Scotland 2022 - Part 1 - Into the Highlands

 As I had said, we were going oot and aboot for a bit.

A whole lot of out, and we definitely got about!

Over the coming weeks, I'll try to convey as much as I can about our thirteen days of incredible adventures in the rugged beauty of Scotland. Apart from serving as my own memoranda of experiences that have left an indelible mark on both myself and Tanker, I hope to encourage others to consider exploring the incredible possibilities that await those who are willing to go beyond the cities and distilleries to behold this mountain-studded land in its true glory...or just to give you a taste of what we saw and felt as we did so.

Let's get on with it, shall we?

Our voyage began in utterly mundane fashion with the cheapest flight we could find, which fortunately took us direct from Toronto Pearson to Glasgow Airport with a minimum of fuss. We had arrived extra early at the airport, and had no issues at either end: we arrived with all of our luggage intact (save a zipper key having broken off an outer pocket of our single checked bag that we don't even use), a bit tired from departing at 7:15pm Toronto time and arriving at 7am Scotland time, or around 2am as our bodies were concerned.

Masks on from the time we entered YYZ until we exited the building at GLA

We arrived to uncharacteristically hot, sunny weather in Glasgow - something that would become a bit of a theme for the trip as a whole. 

Not a common view leaving the airport

Our friend Craig from Freedom Campervans came to collect us, and drove us over to meet our home for the next two weeks:

Tank getting his first look at Mindy, a 2016 VW T6 Caledonian conversion
(the other primary van's name is Mork)

After offloading our luggage into Mindy, Craig took us off for an amazing brunch at the very allergy-aware Stack & Still. I had a huge plate of gluten & dairy-free pancakes with berries, walnuts, and maple sryup, while Tank was convinced to go for the "Big Breakfast Stack"

That's 2 big pancakes (the plate is enormous), baked beans, Lorne sausage, black pudding, bacon, sauteed onion, and a fried egg on top with chives

With full bellies, it was time to try taking Mindy for a spin. A few things to keep in mind:

• We'd got up at 8:30am Toronto time on July 9th - it was now approximately 5am Toronto time
• Neither of us had ever driven on the left side of the road before
• Mindy was a right-hand-drive manual shift, meaning we'd have to shift with our left hand

Conditions for success were less than ideal. Tank tried first, driving carefully out of the storage lot and through a quiet (on a Sunday morning, anyway) industrial park, then turning around at a dead-end street and heading back. Then my turn: I stalled it within the first couple of hundred yards, and Tank was so uptight and screechy about the whole business that it was quickly decided I'd stick to navigations.

With our things stowed in the van well enough for the moment, we did a full going-over of how the van's electrical systems, propane, diesel fuel, water tank, and components (roof, bed, rotating front seat) worked. Then Craig ran us through things that needed to be done prior to departure each day plus (electrical off, propane bottle off, unplug the power cord if using, and drop and secure the roof), and showed us the few existing bits of damage (just a couple of minor dents) whilst filming to ensure fair play with the insurance company. By just after noon, we were ready to roll...about 5 minutes away to a grocery store to stock up!

That was a fraught 5 minutes, let me tell you. Craig had been kind enough to pick up a UK SIM card for my mobile phone so I could use it without paying the punitive Canadian roaming charges (seriously - $15 per day to use my own SIM, or £10 for a MONTH with 16gb of data and unlimited calls & texts), so navigation only posed minor issues, but Scottish roads are very narrow, and the van is a bit wider than our Subaru, and there was some traffic..

We made it. There may have been some screaming, but no collisions.

Then, the bewildering experience of trying to grocery shop in a new country, where aisles aren't necessarily organized or labelled as you'd expect. It's bad enough trying to find what you need when you go to a different store than usual in your own town: now try it sleep deprived in a foreign land. Still, we eventually found everything we wanted, about $180 CAD at Tesco Extra later.

If you wonder about the bottled water, some prior renter of Mindy had filled the water tank with diesel so it wasn't drinkable, and we didn't plan to go to a caravan park that night

With our supplies stowed and the tiny refrigerator packed to the gills, we headed out of Glasgow via the fastest way possible. With a bit of air conditioning in the grocery store and some time out of traffic, Tanker was a bit more relaxed at the wheel. We hit the dual carriageway toward Stirling, and Tank found it the perfect way to get to know Mindy.

Our first taste of the M8

The van was really quite comfortable, if unfamiliar

Our first stop was a major historical monument - we knew only of the statue there, but quickly discovered there was so much more to this momentous site.

This page has an excellent overview, should you choose to become better acquainted

The inscriptions read:
"For God and St. Andrew
Robert the Bruce
King of Scots
planted his Standard
near this spot
when the
Scottish Patriots
under his command
vanquished the Army of
Edward II of England at
the Battle of
BANNOCKBURN 24th June 1314"
"We fight not for glory, nor for
wealth, nor honour but only and alone
we fight for freedom which no
good man surrenders but with his life"

The axe head topping the Saltire's pole nods to the bloody history of Scottish independence

Stirling Castle - stronghold of Edward II - is visible to the north

Beyond the memorial, the statue we'd originally come to see:

Robert the Bruce - King of Scots

The irony of the statue having been erected by Robert's enemies

A striking tribute to the first ruler of free Scotland

With our respects paid, we walked down the hill to the van and set off for the next part of our journey.

With a bit more dual carriageway before the real fun began

Here we go!

Truth be told, we missed Loch Lomond - the biggest lake in Britain - entirely. I'm sure its banks are as bonny as we've all been told, but Craig had advised against our original routing past it due to very narrow roads. Having seen the A84 and A85 through it, we are 100% certain this was the correct course for us, as the twisting, undulating secondary highways were more than stressful enough! I don't have any photos as I was too busy clinging to my seat in the van as we swung through the endless blind curves, perilously close to the crumbling edges of the road, or to ancient stone walls that gave no quarter to our sliver of lane. 

Even my watch got cute about it

We pulled over into laybys when queues of faster traffic (read: everyone) formed behind us, so as not to try the patience of other drivers too much. Tank gained smoothness and confidence with each shift, and got some experience backing Mindy into a tiny car park when we pulled off at Leny Woods as I'd seen something about a waterfall on Google maps.

We didn't see the fall, but we did get a nice look at Garbh Uisge

A couple of very helpful National Parks Service wardens saw us a bit uncertain, and stopped their van to have a chat - they said we'd be welcome to park up for the night at Leny Woods, but to always check signage about to ensure that overnight parking was permitted. Here's the thing: the Scottish Outdoor Access Code basically permits anyone to ramble about and camp where they please, as long as they're not jerks about it. It's simple and beautiful, and permits people with a campervan (ahem!) a lot of freedom to roam and camp all over the countryside.

..and what a place to have such a privilege!

We weren't done our day's journey yet, though, so we pressed onward. The road emerged from the forest into rolling hills, and widened enough that I could finally un-clench a bit.

YEAH!

We stopped in another roadside car park to have a good look at Loch Lubnaig, soaking in the sun.

Weary as I was, I sorely envied those paddleboarders!

Speaking of weary: as the forest around us gave way to open vistas, Tank's yawning became virtually constant. Now at nearly 24hrs without sleep, I suggested we take advantage of having a bed along with us, and we pulled over just north of the Glen Ogle Viaduct - the first bit of Roman architecture we'd seen so far.

And quite picturesque it was, too

We parked up in a gravel lot beside a motorhome, pulled out the bed, and flopped down for a nap. About an hour and a half later, Tank was feeling a bit more awake - though we were both absolutely soaked with sweat. I had a quick wee in the long grass off the path that intersected the car park, then we got on our way again.

Tank ready to go as I pause to snap a pic of Mindy and the Rob Roy Way trail signage

We continued north, with slightly less yawning as the Highlands rose around us. Having driven through mountain ranges in both eastern (Laurentians) and western Canada (Rockies) plus the northeastern US (Green, White, Allegheny & Great Smokies), I was unprepared for how truly ancient the worn peaks of Scotland would appear. 

Suddenly "as old as the hills" took on a whole new meaning

We stopped at the Loch Tulla viewpoint to try to take it in, the sun still high in the sky as the clock crept toward 7pm.

..and what a view it was!

It also happens to be the location of an interesting cairn, which we both thought quite moving.

With paths leading off in every direction from it

Top plaque

Lower plaque

We had designs on a couple of Munros along our way, but those would be for other days - for now, we were just looking for a spot to park up for the night, while rolling along and enjoying the stunning views.

Someone has already claimed the layby on the right

The landscape just kept getting more impressive

Crazily, the road works crews were only just wrapping up at 7pm on a Sunday!

When we reached the Glen Coe viewpoint, we knew we'd found our home for the night.

Looking north toward tomorrow

A trail - known as a "walk" in the UK - led off from the small car park

Further walks were visible everywhere - criss-crossing and switchbacking over the sides of the mountains, and winding off into the distance in every direction. They were seldom more than patches of grass or gravel worn by the passage of feet, but it became very clear to us that Scotland takes its right to wander quite seriously, and has done so for centuries.

Tanker for scale - I'm not sure we've ever felt so small

The heat of the day was fading quickly in the dry air of the valley, so we set up Mindy for the night and got into some warmer clothes.

Ready for our first night of #vanlife

We had bought another SIM card for Tank when we stopped at the grocery store, and seeing that I had a decent amount of coverage in the valley between the enormous peaks that surrounded us, I took some time to set it up...slightly hampered by the fact that our mutual provider refused to take a credit card with a billing address outside the UK to purchase the pay-as-you-go plan we wanted (mine had come with a £10 voucher already prepaid). I finally managed to use a third party site to buy a voucher, crossing my fingers that it would actually work and I wasn't just handing over credit card info to some scammer. Fortunately the PIN I received was accepted by the mobile company's app, and so now we both had functional phones for Scotland!

Though Tank did basically no posting or mapping, and basically just used his phone for sports scores and social media. 

I made us some dinner (zucchini, broccoli, chicken breast, and rice, cooked up with lots of garlic paste) on the propane stove in Mindy's little galley from the supplies we'd picked up in Glasgow, and we pulled out the camping table and chairs that Craig had kindly included with the van to have dinner on our "patio".

Then I wrote up my daily log entry while Tank took care of the dishes

The sky took over the evening's entertainment

Now here was a thing for which we weren't really prepared: we knew we were quite far north  - just shy of the 57th parallel north, approximately the same latitude as Churchill, Manitoba (the polar bear capital of Canada) - and that sunset would be very late, around 10:15pm that evening. What we hadn't really comprehended was that this meant it wouldn't really get dark outside.

This is almost 11pm

We began to wonder why we'd brought out headlamps..

We'd seen no wildlife at all except crows and the occasional sheep, but as the semi-darkness deepened we could hear a strange noise at intervals over the small ridge in front of the van. We had thought it might be sheep or goats calling to one another, but as we later learned what sheep bleating sounded like, it became clear it wasn't that. I was never able to catch sight of what was making the noise; there were at least 2 or 3 creatures in different places, all moving about in the gloom. Frogs perhaps? Wild goats? We've no idea.

As we laid down to sleep that night - some time after midnight, with the dew falling so heavily around us that it might as well have rained - I swear I heard hooves clatter across the crumbling, gravelly pavement outside the van. I tried shining my headlamp out through the window of the van, but the moisture in the air just reflected it and I couldn't see a thing past the glass. 

We slept well, then rose the next day to see what else Scotland had in store for us..

Apart from thousands of foxgloves

Stay tuned over the coming weeks as I take you on a tour of this incredible country. 

.as seen through the eyes of a couple of rotten old punks!

Stagger on regardless

 Saturday did not go well for me.

It's actually been rather a crap week since, but for different reasons.

I had got to bed very late on Friday, and - as follows - woke up exhausted and a bit later than I could really make jive with running down to the market. I mean, it was only 9:30am...but I'm a little creaky in the morning, and it takes me around an hour and a half just to get out the door, and over and hour to run down there. The market closes at 1pm. The math was definitely not on my side, so we just got up and drove down there to get our groceries instead.

I am trying to build a bit of mileage now that the 100 in 100 is over, so I wanted to get at least 10mi in, and I knew a place that would be easy to do so: Dundas Valley. I hadn't been down there since Leftovers back in November, and we have a membership with Hamilton Conservation until early May, so it seemed ideal. I knew that 10mi there wouldn't come easy, though (and I secretly hoped to get more like 20km in), so I would need to equip myself for up to 3-ish hours of trail time. That meant filling up my hydration pack, and lots of snacks.

Oh, and spikes. Definitely spikes.

I went to put the full bladder into my pack, and discovered it was leaking from the quick-disconnect valve where the hose meets the bladder. Not bueno; it wasn't below freezing, but I still didn't want my precious hydration escaping and soaking my back. I have another bladder - which does have its own hose, but it's absurdly long, and I don't like the drinking valve on it - with the same quick-disconnect, so I tried filling it and snapping in the hose. Success! It popped in like it was made for it, so off we went...after grabbing a headlamp as well, because we were well past the time I had wanted to leave, and I'd be up against it to finish up before dark.

Of course the portajohn was gone from the parking lot, and the trail centre was closed despite it not being quite 4pm yet

Emerging from the car, I was happy I'd grabbed a fleece skirt to wear over my tights, and had packed a wind jacket in my bag - the sun was disappearing behind thin cloudcover, and the wind had picked up significantly. I donned my spikes, realizing I'd brought the multiply-broken set instead of the nearly brand-new ones I'd bought in case I was going to do something "a little longer, like a Sulphur loop", 'cause I'm smart like that. Then I trotted off into the trails, grateful I had any kind of traction at all on the glare ice.

I'm one of the only people I saw there who did, and let me tell you the others didn't fare too well.

Not having been down at DVCA for anything other than a race in quite awhile, I took the luxury of hooking right onto the Deer Run, which quite often lives up to its name. I'd not gone a kilometer yet and rather needed to find a quiet spot to, umm, add some nitrogen and phosphorus to the local ecology. Plus, I was thirsty - doesn't that always seem to be the way? All the hydration problems at once! So, I grabbed my hose and took a good long pull of...air?

I tried again, with more vigour. I got more air. I came to the spot where the trail splits, where a 4x4 post with a location marker is driven into the ground, and hung my pack up on the post. It seems the male connector of my hose wasn't quite long enough to depress the spring that actually releases the water from the bladder in the quick-connect valve; when I tried to push it in further, it began to leak, and wouldn't stay anyway.

I had no water. I was getting chilled by the wind as I was dressed for a run, not standing in the damp, melting woods with the wind blowing over the snowpack. I was despondent, and strongly considered just messaging Tank to tell him I give the heck up, then going home and hiding under a blanket fort for the rest of the day.

I did not do that. 

I did message Tank to say I had a problem, and started running back toward the trail centre, where I met up with him. I explained the issue, and my proposed solution: instead of one long loop, I'd grab my bike bottle out of the car - the one I always bring along, from which you've probably seen me drink a million times if we've hung out together anywhere other than on an actual race course - and just carry it with me, looping back to the car to refill from the giant 1.5L nalgene of water we brought along with us.

That one, with the Brooks "Run Happy" rubber bracelet around the top

Tank gave me the car key and said he'd wait for me, so I ran back to the parking lot, ditched the useless bladder, filled my bottle, and left a single door unlocked in case I needed to refill and he wasn't back from his hike yet. I'd already tried the spigot by the tracks, and it was (as expected) still shut off for the winter. I knew that carrying my bottle with no strap or anything was going to suck, and I had lost even more daylight, but damnit I wasn't ready to give up!

A change of plans is not a failure - refusing to adapt is.

There were sights to see!

I bopped around the main loop until the Heritage Trail, noting that now the main Bruce Trail seems to head that was instead of continuing around the main loop (which is now considered side trail, with blue blazes). Not sure when that happened, but I knew where I wanted to go anyway!

..and stood at least a 60% chance of getting there without sliding off a cliff.

Fortunately my spikes held up on the ice, and I made it to Canterbury Falls without incident. 

Though I declined to go wandering out onto the sketchy rock that gives the best view due to icy conditions and my spikes not affording much grip on bare stone

I slurped back a maple syrup based gel packet as I paused to listen to the rushing water beneath the ice, then got on my way. I wasn't enjoying carrying the bottle: it made it awkward to take photos as I don't like having both my hands full, and my right thumb gets cranky if I have to grip anything for any length of time, but it was better than no water.

Or no run!

For my next trick, I would try not to die while descending a set of iced up stairs in the woods.

But not that kind of stairs in the woods

Not without reason - at the other end of these (plus over a couple of hundred metres of rather gnarly, rocky trail) lies gold!

Behold Sherman Falls!

I noted that I'd now drained more than half of my bottle of water, so should probably head back to the car post-haste to refill. I also noted that the wooden bridge spanning the stream below the falls - which had been closed when last I was there - was now completely gone!

More's the pity - it had the absolute best view of the falls

I had planned to just book it down Artaban Road and hit the Monarch Trail back to the main loop, as I knew the Sulphur Creek crossover trail would likely be icy death and falling into a ravine full of fallen trees and broken limbs was definitely not the icing I wished to add to my cake of disappointments for the day. As I passed by it, though, it didn't look so bad..

I remembered at Leftovers it seemed some reconstruction work had made the whole thing a bit less narrow and sketchy, too

So - for no good reason at all - I went for it. 

Things did not improve as I descended.

WHYYYY

I don't mind running down an icy surface in my spikes - you land with approximately three times your bodyweight when running downhill, so those steel points are driven into the crust and provide excellent traction. This is much less the case if you're trying to gingerly pick your way down. 

And that whole "wider and less sketchy thing" was apparently very much wrong

The worst was the last section, where there weren't even any exposed roots - just the occasional tree to cling to, as I've done in the past when it was mud slicking the hill instead of ice. Trying to carefully kick my spikes into the ice with one foot, while also trying not to move too much weight off the uphill foot that is still holding..

Yeah, I'm a weenie. I know this. I accept this.

I did manage to make it down without falling - or even resorting to butt sliding, which is always an option on the table - and onto the bridge over Sulphur Creek below.

Didn't die!

At this point, I just had to climb the river of ice that was the Sulphur Creek Trail, survive another steep downhill on an unknown surface, then I'd be back on the main loop quite close to the car. I was almost out of water, so I tried to hustle as best I could.

On terrain not well suited to hustling

The sun actually came out as I crested the highest point, and began a muddy descent on the far side.

Deep breath

It was quite astonishing how much melting had happened at the higher elevations in the park, compared with the hard plate of ice in other spots.

Sometimes only a handful of metres apart

Back to the main loop and out past the trail centre, I found Tank already back at the car...but I'd only done 10km, and the sun was dropping fast.

Though I did finally get my lap in on the Deer Run!

I scarfed back a little Halloween packet of fuzzy peaches (which turned out to be much smaller than the proper ones, and much harder despite having been kept warm in a pocket against my chest), filled my bottle, then ran away again.

With the golden sun lighting up the Spring Creek Trail

The universe wasn't cooperative, but I was getting it done!

I tried to draw on my knowledge of the Tally in the Valley course for my next loop, but knew I didn't want to do either the rail trail or an out-and-back if I could avoid it...so I hit the John White Trail over to Sawmill, and looped back around that way.

The pine forest on Sawmill is a much different place in winter!

Of course I hit mud as I reached the top of a hill, and had to hope my spikes would hold..

I think the only time I've had a non-muddy run at Dundas Valley was a Sulphur training run at -15c

My spikes held, all right - held 10lbs of mud apiece!

I could only pray there was enough of the spikes sticking out to grip the ice that was to come, as that mud did not want to come out!

The sun had all but set as I came through another section of pine forest, very gloomy in the fading daylight..

Not enough to need a headlamp yet, but getting close

Emerging into more open, deciduous forest again, I was surprised to find I wasn't the only one on the trails!

I could only get a lousy photo of her, and even worse ones of her 3 companions

Back to the car again as I'd somehow managed to drink 3/4 of my bottle in just 4km, and I still needed another 2k as I was bloody well set on getting 10mi in! With one last full bottle, a sore hand from carrying it, and a sore ankle from the beating it had taken on the lumpy ice all afternoon, I trotted past the trail centre one more time to hit the main loop in the opposite (clockwise) direction from which I'd started. I ended up at a spot past the end of the Sulpur Creek Trail that I'm not sure I've ever been to before.

Though it's clearly a popular spot

..and I can see why!

I turned around there, knowing I'd get the mileage I wanted by the time I got back, and as I forced my tired legs into a run I once more heard a distinctive jingle from my right foot. I'd broken another stinkin' link in my spikes!

It's always the same spot - this is the 3rd link to go

Twilight was falling as I reached the parking lot: another 5 minutes and I'd have needed the headlamp I'd carried with me all day, and I'd already been tempted to throw on my wind jacket as the temperature had dropped. I was muddy, smelled terrible, and was both sore and exhausted...but I got 16.5km in, and didn't give up.

Also: saw pretty things!

Not every day is going to go your way, but you always have a choice: you can let it derail you entirely, or you can find a way 'round. It certainly wasn't the run I had in mind when I planned to hit Dundas Valley, but it certainly was an adventure!