Hiking/running in Argyll

Beautiful Forest trails, wonderfully mapped, marked and managed (in this case) by the Forestry service
[Kyle]Since Maryanne and I are based somewhere for a little while and since we have a dock, so that getting ashore in bad weather is a bit easier, and since we have hot powerful showers to hand (courtesy of the marina), we have resumed our routine of running every day. {Maryanne: well we've done it a few times and hope to re-establish it as a routine..}. Scotland is a bit like Oregon to me in that, even if the weather’s bad (as it is 45 minutes of every hour), it seems a shame not to get out and enjoy it. The trails are really well done out here, with good maintenance and markings. Most of the places that we’ve been running have alternated between lush paths through thick, moss covered trees, usually alongside a river with its attendant waterfalls, and long, sweeping views of rugged mountains. We took a wrong turn on one path and ended up back at the parking lot when we were about half done. Still eager to see our original planned trail, we went up again and ended up doing more than a double run.

The day after that we attempted to run up what Maryanne calls the M.C. Escher staircase trail. The trail was so steep that eventually we gave up even trying to run. We figured we were getting enough exercise hauling ourselves up. We climbed for two hours and broke out into the parking lot and our car. Well, okay, not really, but for the first part of the climb we would have sworn that’s where it was going. We’d keep seeing no more signs of possible up and then we’d come around the corner and there was not only more up, but it was even steeper. We were sure that space was somehow folding back on itself. We were feeling pretty chuffed with ourselves for being so outdoorsy and athletic when a woman went chugging by, clearly not straining and going faster than we would match. She said something about lovely day for a walk, which we didn’t understand fully because of the marked Doppler shift. That was humiliating enough, but get this, she also had on one of those backpacks that a toddler goes in – with a toddler in. We kept thinking that we’d go into a shop for a snack after the hike and we would find her behind the counter, already showered and changed and fluffed up.

After a couple hours of climbing, we reached the end of the official trail. Just on the other side of the fence was a sign saying ‘Ben Lora Viewpoint – 900 metres’. Maryanne says I’m like a dog with a wagging tail every time I see a new trail or even a hint of a trail. She doesn’t mean it as a compliment but it’s absolutely true. I can’t resist the urge to have a peek around the next corner or over the next ridge. She looked at the sizable climb ahead, which may have only been 900m but it was steep, and knew she was done for.

The non-trail was no so well kept. It had rained a lot lately (since the last ice age) and it was a bit boggy. I can only imagine that the Scots must have 50 words for wet ground: squelchy, squishy, squippy, slippy, drippy, na’shoe… We definitely found them all.

The occasional bog to cross - my new shoes keep me dry and fearless

We got to the top of the mountain. I took a few photos. When I was done, I looked up and found the very wife who was complaining about my wanderlust marching smartly toward the next peak. She’s all talk. I knew there was a reason I picked this one. At the end of the day, her curiosity and wonder is too strong to resist as well.

Finding nowhere else that was sensible to go, we headed back down the way we came. Just past a squippy place, the trail transitioned to slippy – wet grass over mud. I wasn’t prepared. My feet went out from under me and I went sliding down the mountainside on my back water park style. The ground, with its under-layer of moss, was really soft. As soon as I fell, I knew that I was so hopelessly muddy that there was no point in getting mad about it so I just enjoyed the ride. The really cool thing was that my legs were out in front of me in a slight vee, which, like a big squeegee, squeezed all of the moisture out of the grass ahead of me. As the, um, apex of the vee approached, a geyser of mud, water and grass clippings shot ahead of me like I was plowing snow off of a road. It was really cool. Had I been a little kid, I would have totally gone back and done it fifteen more times. As an infinitesimally wiser adult, I realized that there may be a stray rock under that there moss and decided against it. It sure was fun, though.

Because there was so much water on the ground, the mud wasn’t bad. It was mostly water with a few bits of dead grass and bark in it. On the way back, it rained enough to effectively rinse me off. Once it stopped, since I was wearing light weight running clothes, It dries quickly and was only slightly damp by the time Maryanne and I got back to the car.

We love the trees
On return to the Marina, Maryanne was especially glad to find not only hot showers but a "family bathroom" with a bath tub to soak in - perfect!