Day 57- Milarrochy to Inverarnan 20 Miles

  Hoping to stay ahead of the hoards I left early, leaving the camp a little before eight and marching the kilometer or so along the road before ducking back into the wooded coastal path. Mist was heavy

across the Loch creating a wonderfully aery view. A head of me there was already another hiker within five minutes, but as he seemed to walking in zigzags I overtook him quite quickly. A forty something year old struggling with a heavy looking pack on, what I suspect, was his first attempt at a long distance walk. We talked a little while, seemed friendly enough but as he spoke little English conversation was difficult. I eventually bid him goodbye and walked on. The first slope was hard on still asleep legs, small foot steps easing the progress a little. The ground after was much easier, dipping and rising as an open dirt path. Probably struggled more than I remember but the route after lunch from Inversnaid makes it look like an easy stroll.

Loch Lomond in the early morning haze

  Unfortunately I'd camped in the first site along Loch Lomond and by the time I past the last one three miles later, Sallochy Forest campsite, the path was full of people again. Sallochy looked like a great campsite, little pods in the woods along the loch just like in Australia. No car parks and nothing but hikers everywhere you look. The sheer volume of people staggered me and I wasn't sure I liked it one bit, that said the group of men sat having breakfast weren't the worst companions I could wish for.
  Along the way four military type men overtook me carrying small packs, wearing camouflage trousers. They said hello friendly enough but they pace was just too fast. A little later I overtook a mass of walkers in a organized group holiday, muttering 'excuse me' and trying to squeeze through small gaps I slowly past. Near the front of the group I began to talk with a woman, a farmer on a holiday who'd never walked more than eight miles at once. I enjoyed her company but struggled to keep to the groups pace and eventually left them behind.

  At Inversnaid hotel I stopped for something to eat, the inside full of other walkers, a room to the left of the entrance nearly full of varied shaped backpacks. I had yet another bowl of fries along with a cup of tea before leaving. While collecting my pack I exchanged a few words with the soldier boys, discovering they were planning to walk the 100 miles of the West Highland Way in four days in preparation of a march abroad. Over the next hour we past each other a few times. I admired them, and in particular their leaders calmed assured manner. 
  From Inversnaid to Inverarnan the path never rose above two meters from the loch but its a hell of a work out full of ankle breaking descents and paths so narrow you have to climb around to get through with a backpack. Progress was horribly slow and not the slightest bit enjoyable. Very little of my memory of today included the loch, mostly I recall clutching on to trees and praying I didn't break my neck. It did strike me that this was indication enough that I should never try climbing mountains, struggling as I did two meters up.

Last stretch before Inverarnan

  Talked to yet another hiker, American on an extended bachelorette holiday before getting married in the Carrabian- some of those details I might be remembering wrong so don't quote me. When they stopped to stretch I carried on. The last few hills once the loch was finally set behind me were hard. With so many people I also felt unable to stop or relax at my usual slug pace. After 20 miles I was ready to collapse.
  Beinglass Farm Campsite finally came to my rescue and I trudged into camp at 4:45 eager to see  the tennis score and have a cold drink. There was a little awkwardness with the camping as it had been nearly three months since I emailed them but I was eventually allowed in without paying- since it normally cost £8 I was grateful. I pitched my tent without looking at the grass properly. Although the sun was blazing the grass was horribly water logged, water pooling around my feet every time I stood still and the patch around my tent already looking muddy after a few minutes of me walking around. I considered moving but it was too much effort and higher up only looked slightly better.

Beinglass Farm Campsite- before the majority of people arrived.

  Seeing Murray had won I got some supplies and cooked myself a meal, talking to two men from Sweedon about Federer and another couple from Poland about their plans. I was getting more comfortable with the large amount of people, in the last day I'd met more walkers than the entirety of England. Along the trail I was told by the two Americans with the Australian photographer (who I'd past yesterday and yet again today) that they'd encountered two Israelis. That evening when I heard Hebrew spoken on the table beside me I pounced on them. We talked for something like an hour. A lovely coupled traveling around Scotland, a first year teacher with his wife who was in her last year of studying a PhD in Jerusalem.
  The campsite although full quietened quite early. That said I struggled to get to sleep again, horribly aware how damp it. There was also a rather unpleasant smell I couldn't put my finger on, I'd checked both my boots and found nothing so settled for ignoring it. I did miss been the only tent in camp, there were close to thirty parked in this field alone. Tomorrow I hope to wild camp and get away from it all a while.