The Rob Roy Way

I came upon the Rob Roy Way completely by accident. My initial plan was to hike The Great Trossachs, but that turned into the Rob Roy Way. My friend and I were planning a several-day getaway to Scotland; mind you, our getaway has to include walking, green plains, forests and hills. But since Scotland offers so many choices when it comes to hiking trails, our task was not an easy one. Our only limit was time, since we only had five days. We looked at the paths and accommodation to get a rough idea, but to get an accurate picture, one simply has to go out into the field. We took a local bus from Edinburgh to Stirling and then directly to Aberfoyle, our starting point. We and a couple of pensioners, mostly gentlemen, who already greeted each other from afar before entering the bus and then happily chatted away to each other for the rest of their ride. Our journey therefore started in Aberfoyle, a lovely place with 650 inhabitants. Judging by the lively atmosphere, it’s hard to believe it to be such a small place. And I found that really fascinating. Despite its small size, Aberfoyle still had some accommodation establishments. These were mostly owned by the locals who offered a place to stay on the upper floor of their inns or rented rooms in their family houses that were meant to be used by hikers, since there are many hiking trails going through. I’ve noticed that the owners only managed reservations personally by email or by completing a form. We immediately became attached to Aberfoyle, or maybe the village became attached to us, I don’t know. But when we found our accommodation, met with our host and took a look at our room with a view, we got all emotional and soppy from all that perfection of the moment. There will be many more such sentimental moments in the next couple of days and it’s Scotland to blame.

After putting down our backpacks and changing socks, we went out to explore the small charming village. It was quite a town by our standards, as the small area didn’t lack any bars, restaurants, shops or a post office and whatnot, something you don’t see in villages back home. Aberfoyle is known for sheep. There’s even a sheep “farm” in the middle of the village, namely a fence with a few sheep and lambs of various colours. After getting something to eat, we continued to explore the surroundings. There were streams, paths and narrow trails with wonderful views all around.

As mentioned, our plan was to walk only a part of the trail known as The Great Trossacs Path, but something was distracting us from burying ourselves in the map. We asked our host for help and she kindly advised us to pick the Rob Roy Way instead because, if we picked our original route, we’d have to walk uphill for some time on a steep hill near a relatively busy road that led through a mountain pass. But if we picked the Rob Roy Way, we’d avoid all that and walk exclusively through the forest and across the pasture. The host also gave us a few recommendations, a map and a brochure with path info. She also mentioned, in passing, a few local attractions Aberfoyle had to offer. So, we hurried out to explore a few of Aberfoyle’s secrets before breakfast. We discovered another of the countless streams, a waterfall that cascaded into it, a whole bunch of woodland inhabitants, from squirrels and various birds to deer, and, of course, a view of the vastness of the distant mighty hills. After that we rushed off to breakfast, the house was already filled with an enticing aroma. We found a spot in the large living room that served as breakfast area and helped ourselves to some cereal and jam. Then all of a sudden, a lady came from the kitchen who first greeted us cheerily and then immediately bombarded us with questions, such as what did we want for breakfast. She was listing treats and we simply nodded. Soon afterwards, the table was laden with great food and we were served a real English breakfast with all the extras, with tea or coffee, plus a pleasant atmosphere to go with. We never expected an abundance of food like that. Not to mention we gorged ourselves on all that food like two caber throwers. But we did need the energy for the hike. We put on our backpacks and left. There were some instructions we had, on how to find the trail, and we were doing quite well. A marking pops up along the way every now and then, telling you you’re on the right track and heading in the right direction. We walked through meadows and pastures among the cows, passed by lakes, but mostly through forests, and once even passed through a really dark, black forest, and across wetlands, jumped over streams, lost the signal, avoided close encounters with cows just in case, glanced at the dark parts of the forest with fear and searched for trees to escape from wild boars had they ever appeared, met rams and their fellow sheep, admired the fairy-tale houses in small villages, and were even caught by a few raindrops, and in all this time we ran into only two people, and even that was when we were almost at the end of the trail. Our goal was to get to Callander, a town with a small Christmas shop that’s open all year round (something which we later found out wasn’t even that strange in Scotland). We looked for our hostel, emptied our backpacks of all the unnecessary stuff and ventured out to explore the surroundings right away. Again, there too, we succumbed to the beauty of waterfalls and rivers, took snaps of ourselves at Bracklinn Falls Bridge, climbed hills and tracked down views. Our day ended with a mini garden picnic in the hostel’s backyard. At sunset, we marvelled at the mighty Ben Ledi, silently trying to figure out how to include it in our plan. This concluded our Rob Roy Way and, while we were climbing up Ben Ledi, our backpacks were already eagerly awaiting the next day’s adventures.