The West Highland Way - A Walker's Guide

A practical guidebook to walking the West Highland Way through Scotland from Milngavie to Fort William. The National Trail route is 95 miles long and can be walked in under a week, it takes walkers through areas such as Loch Lomond and remote Rannoch Moor, and past Buchaille Etive Mor at the gateway to Glencoe.

When Walt Unsworth rang me up to ask if I could shelve the eternally on-going encyclopaedia of the countryside I was working on for him and go off to do a guidebook to the West Highland Way, I confess I delayed my response by a good two nanoseconds, mainly because I didn’t want to appear too eager. But, I thought, if I don’t do it, Walt will only get someone else to sort it out, so why not? I agreed, reluctantly. Well, it isn’t every day you get a publisher throwing work your way – usually you have to grovel a bit first!

The truth is, I had driven up and down the Loch Lomond, Rannoch and Glencoe roads to Fort William for what seemed like an eternity, listening to the strains of Mike Oldfield and Rick Wakeman, and frequently glancing enviously across at serious-faced West Highland Wayfarers trudging through the rain in Glencoe, or cowering beneath heavy packs north of Tyndrum, and I felt that I wanted to share the same evidently transcendental experience. So when the chance came in the form of a money-making method, I leapt at it – after that two nanoseconds’ delay, of course.

With untypical aplomb I rummaged about in search of my backpacking sack, the Trangias and numerous non-essential accessories I always take when backpacking, and then set about the tea bag and biscuit logistics, planning to complete the trek at the end of October 1995, scoot back to base and type it up speedily for publication in the spring of 1996. Sadly, I overlooked the fact that during the time I was there the whole country reverts from daft time to GMT, which left me with an inordinately long walk from Inveroran to Kinlochleven to do in one day, the last three hours of which were going to be in darkness. Not a problem in normal circumstances, but I was supposed to be working, and I couldn’t write about what I couldn’t see. So, at the Little Chef in Tyndrum, while consulting a Cajun chicken and chips, Plan B was devised, namely, go home and finish the walk in the spring. As a result, the poor souls at Crianlarich youth hostel who thought they had seen the last of me had to put up with me again, but they were quite brave about it.

More to the point, I got to see the Way in two seasons, and felt I had gained by doing so. In October, the temperatures had been ideal for backpacking, and the light even better for photography. By May, most of the snow had cleared from the mountains, the rivers and burns were manageable, and the light just as splendid.

I shall, unquestionably, go back and do it again, without the monetary incentive, just for the pleasure. I have never enjoyed doing a trail guide quite so much.

The West Highland Way

Approaching its twentieth year, the West Highland Way was the first officially designated long-distance route in Scotland, established under the Countryside (Scotland) Act, 1967. It runs, officially, for 152km (95 miles) from the outskirts of Glasgow to Fort William, and in the process contrives to experience an enormously wide variety of landscapes and walking conditions. It is neither easy nor outrageously demanding, though inclement weather can certainly raise the stakes a few notches, and it is not the most ideal route on which to set about one’s first experience of long distance walking.

There is, too, a great association between much of the Way and the historical past of Scotland. It crosses three major areas of great significance in Scottish history from the lands of Lennox, through Breadalbane and on to Lochaber. Much of the route pursues ancient drove roads or old military roads built to help in the control of Jacobite clansmen, and the study of these aspects alone is a fascinating and worthwhile preoccupation.

The idea for the Way is not as recent as might be supposed. It originates as long ago as the 1930s and 1940s, but it was in the aftermath of the Pennine Way success story that embryonic notions began to develop to maturity. Approval for the Way to be officially developed was given in September 1974, and the route opened on 6 October 1980 by Lord Mansfield, Minister of State at the Scottish Office.

Because it does make use of those old drove roads and military roads, which in turn have been fairly faithfully followed by twentieth-century roads and railway links, the resulting route is never far from help, though it can seem it on a bad day. Only as you cross Rannoch Moor and pass through the Lairig Mor beyond Kinlochleven do you acquire any real sense of isolation. Yet the Way’s proximity to such modern trappings of civilisation rarely impinges on the pleasure you gain from the walk. Yes, there are moments when you can hear the traffic and come perilously close to it, and yes, there are times when the traffic seems always in view, somewhere. But you must set that against a walk of great quality and distinction, that passes through a landscape second to none. Often all it takes to shun these ‘problems’ is a convenient boulder or sheltered hollow, and you could be a million miles from anywhere.

For me, the great pleasure of the Way derives from the many changes in its character, as it moves through different geological zones, from lowland Scotland to the highlands, from the pastoral introduction as you move northwards from Milngavie, to the loveliness that is Loch Lomond. Beyond that you enter the realms of Glen Falloch and Strath Fillan, glens flanked by great mountains that were once cloaked by the mantle of an ancient Caledonian pine forest.

North of Tyndrum the Way sets about tackling Rannoch Moor, largely on routes formerly used by drovers. As a result it is well trodden and never in doubt. But it is along this section that you find yourself more remote from outside help than at any other time along the walk. On a good day the walking is a delight, but, in spite of the comparative ease of the conditions underfoot, poor weather can soon turn delight to disaster. Anyone not bound for the oasis that is the King’s House Hotel should think twice, if the weather is especially changeable, before leaving the security of the Bridge of Orchy or Inveroran.

Touching only briefly on Glencoe, the Way presses on from Kingshouse, heading for Kinloch­leven, the Lairig Mor and Fort William. I found the short stretch between Kingshouse and Altnafeadh, which is seldom far from the heavy and speeding traffic on the A82, to be the least appealing section of the whole walk. As you approach Altnafeadh you stride along within feet of the traffic, and in wet conditions are sure to get a good drenching from spray. To avoid the danger there is an alternative line that follows the River Coupall, with much to be said in its favour, though it gives a much lower view of the glen than the main route.

Between Altnafeadh and the end of the Way at Fort William the quality of the walking remains high. Forestry plantations cloak the hills on the south side of Glen Nevis, but they are rarely oppressive. Before that, the long, winding approach to Kinlochleven and the ensuing flight across the southern flanks of the Mamores through Lairig Mor is excellent walking, and a fitting final stage for an outstanding walk.