The rain had passed through overnight. The morning dawned with mist on the mountains, heavy clouds and the sun peeping through. Paul and Kelly our hosts at the Garrison of Inversnaid had prepared us a magnificent breakfast and after the best nights rest so far we set off for Inverarnan some 8 miles up the Loch to our north.
The trail leaves the Inversnaid hotel and meanders through the woods at the waters edge for around ¼ mile to an old boathouse. The views across the loch were magnificent. The sun peeped through the clouds dancing on the far hills. Every now and then a light shower passed down the loch.
“This is not so bad” we thought. Then it started. What had been a prepared trail now turned into a rock scramble up and down. Round huge rock outcrops adorned with oak, elm and alder. It was slippery, muddy and very slow going.
This went of for 6 miles. My Garmin gave our progress as less than a mile an hour. It was torture. The young people passed us leapt from rock to rock. We picked our way step by step as knees and hips let us know their thoughts on the matter. We are both over 60 and this was rough going. I don’t remember it being like this.
Debbie in full Midgy protection mode. They were relentless today. As soon as we stopped for water or a rest, clouds of them were around you, biting. The so called repellant was useless. Clearly nobody told the flies that they were supposed to stay away. I have no idea why midges were invented other than to torment tourists and locals alike.
Debbie as usual did not hold back on her thoughts on the matter. I got regular updates on those thoughts. Then it rained. Of course it did. We put our ponchos on. We slowed even further. “Why the hell are we doing this… remind me again” said my companion of nearly 40 years. After considering my reply carefully all I could muster was “Ummmm?”.
A mountain goat would have been tested here.
Then it rained some more. Eventually we cleared the rock scramble and took the trail down to the waters edge and then up higher into the bracken which is at shoulder height. It was dripping wet. My waterproof boots clearly are not.
The Drovers Inn at Inverarnan could not come soon enough.
My garmin tells me we have walked 13.18 kms in 7 hrs 42 minutes. My average heart rate was 101 beats per minute. I am still alive. I deserve a beer.
I have logged onto the wifi at the Drovers inn. Built in 1705. The inn. Not the wifi. The password is HauntedInn. No damn ghost can deprive me of my sleep I hope. We had a great dinner with some local brewed beer to set us for the night. Tomorrow we head to Crianlarch. The half way point.
Woodend Wanderer 
Dear Mark.
Enjoying two things at this very moment: my early morning cigar and your refreshing report.
Can’t wait to read on.
Cheers
Max
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You are a real Gentleman Max. What a lovely thing to say. I appreciate it.
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