The night bought a bit of excitement, at least for me. On my way back to bed after a toilet stop, out of the corner of my eye I saw something whizz through the air in the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a bat in the house. I don’t mind bats at all, but with a sister sleeping upstairs who’s terrified of them, I didn’t much fancy having the whole village wake to her screams. I opened all the doors and windows so that the poor thing would eventually find its way out rather than flying round and round in circles in a tizz wazz. As it hadn’t made its way out after 20 minutes, I closed the doors and downstairs windows and went back to bed, knowing that I’d be first up and could if necessary try and get it out then. Fortunately, the bat did indeed find its way out, or at least in to the eaves, so I didn’t have to contend with a screaming sister first thing in the morning.
For today’s walk, we headed back to the village of Balquhidder, parked at the village hall, and made our way up through Kirkton Glen to Rob Roy’s Putting Stone, before descending back through the woodlands to the Old Kirk, and Rob Roy’s grave. Or at least his supposed grave – to be honest, no one seems quite sure if it’s his or not. Still, it attracts the tourists and is a beautiful spot.
The weather bought a mixture of sunshine and showers all day, but it was by no means uncomfortable to walk in. We only saw one other walker all day, at the head of the Glen, despite the glorious scenery. So much for the Trossachs being busy. Perhaps they are around the more obvious tourist hot spots such as Loch Lomond, but here it’s still lovely and peaceful.
Unfortunately, having to walk through quite a lot of bracken towards the end meant that we both had to remove ticks when we got back to the house. We always carry a tick remover with us and it’s worth its weight in gold. We should have remembered to apply the insect repellant as well though, not least because Rich then decided to regale us all with tales of finding a tick in his nether regions. Fortunately such thoughts dissipated after a cosy dinner, before spending the evening counting bats as they emerged into the dark night from the eaves.