Drymen - Rowardennan

Last night I did indeed end up staying at Kip in the Kirk B&B. It was probably one of my wiser decisions of 2016, as I not only had a great night’s sleep while the rain poured outside, but also because hostess Francis lent me her boots. Her boots are slightly bigger than mine and fit pretty well. I was completely overcome by her generosity, it’s not like I’m taking them for a backyard stroll… I will of course send them back to her at trail’s end, but this was the first of my many encounters with Scottish hospitality. Years later I remain of the opinion that it is unparalleled in Europe!

I set off early this morning, waving goodbye to Francis – who was by now my favourite person in the world – with high spirits and happier feet. Today’s main challenge was the summit of Conic Hill, a rather massive mound overlooking Loch Lomond. Soon out of Drymen it became clear that this was an intersection of the WHW and dayhiking territory. I kept up a brisk pace and passed over a dozen hikers on the wide gravel road leading up to the base of Conic Hill. Families with kids swarmed everywhere, and it was a battlefield to actually hike up the hill at a decent pace.

Once at the top though… You get why people hike. I munched my crackers-meets-jam lunch in the bullseye of a 360 degree view of Loch Lomond and its scattered islands. Rolling green hills in the distance, sheep grazing, the whole Picturesque Countryside Deluxe package. After strolling down to the lakeshore, I embarked on a path so enchantingly beautiful that Anne of Green Gables herself would struggle to describe it. Massive oak trees framed the trail, and every few minutes I would stumble upon a small secluded beach – each one so romantic that I had to stop for a snack and enjoy them all. My body felt like it was full of butterflies, every cell fluttering with joy because I was hiking and loving it.

But it never ended… As pretty as the trail was, it did not change the fact that my feet were still pissed off, that my backpack was too heavy and (at sight of prohibition sign) what the heck do you mean no camping until Rowardennan! I became increasingly desperate to give my squashed feet a rest.

After what felt like a hundered miles I entered Rowardennan even more smashed than yesterday. Although a burger helped, my Queen of the Way attitude melted away as I crept out of town to find a campsite. Dusk settled, no place to camp. I was exhausted, all other hikers were lodged in comfortably in Rowardennan. Consult the Oracle/map, apparently there was a lodge just up the road here. Please, please have beds!