Cruising Loch Lomond

Luckily, “Loch Lomond” lilts lovingly over the tongue; lovely language, like the lovely lake it is.

Damn! Don’t you just hate it when strained alliteration insipidly inserts itself into otherwise perfectly good travel journal prose? Well, okay, maybe not perfectly good, but somewhat satisfactory. Mediocre? No? Will you grant me that it’s a travel journal entry?

First, an apology. I caught a train mid-morningish to make a journey of a little over 45 minutes from Glasgow to Balloch, Scotland, the departure point of a cruise I booked for this afternoon. Consequently, I didn’t have time to do anything in the morning worth writing about. So, sorry. I’ll post only one entry today, not my usual two.

What? You don’t believe that needs an apology because you think reading two entries in one day is too much of a bother anyway? Well, need I remind you that if you’re the sort of person who doesn’t appreciate great literature, you’re free to not read these pages. You’re also free to not read them if you’re the sort of person who doesn’t appreciate whatever the heck this blather is. And, more generally, you’re free to not read them no matter what sort of person you are.

Ingrates.

But for those of you who are still, happily or begrudgingly here as the case may be, let’s carry on.

The point is, I left Glasgow today on a day trip to take a two-hour cruise on Loch Lomond, marketed as an “Island Discovery Cruise.”

The same company offers a one-hour “Experience Cruise” on Loch Lomond. But I figured that if I was going to commute more than 45 minutes each way to catch a cruise, I might as well make the commute worthwhile.

The company didn’t offer a three-hour cruise, which is fine by me. I likely wouldn’t have been brave enough to take it.

You see, when I was a young person, I think I watched every episode of Gilligan’s Island. That made me very nervous about taking three-hour tours on a boat.

If you’re too young to know what Gilligan’s Island was, Google it.

Above, I said I commuted to the cruise starting point. Obviously, I wasn’t travelling from my home to my office, the usual definition of commute. I’m retired. I don’t have an office.

But it was a commuter train. There are 17 intermediate stops between where I got on, Glasgow Central, and the end of the line, Balloch. Thus, there was an average of less than three minutes between each stop.

The dock where the cruise departs is just a couple of blocks from the Balloch station.

Loch Lomond Cruise

The cruise was on a boat able to accommodate a hundred or so people. It wasn’t nearly full.

Its two decks are glass-enclosed, but there is a small open area with a little more than a dozen moveable chairs at the back. I grabbed one of those.

Approximately 60 seconds after the boat left the dock, it started to rain. That is to say, by “it” I did not mean the boat, but rather the environment. The rain started to come from the sky, not from the boat. Why would anyone build or buy a boat that generates its own rain? Try to stay with me, please, people.

I moved inside. A few minutes later, the rain stopped and I returned outside.

Throughout the rest of the cruise, the sky cycled through completely cloudy, largely cloudy, and somewhat sunny a few times, but it was never completely sunny. At one point, when I looked off one side of the boat, it was mostly sunny, but when I looked the other way it appeared as if a deep doom was about to descend upon us.

Briefly, a small rainbow flag of a rainbow hung in the sky. I call it a rainbow flag of a rainbow because it didn’t form an arc as rainbows tend to do. Instead, it was a stubby rectangle with rainbow colours hung at an angle in the sky.

A little later in the cruise, in a different part of the sky, a small, amorphous patch of the sky took on a multicoloured wash.

Weird, but beautiful.

About 20 minutes before docking, a thick fog obscured one of the mountains beside the loch, but none of the rest of the surroundings were foggy. At least, I think there was a mountain back there. How would I know? It was obscured.

During my time in this country, I’ve learned that when a local says “sunny Scotland,” they’re being sarcastic or ironic. There’s a subtle difference between sarcastic and ironic, but Scots have a way with words.

Enough kvetching about the weather. Let’s continue.

At frequent intervals during the cruise, a recorded commentary played on the speaker system. From it, I learned that River Leven is the only outlet for Loch Lomond. Downstream, River Leven merges with River Clyde before it flows out to the sea. “Merges” is my word. It might be a hostile takeover.

(Despite “merges” being my word, I grant you the right to use it, but please don’t abuse that liberty. “Merge” is not a word to be bandied about lightly.)

River Leven is also where the dock for the cruise is. It’s a bit downriver from Loch Lomond.

According to the commentary, Loch Lomond is known as the “Queen of the Lochs.” I don’t know if the other lochs accept her rule. There may be a watery rebellion stirring. Be warned.

The commentary also discussed the history and commerce, and the history of commerce, in the area. It pointed out landmarks on Loch Lomond’s shores, such as a couple of former mansions that now serve commercial purposes, a golf course, a couple of towns and some mountains. The social history discussed in the prattle included the story of local clans and clan culture.

The recorded narrator also told us about the fauna in and around Loch Lomond, including land animals, birds, and fish.

There are islands in the loch. The commentary said they are known as the “jewels in the crown.” We’ll see what happens to that crown and its jewels when the rebellion comes.

We travelled past, between, and around some of those islands.

When I jotted this down, I forgot whether the narrator said Loch Lomond has 23 or 33 islands. So I did a web search to find the answer. The results were inconclusive. The lowest number I found was 22. The highest was “more than 60.”

As best as I can tell, the discrepancy results not from any intended fabrication, but rather from whether the counter included the loch’s tiny islets in the count and what the loch level was when they did the count. The onboard narration said the loch level can vary considerably during the year and from year to year. When the loch is at one of its high points, some of the islets are submerged.

(It’s a freshwater lake. So I’m pretty sure that the height difference does not result from tides, but rather from differences in precipitation in the Loch Lomond watershed.)

But, you ask, what about Loch Lomond? Is it truly a royal loch? Today, it was borderline beautiful, but the few sunny periods led me to believe that on a clear, blue day it must be exquisite and then some. Verdant hills and mountains surround the loch. Attractive islands of various sizes dot it. And, yes, it is still indeed quite lovely, even with the spot of rain, extensive clouds, and isolated fog.

Balloch

I had about 45 minutes after the train arrived until the cruise departed and more than two hours after the cruise returned until I had to catch my train back to Glasgow. So I had some time to wander around.

Balloch is an understated town. The buildings are fairly nondescript and mostly lacking in charm, but they’re not ugly in the least. Balloch’s main street runs roughly parallel to the shore of Loch Lomond, but back the equivalent of maybe three or four blocks from it. I didn’t wander through the town too far away from the main street, but it looks like most, if not all, of Balloch’s commercial buildings are on that street.

The River Leven divides Balloch in two. I didn’t have the time or inclination to pull out a measuring tape, nor did I have a measuring tape for that matter, but I’m pretty sure that considerably more of the town is on one side of the river than the other.

I have never seen as many wooden docks lined with boats parked beside them in a river as I saw in River Leven, both up and downstream from the bridge over it. Unless you stand on the sidewalk of the bridge over the river at a point centred over the river so you can see directly down its course, it looks like the boats fill the river, making it unnavigable. But getting that straight-on view, I could see that they do leave a channel open.

The islands of Loch Lomond may be the jewels in the crown, but the Balloch Castle Country Park is the jewel of Balloch. The park sits on one side of the river and runs almost from the main road to the shores of Loch Lomond. At the point where the river meets the loch, the water of the loch wraps around the front of the park, so the park is on the shores of both River Leven and Loch Lomond.

The park is filled with forests, lawns, a hill, a castle, a walled garden, and paths through it all. I did some walking. The sun and clouds took their turns dominating the sky during my walk, but the park was lovely, even when the sky was overcast.

Balloch Castle is at the top of the hill. I walked up there to see a temporary sparse-mesh metal fence mostly surrounding the castle. Some of the windows of the castle were boarded up. I didn’t see any construction equipment, nor did I see any signs explaining the visiting conditions of the castle or lack thereof.

There was one gap in the fence. It allowed admission to one door in the castle. That door led only to public toilets inside. It wasn’t possible to go from inside that doorway to anywhere else in the castle.

The walled garden is a garden. There’s a wall around it. It pains me to have to explain these things to you. You should be able to figure it out on your own.

The wall is made of stone bricks and it’s much taller than any human I’ve ever met. Then again, I’m usually reclusive, so I don’t have a large sample size to go on.

The garden looked to be a square, but, again, I didn’t have a measuring tape so it might have been a rectangle that was close to, but not exactly, a square. Why do you care about these things, people? You’re being pedantic.

One path runs almost along the inner perimeter of the garden, but there are some bushes and flowers between it and the wall. Two perpendicular paths bisect the garden on their two axes. One of those paths has trees on either side of it, forming a handsome tree canopy.

The garden’s quadrants each have lawns and flowers. Many of the flowers looked like they’d probably seen better days a few weeks ago, but they were still attractive, with several hesitant blooms valiantly hanging on.

In the space between the wall and the inner perimeter walkway, small, discrete personal memorial plaques were placed at irregular intervals along the way. Some were in front of trees or bushes. Some were in front of beds of flowers. Some others were just potted flowers with the memorials professionally printed directly on the pots.

The changeable, but always less-than-ideal weather notwithstanding, I greatly enjoyed the cruise on Loch Lomond, the Balloch Castle Country Park, and my day in general. But tomorrow is another day. Who knows what will befall me then?

Aside

Shy Vehicles Get No Respect

Walking back from dinner this evening I spotted the sign pictured here. What the heck? How is that sign allowed in this day and age?

Seriously. Introverted vehicles should have the same rights as outgoing vehicles. A shy car, bus, or truck shouldn’t have to take a back seat to an extroverted one.

A vehicle is a vehicle is a vehicle. It’s discrimination, plain and simple. The days when reticent vehicles should be treated as second-class conveyances need to end. And they need to end now.

Honk if you’re with me. But honk discreetly, if you must.