Captain's Log

Drymen

Hans was mooching about in the kitchen area of the barn at Drymen campsite.
‘It must have been cold last night. My phone’s power has all gone’ he told me. He was charging it up at the kitchen's electric socket.
‘Keep it in your rucksack, or better still, in your sleeping bag at night’ I suggested.
I hadn’t actually found it that cold. My sleep had been disturbed more by a neighbouring snorer. The ground had shook throughout the night. I doubled up on the earplugs but it still hadn’t been enough. I wondered if Hans had been the culprit. 

The second day of the West Highland Way was going to be definitely more challenging than the first. It would be longer and a lot more hilly. Drymen was a sensible destination for walkers on the first day, but there would be a variety of possibilities for destinations on the second. My vague objective was to wildcamp somewhere near to the summit of Ben Lomond. Conic hill had to be tackled first and the southern half of  Loch Lomond, so it was perhaps too early to make a firm decision. The good thing about wildcamping is that it does give you a degree of flexibility in your itinerary. I would be entering a Restricted Wildcamping Zone today, which was an added factor to be taken into consideration. 

I set off on the trail with Hans. He had a reasonably large rucksack, but also an immense number of items strapped to the outside. He even had a harness around his chest with a GoPro attached. It all looked rather heavy. I shouldn’t be one to criticise though. My rucksack is an immense 75-100 litre container. I have never filled it to capacity, but I prefer to have stuff in my rucksack rather than strapped to the outside. I also like the option of stocking up on food, if I need to. Hans turned out to be a jovial character. He looked quite stocky and he told me that he’d lost 40kg in weight over the last couple of years. Health warnings from his doctor had persuaded him to go on a strict diet and fitness drive. I presumed walking the West Highland Way was part of the scheme.
‘I used to work in a pastry factory, adding a variety of fillings. A lot of the food ended up in me rather than the pastry’ he confessed.
I pointed out Conic Hill and Ben Lomond in the far distance. Ben Lomond looked very far away. It was going to be a tough day in the office. I parted company with Hans at a road junction. He wanted to head into Drymen village to see if he could procure a breakfast (obviously his diet wasn’t that strict), whilst I continued along the trail and bypassed the village. I needed to get some miles under my belt.  

Conic Hill

The Labrador was dragging a heavy stick in his jaws almost as long as himself. 
‘I hope he knows what he’s going to do with that,’ I said to the owner.
‘I’ll end up throwing it on the pile with all  the other one’s he’s brought back’ came the reply. 
The man was a local and I told him that I was doing the trail again after 38 years. He told me that back in the ‘70s his father got him a temporary job with the Forestry Commission as a ‘tree watcher.’ He would spend days on end near the Bridge Of Orchy  looking out on the plantations for wildfires.
‘Occasionally, I’d see walkers making their way along what is now the West Highland Way.’
I told him that the trail was created in the 1980s and so they must have been the pioneers that formed the idea of the trail. The Labrador had got bored with the conversation and started dragging his log along the track, back towards home. 

In Garadhban Forest I caught up with Raphael from Paris. He was a nice chap and we had a long conversation about the walking routes around Chamonix.
‘I don’t know why you would want to come here when France has excellent walking trails’ I said as a bit of a joke. He got quite philosophical about it.
'It is more than the landscape. It is about meeting the people and experiencing the culture'  he told  me.
‘It ‘s more about the journey than the destination’ I said, repeating the well known aphorism.
‘Exactly. Absolutely!’ he responded as though I’d come up with something profound. 

 At last I came to Conic Hill, the first real climb of the West Highland Way. The ascent path was reasonably gradual and the wind was behind me and so it didn’t seem such a chore to reach the summit. The views were stunning from the top. The many islands on the south end of Loch Lomond were clearly visible and the blue water disappeared off into the horizon and distant hills. Ben Lomond still looked miles away, as indeed it was. Raphael was sat on a rock, deep in thought, looking like Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’.
‘Yeah, I can see now why you might want to come here’ I said to him.

Conic Hill is on the boundary of the  Highland Boundary Fault that stretches from Arran in the west,  to Stonehaven in the east.  In cultural terms, it separates the Highlands and the Lowlands. The Highland Boundary Fault runs more or less parallel to the Great Glen Fault which we will encounter on the Great Glen Way Venture later on. The Highland Boundary Fault marks the line between the Highlands and Lowlands and was caused when two small continents, currently the eastern seaboard of North America and Scandinavia, slammed into each other. All this happened 430 million years ago and during the uplifting phase some of the peaks may have reached 30,000 feet. I’d guess that the Munros were much harder to complete in those days. Conic Hill probably does not get its name from the shape, although it does appear a bit conic from Balmaha, but from the Gaelic A'coinneach meaning moss or bog. 

The descent from Conic Hill was made easier by a stone staircase. There were plenty of day trippers making their way up from Balmaha. The large crowds came as a bit of a shock as I dropped down to the little village. As I drank coffee at a cafe, Mickey, Karen and Molly turned up. They’d had to do the low level alternative between Drymen and Balmaha since dogs aren’t allowed on Conic Hill. This was a bit of a disappointment, not only due to missing out on the stunning views from the top of Conic Hill, but having to walk alongside a busy road as an alternative. They all looked happy enough though. 

Bonnie, Bonnie Banks Of Loch Lomond

Now I was out of the wind, the day had really heated up. I couldn’t believe that I’d been lucky enough to have two consecutive sunny days in Scotland. As I walked out of Balmaha I came across a statue to commemorate the life of Tom Weir, the Scottish climber, author and broadcaster. Somebody had put a customary woollen bobble hat on the statue's head.  

It was quite a meandering and undulating walk along the banks of Loch Lomond. Most of it was through trees. This was good in that it provided shade from the sun, but it did also restrict the views across the loch. I was in the Restricted Camping Zone now. I did come across the official sites where you can pitch if you have bought a permit. These sites looked very good and something that I’d definitely consider for the future. The only issue I could foresee is that walkers will probably want to walk further on the second day and that would take them beyond these sites and out of the Restricted Camping Zone anyway. 

I caught up with Dave, a walker who was carrying quite a few pounds in his rucksack, as well as around his belly. He’d wildcamped in Garadhban Forest last night. He’d also heard Hans’ 40kg weight loss story too. I was walking faster than him and so I marched on. I got a glimpse of the summit of Ben Lomond and nearby Ptarmigan through the trees. It looked very high. It was already past 2pm, and I began to doubt whether I’d bitten off more than I could chew by thinking of a wildcamp up there. 

I came across a sign warning about the wild Haggis in the area. I’ve only ever seen them a couple of times. One of those times was when I did this walk 38 years ago, although it was further up the loch on that occasion. I doubted whether I’d see one mid-afternoon, but there might be a chance later on this evening. I read somewhere that the Loch Lomond Haggis are descended from some farmed Haggis that escaped and went feral. Even so, I still think it is wise to keep your distance and follow the good advice on the sign. 

I reached Rowardennan and the end of the road head. At Ben Lomond Cottage I queued up behind an Australian couple who were raiding the Honesty Box. They had actually bought a permit to camp in the Restricted Camping Zone, but had decided  to push on further up the loch. I sat on a bench to drink the two cans of lemonade and eat the cheese and onion flan I’d procured from the honesty box. A nearby sign had said that the Restricted Camping Zone ended another 1.5 miles further along the loch. Raphael passed me and said he was going further up the loch to get a pitch. The sensible approach would have been to follow him and the rest of the walkers. I did want to go higher though and get more high level views of Loch Lomond. There was a small tarn shown on the OS map, just below the summit of Ptarmigan. I decided that I’d wildcamp up there and decide whether to continue along the ridge and do Ben Lomond tomorrow. 

Ben Lomond

I’d done the Ben Lomond and Ptarmigan Hill circular walk a couple of times before, but that had been decades ago and my memory was vague. The path up Ptarmigan was a lot steeper than I remembered in those vague memories. It was tough with a heavy rucksack on my back.  I thought I’d come across water sources on my way up, but I couldn’t find anything suitable to filter. After about half an hour of walking, I wondered whether I’d made a big mistake and should have gone along the loch instead.  It was too late to retreat now though and so I pressed on. At least the views were spectacular down to Loch Lomond. The higher I got, the stronger the wind blew. Not only was there no water, but I’d not seen any suitable pitches that would be sheltered from the wind. At last I found a water source from the stream that sourced Eas Snegan and I filled up my water bottles.  The wind was strong now and I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to wildcamp near the tarn beyond Ptarmigan. I started wandering eastwards off the path to see if I could find shelter in the coire between Ben Lomond and Ptarmigan. After a descent into the coire I found a suitable pitch near to a derelict sheep fold. The crags of Ben Lomond loomed above me and I could see the south end of Loch Lomond in the far distance. Admittedly,  It wasn’t the eyrie pitch over Loch Lomond that I’d envisaged, but given the blustery conditions it was a workable second option.

It had turned out to be a stunning second day on the West Highland Way. After yesterday’s rural landscape introduction to the walk, I now felt that I was really heading into the Highlands. The views over Loch Lomond had been amazing. Given the location of my pitch, I was almost guaranteed that my sleep wouldn’t be disturbed by last night’s snorer at Drymen campsite.