them, so far as I could see, were acquaintances of ours — we boarded the boat.
Once ashore, we had lunch in Inverbeg and then walked along the road which follows the river through Glen Douglas. We crossed the railway and reached the Garelochhead-Arrocher road where, thanks, I think, to Hera’s beauty, we thumbed a lift to Oban by way of Inverary on Loch Fyne and the Pass of Brander.
I had to hire a car and a driver to take us back to Inverbeg and we missed the boat on its return journey and had to spend the night at Inverbeg and cross back again in the morning.
‘I wish we could stay here another night,’ said Hera, when we stepped ashore at Rowardennan again. I felt the same urge and, in any case, I wanted to explain why we had not taken up our option of bedding down at the hostel the night before. We knew we were not the only hostellers who had crossed the loch on the previous day and some thoughtful soul had reported to the warden that we had missed the boat. I asked whether we could stay an extra night. The hostel was not full, so permission was readily granted and we spent most of the daylight hours on the little loch-side beach in front of the hostel, except for part of the afternoon when we took another trip on the water to the head of the loch and back.
It would have been possible to follow the example of some of the other hostellers and climb Ben Lomond, a scheduled half-day excursion by a well-established route, but we decided upon a lazy day instead, as there would be enough walking to do before we reached Fort William and Ben Nevis.
Part of our time on the beach was spent watching canoeists, for the place is the centre for the Scottish Youth Hostels’ canoe club. We could have gone trout-fishing, had we wished, for permits were available. However, the long, lazy daylight hours suited our contented mood and I do not know when I have spent a pleasanter or more relaxing time. Hera had one complaint, but she voiced it with a smile.
‘It’s a lovely holiday,’ she said, ‘but everything is going much too well. It isn’t testing our relationship at all.’ Obviously she had forgotten any strained feelings after we had left the airport hotel.
‘Give it time,’ I said. ‘We haven’t got to Crianlarich yet, let alone to the edge of Rannoch Moor and the Devil’s Staircase.’
‘I shall be glad to be on the move again tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Even if that other lot are walking all the way from Milngavie,’ (we had been told to pronounce it Milguy), ‘they can’t be all that far behind us now. We’ve spent a lot of time on The Way. I know we must have passed them early on, but they’ll be catching up with us soon.’
I had forgotten Carbridge and his press-gang.
‘Heavens, yes,’ I said. ‘It reminds me of
‘Well, this isn’t an inland voyage so far,’ said Hera. ‘We’ve been more or less beside Loch Lomond all the time and we even crossed it yesterday.’
‘I meant Stevenson’s book. He and his friend met some Belgian canoeists who more or less invited them to canoe with the local champion, who would make himself available if they would wait until the Sunday. They didn’t. They sneaked off. He says, “And, indeed, it was not time for scruples; we seemed to feel the hot breath of the champion on our necks.” Now that you have mentioned Carbridge, I seem to feel his hot breath on mine. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.’
We were unlucky. The gang, some of them looking extremely jaded, turned up just as we left the beach that evening to go into the hostel for supper. The person who showed no sign of fatigue was the effervescent Carbridge. He came in with Todd and was shouting loudly and gleefully to him as they entered, ‘And where did
Well, it is not possible to leg it into a youth hostel and make a dash for your own room or to have your own separate table for meals. As soon as we appeared, we were seized upon by Carbridge and the others and found that it was impossible to escape. For what remained of the evening, including the supper-time, we were unwilling listeners to stories of the adventures, mishaps and triumphs of the party as they had made their way from Milngavie to Rowardennan. Only the hostel rules of lights out and silence broke up the gathering and cut short the flow.
Carbridge made one more attempt to persuade us to join the rest of them on the walk. When it failed he said, ‘Well, if you can’t join us, beat us. I challenge you, old boy, old boy.’
‘To what?’
‘That we’ll reach Fort William before you do.’
‘I don’t know that we’re bothering about Fort William. We shall probably knock off at Kinlochleven,’ I told him. ‘The rest of The Way is over an old military road, I believe, and might not be very interesting.’
‘Make it Kinlochleven, then, although, if you end up there, you’ll be missing the best part of the trip.’
‘I think not, from what I’ve heard and read.’
‘It’s a first-class YH at Fort William and we shall climb Ben Nevis from there. You’ll be missing all that.’
‘I wish you the joy of it.’
‘Well, five quid that at least two of us, me and a lassie, as they say in these parts, get to Kinlochleven before you two do. Walking all the way, of course. No more of this bus and train lark of yours. Am I on?’
‘No, of course you’re not. If we fancy taking to the public transport, we shall do just that.’
‘Cissy stuff, old boy, old boy.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t accept the bet openly,’ said Hera, when we had seen the gang off next morning, ‘but, all the same, we
‘But we may feel the urge to take a bus or train here and there. The weather may change. We may get blisters on our feet or even sprain an ankle. All sorts of things could happen.’
‘So they could to Carbridge and the others. Look here, Comrie, if I had been one of your men friends you wouldn’t have turned down that bet.’
‘Yes, I should. Under no circumstances am I prepared to go into any sort of a huddle with that irritating blighter. Anyway, although I told him we were only going as far as Kinlochleven, of course we’re finishing at Fort
