A generally (but not all) bad day on the West Highland Way
Day 4: Ardlui to Tyndrum (Ard-louie to Tin-drum)
This is the fourth in a series of posts about walking the West Highland Way, a 96-mile path in Scotland. I did this in July 2025 with my hiking partner Shawn. Catch up with Day 1, Milngavie to Drymen, Day 2: Drymen to Rowardennan, and A good day on the West Highland Way: Day 3 (Rowardennan to Ardlui) if you’d like.
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Our room at the Ardlui Hotel was awesome in one way: its size. It was much more spacious than previous rooms. But it was horrible in another; it was hot and stuffy and even a little dusty, I think.
The night before this day, Day 4, I fell asleep pretty quickly but eventually woke as my cough took a dramatic turn for the worse. I felt so bad for Shawn, as there’s no way he could have slept through my hacking and getting up every five seconds to blow my nose. It was a terrible night. I don’t even really remember waking up. I do remember going down to breakfast and feeling like utter crap, once again not really able to eat much more than cereal and some toast.
It was clear it was going to be a lovely and warm day as we took the ferry back across Loch Lomond and set out for Tyndrum (pronounced Tin-drum), about 14 miles away. I have a vague memory of the cheerful group on the ferry setting off, and that I fell behind almost immediately. I don’t remember when Shawn and I split up. I’d forgotten until I checked my phone just now that I did stop to take this video as I climbed away from the Loch.
Even with all that pretty surrounding me, I just remember sweating, feeling like I was moving through molasses. I remember coughing and resenting the need to take a drink every 15 minutes even as I sweated. My feet hurt, and I’d barely started the day. I struggled to breathe. My pace slowed to a crawl. After an endless almost-2 miles, I did the math and began to hatch a new plan.
Could I have done the 12 more miles? Probably, but at the pace I was going, it would take forever. And here’s the most important thing…
I felt 100% lousy. I was not having an ounce of fun. Even in the hard times of the previous days, there was fun (sometimes). I couldn’t see my way to fun on this day.
So I pulled over, metaphorically and physically, at the Beinglas Campsite in Inverarnen and assessed my options. This day was a wash, obviously, and tomorrow was the biggest day of the walk, 19 miles, which felt out of reach. We were heading into the Glencoe area, which I’d heard was spectacular. So I decided to reduce my miles this day and the next, and taking a bit more time to enjoy the scenery. It’s only because of the amazing public transit options in the area that I was able to consider this. The CityLink bus app and the Scotrail train app became my friends. The plan took shape: I would use public transportation, ease off on the miles for two days, and hopefully feel well enough to finish up the final two days in their entirety.
The next stop of note was Crianlarich (unsure of the pronunciation), about 5-6 miles away. A convenient bus stop was near Beinglas, and there the public transit portion of my adventure began. I encountered my first rude Scotsman in the bus driver, who accused me of not waving big enough or soon enough to catch his attention, even though I was the lone person standing in the bus stop on the long straight road he was driving. Despite this insult to my bus-hailing abilities, sitting down in my seat after so many days of walking felt downright luxurious. And seeing the countryside roll by felt downright surreal. I thought maybe I’d meet Shawn in Crianlarich for lunch, but the little town didn’t impress me, and would have required him to detour off the WHW, so I decided to grab a train to Tyndrum.
I won’t lie…being on the train was blissful. I stretched out my legs as the countryside zipped by, and Shawn texted that he thought he saw my train pass him, which made me laugh.
I arrived in Tyndrum and enjoyed a leisurely and very tasty lunch at The Real Food Cafe (highly recommend the Tandoori Chicken sandwich served on a beetroot bun).
Despite the good food, I was really feeling lousy. Yet I’d vowed to walk some of the WHW near Tyndrum, so I set out heading south on the trail, effectively going backwards. The trail meandered through a campsite and some kind of forest park, with low brush lining the path. It was hot and dusty, and I turned around once I got a glimpse of a mountain view.
After a couple of miles, I hauled my sorry self to the Tyndrum Inn. I was early, so I visited the Green Welly Stop next door and tried to buy some medications to help with my cough/cold (I’d have sold my soul for some old-school Nyquil). Then I crashed on a picnic table until I could check in. The room, thankfully, was cool and clean. A light rain started to fall as I curled up for a nap. Shawn arrived not long after.
I don’t remember many particulars about the evening that followed. We had a nice meal at the Tyndrum Inn, with a super-friendly server, and chatted with a couple from New York that we’d encountered on the trail. Shawn got us ice cream treats at the Green Welly, but whether that was before or after dinner is unclear.
What I do remember is a feeling of extreme relief. The pressure was off. I could make plans that suited where I was at the moment. And Shawn could do the same without worrying about or waiting for me. We’d reached the point where he’d had to bail due to injury 27 years ago, so now it was time to focus on getting him to the end and claiming that 96-mile victory.
It’s worth noting that I wasn’t upset to not be able to claim the same. I think this reaction merits a bit of unpacking, so let’s get to it.
Some people would have been crushed to not complete the entire thing. I really did not care, from the moment I made the decision back at mile almost-2 of the day, that I wouldn’t “achieve the goal.” Being so very tired and feeling so very lousy gave me a weird power: I was able to step outside of my ego and realize what mattered. Slowing the relentless pace, reducing my miles, taking a bit more time to relax…those thoughts were magical. A nap sounded like heaven. The idea of taking my DSLR camera out and actually taking the time to take pictures with it…amazing. I’d been so tired and so focused on finishing the daily miles that there hadn’t been time for real photography in the first 3 days.
It was quite simple in the end. I needed a break, and I took it. I’m actually pretty proud of that choice. I’m sure there are folks out there who would consider this a failure, but I’m not one of them.
Originally, I titled this post “the worst day on the WHW,” but I decided to change it to the convoluted title it currently has, because on reflection I’m remembering how happy I was once I’d decided to slow things down. And though I’m writing about this trip in daily increments, what I’m learning as I write is that walking the West Highland Way is a series of much smaller moments strung together. A single day brings the highest of highs and sometimes, the lowest of lows.
This isn’t an original thought, I know. It’s what everyone who hikes experiences. But it’s worth remembering.
So, even though my mileage was low on Day 4, I’m pretty sure I slept really, really well that night.