When the hurly-burly’s done

(Originally in the notebook, now here in convenient digital form. Post date has been appropriately manipulated.)

What else did I come to Scotland for if not to hike in the rain? It came down hard this morning as I walked through Queen Elizabeth Forest Park on my way from Rowardennan to Inversnaid. The intensity varied from this-is-refeshing to you’ve-got-to-be-kidding. (After a couple of really rainy days, I figured out a system. For starters, I always kept my pack cover on. That made it difficult to reach my water bottles, which lived in pockets on the other side of the bag. So I rigged up a carabiner on a couple of dangling bits of backpack strap, from which I suspended a water bottle while the other two rode in the caboose. I also kept my raincoat on as long as I could. It was good against the wind, even when the rain stopped, but it had a tendency to make my arms unpleasantly sweaty. Sometimes I’d just tie it around my waist. Also, I think the best $30 I spent for this trip was on my rain hat, which just kind of rode along with me cowboy-at-rest-style when it wasn’t raining. –Ed.)

The Inversnaid Hotel is big and kitschy. (Most of its clientele come there on tour buses. –Ed.) The main bar area is decorated in tartan, and a boombox plays a CD of bagpipe favorites. I learned today why tea is so popular here–it’s the best thing in the world when you’re cold, wet, and not sure you can go on.

I think I’ve figured out why people drive–walking is TOUGH. Especially walking fourteen miles with nobody to talk to or explain what you’re walking through. I was pretty much alone today until the last mile or so, when I fell in to walking with an English guy about my age. We had plans to walk together tomorrow, but as he’s going about eight miles past where I’m staying tomorrow night (he’s done this sort of thing, though not the West Highland Way, several times) we bagged that idea because I’d just slow him down. My pace has been less than fleet, but it’s pretty steady, and with water and scenery breaks I’m doing okay. That’s not to say my shoulders won’t still be sore tomorrow, but I’ve made some adjustments to the straps on my pack that made it a lot more comfortable toward the end of the day.

Tomorrow promises a lot of rain in the morning, with gradual clearing toward evening, but I am going to try and get rolling as early as possible (hopefully on the road by 6:45) to make the most of the cool part of the day. It got really hot today, and doubly so with the 22 pounds I’m humping on my back.

Off the computer now–I’m at the hostel in Rowardennan, on beautiful Loch Lomond (pictures when I get home), and someone else is waiting.

(Originally in the notebook, now here in convenient digital form. Post date has been appropriately manipulated.)

I had dinner last night at a pub in Drymen, sitting at the bar and listening to local gossip. I didn’t join in the conversation, though, because I really had trouble understanding the local accent. Fell asleep in the B&B around 7:30.

I woke up at 7 this morning and, after a quick breakfast, hit the road.

I lost about 30 minutes going the wrong way through a cow pasture. (It was quite an inauspicious start, and a pattern that would be repeated a couple more times. I just am not at my best, sense-of-direction-wise, first thing in the morning. –Ed.) When I picked up the route for real I walked through a beautiful pine forest. There was a detour that added some distance but I didn’t mind. I’m here to walk and to see the country, and that’s what I’m doing.

I’m writing now from the summit of Conic Hill, from which I can see a huge chunk of Loch Lomond. The ascent was about an hour of extreme effort, which makes me nervous because this is supposed to be one of the easier days, according to Lonely Planet: Walking in Scotland.

Heading down now for lunch in Balmaha, at the base of the hill.

(The walk down was punishing–mile after mile of steep slippery gravel which would’ve been hellish in the rain. Balmaha, though was nice, if touristy, and the subsequent walk along the short of Loch Lomond was great. Had a brief panic moment later in the day when the West Highland Way merged with a local nature path loop–I didn’t know what to do, and the waymarkers were hidden in the trees. But it all worked out for the best. –Ed.)

(Originally in the notebook, now here in convenient digital form. Post date has been appropriately manipulated.)

It might be sleep deprivation talking, but this is a remarkable city. So far, in the past 30 minutes I have passed up the opportunity to pay 20p to use a “Superloo” (the mind reels), spent £1.30 on a ballpoint pen, had no idea wha tthe lady who sold me the pen said, and taken some pictures.

The couple on the bench next to me is breaking up, I think. The guys sounds exactly like Spud from Trainspotting (later I would come to grips with the fact that not everyone in Scotland sounds exactly like Trainspotting characters. –Ed.). The girl is just fed up. You don’t need to understand a Glasgow accent to figure that out.

The cops here all wear bulletproof vests. I wonder if they always do or if it’s a response to the car bomb at the airport last month. I’m watching two cops question some guy while his friend videotapes.

I’m honestly not terribly impressed with Glasgow. I’m in the city centre area, which is just a huge shopping district, like that part of Cork. Edinburgh seems a bit funkier, plus everywhere you look there are these mountains. Glasgow’s just a city, from what I can tell. (Clare, if you’re reading this, I apologize. I didn’t know better when I wrote this originally. –Ed.)

Maybe the cops weren’t questioning the guy. They’re all getting along fine now. Maybe he was intervieweing them? One cop looks like a thinner Tommy Lasorda. The other looks like he’s about 16.

If this were Ireland four summers ago, I’d nap here. There are a lot of people doing just that. I think this is probably where you go if you work downtown, it’s warm and sunny out, and it’s your lunch break. If there were more grass and less pavement, this would be an amazing spot.

I’ll head up to the bus station in a few minutes. I don’t want to miss the last bus to Drymen. I can’t wait to sleep.

Can’t believe I’m actually here. I’m going to make this quick as I’m at a really expensive internet cafe in the fancy part of Glasgow, but here’s the quick summary:

1. 8:00-9:00 EST: Sat on tarmac at Newark International for about 90 minutes before we took off.

2. All night: Slept very little, as expected, on plane. Probably about an hour total.

3. 8:30am (Scotland time): Got to Edinburgh almost on time, as 767 pilot was probably on crank.

4. 10:00-11:30: Found University, ditched luggage, bought mobile phone (Steph and Bob–your phone didn’t work, so I donated it to some cancer organization that recycles them for money or something).

5. 11:30: Was about to get to Waverley Train Station in Edinburgh for trip to Glasgow (then on to Drymen) when I realized I left my camera in the luggage storage room.

6: 12:00: Back at Waverley to board 12:15 train to Glasgow.

7: 12:30: Decided to bag hiking for today and focus on getting to Drymen, getting organized, and getting some sleep. Will pick up with Day Two of the West Highland Way. It’s fine.

8: 1:00: Arrived in Glasgow, got lunch, figured out bus situation, and am about to go buy a pen and do some writing in George Square, which the ladies at the place where I got lunch recommended for people-watching.

More later.

Peace.