Inverarnan - Tyndrum

My room at Drover’s Inn looked like hell. Last night I’d spread out all my wet gear to dry it, and there was hardly a square inch not covered in me/my stuff/my dirt. A glance out the window confirmed that today was textbook Scotland: wet and misty. Oh well. I’d planned to only hike to Crianlarich today, a flimsy 11 km. One of the days on the trail would be short anyway, so might as well save this dismal weather for Jude the Obscure.

This particular section was the least charming so far. I trudged along the gravel roads in a less than energetic mood (aaaangel of music, guide and guardian). Would the weather ever improve? I find that almost regardless of the scenery, hiking is fun when the sun is out. The moment it rains however, fun is replaced by drudgery. A heavy mist enveloped everything, but somehow it was still warm and damp. It didn’t take long before I was thoroughly steamed like a vegetable in my rain gear.

Picking my way down a narrow walkway, I came across a young couple I vaguely remembered having passed coming down from Conic Hill. For us uptight Norwegians it is quite unthinkable to talk to strangers, but at this point I was desperate for anything that would prevent me from taking the train from Crianlarich straight back to Edinburgh.

-          Hey guys! Where are you from?

Thus I became acquainted with the lovely Tom and Jo from Tasmania. Give me anything from that part of the world, and I will be a happy woman! Like most Aussies they were super friendly and easy going, and we discussed everything from Australian politics to their upcoming wedding. Before I knew it we were in Crianlarich, the miles really do fly by when you have good company! Suddenly the road to Tyndrum did not seem long at all, especially since I was busy getting all the good stories from Tom’s work as a medical orderly in a hospital in Hobart. We munched our lunch in the waiting room at the Crianlarich train station – no more wishes to escape.

On and on and on through the pine forest. To ensure survival I peeled off all my outer layers, no point in overdressing when everything would get completely drenched anyway (thus my minimalist raingear philosophy was born. Less to wear, less to dry. Nothing is waterproof if it rains long enough…). Jo however, sporting a screaming contrast between her bright ginger hair and dark pink raincoat, remarking drily:

-          Watermelon’s my colour.

How lost I would have been without Tom and Jo, affectionally christened The Tassies. Sure enough, the weather was dismal, my feet were competing for Most Bothersome Body Part 2016, but at least we were moving forward.

That evening, a drowned rat dragged itself into the bunk room at a Tyndrum hostel. Dripping wet gear stowed away in the drying room, I was in flip flops and long johns when Molly Alice walked in and brightened by evening with her cheery smile. We had dinner together with future Appalachian Trail hiker James and plundered the local store for goodies. My hiker hunger finally kicked in today: when the waitress came with the bill she asked “Would there be anything more here?”, and I almost asked for another serving of everything… Back in our room was the lovely Magnolia, who treated us to wine and jumped straight into hilarious stories of dancing on pool tables and highland adventures. After so many days of complete solitude, I seemed to be wallowing in social blessings today. All three of us were in hysterics on the floor before long, and I really begun to understand that it is the people who make the trail. Where would I have been today without these amazing companions?

Our girl party lasted until 02 when we finally slumped into bed, wallowing in happiness.