Barrytown...

When Bethany and I travelled to Canada last week, we flew from Glasgow airport. That's quite a trek from Leeds, so we figured into our journey a few days in Scotland. This all worked out well, because we'd intended to visit Bethany's Aunt Mary in Camberslang (a district of Glasgow) before we left. We figured we could plan it all into one visit.
Unfortunately, Aunt Mary passed away a short time before Bethany came to England, so we were left with tickets to fly from Glasgow, and no real reason to go there. We do like Scotland though, so it wasn't too much of a hardship to head up there. The plan started to come together again when our good friends Simon and Esther suggested that they come up with us too. We'd take their car, go camping, and they'd drop us at the airport. An absolutely cracking scheme.
Simon said that he could get a tent big enough to house all four of us (see picture above), so we didn't need to bring two small ones (a decision that almost led to the downfall of our trip on the second night), so we packed up the car, I jumped into the driver's seat, and we set off for the highlands.

It was our intention to travel all the way up to Glen Coe on our first night, spend a couple of days there, and then head back to Glasgow, where we'd camp on the last night before going to the airport on Sunday morning. By the time that we approached the largest city in Scotland, however, it was getting on a bit, and we didn't fancy the two hour drive north to the highlands. We pulled off the motorway, and onto the absolutely brilliant camp site at Strathclyde Country Park. This site is great. Nice and clean with good facilities. Close to the city - you can easily get a train from one of 3 nearby stations to Glasgow Central station, with a rather nice park and lake on site. It's right next to the motorway, before you hit the city, so you can avoid the busy roads. What's more, it's cheap too. For the four of us, it was £8.45 a night. That's about the cheapest you'll find...

After a good night spent there, we packed down the enormous tent, and drove up north. The journey up to Glen Coe is absolutely beautiful; the road follows the bonnie, bonnie banks of the song-worthy Loch Lomond for a good deal of the way, with plenty of spots to stop and admire the views of the Loch itself, and the increasingly large mountains that give the highlands its name.
Mid-afternoon we rocked up at a little spot that Bethany and I found last year in a place called Bridge of Orchy. It's one of the few places left that they allow you to camp for free, and it's beautiful. Right by the river in a valley just off the main road through the Glen, it's picturesque and pretty much unspoilt. You just pitch your tent and stay there. There's a nice pub, too. My only recommendation is that you get yourself a lot of insect repellent, and some of those mosquito nets for your face. We tried to sit out that evening, and beat a hasty retreat to the tent when we started to be eaten alive. The next morning I counted 25 bites on the back of my right hand alone.

Before all that, though, we took a little walk on the hillsides, admiring the view. And what a view. The train line cuts a course just above the base of the valley, and the mountain tops on both sides were shrouded in mist. In the height of summer, the sides of the mountains are covered equally with a verdant grass and curtains of deep green fir trees. The Heather tints areas with a rich purple. Crystal clear streams run down the mountains and under the path every few metres. And it's so quiet!
The path that we walked on is part of the West Highland Way, a 95 mile (152 kilometre) path that runs from Milngavie, just outside Glasgow, to Fort William at the foot of Ben Nevis.

It was on this path that we met Barry. Barry, who you can see pictured here with Bethany, is a dj from Glasgow, specialising in cheesy tunes of the highest calibre. I've never met a man before who would claim that his favourite song ever (and he wasn't even joking) is Everything I Do, I Do it For You by Bryan Adams. This guy was something special. He spoke to us for a while on the mountain about doing the West Highland Way, and then said that he was off to the pub in Bridge of Orchy, and that he might see us later.
Sure enough, when we came back down a while later, he was stood outside the pub. It turned out that the guest house he was staying in was 3 miles down the road, and off the trail. A taxi was going to cost him £25 in these parts, so we offered him a ride, and in return, he offered us a drink.
Despite the fact that Barry had a particularly special taste in music, and claimed to be the kind of dj that I despise the most, he was one of the most fantastic people I have ever met. He was funny, friendly, liked a drink; he was kind and fun to be around. He didn't hit on Esther or Bethany, nor did he hit on me and Simon... He bought us drinks, and tried to buy us more. He played terrible music at weddings and parties, and took pride in his work. He didn't do much walking, but fancied spending a week of his summer hiking for nearly 100 miles on his own. He was crazy. In short, he was Scottish.

Despite the fact that I'm told most Scottish people hate the English, I experienced nothing but the opposite of this. Everyone we met along the way was just the same as this - helpful, kind and fun. I love Scotland, and I especially love the Scottish. In fact, I think that when I move here, I might even miss Scotland more than I miss England...