Day 306: Duror to Barcaldine

We’re going on a troll hunt.

Waiting for the first bus again, the same joggers pass on the promenade below. Some things change. A large man wearing bright orange overalls stands on the stony shore, screaming and shaking his fists at the sea. Strange days.

Stepping off the bus at the terminus, a cycle path runs south with fine views across Loch Linnhe to the soon-to-be-explored Morvern peninsula.

An eerily quiet scrap metal graveyard blights The Knap.

I resist the temptation to climb a ladder as a watchman’s caravan sits at the centre of a ring of rusting vehicles, and the raised tarpaulin at the stern is home to a bevy of noisy pigeons.

The impressive Castle Stalker lies just offshore, a perfect spot for a late breakfast of hot cross buns. I’ve now seen the two castles at the start and end of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Thankfully, there are no rabbits.

After rejoining the cycle path to Creagan, I detour inland to visit another rainforest, Glasdrum Wood, mentioned in Guy Shrubsole’s The Lost Rainforests of Britain. It’s a huge disappointment. No butterflies, and the official loop is mainly through a thicket of hazel with a few large oaks. Perhaps you need to wander off the track deeper into the woods. Glenan Wood was much more to my liking.

Continuing the road circling Loch Creran, six BMW convertibles zoom past. The drivers are all men of a certain age. It’s alien to me. A car is to travel from A to B when it’s too far to walk or a load is to be carried, rather like a horse. A horse would be far more fun. I joined Hayley and Max for riding lessons when they were younger and thoroughly enjoyed it, despite being given a large and strong-willed horse, the beautiful Lumina.

“She has a mind of her own and picks the people she likes and looks after them.”

She only threw me off once.

Shortly before Barcaldine, I head into the woods again to explore Sutherland Grove and admire the huge redwood trees. What will I find?

A troll lurks beneath a bridge, although headless and battle-scarred!

Back to the main road and an hour until the next bus. A convenient chair makes the wait more enjoyable — memories of the bus stops on Arran.

The Oban Inn, sociably busy with a mix of locals and visitors, serves an excellent pint. A man sits alone on a bar stool at a central counter, wearing what appears to be pyjamas. I avoid eye contact. Two Austrian hikers arrive at my table and let him into their conversation. He does not stop, quickly switching from areas of common interest to the minutiae of his stressful job. I stay well clear, head buried in my book.

There’s just time for a late evening stroll round the harbour. Another gorgeous evening in Oban.

Date of walk: Wednesday 23 April 2025.

Walk distance: 19 miles.

Total distance: 5,032 miles.