Walking the West Highland Way

From here, there’s no habitation until you’re close to Fort William. It’s normally a 15-mile day, but I would lengthen is a bit by doubling back to the Glen Nevis youth hostel, dump my stuff, and enjoy an easy stroll to the finish point.

Altogether, it’s a bit of an unconventional 6-day schedule, with the longest days at the start, but it worked well enough for me.

Go back to my West Highland Way page

Tuesday 14 May 2024: Milngavie to Balmaha, 19 miles

This is touted as the easy getting-to-know-you first day on the West Highland Way, at least the first 12 miles to Drymen which seems to be a more regular day one target.

That’s fair enough. It’s mostly good and easy tracks past Craigallian Loch to Strath Blane, where an old rail line is joined for four miles. Roughly half way along the old line is the village of Dumgoyne, which at around seven miles out is a perfectly obvious first stop.

It knows it too, with a couple of cafés aimed at the market – I stopped at the first, which was fine, but rather wish I’d tried the quirky-looking Turnip the Beet, my LDWA colleague Gill’s recommendation from her walk a few weeks before, a little later on.

After the rail line ends, there’s a couple of miles of road walking before the turn to Drymen, which is just off track. I’d been following, or let’s be honest overtaking, walkers all the way from Milngavie, and by going straight on rather than left at the junction I lost most of the crowds.

These next six miles have an actual hill in them, Conic Hill. Before the hill, there’s around three miles of mostly pleasant walking on forestry tracks. For me, ever since the Drymen turn, the threatened rain was starting to fall down, and when a short-cut to Balmaha was signposted near the end of this stretch I did mull it over for a few seconds before a contemptuous dismissal.

And it would have been a shame to have missed Conic Hill. Leaving the forest, it stands boldly in front of you, the biggest thing on the Way so far – indeed at first I assumed it was the distant (and from here invisible!) Munro Ben Lomond. In fact it’s a tiddler at 1184ft, barely 500ft of climbing from the Burn of Mar at its foot, and the Way actually contours just below the summit on the north side. It was quite wet now, with the mist down, so there was no point in heroics of top-bagging.

I’d booked the bunkhouse at Balmaha rather than the campsite, and as everything was dripping when I got there, I felt pretty pleased with my choice. Shame about the snorer in the night.

Wednesday 15 May 2024: Balmaha to Doune Byre bothy, 19 miles

Or Loch Lomond, the horizontal Munro. Walk beside a loch shore and climb a mountain: 3300ft of ascent.

All accounts tell of the difficulties of this day; I didn’t know whether I was being too ambitious in planning it with full pack, although my LDWA predecessors told me I would be fine. Indeed I was, but you know you’ve been in a long day when it’s over.

The day sets off as it will continue, with a sharp little climb over Craigie Fort. It’s barely 100ft but there will be a lot of these. That said, nothing too unrelenting happens until Rowardennan, seven miles in. There’s a friendly hotel here and it’s an unmissable lunch stop, but if you do miss it there’s an honesty box full of goodies not far beyond.

By Rowardennan I had caught up with 20-something Will, a fellow sufferer of the Balmaha snores. I’d recommended him Doune Byre as a target, and so it made sense to walk together for the remainder of the day. This was his first big trail walk and so the sort of country he was about to see was new to him; I think he was glad of the company.

We did make one decision to ease matters. A little way out of Rowardennan, there are two WHW alternatives, low level and high level, for a couple of miles or so. Though it means a bit more initial climbing, we chose the high level route. It sticks to a broad forest track and is thus far more straightforward. Several fine waterfalls are compensation.

Difficulties resume once the paths rejoin. It’s not so much that there is anything insurmountable, it’s just the continuous tricky ups-and-downs, always requiring care and respect, that break the rhythm and continually engage the brain. Yesterday’s rain would have required even more caution.

The hotel at Inversnaid is, like Rowardennan, an obvious pause point; indeed for many walkers, one or other of these is the day’s end, so as not to walk the whole shore path in one go. It’s perhaps even more tricky from here, but views across to the Arrochar Alpss compensate.  Finally, the path leaves the shore, climbs up a tiny glen, and drops down to Doune Byre bothy.

Indoors there’s a couple of sleeping bags, with a note that their owners have gone up the Munro of Beinn Chabhair. When they return, the young couple tell us that last night a party of three WHW walkers staggered in, one had hit their head in a fall and a Mountain Rescue callout was arranged. When the team arrived, it was for their third call out on that section of the Way that day.

Thursday 16 May 2024: Doune Byre bothy to Tyndrum, 14 miles

So much easier a day. After a first hour to Beinglas Farm campsite – with a tremendous retrospective of Loch Lomond – it’s mostly a stroll through Glen Falloch and Strath Fillan, with a woodland interlude between the two.

On a five-day schedule you’d walk to Beinglas Farm on day 2, making Bridge of Orchy the target for day 3, but Tyndrum has far more options; it’s a decent-sized village, with shop, pub, excellent café and various places to stay.

The drawback of the glens is that as well as the WHW they carry the A82 and the railway too. The latter is never a problem, single track with just a handful of trains per day, but the A82 is the major road north from Glasgow to the Highlands and while hardly being a motorway it has a deal of heavy traffic. It has to be crossed three times, twice on the level – not a time to switch off one’s brain.

Meanwhile, the mountain scenery is becoming ever more grandiose: the Crianlarich Munros to the right, Ben Oss and Ben Lui to the left in Glen Falloch, Ben Challuim in Strath Fillan. There are smaller pleasures too, such as the Falls of Falloch and the old priory of St Fillan’s. The woodland brings a view over Crianlarich, a stop for many, but a mile off route for me.

For me, the cloudy start turns to a sunny finish. My base for the night is By The Way – as the name suggests, it’s bang on the Way. I’m shown to my room in the bunkhouse. It looks over a beautiful sunny pitch for tents. I eschew the indoors for the outdoors.

When I booked By the Way, I had a suspicion it might have been a revisit, and I soon realised that indeed it was. In summer 1977, I’d taken a motorcycle tour round the Highlands, interspersing road trips with hill walks. From here, I’d climbed the Munros Ben Oss and Ben Lui before descending to Dalmally and catching the train back. It was to be the first recollection of earlier trips up this way.

Friday 17 May 2024: Tyndrum to River Bà, 14 miles

A splendid day for walking, the sort that I’ve come to rely on in Scotland’s mid-May. With easy tracks for the whole distance, it’s an opportunity to amble along and enjoy the scenery.

Out of Tyndrum, it’s not long before the conical peak of Beinn Dorain to assert itself. It’s very much a ‘come and climb me’ mountain, and features in plenty of publicity shots, not least for the West Highland Railway which takes a horseshoe curve around its base. Indeed, it was once on my tick list too.

In his teens, my son Matthew had a compulsion to be in a plane that took off from the beach runway at Barra in the Outer Hebrides. OK, I said, but in exchange we’ll have to climb a couple of Munros – Beinn Dorain and its neighbour Beinn an Dòthaidh. We went up on the sleeper (how else?), had breakfast at the Bridge of Orchy hotel, and then in rather dreich conditions set off up Beinn Dorain. To claim Beinn an Dòthaidh, we had to go back to the bealach between them, but from there Matthew wasn’t too keen to disappear back into mist, so we settled on the one. But we did get to Barra, and took off from the sand.

There’s an abrupt change in the Way at Bridge of Orchy, where the path stops playing hide-and-seek with road and rail. First I had to wait for Graham, who was arriving on the 1 o’clock train. I got to the hotel at noon, but this was hardly a hardship, with plenty of tables outside in the sun and an ace pint of Bitter & Twisted (or two). I spoke to an Australian who had started at John o’Groats and was headed to Edale; she told me of a Frenchman who was following 4 degrees west as close as he could across Britain. There are bigger trips than mine to be had here.

The railway heads off north-east across Rannoch Moor; the road north, likewise; the WHW north-west on an excellent path which has a little summit called Màm Carraigh (which means something like rocky gap, I think). From here the Blackmount Munros are superbly laid out, Stob a’ Choire Odhair the closest.

It was rather nice, on the descent to the Inveroran Hotel, to meet a tour coach driver on his way up. Climbing Màm Carraigh is what he always does when he’s got a trip here, he says. Beats sitting behind the wheel all day. The hotel itself is for us an ice cream haven.

From Victoria Bridge, a mile from the hotel, the Way sets off on its wildest crossing, on the western edge of Rannoch Moor. It takes the route laid down by the great engineer Thomas Telford at the start of the 19th century, and indeed for the first couple of miles his original cobbles are still in fine condition.

The day before Ben Oss and Ben Lui, I’d parked the bike at Victoria Bridge and walked up Stob a’ Choire Odhair, probably by its south ridge. I’m fairly sure I came down a different way – I recall a steep descent into a corrie, presumably the upper reaches of Coire Toaig, though from the map it doesn’t look steep at all.

We weren’t headed too much further, with a wild camp planned somewhere in the vicinity of the River Bà. We spotted a good pitch just before, but it was taken. There was another just after, which we used. Within another hour or so, there were four more tents in view, a couple near, a couple further down the river. Spectacular pitches, all.

Saturday 18 May 2024: River Bà to Kinlochleven, 13 miles

Graham chose Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven to join me because, in his opinion, it was the best section of the WHW.

Yesterday afternoon had certainly been a good enough start, and now we were to head to the Way’s highest point. First though we continued across Rannoch Moor, Creise and Meall a’ Bhuiridh to the left, the vast expanse of the Moor itself to our right.

There were only three or so miles of this before we closed back in on the A82. Just beyond lay the Kingshouse Hotel, like so many of the hotels hereabouts split personality in providing for both people in tweeds and the likes of us. With an early start, it was well-timed for a breakfast stop.

The three miles to Altnafeadh are possibly the apotheosis of the Way, despite the closeness of the main road; the mountain scenery is sans pareil.

First the Great Shepherd of Etive, Buachaille Etive Mòr, its great buttresses plunging crazily to the valley floor. Graham showed me the summit path up Coire na Tulaich, and said that should be an objective for me some day. (He’s climbed it before, but he’s climbed nearly everything, just a few Munros to go.) Next, its smaller neighbour Buachaille Etive Beag, which would be a major enough hill anywhere else.

Further down the valley, the Aonach Eagach ridge comes into view. I hired a guide in Glencoe for a few days in 1998, and bitterly regret passing up the chance of this classic ridge walk / scramble.

These miles end with the WHW’s sharpest climb, the Devil’s Staircase. Its summit at 1850ft is the high point of the Way, but Altnafeadh is close on 1000ft already, so it’s nothing like as severe as its reputation. Still, loins were clearly being girded at the base, and I even saw what seemed to be a perfectly fit setter-type dog being strapped warily into a rucksack.

The summit, where everybody naturally stops a while, at least on a cracking day like this, is one of those turn points on any major trail when all of a sudden a whole new set of views open up. Nothing wrong with looking back of course; now though, that exquisite range the Mamores was in front of us.

On that guided trip in 1998, I picked up a couple of the Mamores’ Munros, Stob Coire s’ Chairn and Na Gruaigaichean, plus the south top of Binnein Mòr – I declined the Munro itself; it was a day when there was nothing to be seen, and I was worried there might be technical ground back to the valley. In fact, the descent from the south top is by a wonderful old stalker’s path, a prime example of a path in harmony with the land.

We have a schedule, of sorts, for Graham needs to be on the 3.30 bus out of Kinlochleven. From the summit, we had a touch over three hours to manage a bit under six miles, pretty much downhill all the way. We had an hour in the pub.

Sunday 19 May 2024: Kinlochleven to Fort William, 17 miles (15 on route)

Dead calm, wind wise. The midges are out in force as I strike camp in the morning. My head net, alas is 500 miles away.

There’s Smidge in the village shop but it’s a bit late by then. Still, smeared up, I set off on the steady 1000ft climb out of the village. I’ve been aware for 80-odd miles that my pace is a bit more than anyone else’s but, somewhere around the summit, a walker catches me up.

It’s Liam, who with his brother is support team to the latter’s father-in-law, who is 60. The two brothers, he explains, have to hold back as the older man has to take it a bit more steadily. I’m older than he is, I say. Consternation from Liam. “I’ll have to tell him,” he says, hanging back no doubt to bring words of encouragement from up ahead. Youngsters really must become better judges of age.

It’s great, bowling along the old military road as it curves round the western edge of the Mamores. The anticipated highlight of the final day, once a corner has been turned, is the southern face of Ben Nevis, a series of gullies that those descending the plateau of the Ben in mist have to steer well clear of. And today will be such a day; the mist is hanging around the tops, and so after four days of long if slightly hazy mountain views, the last and most massive is not there for me. Worse still, by now my camera lens is smidged too, so I’ve only a smear in memory.

That’s a shame, but given what weather can do up here, even in May, I should not complain.

It has to be said, as the Way drops into Glen Nevis, that the trail’s last few miles are something of an anti-climax, especially with the Ben disappearing from view behind you. First there’s mile-plus on a broad forestry track, built for logging vehicles, until a short link path brings you to the road through the valley, which is followed on pavement for close on two miles.

But I had a plan to make my life a bit easier. Reaching the road, I turned right instead of left, dallied over a big pot of tea at the Glen Nevis Restaurant, and then dumped my sack at the hostel just a bit further on. Thay way, I could walk into town unimpeded. This worked out fine, and it also meant I got a lower bunk.

Fort William’s authorities have not yet removed a road sign proclaiming the original finish point of the West Highland Way. The finish has now been moved half a mile away, through the town’s one shopping street, to the ‘tired old hiker’ bench where photographs must be taken. It’s just outside the Wetherspoons pub as it happens.

Perhaps someone could explain why the finish doesn’t double as the start point of the Great Glen Way, which is relegated to the other side of a roundabout near the train station.