Inveroran to Inverarnan

The morning was clear and my tent had dried out on the fence. The views were lovely and Maurice cooked me a manly breakfast of meat, with the exception of some scrambled egg. Big chunks of burnt toast and strawberry jam. Massive pot of tea. Right set me up. Unfortunately I got bit during the day and scratched the bites on my legs in the night, prolonging the misery. It’s such a shame for a beautiful neck of the woods.

I walked over the hill from Inveroran to The Bridge of Orchy and looked back at Maurice’s place, in the middle of the picture, and the loch.

The river running under the Bridge of Orchy is pristine.

The Way crosses the road and up the hill, where I found a ruined car with a seat to mapread in for a few minutes.

The route climbs up a long, but not too steep pass over to Tyndrum. The views en route are reight good. I’m enjoying this walk. It’s not the South West Coast Path. That was special. But it’s got something.

Tyndrum and the area around it are crammed with interest. Gold has recently been discovered and it’s not uncommon to see families panning for gold in the rivers. It also reeks with history. Robert the Bruce and his men were here in 1306, being pursued by McDougall of Lorne and his men. To lighten their burdens Robert the Bruce and his chaps threw their heavy weapons into a small lochan.

Imagine if Robert the Bruce’s sword is in this lochan, preserved in peat. OMG. Which means oh my god. McDougall’s men caught up with their prey, but were all slaughtered. Fight light fight effective. Down the road I came upon a sheep sale.

Miserable looking buggers. They must be German. I’m not kidding I’m going in the opposite direction to everyone else and there are hundreds of Germans and Yanks that I come across. Even, and maybe particularly, the young German couples are the ones who look most miserable and behave like it. They’re not enjoying being together, mustn’t be. Hateful looking Pillock with a beard walks ahead of his lass, almost ignores my greeting and she drags behind like a prisoner being led to her death. Why don’t they stay in Stuttgart and argue for a week?

Round the corner is St Fillan’s Priory ruins. Fascinating stuff.  Goes back to the 13th Century and the graveyard goes back to the 8th! Unbelievable.

It was a right long slog from there to Inverarnen and the legendary Drover’s Inn. A total of 21mile in the day. Down the valley to Inverarnen there were lovely little stretches of river where I would love to loaf around and spend an hour or two with a fishing rod.

After a long time I rolled up at the Inn and had a gorgeous warm bath. FIsh and chips and an earlyish bed. Knackered. The place has been going for hundreds of years and is haunted as hell. Not in my room though.

Night  night.