Ireland/UK Day 13

July 3, 2023

14 miles hiked

Breakfast is yogurt and porridge in the restaurant. I stay there writing for a while (just like the PCT, it’s really hard to stay on top of this… but worth it) and finally go back to the room, pack up, and help Mom work out her transportation plan for the day. It should be simpler in theory; she just has to get one boat followed by one bus that runs regularly. I’m really impressed both at how well she’s doing with getting around and how connected this area is despite being super remote. It’s pretty cool.

Once we’ve got that sorted, the two of us walk down the hill in the pouring rain. Mom comments that it looks like an all-day rain. I have to agree. There are thick clouds, no trace of blue sky in sight, and it seems like the kind of rain that settles in.

Ten minutes later it’s sunny.

Mom takes the now-routine photo of me before I start for the day, and then we part ways. The first part of the day follows the shore of the lake again, and it is fun at first, then AT nostalgic, and then extremely annoying. There are short, sharp ups and downs, tons of slippy rocks, and mud in between the rocks. Very Maine today. It’s a workout. On the bright side, I’m using all the muscles in my legs, so the pain will be a little more spread out today.

All whining aside, it is really beautiful. I pass by a part of the loch with a little island, and when the next round of rain clears and the sun moves in once again, the green on the mountains on the other side of Loch Lomond are glowing emerald.

I keep thinking I’m going to catch up to Mash and Will since they didn’t make it much farther than Inversnaid last night, but my pace is really slow due to the rocks. So I settle into the fuzzy stream of consciousness that characterizes my brain when hiking solo. I come to the Doune Bothy, another of those Scottish backcountry shelters, and sign the logbook before continuing on.

I’m very aware of my mental state this morning. I know from experience that if I don’t stay on top of my hydration and nutrition while managing terrain like this, I get sloppy and I slip, endangering my ankles and achilles, which are a struggle fest on the best of days. So I drink way more water in this first part of the day than I did the whole day yesterday, and it helps. I eat a couple of snacks.

The trail finally leaves the shores of the lake. Bye, Loch Lomond! It goes up a hill, up up, steeper, over some dumb slippy cobblestones, but the view is incredible once I get farther up. I need to eat lunch, but there are no good spots, and it’s starting to rain again. Curse this Scottish rain! How does anyone live here? The minute I get my rain coat on, it gets bright; the second I start to worry about sunburn, it starts chucking it down. Over and over. It’s driving me nuts. I’m cranky. Then Machine texts me and says he’s changed his hiking plans again this summer and might not be home when I get back. I’m in a sour mood for a minute after that. I miss him. I check FarOut (so fun to say that again!) and it says I’m less than a mile from Beinglas Farm. I wasn’t really planning on stopping, but by the time I get close, it’s absolutely pouring again and I’m so put out that I just have to get inside.

The shop is closed, which is a bummer, so I go into the Stagger Inn with the intention of just getting a coffee and a small plate of food. But the “West Highland Fries” (Not chips! They’re listed on the menu as fries!) turn out to be a massive plate of french fries covered in haggis (I actually quite like haggis) and a chutney. They’re delicious, but I simply cannot finish the dish. I do my best, and then sit for a minute writing.

Eventually, I tear myself away and get ready to go back out, but I check again at the store, which is literally called “Oor Wee Shop.” Bless this country. And the wee shop is open! I go in and get a sticker and a stamp in my passport. The guy working there is young, English, and very friendly, and he also has a serious case of the hiccups. “I was just HIC! trying to explain to someone HIC! how to connect to the HIC! wifi! And I sounded so ridiculous because of HIC! my hiccups!” He laughs. I’m cracking up as I leave “Oor Wee Shop.”

I feel pretty great after that. I’m loaded down with calories and the rain has abated. The trail follows an old road for a while, and I have some music in my ears. It’s my PCT playlist. Hiking with Mash yesterday made me want to explore that era again, and it’s a blast. I land on some Trevor Hall, “Moon/Sun.” That song is Oregon to me, but also vitality, the sense of being so overflowingly alive. The music changes but every song is so good and the memories with the melodies are so clear. I dance and sing as I walk because there’s no one around me.

I go up, up, passing some waterfalls, entering what feels like the proper highlands. It’s really muddy, and I don’t love that, but the creeks and rivers and falls are gorgeous. There’s a walk along a high, flat-ish, exposed area with views all around at the end of the day, and although I’m tired and it gets cold and starts raining again, I breathe deeply and take in the highlands. There are sheep with their little lambs grazing all around me, and I can see clouds rolling in the distance. I can’t say that I love this landscape more than others I’ve seen, but it has its own beauty. It’s stark and bleak and strong, like Scotland itself. I feel a respect for these mountains, even if I don’t feel at home. I can be a visitor. That’s a good way to be sometimes, too: a good traveler, a gracious guest.

I take the side trail down to Crianlarich when I reach it. That’s not going to be fun to come up tomorrow morning, but that’s a tomorrow problem. I call Mom when I get to town; she’s just arrived at the Inverardran Bed and Breakfast, so I walk there to meet her. It’s a really cute little place, and they have breakfast in the morning with is very yay. Also, it’s the best shower I’ve had maybe on this whole trip. We walk to the pub and get a small dinner even though neither of us is really hungry. The pint tastes great. I’m warm. All is well.