Day 3: Rowchoish to Crianlarich (distance: 28.3km, elevation gain: 855m)
The next morning, out of our optimistic trio I was the first to wake up after sunrise to witness the carnage. Stepping down from our elevated sleeping platform I got the feeling that something was slightly awry at ground level. A haphazard line of coloured jelly beans had been strewn across the floor, trailing out from a small hole in Usman’s backpack — evidently something had gnawed away at the sturdy pack material in the middle of the night, shredded the plastic bag containing all his carefully crafted home-made trail mix, and eaten all his snacks!
Who the culprit was, pine marten or mouse, we still to this day do not know. Later we found out that Usman was not the sole victim of this ruthless robbery — George’s cheese crackers which he had also left in his backpack overnight had also been munched on, much to his dismay.
With the loss of one sickly-sweet bag of snacks and the gain of one heavily duct taped backpack later, Usman and I said goodbye to our new friend George, and after writing an explicit warning letter in the bothy guestbook detailing the nocturnal activities of a small resident thieving mammal for naive future travellers, we left to continue onwards towards Crianlarich (“kree-uhn-la-ruhk”).
We had originally planned to have a light breakfast at Inversnaid Hotel (5km from Rowchoish) but the hotel staff regretfully informed us that they were not serving hot food until later on in the day. Instead of hanging around to wait we decided to plow on, chomping furiously down on the cereal bars we had brought with us from London.
The next part of the trail took us through forest paths, laced with uneven rocks and thick tree roots which became ever more challenging as the day went on. We passed another bothy — Doune bothy, but could only peer inside through the dust-laden windows to have a snoop at the uninhabited shelter due to the door being sadly bolted tightly shut.
Continuing further north, we soon said farewell to our beloved Loch Lomond. After roughly 15km (our halfway point for the day) we stopped again, this time at Beinglas Farm Campsite to eat our first proper meal of the day. After endless hours of walking, never did a simple jacket potato with salad leaves taste so good.
Never forsaking the opportunity to tread through a cold freshwater stream, we stopped a few times along the route to tend to our beaten soles, taking full advantage of the healing properties of Highland waters. This was subsequently followed by the determined sticking of strategically applied blister plasters.
By the evening we were exhausted but the day had not yet ended. We still needed to find our wild camping spot for the night. Heading for the forest to find some wind cover we finally came across what first appeared to be an idyllic setting for pitching the tent, located in an open forest clearing. Relief at the prospect of finally being able to rest our heads against our makeshift microfleece pillows, we soon however came to the heavy realisation that not everything that appears idyllic at first glance is idyllic. If there is one thing in Scotland that makes grown men and women cry, it is this: midges. What’s worse than a big swarm of midges? A giant swarm of midges. Our jungle formula bug spray did absolutely diddly-squat to deter the colossal swarm, and they descended on us indiscriminately, feasting on any piece of flesh left bare to the elements as we tried desperately to pitch our tent and heat up some water to rehydrate our pre-made camp meal. In the end poor Usman braved most of the swarm’s wrath whilst I cowered in the tent, defeated not by my aching anatomy but ultimately by those blood-sucking monstrosities.
To be continued…
West Highland Way: Day 4 can be found here
