Day 4) Inverarnan to Tyndrum, West Highland Way
Saturday 3rd September – Beinglas campsite (Inverarnan) past Crianlarich to Wild campsite (2 miles South of Tyndrum). (10.5 miles/17 kilometres)
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Looking back to the tree lined River Falloch as we make our way up the valley side. This part of the way is not very inspiring with it's barren hills and powerlines.
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The falls of Falloch have gouged out their own little gorge, but they're quite easy to miss, tucked off the path on the left.
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The deep churning waters can be heard but not seen directly from the Way.
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Fascinating cauldron-shaped formations have been worn from the rock.
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Sheep creep - difficult to get through with a full pack on as you have to bend extra low! The railway line we're passing under is in fact the one we will use to get back from Fort William (The Glasgow - Mallaig line)
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The path climbs up to the halfway point of the Way, above Crianlarich, a great place for a stop and some lunch.
It’s to be a shorter day today – we’re very glad – with the destination 2 miles short of Tyndrum, and beyond Crianlarich (the mid-point of the Way). We get out of camp at our best time yet – 10:30am – which will be quite shocking to most campers reading this! We were by no means last though, with only a couple of other camping groups getting out before that. Having underestimated the fuel consumption of our Trangia stove, we are forced to purchase more methylated spirits. Also, being poorly equipped photography wise with only a VGA quality camera phone and a single disposable camera (which actually takes excellent shots), we get a further disposable from the well-stocked camp shop. We will fix these problems next time! A chocolate bar is also purchased for the greedy Alan. The walk commences with a river valley flanked by bland, tree-less hump-like hills, criss-crossed by power lines. On the positive side, the oasis-like River Falloch, gives rise to a lush plume of trees up the valley centre, and the mountains appear progressively higher. Our spirits are a little low at first, and we both have mental fogs – we find it can be a balancing act to get our physiologies at an equilibrium, especially in the first days of a hike, with attention required to water intake, breakfast, and even the previous night’s meal. Early on, we stop by a beautiful deep bath-like gorge cut in to rocks. The water churning through it causes it to make deep machine-like noises, and we look on while chewing our cured meat sausages. Alan develops a sore ankle which Jo bandages to no avail. The inclusion of this bandage in the inventory had in fact been a bone of contention between us during the weight – conscious packing session! Luckily for Alan, the cure turned out to be to loosen the upper eyelets of his boots, which therefore did not vindicate Jo in having insisted on the inclusion of the bandage!
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Not a wise place to rest though as this is tick country! Indeed, we were asked for our tweezers here by a walker with one embedded in his belly button.
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The trail makes its way over to the next valley by a winding, undulating forest path, the only one of its kind on the way.
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Slightly dismayed by the rather grim official wild campsite outside Tyndrum, with its unsightly fences, stream trickling from a concrete viaduct and uninviting long grasses, we decided on this occasion to break the rules and camp half a mile downstream.
Lots more hikers than usual pass us on trail today – it is Saturday, and also this part of the hike is close to the path to Crianlarich at the mid-point of the Way, which makes it comparatively accessible. We again pass the group of three with the girl with the super-sore feet – they are still going. At the Way mid-point, we come to the foot of a glen with a very pleasant area of grass humps you can sprawl out on. We stop for lunch and to perform further pre-emptive blister treatment on Jo. We also lend our tweezers to a pair of foreigners to help them remove a tick from one of their belly buttons. We had not seen one of these before and had not taken the threat of being bitten seriously. Twenty minutes of repeated plucking by the victim’s companion failed to remove the tick, and it took a purpose-made pair of tick tweezers from another party to remove the beasty. Just as this operation is finally proving successful, we take leave onto a steep path winding up into pine-covered hills, along which we would walk for next 90 minutes. This proves to be an archetypal trail track, the kind you would naturally envisage prior to a walk such as the Way, winding up and down through an elevated forest.
This lovely spot was perched above the River Fillian.
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Looking downstream.
Looking upstream.
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The standard thorough search in the morning to check that no litter has been left behind!
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In fact, the only giveaway that we camped here last night is that two ticks are missing from the immediate area; These are now silently burrowing into Alan's stomach and Jo's arm...
The path eventually descends and we pop out onto a main road, the other side of which is the official wild campsite for the night. It appears however, that any sign which might have designated it as such has been ripped down. With plenty of daylight left, we survey the large wooded site and find damp lumpy ground with long, thick, yellow-green grass, filled with lichen-covered trees. A fence separates the area from the River Fillian and a rather unwholesome looking stream on the opposite side issues from a concrete tunnel. Alan does not deem the site to have sufficient style, and we drop our packs to scout the other side of the main river but find nowhere suitable. Leaving the tired Jo with her sore feet, Alan explores further down the river bank beyond the fence and the designated camp area, where a beautiful site is later found. The route through the woods is a big hassle with our stuff so we go back to the road, walk downstream and rejoin the river by pushing through thick stands of prickly pine trees. It’s a lovely site, lush and green, and overhanging the river, though the ground is still lumpy, and there is a risk of acquiring ticks from the thick grass. We foolishly maximise this risk by indulging in some naked rambling until we are overwhelmed by the midges. Dinner (By Jo tonight) is Smash Original (instant mashed potato) with dried onion, last of the cheese, croutons, vegetable soup and chicken soup. We now don’t recommend Smash by the way – it’s too bland and not filling enough. Alan is nervous about axe murderers in the woods for half the night (the big wuss)! We’re too tired to notice the bumpy ground, and overall, get a great night’s sleep. Spirits are high – on we go.
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