooms and buttered toast, even though I wanted plain toast, bacon and an egg? But on the whole, the hosts are generous, the showers are hot and the beds are comfortable. Tonight’s accomodation is pictured!

The good:

Beautiful scenery (yet again) and it stopped raining. Also, a delicious meal at the local hotel.

The bad:

Mr Darcy’s leaking boots have gone to boot heaven (which is actually kind of nice, because they have joined my boots on the deceased boots boot rack). Both sets of boots had been brilliant for two earlier long distance walks, but they self-destructed a few days into this walk. Personally, I blame Covid.

The I didn’t know that:

Tonight when we walked into Kinlochleven’s pub, the bartender said there were no tables left in the cosy bar area overlooking the street, but (he added apologetically), would we mind very much sitting upstairs? We expected a soulless little space, but the views were spectacular. And that’s what we’ve found so often. Beauty is everywhere - including where you least expect to find it 💕

Day 5: Tyndrum to Kingshouse 31km

Setting the scene:

Our long hike over the moors!

Last night (using my faithful Omega analogue as opposed to Mr Darcy’s fancy-pants Garmin GPS system) I calculated that, at our average walking pace of 4km an hour, we’d need 8 walking hours to get to our destination, and another hour or more for stops along the way. Yikes! Following a 6.30am breakfast (a Goldilocks-style father bear bowl of porridge), we were on the road this morning at 7.15 am and walked two hours to a very pretty hotel at Bridge of Orchy, where (partly to get out of the driving rain) very large cups of coffee were consumed (it being a little too early for whiskey). I was spot on with my calculations, and we arrived at our hotel in time to have a cup of tea and two shortbread biscuits, before relaxing (Mr Darcy watched the Tour de France, possibly in relief that his work was done for the day).

What is best? My old watch or the GPS fancy one? I am reliably informed that Mr Darcy completed 42,450 steps today. He assumes I did more as I am shorter and I was limping. My leg is still dodgy (mostly when going downhill, often when uphill, and sometimes on the flat ) and many of the paths on the West Highland Way are old drover and military roads, some going back to Roman times. They are solid but extremely bumpy like cobbled roads (without the smooth edges) making them hard, rugged and uneven underfoot. Nevertheless, the final 16km of our walk, notwithstanding the rain and tricky terrain, was breathtaking for the magnificent scenery - hills, rivers, streams and misty moors.

Another two hour walk was supposed to end with an early lunch in Inveronan, but the hotel was closed, so we opened the faithful back pack and consumed tea (a thermos is heavy, but worth the weight), cheese, apricots (thank you for your foresight Uncle Sandy) and McVities chocolate wheaten biscuits. By now, we were 16km down!

The good:

Without a doubt, the scenery, and the sheep and birds and the amazing amount of water flowing down from the hills that created puddles the sizes of dams, gushing waterfalls and galloping rivers.

The bad:

Thank you for all your thoughtful enquiries regarding my boots. The latest news is - I did have a spare pair of boots, but 20km into our hike today (in very wet conditions - we were basically walking through shallow streams for kilometres) they started to leak. Weirdly enough, so did Mr Darcy’s boots, so we were squishing and squelching up and down the hills like a couple of sponges at a pool party. I’m not sure that this was terribly good for my big toe (the toenail was already destined to fall off) but on the bright side, my leg was sorer than my toe, so I hardly felt a thing! My toe is all taped up now, and I hope it won’t trouble me too much tomorrow. Mind you, it just goes to show that even though we were quite well prepared with two dedicated sets of worn-in hiking boots, things can go wrong.

The ‘I didn’t know that’:

Many sheep have black spotted legs. And many of the sweet little birds on the moor are very friendly. And, no surprises here, dogs love to hike too, and the UK is very welcoming to well behaved dogs. We were on the lookout for deer, but didn’t spot any. Worryingly, Mr Darcy had venison pie for dinner, which I am determined not to overthink.

Finally, we are staying at the BEST accomodation tonight - the King’s House Hotel. It is the only hotel for miles around, and very happily situated. It also has a dedicated drying room, so our boots will be toasty warm tomorrow morning, and hopefully stay that way as the forecast is brighter. Even though it’s 9.30pm, it’s still night outside, and I have a lovely view of hills from my window. Mr Darcy, exhausted from carrying a double pack (in the hope of saving my leg) is fast asleep, and I’m drying our clothes on the excellent drying rack in the bathroom.

Another update tomorrow - on our penultimate hike!

Day 4: Inverarnan to Tyndrum 21km

Setting the scene:

After a 21km walk today, we have arrived at a lovely B & B known as Clifton Cottage. Our room is small in size but our charming host, Carmen, has crammed everything one could possibly want into it (including four chests of drawers, three side tables, a wardrobe, a fridge, soft drinks, six chocolate bars, two wagon wheels and a coffee machine). Unfortunately there isn’t quite enough room for our cases (which are delivered to our room by a luggage company, so we only have to carry day packs).

The walking was easier today than yesterday (or maybe that was simply because my leg was, while slightly unreliable, more operational - thank you, Voltarin). We walked along ex military paths (some dating back to Roman times), through forests, farms and pine plantations.

The good:

Pine plantations are a common sight in the Scottish countryside, but in the past twenty years or so, there has been a push to plant many more native trees (that aren’t going to be harvested!), particularly on routes such as the Highland Way. Birches, oaks, elms and many other species are now a much more common part of the landscape than they were, which is so crucial for diversity in not only tree life, but wildlife generally. Mr Darcy took quite a few photos of big black slugs today (I am not sure why) but they are certainly thriving!

The bad:

Just like midge denial, many guide books seem to minimise the distances walked each day. Today, for example, was supposed to be on an 18km walk, but it was definitely 21km. Sometimes the difference is attributable to elements like travelling to our accomodation, or a slight detour, but more often than not, the distances are simply longer than flagged (and this is often made clear by local signposts).

Not that we actually need local sign posts, or guide books, according to Mr Darcy. He has a Garman that records distance (accurate due to a satellite I am assured), together with his heart rate, average travelled per hour, and elevations and destinations and (likely) hallucinations. Me and my watch are less accurate, but not by much: as we walk approximately 4km an hour, for an eight hour day, with lunch and a tea break taken out, we will walk twenty-eight km. I think this works quite well, but it doesn’t show my heart rate…

The I didn’t expect that:

So… My dear boots are seven years old, and have taken me on many day and weekend trips in our Australian national parks, but also from the west to the east coast of England (320km) and around Mt Blanc (240km). But today…

The sole of one of my boots came away! And then, within an hour, the sole of my other boot came away! Is the glue only made for a limited number of kilometres which, clearly, both boots have completed?

Blake Sinclair’s grandfather’s house

I am constantly daydreaming and… today I saw Blake Sinclair (the character from my 2024 novel) grandfather’s house. The book is set in Australia, but the house and the important role Blake’s grandfather played in his life is crucial - so I am delighted that now I have a visual representation of the cottage. The location and situation and lighting and everything else was perfect! And here it is!

Day 3: Rowardennan to Inverarnan 24km

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.

Day 2: Dryman to Rowardennan 26km

Setting the scene:

It was a difficult hike today, but the scenery around Loch Lomond (we will walk all 37km of its length by midday tomorrow) was stunning. After our 26km walk from Dryman (Mr Darcy has the impressive elevation statistics if required), I would very much like to plunge my feet into the 197m depth of the loch to cool them off.

We’re staying at Rowardennan Hotel tonight, and our room has a lovely view of the loch. I seemed to annoy the kitchen for requesting a replacement for the brioche bun on my hamburger. Seriously? Who likes a sweet yellow bun on a burger? Thankfully, the kitchen found me something from tomorrow’s breakfast to replace the bun, and I will be eternally grateful for that. My large glass of wine, if you were wondering, was excellent. As was Mr Darcy’s ice cream (I refrained from desert, so ate his).

Our contemporaries… and climbing Conic Hill for views of Lake Lomond:

We’re getting to know a few of our fellow independent hikers. One Norwegian couple have THE most adorable 15 month old son (only strong Norwegian people could possibly backpack with a toddler up the craggy mountain paths). The little boy is already waving with great animation whenever he sees us (naturally, we wave with equal abandon back). While we are raising the age demographic of the other hikers quite considerably, they are all very nice about it. And much as our feet were sore tonight, we noted that many others were adopting a similar change in walking styles. Sore feet. Calves. Thighs. Like a cowboy who has spent a hard day on a horse (or has fallen off a bull and been thoroughly trampled). But hopefully a good night’s sleep will have us all striding out (if not dancing a jig) tomorrow.

The good:

Spectacular views of Loch Lomond and Ben Lomond (the steep climb was totally worthwhile). The weather was excellent!

The ‘I didn’t know that.’

The Scottish Government has initiated a program where, in all state administered public toilets such as those in tourist centres, libraries and other facilities, sanitary items are provided for free to anyone who requires them. Private enterprise are catching on too, taking similar steps to provide these essential items. What a worthwhile initiative!

The bad:

It’s difficult to walk around the shoreline of Scotland’s largest loch, but climbing up and up and up to pass through the forest again and again and again before returning to the shoreline is difficult too. On the bright side, the forest walks were magical, as was the birdsong.

Research:

Penultimately, here is a picture of a highland sheep and his mother. The ewe was drinking from a stream and refused to look up, but junior was more accomodating. Highland sheep are hardy and independent - they have to be due to the inaccessibility of many areas for many months of the year. Cue Scottish vet Blake Sinclair in the book I’m writing now…

The loch has barely any public or private buildings around it, but camping is encouraged, and there is more sand around the loch than appears on most Scottish beaches. The water is great for kayaking but we saw very few swimmers today.

A final thought…

Todays walk was rated ‘moderate’ by (clearly) an Olympic marathon runner, a world champion hurdler, and Superman . Given they have rated tomorrow’s walk ‘moderate to strenuous.’ I’d better get to sleep!

Day 1: Milngavie to Dryman: 22km

Setting the Scene:

After a warm and restless evening (our room stayed at a rather too balmy 30 degrees, confirming that Scottish hotels are built with the aim of keeping heat in, not letting it out), we walked 22 km today. The temperature was a balmy 23 degrees and, much as I have become pathologically afraid of being bitten my midges (pretty much the equivalent of funnel web spiders - except they don’t kill you), we only saw them at a distance. Mr Darcy and I enjoyed spectacular highland views, contended cows and black and white sheep, and our boots experienced quite a lot of country lane walking.

An environmental initiative:

The flower photo is evidence that a local innovation, On the Verge, where community groups plant native flowers to encourage food sources for bees, is working well. And what a wonderful idea! 🌸🌸🌸 Not only that, the colourful flowers at the sides of the roads as we walked into our evening’s destination, Dryman, were a welcome diversion from the afternoon uphill climb.

Walking in tandem:

Mr Darcy’s legs stiffened in the final few kilometres (the words ‘my body is shutting down’ were groaned more than once), and he took to complaining about the route, and how he thought walking around a grassy rise would have been much more efficient in a physical and psychological sense than walking over the top of it), but we are reasonably healthy, and anticipating dinner and a well earned rest this evening.

Our accomodation is the Ashbank B & B, which is not only picturesque with a lovely host, Robbie, but very well appointed (providing a hot shower, tea and shortbread!) and right in the centre of a lovely little town. Dinner will be at the Clachan. which claims to be ‘the oldest public house in Scotland’ or, if Mr Darcy can’t walk that far, in the closest pub we hobble into.

The good, the bad, and the I didn’t expect that…

Good: Every walker that overtook us (or that we, occasionally, overtook), not only said hello, but was very happy to exchange a ‘where are you from?’ and ‘where are you headed tonight?’ There is no competition on these walks, and we all want the other walkers to simply enjoy their day and feel a sense of achievement at the end of it.

Bad: When it comes to having a pee, men (in my experience) simply face a tree, a thistle, a bump in the road, and point and shoot. Women have to pull down their hiking trousers or leggings, squat (as difficult as Olympic wresters make it look) and maintain a crouch for a not insignificant period of time. When Darcy and I hiked across England, and around Mt Blanc, we’d trek miles with barely seeing a soul. And even when we did, there were hills and boulders and stately trees to hide behind. On day one of our walk in Scotland, we were on picturesque (but not at all private) paths, country lanes, and hillside trails with very little privacy. By the end of the day, the pelvic floor exercises were more taxing than the walking!

Different: Black pudding for breakfast? I think not.