West Highland Way (II): the first three days to Bridge of Orchy

The West Highland Way (WHW), which runs for 96 miles (154 km) from Milngavie to Fort William, is the UK’s most popular long-distance path. It’s not hard to work out why – from loch-side views, to lush rainforest, wild moors, soaring highland mountains and back down to the sea, it takes in some of the best of Scotland’s scenery, yet is fairly accessible hiking with lots of supply stops available.

Apparently, some 40,000 people complete the entire walk each year, and I was soon to be one of them.

I was setting off without a plan (see the previous post for my preparation), but it turned out it took me 5 days, although not without some hiccups (nothing serious) along the way. I’m very glad to have done it, and yes, this sort of adventure does get you away from the eternal computer screen.

For anyone preferring to read in installments, here are some links to each day’s adventure; days 4 and 5, and the hike up Ben Nevis, will follow in the next post:

• Day 1: Milngavie to Cashel
• Day 2: Cashel to nr Doune Byre
• Day 3: Doune Byre to Bridge of Orchy
• Image gallery of some photos that didn’t make the main post

Home to Milngavie

Even on the morning I was due to depart, I was having some last-minute doubts about what I should take.

Did I really need the flip-flops? How many oat bars would be too many? What about the 200 g of trail mix? Should I take the instant noodles?

I had to cut short this dithering (deciding to take all the oat bars, just one of the packets of noodles and leave the trail mix) when, upon checking the live departures, I noticed my train had been cancelled. I really needed to hurry up to have time to catch an earlier train and still make my connection (my journey to Glasgow went via Finsbury Park, Euston and then up the West Coast Main Line to Glasgow Central).

I packed up the last items of kit, strapped my hiking poles to the side of my rucksack and headed briskly off to the station.

After checking that, yes, it was fine to take the earlier train in this circumstance, there followed a relaxed trip to Euston and a wait there before catching my second train of the day for an uneventful journey to Glasgow (it only ran slightly late owing to signalling problems or some such). And there I was – in Glasgow – by late afternoon.

After a short look round the city centre and a break for dinner at a Mexican restaurant (cactus quesadillas, no tequila – what I imagined might be quite different to the food at cafes on the walk), I took my final train of the day from Glasgow Queen Street to Milngavie (the announcements did indeed pronounce it more like Mil-guy, as per what my guidebook had said).

For my last night before heading into the relative wilderness, I had an actual bed as I was staying in an airbnb (a genuine spare room) in a house in Milngavie.

Looking at the guest book there, almost everyone who had stayed was doing so as a prelude to the WHW, and it was striking from how far afield people had come. There had been plenty of guests from different corners of Europe and also much further afield.

Milngavie to Cashel (day 1)

• Today’s distance: 23.5 miles/37.8 km
  
• Elevation gain: 690 m
  
• Time walking: 8 h 07 min
  
• Distance to date: 23.5 miles/37.8 km

After eating some muesli kindly provided by my host, it was only a short walk to the obelisk that marks the start (or finish for those going north to south) of the WHW in Milngavie.

Walking down the high street towards it, I felt a surprising sense of trepidation/excitement, similar to that you get before the start of a big running race. Maybe this sense of occasion was heightened by the preparations for a fun run, which included attaching bunting to the obelisk.

I wasn’t the only person who had chosen that time on a Wednesday morning to start their WHW adventure, but I only had a short wait for my turn for a photo with the obelisk.

On the first section of the path (known to be relatively easy going), I was very aware of how far I still had to go and was wanting to be cautious to resist any temptation to set off at a possibly literally blistering pace and take every opportunity for a rest.

Indeed, at one point in the early part of the walk someone had installed a small sign pointing back towards the south with the words ‘The Shire’ – this is in keeping with the easy terrain for the usual south to north direction for walking the WHW; very few people would actually want to start at Mount Doom!

Also, as this was mid-June, I figured I had many hours of daylight and there was no particular rush.

As I travelled over the rolling hills, I next stopped for a break at viewpoint over a lake (I think it was Craigallian Loch, only a few kilometres into the walk) and had a chat with another hiker.

I got the impression that he spent a lot of time touring the footpaths of Scotland (and had apparently walked the WHW many a time).

Somehow, everyone I met seemed to have done a lot more walking! At least I was heartened that my choice of backpack was recognised as “a bergen” and didn’t seem to to cause worry – “it is what it is” was the phrase used to sum it up.

After a bit more walking, and a few more breaks for water, snacks and resting my feet, I was already a bit behind schedule for my plan to have lunch in the village of Drymen.

I also was starting to think that my snacks, including a Belgian bun and an apple that I had picked up during my train journey, were getting a bit heavy. When I found I could fill my water bottle at the outdoor tap of a cafe just before Drymen (there are in fact many such opportunities to pick up extra water along the way), I decided to skip the half mile or so diversion into the village itself and instead crack on.

It wasn’t long before I was starting to see a more dramatic Scottish landscape emerge in the distance, and then there was Conic Hill (361 m), the first proper climb of the WHW.

It was a slightly warm trek up to the top and I had a few breaks, worrying that my legs hadn’t experienced anything like this in Hertfordshire, but before too long I had a feeling of deja vu (having previously climbed the hill with Clare starting from Balmaha) as I reached the ‘summit’ for that spectacular view along the islands in the middle of Loch Lomond.

This time there weren’t any highland cows to surprise the unwary, but the path was under repair, making the descent towards a Balmaha a bit tricky in places.

I was slightly concerned about where I’d get food as I exited the forest into the village at Balmaha. On our previous trip, The Oak Tree pub there had been pretty busy. As it turned out I needn’t have worried as there was lots of space, perhaps because it was a warm evening and there was plenty of daylight, making it nice to be outside. Or perhaps because it didn’t have the Euros on and Scotland were playing.

I felt I’d burnt a few calories, so went for a two-course option of soup followed by haggis. I was also already glad that I’d brought my flip flops and could take my boots off for a bit.

By this time in the evening, it looked like the campsite at Cashel would be a good bet for the overnight stop. Between courses, I decided I’d better call them to double check they had space. [Generally I found all the campsites had space at short notice given I only had a ‘backpacker tent’ (in fact not even really a tent in my case).]

They did indeed have space, but also ideally wanted to close check in at ~8 pm or maybe slightly later. I realised to cover the 3 miles or so in time, I’d better get going!

After trying not to eat my haggis course like I was taking part in a speed-eating competition, I set off, mindful of the fact I could be keeping people waiting. Fortunately, this part of the route along Loch Lomond is a pleasant and easy track, and I was able to get a bit of a move on with the finish for the day in mind.

I was giving a bit less regard to my potentially delicate legs now that I felt that being able to stop and have a shower might depend on my rate of progress, even finding it was ok to jog some of the slight downhills.

I arrived at ~8:30 pm, just in time to find the campsite staff packing up the shop for the day and ready to check me in.

That evening was my first brush with the midges – although a slight breeze seemed to be keeping them somewhat away, I did realise that assembling my bivvy bag under some trees by the stream that runs through the site wasn’t the best choice of location. I didn’t see anyone else wearing a midge net though, and thought it might be uncool to be the first to break mine out!

There was then just enough time left to wander to the beach at the loch edge and enjoy the sunset before turning in.

Cashel to nr Doune Byre (day 2)

• Today’s distance: 18.4 miles/29.6 km
• Elevation gain: 457 m
• Time walking: 7 h 16 min
• Distance to date: 41.9 miles/67.4 km

After a shower at the campsite, and a minor detour to see the (Belted) Galloway cows in a nearby field, I set off in the mist following the trail along the eastern side of Loch Lomond.

Because my trip to the cows had meant I’d left Cashel a little later than I planned to, at ~9:30 am, I only got a few kilometres before deciding to stop for lunch (bean chilli) at the Clansman Bar of the Rowardennan Hotel (which started serving food at 12 pm).

While I waited, I was able to do a little charging of my phone batteries and looking at the route ahead.

Both my guidebook and accounts from others who had done the walk before mentioned that this next section of the way was one of the toughest, but somehow that hadn’t really sunk in.

Having walked some of the more southerly part of the Loch Lomond shoreline the previous day and looking at the apparently flat profile of the route, I was thinking ‘how bad can it be?’ and considering whether I needed to book in for the camping at Beinglas or even whether I might get further than that.

On this section of the route, there is also a choice to take the ‘high route’ or the ‘low route’, with the path apparently splitting just after the Ptarmigan Lodge and converging again shortly after the bothy at Rowchowish.

I decided to take the low route (which is reputedly harder but more scenic), but actually don’t recall seeing the high route diverge. According to the guidebook, it might be that only the low route is signposted.

As I headed towards Inversnaid, I started to see why this part of the WHW has its reputation.

I can recall that day as having an awful lot of steps as the path wound up and down the tree-covered hillside above the loch. In fact, I felt I was becoming a connoisseur of steps.

There were steps of the kind formed by wooden planks across the path (and places where these had eroded leaving the planks as kind of extra obstacles on the slope) and steps formed from the rock itself. Some of the rocky steps were more or less a regular height, but others were much bigger, and there were also places where they seemed more of an erratic natural configuration of stones rather than steps as such.

I didn’t see Rob Roy’s cave (which being marked on the map, I had assumed was some kind of unmissable tourist attraction, but in hindsight is quite a bit less obvious).

I also nearly missed the Rowchoish Bothy, only glancing to the side and noticing its roof (it’s a little way from the path) after almost passing it.

I took the chance to take a look inside and, finding it deserted, stayed for a short rest and also felt I had to take the opportunity for a bit of whistle practice (The Bothy Band are an influential group in Irish traditional music).

Back on my way, along the path that continued to wind up and down the hillside, I arrived at Inversnaid, known for its waterfall, at ~4 pm. I was seeing that I might be quite late to reach the campsite and tried to call it, only to find I had no signal.

After a little rest, and deciding against the detour for the best view of the waterfall, I filled up my water bottle (the hotel there also had an outside tap for the purpose) and carried on.

The path didn’t get any easier, and in places the uneven rocks now had a steep drop on the left down to the loch.

I felt I had to take care not to overbalance (I was glad of the walking poles now) and wasn’t making quick progress. On the other hand, there were beautiful views over the loch, and the woods themselves continued to be spectacular in places. (This area is a temperate rainforest).

As mid-evening approached, I was wondering if I could find anywhere to wild camp for the night. However, the path itself was quite narrow, and the prospect of sheltering under one of the large boulders to its side was a bit creepy, even if it would be unlikely to move (I’m sure Rob Roy would have been fine with it).

After a while further, I finally started to see parts of the shore that had narrow shingle beaches rather than a steep drop to the water and, in one or two places, people were setting up camp. I decided that it might be for the best to do the same, rather than pressing on further along the path on tired legs.

The only question was exactly where.

I was seeing a series of apparently suitable spots, but I also didn’t want to fall too far behind where I had hoped to get to (and was still some way short of the Glen Falloch no-camping zone at the north end of the loch).

I found one promising spot, a slightly wider beach where the path dropped down almost to the shore, and started to settle down, laying out my mat and having some water and a break, and I decided to take a look around before pitching camp.

That was when I noticed not one, but many piles of mysterious droppings by the water’s edge. I didn’t know what had left them but from the size was guessing small deer or maybe giant rats.

Whatever it was I was doubtful about being disturbed by it in the night.

I decided to move on.

Before long, I arrived at another wide beach where a stream met the loch and which had a picturesque marshy area dotted with irises behind.

Exploring round that beach, I found areas where the remains of campfires suggested people had stayed before and, following the shore round, I found a flat grassy area with a romantic view over the loch. I set up camp, before eating my dinner of cold soaked noodles and oat bars.

As I took off my boots to enter the bivvy bag, I noticed that the sole of one of them didn’t feel as attached to the main structure as I had hoped.

I’d had some issues with this after my practice walks back home, but it seemed that my effort to reattach it with glue hadn’t been the glorious success I’d assumed.

I decided that I’d worry about that in the morning…

Doune Byre to Bridge of Orchy (day 3)

• Today’s distance: 22.9 miles/36.9 km
• Elevation gain: 726 m
• Time walking: 8 h 43 min
• Distance to date: 64.8 miles/104.3 km

Despite a bit of noise from the road on far side of the loch, and rain that started during the night I slept pretty well.

By the time I was woken by my alarm at 7 am, I was ready for an early start to try to make up some time. Although the rain had slowed a bit, I still felt the need to contort myself into my waterproofs before I left the bivvy bag (which was just about possible). I also made an optimistic attempt to reattach the rubber sole of my boot, which I found was flapping loose at the heel, with some duct tape.

I packed up my bivvy bag, noting that it was now quite a bit damper and heavier, and got on my way towards Inverarnan (which I’d hoped to reach the previous day). My camping spot was actually more or less the point that marked the end of the tough section of trail that I’d faced the day before and only about a kilometre from the bothy at Doune Byre.

By the time I’d reached the bothy, my handiwork with the duct tape was already coming unstuck and I decided I should use the shelter to see if I could make a better repair with the remainder of the tape.

I wasn’t sure if there would be anyone in the bothy (apparently it has room for around ten people), so I called out a cheery “Hello!” and opened the door. In the grey morning light, I could now see that there was a small tent pitched inside. I never saw the occupants, but I did hear what sounded like French voices and a lot of giggling. I was a bit concerned that the sound of my perfectly normal hiking activity of taping my boots back together might cause alarm, but also didn’t feel that whatever I might say would necessarily reassure. I made my repairs as quickly as I could and then was back on my way.

Shortly after leaving the bothy, the path drops back down towards the loch side and there I found my way blocked by a menacing horned creature with black fur.

The lyrics to Black Sabbath “What is this that stands before me? Figure in black which points at me…” sprang to mind – what the heck was this apparition seen through the morning rain? After convincing myself that it was some kind of sheep or goat, rather than actually Satan (I have since learnt how this area is actually known for having feral goats!!), I walked forwards.

The creature and the small herd I then saw behind it reluctantly ceded the path. As they moved away I also discovered what had certainly been responsible for the droppings I had seen the evening before.

I was soon at the Beinglas campsite, where I was able to pick up breakfast from the bar (a morning roll with bacon and potato scone) and resupply with water and flapjack.

In the camp shop, I bought more duct tape and some string to try to hold my boots together for a bit longer (the tape I’d applied in the bothy hadn’t stayed in place, but a spare shoelace I’d used to tie the sole up was at least seeming more promising). While sipping a lemonade and waiting for my phone to charge, I set about making a temporary repair as best I could before heading back to the trail.

The path follows the picturesque river Falloch for some way past various pools and rapids as well as the ‘Falls of Falloch’ (probably best viewed from the other side of the river).

Around this section there were also various footbridges over streams/gullies joining the river. For reasons that are still not clear to me, some of these bridges were preceded by large warning triangle signs marked ‘Caution!’. I feel they could have been more specific, but whatever the hazard, I made it past without incident.

After a few kilometres (and crossing the river by bridge at one point), the path turns towards the hills and passes under the railway line.

On the map, this underpass is labelled as a ‘sheep creep’ and it was indeed quite low for the two-legged traveller, particularly with a backpack. As I progressed through it towards the light at the far end, the ceiling got lower and lower. I just managed to squat my way through without having to put my hands and knees in the muddy puddles on the floor (or drag my rucksack through the muck).

Apart from this incident, and one or two short climbs, the path was fairly easy going, and I was making good progress through scenery that was now more hills and mountains and less rivers and woods.

I decided to skip the detour to Crianlarich and push on towards Tyndrum, where I knew there were restaurants and the Green Welly Stop (once described as somewhere you can buy anything you might have forgotten for a trip to Scotland, and ‘anything’ was looking like walking boots).

It might have been my legs as the day went on, but the stretch from Crianlarich to Tyndrum felt a lot longer than that from Inveranan to Crianlarich (despite actually being less distance). On the sections through the forest (just after the exit to Crianlarich), there were some steep climbs.

Because I was reapplying the string round my boots as it wore through and the sole recommenced flapping every few kilometres, I was also playing leapfrog with other walkers.

The last few miles to Tyndrum were flatter and generally easier underfoot, as you made your way through farmland and past the remains of St Fillan’s Priory.

Finally I saw the outskirts of Tyndrum coming into view and made my way towards the shop; realising I hadn’t had much to eat since breakfast and it was now early evening, I had pizza before heading over to see what could be done for my boots.

Well, of course, the answer was that not too much could be done for them and I needed a new pair.

Despite some angst about discarding the boots that had got me so far without blisters, I could also see that if the soles completely detached in the wilder section of the walk to come it would be extremely embarrassing to explain why I needed help.

Before I’d left home, at least one friend had suggested that I should have been buying new boots the weekend before I left. And people replying to my posts on the fediverse concurred!

After a lot of trying on and walking around in different sizes and styles of boots (and emptying the damp contents of my rucksack on the floor in order to find any remaining pair of clean socks), I settled on a pair, made the purchase and consigned the old pair to the bin.

As this process had resulted in a good long break, although it was now into evening, I was feeling rested, so I decided to carry on towards Bridge of Orchy (which is ~6.5 miles along the ‘old military road’ from Tyndrum). The trail was very quiet at this time of day, and I had some spectacular views to myself as well the sight of a pair of deer.

At one point, I saw the train heading towards Fort William, and as I reached Bridge of Orchy, I saw the sleeper train pulling away towards Glasgow.

However, I was heading to something less luxurious than a train. After crossing the titular bridge, a hiker pointed me to the suggested wild camping area.

There were already 10–12 tents in the small field nearest the hotel, but I found that there were some more nice spots to pitch ~100 m further along the river so set up there for the night.

With another day down, I set up for a quiet night’s sleep in the lee of the mountains, ready for the wildest sections of the walk that would await me the next day (and which await the next post).

Image gallery

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Extra shots

Some more personal blogs of people walking the WHW giving experiences/time-frames that differ to mine.

• A long-standing blog with a lot of Scottish walks
  https://airdrierambler.wordpress.com/?s=West+highland+way
• Another long-standing blog, with an account of a 2024 4-day trip along the WHW
  https://www.alananna.co.uk/blog/tag/west-highland-way/
• A LeJogger’s (someone doing the Land’s End to John o’Groats hike) posts on the 7-day section of the WHW (note the links take a while to load after clicking)
  https://www.uklongdistancefootpaths.com/west-highland-way
• Newsletter following the adventures of Eve and her father (who describe themselves as autistic) on their 14 days along the WHW
  https://www.ourspectrumadventures.com/tag/west-highland-way/

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Credits

The map is sourced from OpenStreetMaps, licensed under the Open Data Commons Open Database License (ODbL) by the OpenStreetMap Foundation (OSMF).

Map traces were plotted using GPX studio (MIT license).