the west highland way – 29 sep, 2018
Day 50 Land’s End to John O’Groats – Glasgow to Drymen
Distance: 25km
Cumulative distance: 1272km
Chances are you’ve probably heard of the West Highland Way at some point, even if you have never traveled to the UK. It’s Britain’s most famous long-distance footpath, and an absolute magnet for hikers the world over who are drawn to it’s stunning loch-side scenery, the vastness of Rannoch Moor and the challenge of the Devil’s Staircase. Glasgow man Tom Hunter came up with the idea of a long-distance path which connected Scotland’s largest city to Fort William at the foot of Ben Nevis, and in 1980, six years after being approved for development, it was opened. The path runs from Milngavie (pronounced Mull-guy) on the northern edge of Glasgow’s outskirts, and terminates 154 winding kilometres later at the far end of Fort William’s main street. An estimated 120,000 walk the path every year with almost a third of those completing the entire trail. My mate Lemon indicated several months ago that he’d be keen to join me for a few days on my walk, and it just so happened our schedules married up at the start of the West Highland Way.
I woke up a fraction dusty in the Alba hostel in Glasgow after back-to-back 3am finishes having discovered Oran Mor on Friday night – an old church which had been converted into a magnificent drinking establishment. The last 36 hours had also included waking up to the glorious news that Collingwood had lost to West Coast in the AFL grand final, watching Celtic beat Aberdeen 1-0 with almost 60,000 other fans and dining at a marvelous Indian restaurant where the owner insisted that he chose our food for us. We’d also had a splendid early lunch in Glasgow on Saturday with our mate Steve who we met in Iceland, which Al had organised. The night before he’d been banging on about how we had to get to this place by 10am for brunch but I clearly didn’t put two and two together. When I walked in and saw Steve I still didn’t tweak that Al had organised this…I just figured we’d bumped into him even though he doesn’t live in Glasgow. I was absolutely stoked, and Steve and I made plans to meet up again while I was still in Scotland.
Let me just take a moment to tell you about Al, one of the funniest, most creative lads you could ever wish to meet. He’s a Yorkshire lad straight outta Guiseley who I met in the Reykjavik bus station en route to Thorsmork in Iceland where Chloe and I did a six-week volunteer program back in 2015, helping to improve and maintain hiking trails. Within minutes of meeting each other we’d bonded over our mutual love for Leeds United. And over the next six weeks we spent countless hours hiking our way through the twists and turns of Thorsmork, forever encouraging each other to attempt things we probably shouldn’t have. One day a group of us decided to hike up a nearby mountain (I’m not going to attempt to spell it, but it begins with an O). It’s an absolute beast of a thing at roughly 800m but we made it all the way to the top from where the views were unforgettable. Once we all decided it was time to head back the rest of our group turned around and went back the way they came but Al and I had other ideas. We’d been staring at the other side of this mountain all week while walking to our work site each morning, and were determined to explore it. There is no trail, so we had to improvise. Our first path led to a dead end in the form of a waterfall dropping a good 50m. By that stage we were already precariously placed on a downhill stretch of mountain without much wiggle room either side, so we turned around and crawled our way back up to another ridge. This ridge we discovered was barely a metre wide with some pretty serious drops on either side, so we took care in traversing it before finally finding some wider and sturdier ground at the top of a bank of steep dirt. We realised if we wanted to go down this mountain, we’d need to somehow navigate these banks of dirt. Cut into the steep walls were little erosion gullies. At intermittent points down these erosion gullies, large boulders had wedged themselves into the steep slope which provided us with potential resting points. Way down below us (a good 200m) we saw a mountain stream and we figured if we could get to that, it would take us all the way to the valley floor.
Al and I each chose an erosion gully and said we’d meet down at the stream. So deep and steep were these gullies, we couldn’t even hear each other. I sat down at the top of mine and tried to ease myself down on my butt but within about a millisecond I was sliding down the dirt bank at the mercy of gravity. Ten metres down and bang, my feet hit the first boulder and I was granted a temporary reprieve. I looked around but couldn’t see Al. This continued a few more times until the steepness finally relented a fraction and I could descend in a slightly more controlled fashion. When I reached the stream I found Al and we looked over our shoulders to the towering black wall of dirt we’d just descended. Good God, what were we thinking?! Anyway we were alive, and working our way down the stream to the valley floor was a piece of cake.
But we weren’t done. We’d spied a curious rock formation in the side of this mountain on our morning walks which looked like some kind of mini church. After walking along the stream in the valley floor for a while, we looked up and there it was! About 100m above us almost taunting Al and I to try and reach it. That meant climbing up a steep grass bank with our arms and legs, taking care not to dislodge any loose ground. Somehow we both made it all the way up to the ‘elf church’, before again looking down and wondering what we were doing. There was no way in hell we could go back the way we came without ending up in a splattered heap on the valley floor. We took a few photos, and then went off in search of another way down. Eventually we came to a dry mountain stream bed which looked like our best option. Although we had a little problem…there was a dry waterfall with about a four metre drop standing in our way. We put our heads together and came up with a new move – the waterfall wall run. The plan was to try and use its side walls Matrix style as stepping stones, rather than jumping down in one hit and risk breaking our legs. Al went first and managed to make it work with ridiculous ease. I psyched myself up and had a crack myself, almost sticking the landing but more importantly getting down in one piece. It was pretty hairy stuff but we’d knocked over the toughest obstacle. There were a few more on the way down, but nothing as difficult as that. By the time we walked back into camp late that afternoon, the rest of us took one look at us and concluded we’d been mauled by a bear or something. We were both pretty shaken up with scratches everywhere, but we’d conquered the other side of the mountain. Al and I have been thick as thieves ever since.
Anyway, back to Glasgow. Lemon and I said goodbye to Al and Steve, and then we were off trying to cover the 6-7km between Anniesland and the start of the West Highland Way at Milngavie. This particular stretch was pretty uninspiring stuff along major roads, but it gave us a chance to warm up and proved a gentle enough introduction to what was ahead for Lemon who hadn’t had a chance to do much training. We stopped in Milngavie for an early lunch and then poked our head into the charity shop next door so I could find my next book. I got chatting to Rob and Janice who were fascinated by the fact we were from Australia. Rob was full of stories and every time Janice tried dragging him away, he’d launch into another yarn. He was great to listen to and shook my hand a thousand times, ready to leave on each occasion only to fire up another intriguing tale. It was a good start to the day, and soon after saying our final goodbyes to Rob and Janice we arrived at an archway signalling the start of the West Highland Way.
This was incredibly exciting. I had initially planned to do the West Highland Way on its own, and then fly over to Spain and walk the Camino de Santiago. Months ago I changed my mind and decided to forego the Camino for another year, and walk it with Dad in 2019. That led me to expanding my plans for walking in the UK and before I knew it I’d committed to walking from Land’s End to John O’Groats, making sure I included the West Highland Way. We strode through the archway and went on our way, with 12 miles separating us from that night’s lodgings in Drymen. Almost immediately we were surrounded by a picturesque autumn wood, with a stream running beside us occasionally. We emerged into some more open land, and walked past a house which could have been supplanted straight from a children’s book. On we pushed past a series of shapely hills, one of which was apparently an old volcano. Further along still we came to a cafe with plenty of sculptures and information on the West Highland Way, and a few Shetland ponies over the fence.
It was all very easy walking, surprisingly so in fact given the stories I’d heard about how challenging a hike this was. I knew that would change in the next few days, and given the slight hangover being nursed I certainly wasn’t complaining. There were a few road miles to finish off the day, and just before reaching Drymen there came an unexpected surprise. We struck up a conversation with a grizzled hiker who had walked the West Highland Way several times in the past. But today wasn’t the first of his journey – he told us he’d started walking from Land’s End. Finally! I’d met some cyclists making the trek but no one else who was trying to walk it. He’d come the long way too, all the way in to London, then north from there to the Pennine Way, up into Edinburgh and then across to Glasgow. After Fort William he was planning to head further north before cutting across to John O’Groats. We pushed on and walked into town to find our quaint little BnB. Before the night was out I warned Lemon to expect a bit more vigour tomorrow – we had the 361m high Conic Hill waiting for us.
