Rob Roy Way
Yes, I did drop some in the bath.
Day 4 – Big Pipe to Aberfeldy
Tuesday 4th March 2025
Rob Roy Way Day 4. 2am, a static washed over my head. It was like something from the film Poltergeist. Rain pounding on the outer tent accompanied by pole obliterating winds. The tent collapsing in on itself as if there was some sort of pressure imbalance. Equilibrium non-existent. Enjoyment zero. “They’re here”- the winds, not the “TV people”.
The forecast had altered significantly, 35mph winds with up to 50mph gusts. Whipping and growling over the landscape resulting in the trees in the small woodland below sloshing together. I feared a pole would snap at any moment and it would be game over. Nonetheless, my three season Alpkit beast flexed and yielded in almost perfect harmony with the gales. The forecast similar for the night to come.
It was at this moment I decided to avoid the extended version. By 0400 I had booked a hotel in Aberfeldy for the coming night. Every other element I can deal with. Wind. Nope. The wind mercifully lulled around 0500. Thankful, I cautiously dozed until sunrise.
Dawn. With the rise of the sun, a calm blessed the land, as if its presence swept the bad weather under a meteorological rug. Nature’s way of saying “nothing to see here”. Breakfast. Packed. Gone. Descending, thankful that I didn’t decide to camp near the Old Shielings as it was more exposed than I would have thought, combined with an obvious lack of flat, tentable ground.
Yet another single-track road under-boot. Mood tenuous. On and on… and on and on and on the road went. The view over Loch Tay pulling me along. I peered over to Ben Lawers as memories of a winter excursion last year came flooding back. It looked a lot different without its winter coat on. Stopping once to on-board calories, the torture of tarmac was almost at its end as I walked into Acharn.
Falls of Acharn. The path climbed steeply – a challenge, but exactly what my legs needed. I wish I had more time to explore the area, but the clock was against me, I had to reach Aberfeldy before 7pm. The hermit cave was fasinating, made up of a dark passageway leading to a remarkable waterfall and view point. I will definitely have to return.
At the top, sweat soaked me through. My merino wool glued to my arms and legs. Stripping down a layer, I welcomed the breeze as it wicked me dry. It’s moments like these that remind me that I need to invest in some of those walking trousers that unzip vertically to dump heat fast.
Despite the water plummeting below, I was very thirsty. I couldn’t find a safe place to collect any water. The remainder of the route was a mixture of farmland and forestry. I try to avoid collecting water from farmland if I can help it as I don’t like the thought of animal urine and whatever chemicals a farm uses nowadays entering my water filter.
In spite of that, I found a decent stream to fill up from later on the trail. I successfully avoided turning into a raisin. It was along this route, as the afternoon crept into evening that the weather started to turn. Ice-cold wind from behind and rain spitting. Relief flooded my body as the thought of a hotel entered my brain. No wind tonight.
The woods kept me sheltered for the most part. Unaware of the pain initially, I was soon conscious of a short stabbing pain in my right hip. This was my body’s way of scalding me for a lack of proper rest. At this point, I was a few kilometres outside of Aberfeldy with receding daylight, I couldn’t stop now. Compromising, I found a tree stump. Sitting, I dragged my right foot over my left knee. “Fucking hell!” I whimpered, at the same time thinking this is so good. The pain and pleasure of the act, equal. Endorphins slowly numbing the pain as I leaned into the stretch, moaning like a wounded deer beneath leafless crowns.
Stretched out, I was back on my way, albeit with a sore hip. Despite the discomfort, I made my way down via the Birks of Aberfeldy. Eventually, as I slumped down the steps, amazement took over. At once, my eyes were drawn to the waterfall, and the powerful roar of the water crashing against the rocks below filled the air.
Bursting through the doors of The Breadalbane Arms Hotel with 30 minutes to spare. I checked in and hobbled to my room, crashing onto the bed and breathing out a sigh of relief. The first thing I did was draw a bath and whack the kettle on.
I soaked my muscles as my brain and body rested. Reaching for my pot of freshly cooked super noodles, I shovelled them into my mouth. Yes, I did eat noodles while in the bath. I did drop some in the bath. I immediately fished them out and ate them. No, I do not care. Yes, they tasted like heaven.
Later that night, I made a quick visit to the local co-op in search of sustenance and took a brief wander around the town. Before long, I was back at the hotel, nourished, or at least as much as one can be from a co-op.
I could hear the wind and rain battling outside of the single-glazed window as I drifted off into a much-needed deep sleep.