Amateur Hikery

After a fairly epic lie-in, I bundled my gear back into my rucksack and headed down to the lochside road, stopping first to admire the waterfall near which I’d camped. Bounding downhill at a good clip, I appeared suddenly at the road, startling a quartet of inebriated layabouts enjoying their morning cans of Tennents around a fire beside their cars. I turned west along the road and made good time – this was mostly due to my desire to leave the filthy pigs and their lazy-camping dungpits far behind. Better indeed to draw a veil over this part of the journey. My blood seethes even now, remembering the comprehensive rape of the countryside perpetrated by the swine.

At Foss I had a spot of lunch and weighed up my options. I was due at Braes of Foss the next day at 1600 hours, so I had a mountain of time to kill. I decided to turn south and head to Glengoulandie, and come along the glen below Dun Beag to below Schiehallion, pitching somewhere along the way. It seemed like a foolproof plan, and I was at Glengoulandie soon enough, after a brief stop to admire the lime kiln at Tom Phobuill. This is definitely worth a look if you’re in the area. It isn’t particularly exciting nor scenic, but I always find there’s something fascinating about defunct places of work. The neighbouring quarry is evidence of what was once a thriving trade, and many signs remain of the hive of activity the kiln must once have been, despite the fact that it has been unused for a century.

Glengoulandie caravan park was rather a disappointment, and I think this was largely due to their shop being closed. It got worse, however. My proposed route through the glen was impossible to get to, being blocked by impenetrable fences. You can, apparently, pay to get in, but, well. No thanks. I wandered a mile or so past Glengoulandie, then turned and retraced my steps along the road to the fork, where I turned left and aimed for Braes of Foss.

Eventually I ended up camped near the path up Schiehallion, pitched within the low walls of a ruined building. I’d hoped that the wall I was pitched beside would keep off some of the wind, but after I pitched (of course) it changed direction, and it was a fairly chilly and noisy night. It had been a long and fairly mundane day (roughly 20 miles) and yet I didn’t get much sleep. Tomorrow, I vowed, will be an easy day.

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