Rob Roy Way
It makes all the difference…
Day 2 – Callander to Balquhidder
Sunday 2nd March 2025
Rob Roy Way Day 2. 9am! At last, I woke! I had planned a lengthy route, so getting up much earlier would have been ideal, but I guess I needed the kip. Additionally, I wanted to pop into Balquhidder along the way. After quickly scranning my cold soaked porridge (nothing finer!) I packed up my gear. The weather sunny and slightly warmer than the day previous. As I set off, I felt a pleasant warmth on my face as the sun speckled through the branch’s above.
Back on tarmac, I followed the road to the eastern side of Loch Venachar bewildered by some of the van-life setups along the way; some had full awnings and BBQ’s as if it was a private campsite. I can only imagine it was the locals that honked their horns as they drove past. I turned right into Coilhallan Woods, therefore by-passing the holiday park. The OS map indicates the way follows the road, however, the RRW signs pointed into the woods. Itching to get off the road, I chose the woods.
The trail, leading through clear-felled woods ascended above the holiday park. The smell of diesel penetrating my nostrils from nearby caches destined for forestry machinery. Finally descending, I soon found myself crossing the footbridge and into Callender.
A quick visit to Regatta for a bottle of gas. “It makes all the difference” she joked handing over the canister. “It really does!” I mumbled back as this mornings breakfast popped into my mind. Tesco, my next stop to pick up something for dinner for nights three and four. I hunted for meaningful food like a modern day nomad. “Noodles it is” sighing as I picked them from the shelf.
Back on the trail pumped up and fuelled by a Tesco meal deal. This part of the way follows the Great Trossachs Path past the remains of a Roman fort and wet hey meadow. As a result, it makes for a visually pleasing stroll.
Easy going underfoot with next to no elevation, the path continues into the woodlands passing the Falls of Leny. With a car park at the end of this section and Callander at the start, this path was very popular. Day walkers, dog walkers, cyclists, runners, you name it, they were probably on this path.
Although the path was busy, I was glad to see it well used, unlike the empty trails back home. Yet, the constant activity made it difficult to find that peaceful trail headspace. Pressing on, I reached the south side of Loch Lubnaig, where cars buzzed back and forth from the Forest Holiday village. This steady stream of traffic had me constantly glancing over my shoulder and weaving along the roadside.
Temptation was calling me into the little eatery in the holiday village. However, I was keen to leave. The presence of other humans was becoming overwhelming, especially after navigating what felt like an obstacle course.
Leaving the holiday village, the path rides steadily higher. There was almost a direct correlation between the ascent of the path and the decrease in people encountered. I paused on a picnic table to eat and stretch out my legs, breathing in the fresh air and drinking in the landscape – quite literally with my filter bottle. I watched a single paddleboarder as he passed below and disappeared towards Strathyre – something I’ve always wanted to try. Paddleboarding, not disappearing,.
I bounced over the wooden suspension bridge entering Strathyre and B-lined for the Broch Cafe. I arrived as they were closing. However, they were kind enough to provide me with a coffee. Sitting on a wooden picnic bench outside, I allowed myself to catch my breath and enjoyed my coffee, which was, without a doubt, needed. Finally, I was back on the trail and making my way into the centre of town.
The woodland climb out of the village was the highlight of the day for me; it was a trail, a proper walkers trail, through dense, green woodland, arching over at points, branches colliding. Just like that, I was back on a forestry track and pushing hard as it rose steeply. Digging deep, powered by flapjack and an Aldi Snickers knock off, I forced one leg in front of the other. I made it to the top. Sweat dripping and heart racing, I felt amazing. Dopamine flooding my brain as I gazed west to see the Munros north west of Loch Lomond, snow-capped, dancing with the sun.
Feeling energetic, I trotted on towards Kingshouse, allowing the breeze to cool my body. I walked down into the greenery of the woodland, following little streams with my eyes as I walked, taking in the gentle trickle as they audibly massaged my brain. This feeling gave me strength to carry on and push for Balquhidder. 2 miles down a single-track road, off the official route. I made my way high up into the hills, some 450 meters and acquired the best camping spot of the whole trip.
The night drawing in, I slapped my tent up, collected water and downed a hydration tablet. I sat there for hours, watching the little village below, admiring the decaying view of Loch Voil as clouds littered the sky. I boiled some water and emptied my pack of Idahoan buttery mash into my titanium pot. Cold, I regained heat and energy as I scooped my sticks of Kabanos into the mash and devoured it. My go to meal when hiking.
