“Ten minutes to stretch your legs.”
The bus from Glasgow to Tarbert pauses at charming Inveraray, basking in sunshine on the western shore of Loch Fyne. Several people remain in their seats. I make the most of the sun as rain is forecast for the rest of this trip, hiking the 100-mile gap between Tarbert and Clachan Bridge, long delayed due to the unattractive prospect of long sections of road walking.
I’m staying at The Gather again, just outside Tarbert, in a pod rather than camping due to the midges I experienced last time. It’s a lovely evening, so I rewalk the start of the Kintyre Way up to the castle, a pleasant change from the deluge last time.
Next day
Opening the pod door, a startled fawn stares before bounding off.
I’d planned to cut across to Port Ban using forest roads, but I’ll take the coast road for the first few miles before making a final decision.
Achaglachgach!
The sound of a drowning man — I won’t even try to pronounce that.
Fruit flies descend and refuse to leave despite metronomically swinging my hiking poles, making me look like one of those cartoon characters with a swarm of insects round his head.
The road is peaceful, so I’ll stay down by the coast. I might even pick up a breeze from the sea to help with the flies.
Five big European guys my age, dressed in black, saunter down the road drinking cans of cider. It’s 11 am in the middle of nowhere. Where did they come from, and where are they going?
The 19th-century Dunmore House sits high on the hill.
It’s humid and close. Dark clouds threaten. When will it break?
Other coasters struggled to hike off-road round Ardpatrick Point, but there’s an old bothy I’d like to visit, and the challenge sounds fun, so I leave the main road, passing Ardpatrick House.
From one extreme to the other. A tiny hut with a vegetable garden shelters beneath the trees. A bike lies under a lean-to. Stepping closer, a shadow moves behind the window. Best not to intrude.
A much smaller, modern bothy lies a little further along the headland. I wonder who owns it?
The path ends. I’m carrying several days’ worth of food, so my backpack is at its heaviest and the terrain is energy-sapping, clambering up and down rocky gullies, pushing through bracken.
I can’t keep this up for long.
I need to find the bothy and a way out before I meet a similar fate.
Sadly, the bothy has collapsed.
There’s an easy track back along the top of the headland. Perhaps I should have taken this route in the first place. An old house offers protection from the wind, resting against the gable end wall for a late lunch.
On the return to the main road, I pass a labyrinth and drop my pack to find the way to the centre. Do I make a wish?
Back on the main road, the fruit flies find me once more, so I resort to my head net for the first time.
Despite its Michelin Star, the Kilberry Inn welcomes sweaty hikers — fruit flies are barred — although the barman discreetly takes my backpack and hides it. I sink into one of the sofas next to an open fire in the cosy lounge before a lovely pint from the Fyne Ales range arrives, shortly followed by a black pudding and sausage roll. Well, they don’t serve peanuts — I did ask. Three people are waiting to be taken to their table, and we chat about my coastal trek before they are presented with an extensive menu, leaving me to mull over my sad choice of freeze-dried meals waiting at the campsite.
It’s less than two miles from the pub to the campsite, where I have my very own hobbit hut on the shore.
Flopping down on the bed with the door wedged open, could I wish for a finer view than the Paps of Jura? That was a memorable hike around this time last year.
Of course, I fall asleep with the door open, waking at 9:30 pm, with rain pouring down. I like watching the rain when I’m warm and dry inside. I would leave the door open if not for the midges. I think I’ll enjoy my two nights here. Into the hills tomorrow.
Total distance: 5,125 miles.
What a lovely little hut – midges yes they don’t like sun cream apparently but we were very lucky when we did the West Highland Way – no midges at all.
It was a very cute hut. I should have taken a photo with me standing next to it and then you would see how tiny it was. Smidge cream does the trick for me.
Ah midges, there’s something for me to look forward to, although at my current rate I won’t meet them until I’m 100.
I’ve encountered very annoying forest flies and been attacked by a swarm of wasps so far, which wasn’t particularly fun at the time.
That little hut looks fantastic, I’d love that!
I think midges are fine unless you are camping and they sneak into the tent. The only bites I got were when sleeping overnight. I lie on my side and the exposed shoulder was clearly a feast. 🙄