Scotland

This visit to the area a couple hours north and west of Glosgow turned into a wonderful surprise of beautiful lochs and mountains.

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Read Iceland if you're curious why I'm here north of Glasgow a little over an hours drive in the Trossachs National Forest camping. It's a beautiful quiet forested area of lochs and large hills. The rain falls intermittently but mostly not. The tent site sits 50 meters from the edge of a loch on a site reinforced with a rubber mat. The peacefulness of the place contrasts with the tourist mecca of Reykjavik. A man brought a couple of ten'ish aged boys to camp out and they went for swim in the cold loch water. It didn't take long for the rain to start falling on them, but they took no mind. I went for a walk turning around at a farm offering to sell ice cream made from goat milk; it had closed for the evening, but I may venture back to sample some.

Driving on the left hand side posed only one problem as I first entered the car. I sat down on the left side finding the steering wheel in front of the set on the right. Whoops! Then my old trick of visualizing which side of the road to turn onto leaving the rental car park worked like a charm. You wouldn't know over twenty years has lapsed since I lived here.

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Breakfast and now off to explore the area. The first stop of course involved looking for coffee. The car found itself at Trossachs Pier the home of an old steamer converted to petrol and a tourist ride. A stone cafe overlooks the pier with typical english coffee (I suppose I should switch to tea joining the British or rather Scottish.).

An eight mile roundtrip hike up Ben Venue to 2400 feet looked like a nice way to spend the day. The hike wasn't that hard, but the trail was wet and muddy in a number of places. The heather grows thick at about one foot tall. It continued to bloom purple. The raspberries were past their prime. However, what I would call huckleberries tasted sweet and ripe. The deer moss was deep and spongy. I met a couple from Belgium and an older couple from Lincolnshire east of London. Having rained the last couple of days, the weather cleared out for a partially cloudy day perfect for hiking. The smallish black flys on top of Ben Venue were aggressive when it came to my food. The views from the top were excellent! Many of the surrounding lochs and mountains were very visible from the high mountain vantage point. I could watch the old steamers on the loch far below. The vegetation here is very lush and green thanks to the obvious abundant rainfall. Many of the streams run tainted brown from the tannin. What luck to randomly stumble across this beautiful region!

The sunset stunned me lighting up most of the western sky first in a blanket of orange than turning to pink and lavender. The reflections off Loch Achray captivated.

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It rained on and off through the night. I stayed dry, but the tent got stowed soaking for a somewhat early departure. The mission? - Wash clothes! Had washing in basins has been the only method since Istanbul - been a spell!

The roads here are narrow very windy with stone walls and vegetation right up to the side of the road. I suppose they are the locals or I'm conservative, but wow they want to drive fast for the conditions! I pulled off a couple of times to let cars pass. I was happy when I pulled behind a train of cars going slower than I would - whew, a breather. There were many signs warning of speed cameras and officers on motorcycles and signs saying "oncoming traffic in middle of road". I passed a couple on gear laden bikes who were clearly a bit distressed by how the traffic passed them. A local rider looked insane to me to be cycling on these roads with all the blind corners being taken at high speed. No question, if you like to drive the place is fun demanding concentration! It's up and down the ol' gear box quick and heavy on the accelerator and brake. A couple of laps around these lochs and I'll be ready for F1!

Google maps had outdated information about the laundromat, but the kind gentleman at the Land Rover repair shop told me exactly where to go. I wasn't the first to knock on his door.

Arriving in Tyndrum about 11AM the first place on the left was a caravan park. Perhaps they accept tents and have a shower and laundry facilities. The guy was sweet answering all my questions in the affirmative and reserved a place for me to check in at 2PM. I decided to have a second breakfast and read up on Trump's Georgia Indictment.

With still time to kill, I wandered. Turns out Scottish Rail stops in Tyndrum. The simple quiet (no one there) station sits higher on the side of the valley that a 10 minute walk through a stand of trees reaches. I felt nostalgic for the days I rode the train. The car offers more flexibility, but I prefer the rail. One arrived shortly after I left the station.

Next I drifted through town finding the reason there were backpackers everywhere - the West Highland Way trail. I was told people hike the 97 miles over 5-7 days. I can see a difference between this hike and one through the Rocky Mountains is that each night one can choose to stay at an inn with a pub for a pint and meal and ... a massage - roughing it European style.

From town I hiked up a zig zagging trail that passed a mine clearly following a vein before arriving on a broad grassy and slightly marshy ridge line facilitating views both east and west - spectacular! What beautiful countryside!

Back in town I enjoyed a pint at the pub and met a delightful man from Liverpool hiking with his girlfriend. They were staying at a lodge in town after a couple nights in a tent. And(!) they were enjoying a massage apparently advertised somewhere along the West Highland Way trail. Tom, is an engineer for vessels of all sizes but recently on super yachts; now that's an unusual job!

Continuing the story of meeting people, while doing laundry I met a man in the area panning for gold. He'd had a little success today which stunned me. It did explain the purpose of the mine I'd hiked past.

The accidental and random visiting of this part of Scotland delights me! I can see exploring the many mountains, valleys, and lochs in the region. I like this place.

Ahh, two luxuries today: laundered clothing and a reasonable hot shower.

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No lingering in the campsite this morning with a dry tent and the open road calling. The carriageway paralleled the West Highland Way displaying all the hikers heading north. The Scottish Rail track also went this way and shortly after the route cleared a pass summit the train tracks followed atop a beautiful stone viaduct with the dramatic mountains rising up behind. A large cyclist group bunched together made overtaking them a challenge on the narrow road. Another broad climb brought the road and Way to the Kingshouse; I'd overheard hikers talking about this being their destination for the day and it being a 'posh' place. Shortly after this the road passed the Glencoe Mountain Resort - a ski area - and to the Glencoe National Nature Preserve.

The Preserve, a tourist destination mecca destination, comprises a large area formed initially 460 million years ago by volcanic activity then uplifted and sculpted by water and glaciation. The mountains rise into the neighborhood of 3000ft with lush green ground and shrub vegetation and waterfalls.

I immediately decided to take a few hours and hike upwards. I settled on a trail called 'Hidden Valley View' for it's moderate 1000ft elevation gain and roughly 2 mile return hike. The carpark was filling as I parked and started out. The trail went down to the valley floor to cross the River Coe before climbing steeply up over ground that was both wet, muddy and rocky. The trail followed along a glass crystal clear water creek cutting a moss and tree filled gorge. The typical turnaround point provided a new into a horseshoe valley with sides rising fifteen hundred feet higher. An ambition person could continue crossing high into one of the adjacent valleys to return to the carpark. The area is called 'Three Sisters' for the three cliffy peaks. Exiting the carpark was problematic because more people wanted in than were leaving.

The Glencoe Visitor Center further down the road gives a history and more information of the area. A recently constructed Tuff house gives and idea of homes in the area several hundred years ago.

The Corran ferry was not running. I'd given a hitchhiker a short ride; he mentioned his destination of Glenfinnan. From the ferry crossing point I could either go south or north, since the town Glenfinnan was fresh in my thoughts I headed there. Well, it turns this tiny collection of buildings marks the location of a train viaduct made overwhelming famous by a Harry Potter film. Unable to find a parking place within a mile on either side of the town because of the tourists I just kept going west.

Feeling the need for some tea with honey to nurse the first cold of the trip, I pulled over at a shack in Glenuig. Marianne watched the tiny shop filled with an amazing assortment of supplies. No honey, but she did offer me tea from a collection of well stained mugs and the request to make a donation to the tea supply. Becky wandered in joining us in tea because apparently the cable WiFi was down due to line repairs. Marianne mentioned the Langal campsite which didn't show on Google Maps.

The road became a single track with pullouts. The splendid weather and winding hilly road that demanded constant shifting, braking, and pulling over for oncoming cars cried out for a drive in a Caterham.

I saw the sign for the Langal campsite, a pasture part of a farm on Loch Shiel. After a moment of indecision I pulled over and went in search of the proprietor. An older gentleman working on skirting for his trailer home practically walked to Fiona. Fiona was all smiles like a child on Christmas morning. A ten pound note bought me a place in the pasture with two other caravans, an outdoor shower, and a toilet up on the side of the hill 200 meters away. I met one of my neighbors whose been coming for years. He proposed I visit the Tioram Castle and see where the Loch empties into the ocean.

A short few mile drive from the campsite lies Tioram Castle ruins accessible during low tide as it sits on a small spit of land. My view remained from the beach as high tide flooded the causeway. I walked along the shoreline to a place where the creek exiting Loch Shiel enters the Atlantic ocean. The water flood smoothly from the creek into the calm bay. Low tide results in a sharp fluid level drop and some rapids in this stretch - it would have been fun to see. No matter, the area charms with multiple stone arched bridges, cottages, boat houses, secluded small bays, views of mountains to the east, pasture lands, lochs, and heather.

I awoke a couple of times during the night and gazed upwards at so many stars. A rare sight for me on this trip thus far.

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No rain, but heavy dew soaked the rainfly on the tent. I packed it that way and continued toward the ferry crossing point at Lochaline. The next hour and half took me on single track roads weaving, accelerating, and decelerating. School kids waited for the school van which I apparently passed while it darted down a side road. A tractor pulled off to let me pass. I pulled off to let much faster drivers zip ahead. The sun rising higher in the sky with cloud shade against the green land made for a magical drive through the countryside.

Once on the ferry, a worker let me tap the 'ol credit card and then I watched from the upper deck for the 10 minute crossing to the Isle of Mull. I found a campground overlooking the Sound of Mull, pitched the tent, and went looking for a proper breakfast and coffee. The Little Bespoke Baker in Salen a couple miles away offered just the thing.

Now I lie in the tent nursing flu like symptoms with a gentle easterly breeze off the Sound and scattered sunshine.

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I slept the first half of the day. My condition may be improving, but I remain exhausted.

Mustering some energy I went for a 20 minute drive to the Ulva ferry. Along the way I pulled over a couple of times. One was to watch some birders as they looked for sea birds. A second was just to take a photo of the channel and opposing mountains.

I see the likeness of my uncle Randall Hart in his later years in some of the people. The black rim glasses, square face, and pale skin.

The wind blows hard today and the campsite manager alerted me to the coming intense winds through the night. The wind passing through power lines at the Ulva Island ferry caused a high pitched whistle. Opening and closing doors on the car required preparation and a strong arm.

I didn't take the ferry to the Isle of Ulva. The short crossing takes only a few minutes in the 20 ft skip. A unique systems 'calls' for the boat. One slides over a panel exposing a 1 foot red square. The boat then crosses and picks folks up. The boat house on Ulva probably offers drinks and light snacks. Apparently there are trails a person could walk as well. Even if I felt fine, today may not be the best for such an undertaking.

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I awoke around midnight to the constant patter of rain on the tent continuing until shortly before I rose toward 6AM. The steadiness of its falling both lulled and brought attention. The wind continued buffeting though more from the south a departure from coming out of the east. Even just the quick morning ritual, collecting the bedding stuff, and putting the tent in the back seat of the car wet took thirty minutes. (There must be a more time efficient means.)

The ferry from the Isle of Mull to Oban - the shortest time and distance route back to Glasgow - was fully booked until 3:30PM. So the decision was made to take the alternate ferry back to Lochaline and drive north; all the times on that ferry were available. Still I wanted to board the first ferry just incase of problems or an oversight on my part. Even arriving 45 minutes before the departure I found myself the third car in the queue. Breakfast took place sitting in the car waiting for the ferry on this very blustery morning with white caps on the sound.

The next two hours honed my single track (one strip of pavement with no shoulders and pullouts for passing) driving skills. In the UK, speed limits may be explicitly posted with a number in a red circle. Often upon leaving a built up area there a single sign with a black circle and a black diagonal line is the only indication of the speed limit. The limit in these cases is defined by the type of road and vehicle - it's simple, but one has to know the rules. Theoretically, one could drive 60 mph on a single track - maybe...with no oncoming cars and in a race car! That is one of the fun things about driving in the UK; often the speed limit far exceeds what a rational person can do in a standard automobile. Overtaking (passing) elevates the entire experience exponentially. Places exist where a two-lane road chokes down to one lane (over an old stone bridge or trough a tunnel under a train track for instance) and you can't see what's approaching because the road turns immediately. Only one car can fit so opposing cars must be vigilant and respectful. I suspect many Americans would be aghast, yet it makes driving engaging - sipping coffee or texting just can't happen.

A couple of stops on the four drive to Glasgow broke up the drive. Swinging west five miles out the way allowed for a visit to the Glenfinnan Viaduct - made famous by the Harry Potter files. This time I arrived before the hoards of tourists to easily park. Though still feeling a little weak, I walked the quarter mile to the viaduct to see it and take pictures. Amazingly a train pulled by a current diesel locomotive arrived onto the viaduct and stopped to allow photos. A wave to the conductor brought a return wave - he seemed to really enjoy the attention. Many many people began arriving with word that another train would arrive in an hour or so. Glenfinnan is famous (circa 1756) as one of the places that Charles and George battled for the contested thrown of England. Returning to the drive, the route paralleled the same track and I passed a old steam locomotive heading toward the viaduct - that was what all the people were waiting to see. I stopped in Fort William for a coffee and pastry (of course!). I highly recommend the pastries at the small cafe and coffee shop called Rain; I think you'd almost have to venture to France to find pastries as delicious. (Perhaps some bias exists from feeling better after several days of illness.) The Fort Williams pedestrian mall has a concentration of several outdoor shops should one be in the need of outdoor activity supplies! The next segment of the journey brought me through Tyndrum a place I much enjoyed. I decided to rest with a hotel room in Glasgow after the long days travel and minor lingering flu symptoms.

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Peering from the plane lifting from the Glasgow airport an expanding field of view of green rolling countryside lightly covered in whipped cream clouds emerged. I spotted the Erskine Bridge over the River Clyde that I'd passed over twice. The European continent lay in the rearview mirror for this journey. I said goodbye, "Goodbye", as the wind whipped Atlantic Ocean slipped under the wings of the plane.