Day 5 Thursday Rowchoish Bothy to Beinglas Farm (9 miles)

                Woke up to rain (rain in Scotland?) so we went back to sleep until 9.  Getting Pam to snooze is always the easiest thing for me to get her to do.  While we were taking down camp, a couple of young Belgiums, guys this time, walked by and asked if we thought it was safe to drink water directly from the stream as they were out.  I told them I’d filter it before drinking except they didn’t have filters.  I took them back to the stream and filtered them a few quarts.  You’ve got to give Belgiums credit for getting out there.  They seem very adventuresome and willing to learn what they need to along the way.

A pack explosion in our tent

                When I got back, Pam showed me a picture on her camera which grossed me out.  I thought she had taken a picture of her anus—turns out it was just a blown up picture of the blister on her heel.  This was a huge relief on so many levels. 1) Bad blister easier to deal with than inflamed anus.  2) My girlfriend is not taking disgusting photos of body parts I don’t want to see. 3) What kind of person takes pictures of their own buts?  Am I with a serial killer?

Try zooming into just the blister

                We finished packing up and walked the few miles into Inversnaid Hotel to have some lunch.  This is a really nice hotel, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and only accessible by ferry.  There is a separate hikers’ entrance which you might be inclined to think would lead to a dingy area.  In reality it leads to a private library with plush carpeting, high back chairs, oak paneling, and a baby grand piano.  I was afraid to go in because we had 4 days of grime on us and I know we were developing a nice hiker odor.  They assured us we were more than welcome, but we opted to order food and sit outside on the patio overlooking the loch.  We had steak pies, peas, and chips (fries to Americans).

A little too classy for us

                Next up was an incredibly rough section of trail on the way to Rob Roy’s Cave.  Pam and decided we needed hiking poles for this trip.  Up until now, we had been using them but that was only because I didn’t want the extra weight on my back.  This is the section of trail that changed my mind about hiking poles forever.  We eventually made the mile to the cave where legend says Rob Roy hid from the English and enjoyed our connection to history.

                As we got going after the cave we noticed a strong, pungent odor not unlike that of a teenager’s room (Pam’s kids can be less than caring about their surroundings or sleeping environments—my dogs won’t even go in their rooms and they eat their own poop; figure out on your own if I’m talking about my dogs or her kids).  The further we went, the stronger it got.  It wasn’t skunk but it was very strong and pungent.  We came around a bend and the smell almost knocked us over as well as the goat standing in the trail with a broken horn and creepy beady eyes.  Apparently, the English released goats when they were fighting/invading Scotland, in essence “seeding” the countryside with meat for future skirmishes.  Here we were, face to face with Rob Roy’s invaders great17-goat-grandson and he had inherited every generation’s smell along the way.

We could smell them before we could see them
Creepy eyes!

                After negotiating with the goat to get off the path, we had a very pleasant walk for a few miles all the way to Doune Bothy.  This bothy is the cover photo for the guidebook we had for the trail and is an idyllic setting for a home on the shore of the loch.  While there, we met a 70 year old guy from Connecticut who was solo hiking the WHW.  He told us that his secretary had taken care of all arrangements for him.  I was both envious and sorry for him to be working at 70 but also to have to go solo hiking in Scotland at his age.  I hope to still be out there and I hope Pam is still mobile at that age (the morning whines are reducing in duration, so there’s hope).

The cover photo of our guidebook

                After leaving the shores of Loch Lomond, the trail is funneled into a narrow valley.  We turned back to take one last look at the loch just as a couple of RAF F-15’s strafed us—they couldn’t have been 30 feet over our heads!  Amazing skills and scary as hell as the sound didn’t catch up to us until the jets were out of sight.  We made it into Beinglas Farm and set up camp with plenty of time to shower and start laundry before making the short trek down the road to Drover’s Inn.  When we walked in we saw a sign “serving travelers for over 300 years”.   This was a lovely stone Inn with low ceilings and tons of character.  It’s hard to imagine having inns older than our country in continuous operation through the centuries.  We had a very nice dinner and conversation with a nice English couple that was hiking the WHW for their 40th anniversary.  We’ve also been running into a group from the Sierra Club that seem to be hiking the same pace we are even though they are staying in Bed and Breakfasts and have a luggage service to transport everything ahead for them. 

300 years and still serving travelers

                Pam thinks she will actually be able to finish the trail now since this was supposed to be the roughest section of trail according to the guide book.  This is the first I’d heard her say she had any doubts about finishing.  We’re over 50 miles in so it’s the same amount forward or backward.

Dinner in Drover’s Inn