On the Way to Stornoway

Not such a leisurely start today although the leg should be easy and almost as short as yesterday. However, I have a train to catch at around mid-day. My ticket, bought long ago before the shin splints erupted is from Corrour, which at one point I had hoped to get to by now. However that plan has been abandoned and I am pretty much committed to go up the west, rather than the east, of Rannoch moor now. Less exciting but easier to bail if the splints flare up. Anyway, I can catch my scheduled train from Bridge of Orchy. I should have plenty of time, but if I miss it I will be buggered as I will not then be able to get to Glasgow to catch the connecting train I am booked on.

A nice short, easy day today. I am looking forward to it until I look out of the hostel window and see it had been raining. Weather has been a subject for much discussion. The hostellers of Crianlarich are in great contrast to the tourists and BT engineers of Stirling. Apart from me they all seem to be Munro baggers and the forcast is for rain and high winds on the tops. Not that it seems to have put anyone off. There are not even any other West Highland Way walkers which is a bit surprising. But Crianlarich is surrounded by appealing Munros (mountains over 3000 feet) none of which, as it happens, I have climbed.

Up earlier than I would really like because there is only one bus I can get to Callander to link up with the little bus to Kingshouse, or else I will have to wait two hours. The BT engineer has a day off so does not wake me with his teeth brushing, which is a plus, but on the other hand I don't have time to stop for a cappucino in the Burgh Coffee house, having to make do with a paper cup of tea in the bus station cafe.

Up fairly early after an unsatisfactory night. My calculation was, after the last visit, that at least on a Thursday night in Stirling at this time of year I might get a room to myself. Not so. Two loudly snoring Belgians, a BT broadband engineer and another guy shared the room.

Back on the road after a couple of weeks, back down to Euston in the dark. My left leg and ankle have stopped hurting but the ankle still feels a bit stiff and tight. I probably should have been to see a doctor but I just did not get round to it.
The Virgin Pendelino whisks me up to Glasgow where I have a spot of time between trains so I nip into Tiso in Buchanan Street and buy a walking pole as I have not yet retrieved the one I left in Edinburgh.

This is not good. This is not good at all.  My room in the hostel is up a flight of stairs and going down to the member's kitchen for breakfast is excruciating. I woke a few times in the night with pain in my left leg but fully expected it to be better by the morning. But better it most definitely isn't.

I had planned to have a fairly easy day today. To maybe get a bit beyond Bridge of Allen on the way to Callendar as I have decided to go that way (more old railway lines) rather than what looks like a more difficult route to Crief where I could have picked up old drove routes to Skye.

I can see clearly now the rain has gone...  Nope,
actually,  my sight is a bit blurry from too much red wine last night. The rain has gone though. Nick and Susan have the luxury of a leisurely Saturday morning. Nick starts checking out the horses on the internet, which Susan tells me is his Saturday ritual.