To quote Stephenson and Gould in British regional geology: the Grampian Highlands, fourth edition, 2007 when discussing the features you might expect to see in this part of Scotland,  'Metagreywackes, siliceous psammites and fine-grained quartzites are interbedded with the predominant well-foliated green schists containing abundant chlorite, epidote, biotite and albite porphyroblasts.' Well, quite, I couldn't have put it better myself.  When I was young we lived in London and I would often head in the school holidays to the museums in South Kensington. The big draw these days is the Natural History museum but back then dinosaurs weren't quite as popular as they are today and much of the ground floor was a series of somewhat lacklustre dioramas that were populated with a cast of vaguely unsettling stuffed animals.   Around the corner in Exhibition Road was the Science museum which became a big favourite with me mainly due to the number of interactive displays. The joy

It’s difficult to know exactly what to make of Rob Roy. Sir Walter Scott’s famous fiction painted a rosy outlook of his exploits, making him seem like some clannish Robin Hood. Chroniclers of history ignore the myth and either regard Rob Roy as a brigand and blackmailer, faithful to the Jacobite cause, while others argue that Rob Roy had been wronged and had no option but to live a bandits' life.  As with so many stories the truth may mostly depend on your viewpoint and if, like me, you have no allegiance to either side, then it becomes possible that both accounts can co-exist.  Whatever the real story may be, it cannot be denied that for a short period Robert 'Roy' McGregor (Robert the Red or Rob Roy) was the laird of Inversnaid and the West Highland Way crosses through it. No doubt, if descendants of the Wild McGregors, as they were known -  and I'm sure it didn't mean they had legendary parties  - were still in possession of the land today there would be a paymen

Balmaha was bursting with holidaymakers. Cars were double and triple parked in the car park next to the visitor centre and more were nosing around looking forlornly for a space. Every table at the front of the Oak Tree Inn was occupied and it was only by heading through the pub then around the back to beyond a marquee that we found a quiet spot to sit and quench our thirst.   The pub was still working to covid rules, which meant ordering and paying via an app and hoping that the drinks would arrive at our far distant table some time in the near future.  As we meandered through the pub looking for a table we spotted that those who were dining were staring glumly at some pretty workmanlike food offerings and we were glad that we had stocked up on lunch items earlier in the Spar shop in Drymen.   One of the good things about finding a pub was that it enabled us to use the facilities. The West Highland Way this morning had offered panoramic views and anyone wanting to do ‘a wildy’ - as a n

The Way doesn’t actually enter Drymen, it skirts around the eastern edge before turning and heading off to the north.  As we left the village ahead of us i n the dazzling sunshine we could make out the outline of a lone hiker tottering under the weight of her backpack, occasionally stopping to rearrange her load. We quickly caught up with our photographer from yesterday morning, who although cheerful, seemed to us to be finding her load a heavy one. To my eye she had a sixty-five litre pack that was ready to burst. She told us she hadn’t just come to walk the Way but spend about a month exploring the UK and our impression was that she had brought all of her supplies with her. We quickly outpaced her, indeed we were outpacing most of the other hikers that we met on these early stages.   During our preparation for the walk, as we don’t have anything that could realistically be called a hill in Essex, Chris had slowly but surely upped the speed that we walk at. We did the same before walk