West Highland Way Day 1

Milngavie to Drymen

12 miles

Elevation: 1358 ft 

I fell asleep to the sound of rain coming down hard on the pavement.

When I woke up it was still steadily coming down. I swirled a little instant coffee into some hot water and crawled back into bed with my mug. 

I studied the maps and trail notes, prayed for an open heart to whatever the day would hold, and drank my coffee. I thought:

It’s good to be warm and dry for a little longer.

By the time we ate our breakfast, packed up and delivered our bags to the train station to be magically carried along to our next stop, the rain had lightened. 

We took our first steps onto the West Highland Way in a drizzle rather than a downpour, an important distinction. And a gift.

We entered a wood right as we left the town of Milngavie, which oddly is pronounced ‘Mull-guy,’ a detail that makes it difficult to find if you’re asking locals for directions from Glasgow.

The little wood spread into a forest with ferns and moss-covered trees. The path was drenched from all the rain. It’s been raining here for weeks. But we stomped happily through and as much as possible, around, the puddles filled with first-day enthusiasm. 

Here we are!

We’re doing it!

For a while the rain stopped. We even shed our jackets for a mile or two. But we kept on our mud-splattered rain trousers, knowing the rain would return.

It started falling again when reached our first stop along the way: The Glengoyne Distillery. 

You can’t hike in Scotland without stopping for whisky. 

We decided to forgo the 75-minute official tour and tasting. 

But with clean bathrooms, a water-filling station and plenty of tiny bottles for sale, the folks at Glengoyne are clearly expecting the wave of West Highland Way hikers that roll through the valley. 

We each got a tiny bottle and headed back out into the rain. 

Not for long though. We stopped for lunch less than a mile later at The Beech Tree where we dried out for over an hour with lentil soup, hot sandwiches and tea.

It started raining much harder while we were in the cafe and we watched many hikers come in dripping wet before we finally suited up and headed back out. 

We had five miles left and it rained hard for four of them. We went from damp to wet to sopping as we marched through the rain. You can’t really hear each other when it’s raining that hard so we didn’t chat much in the afternoon.

Sometimes I find that heavy-rain walking can take me to a meditative state of just stepping one foot in front of the other, but the trail was so covered in mud that I had to focus more on the steps. We were zigzagging around the paths all day trying to keep the water from sloshing up over our boots. But eventually I found this effort so trying that I started to just splash straight through the path. 

Once I gave up on the effort to stay out of the puddles, the walking became much easier and I wished I had just done it that way from the beginning. 

I’ve had so many similar experiences with walking in water. I remember on the Ouachita Trail that I spent so much time trying to keep my boots dry all day only to get them soaked in the last few miles of the day. 

But I suppose even if your feet are only dry for 75% of the day, that’s more enjoyable than being wet for 100%. 

The rain finally let up towards the end of the day. It turned to a light mist as we passed an adorable honesty box outside a house with fresh baked goods inside. We shared the most delicious homemade energy bar which just pushed us over the finish line. 

After climbing to the top of our hotel, we all three collapsed on the floor of our room in The Drymen Inn, too tired to shower but not wanting to get our beds dirty. After parading wet boots back down all the stairs to the drying room, we took turns showering and headed to dinner at the oldest licenced pub in Scotland, The Clachan Inn.

We split a starter of salmon, just to keep from gnawing on our arms and then I devoured a mushroom and fennel pie with chips, washed down with a local lager. We were full but that didn’t stop us from sharing a sticky toffee pudding, my very favorite dessert in Britain. 

We crawled back to our hotel room and shared our whiskies before bed. Between us we had the 10, 12 and 15 year from Glengoyne. 12 year was the winner. It’s the cherry cask, according to the man in the shop. We’ll be on the lookout for more. Good thing we still have seven more days and 83 miles left of the West Highland Way.

Right now we’re thankful to be warm and dry.