6: A famous hostelry in Drymen (Glengoyne to Drymen)

Drymen, where we are headed this evening isn’t pronounced how you might expect. This is one of those quirks that quickly becomes normal in Scotland.  When the locals say Drymen it rhymes with women or swimmin’, keeping the emphasis on the beginning of the word and it is said with pace, there’s no lingering over the syllables. So our attempt, which was basically looking at the word and saying what saw ie ‘Dry - men’ was wrong on just about every level. 

Leaving the Glengoyne distillery we were walking on an easy path across a flat plain. However we were by this stage becoming aware of the vast numbers of fellow walkers and began to worry about the meal options for the evening. Chris looked online at the various hostelries and decided that he liked the look of one in particular so he booked a table.

The hills continued to offer an enticing prospect to our right but the path ignored their siren call. Very quickly we arrived at a road and beside it, handily placed for a lunchtime stop was the Beech Tree pub. I am sure that there are people who love this place but it is not without a certain eccentricity; the garden for example had a variety of wooden huts and cages with labels suggesting that particular animals might be kept inside. It was difficult to be sure as most of them were either in hiding or resting elsewhere on the day that we arrived. 
Inside the bar they only had bottled drinks and this did seem to be how they operated. (That’s not normal for a pub by the way.) What I did find off-putting was the large number of signs everywhere suggesting that this was a really fine hostelry and therefore I should be having a good time. I do prefer it when I am allowed to make my own mind up about the quality of the service and food, rather than be lectured at by the providers.
We sat in the garden beside beside an empty cage with our bottled beers and ate some fruit that we had bought in the shopping centre in Milngavie. All in all, this was a pleasant resting place and they were trying very hard but they could tone down the messaging. About a mile beyond the Beech Tree we passed a food deli shop called 'Turnip the Beet' which, despite the odd name, might have been a more promising place to pick up lunch. 

We turned away from the hills

The way, which up until now had seemed to be edging closer to the hills, slowly turned to a more easterly direction. In the little hamlet of Gartness we turned sharply left to join a by-road and cross a large river. We then followed this road all the way to Drymen and there was very little traffic to bother us. 
By now the sun was shining brightly and the grass on the village green was lush and vibrant. Everywhere seemed to be either a pub, a b&b or a bunkhouse and travellers spilled out onto the grass. We headed into the centre of the village where our accommodation for the evening was booked. We were staying at the Winnock Hotel which looked a small building centred on the green. It turned out to be huge, catering not only for hikers but also for tourists in a car or on a coach trip to Loch Lomond and the Highlands.
Our luggage was in reception and we picked up the keys to our triple room. I knew that Chris wouldn’t be bothered about whatever the accommodation had to offer but I was a little more concerned as to how Jerome might react to this. To make our lives easier we had placed our faith in one of the companies that books both the luggage and accommodation along the route. We knew that in some places the choices were going to be interesting and maybe not quite so comfortable as tonight. I could tell that Jerome was processing how he felt about the room. But it was fine, clean and tidy with en-suite facilities and plenty of space. You couldn’t be happier really - unless you need privacy of course.
Once showered and changed we headed out to see what the various hostelries had on offer. The bar of the Winnock Hotel looked exactly like any Scottish hotel bar, full of tartan but empty of people and atmosphere. On the same green, to our left was the Clachan Inn and we dived inside for a beer. 

The Clachan Inn is famous for being (one of) the oldest licensed Inns in Scotland and its first licensee was Mistress Gow, one of Robert (Roy) McGregor's sisters. Drymen is also the starting point for the Rob Roy Way, which leaves the village green and heads in a north easterly direction to finish in Pitlochry some seventy-nine miles further on. As well as some spectacular Highland scenery it passes some of the places that feature in his life story. We'll meet Rob Roy again further along the West Highland Way.  

Inside the Clachan Inn the main bar was full and buzzing with chatter. We grabbed the last table next to a couple from North America and sat down to discuss the day. It had not been difficult, there were no long climbs and the weather had slowly cheered up as we left Milngavie. The beer was hitting the spot and enticing aromas were emanating from the bustling kitchen that we could glimpse beyond the bar. 

This was the establishment that Chris had phoned earlier as it also had a restaurant. We were booked for some considerable time later but the bar seemed to us to be a much more convivial setting than the restaurant. What the hell, we’ll eat here. We flicked through the menu and ordered food. 

Chris meanwhile headed outside and clandestinely phoned in a cancellation. This turned out not to be a problem, in fact they were very grateful as they were severely oversubscribed. 

The food was fabulous and in the friendly atmosphere we conversed with our fellow walkers. Soon the American couple finished their meal and the table next to us was quickly occupied by two more walkers, one from Greece and the other Bulgaria.  So far, we had yet to meet anyone from the UK.
Dinner finished we headed out to take a look at the other hostelry, the Drymen Inn but before we crossed the threshold we heard shouting, screaming, loud music and maybe even karaoke. 

The little village of Drymen caters for all.

Choose carefully...