This article is written by volunteer Laura Thompson. The Drove Roads mentioned in this article are both Scottish Hill Tracks and Heritage Paths. You can find out more about Heritage Paths and explore the interactive map here . You can find out more about the relevant routes 104, 105 and 106 in our book Scottish Hill Tracks.

It was the first heatwave of the year when my husband Tom and I set out for an overnight bike packing adventure along the old drove roads of Argyll. We had long been intrigued by the lesser sought after areas around Loch Fyne and Loch Awe. These lands harbour many layers of history and we were keen to uncover some of the old stories. Included along the proposed route was Carron bothy, a remote shelter with its own tales to tell.

The plan was to cycle a 35-mile route from Furnace, forming an anti-clockwise loop along three Heritage Paths: the Durran to Furnace Drove Road, the Ford to Carron Drove Road and a portion of the Furnace Drove Road from Kirkmichael Glassary. A certain infamy surrounds the section after Carron bothy. Tales of woe abound through a boggy section from the bothy to the main forest track but we were confident, after all it hadn’t rained for over a week and our secret weapons were tyres as wide as a stag’s hind leg! Nothing could possibly go wrong.

The adventure started in the small township of Furnace on the edge of Loch Fyne. First up was a visit to the town’s namesake – the old blast furnace. It was built by the Argyll Furnace Company in 1755 to process charcoal from nearby forests for what was then a new and lucrative industry. In her book Argyll: Land of Blood and Beauty, Mary McGrigor describes how ‘charcoal burned in the now-ruined kilns on the hillside was carried in panniers by strings of ponies, walking head to tail, across the drove roads to Loch Fyne’. Today the furnace stood overgrown, silent and cold. But it was easy to imagine what it must have been like back in its heyday – busy, hot and full of the hustle and bustle for what surely was the industrial epicentre of the local area.

Old blast furnace built in 1755 © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

We soon left Furnace behind and followed the signposted local walk, the Lecann Way. No ladened ponies traversed the route today, just a couple of bikepackers who were developing a growing sympathy for the beasts of old from the weight of their own panniers. We made our way up the hill, slowly gaining altitude along Leacann Water, past beautiful waterfalls and wildflowers. We soon traversed the double-arched Brenchoillie Bridge and the High Bridge of Leckan, two historic stone spans built in the 18th century to support the local movement of charcoal down to Furnace.

Brenchoillie Bridge over Leacann Water © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

The climb up felt relentless and the heat wasn’t helping, although a cool breeze was blowing from time to time, which made the current situation at least somewhat bearable. After what seemed a lifetime, we topped out and enjoyed the first down section of the trip. It was very short-lived and led us to a small river crossing. Water levels were low so we crossed without harm, although I was aware that in wetter times a full on wade is required to cross! Eventually we spotted the sparkling waters of Loch Leacann, a truly beautiful place on a summer’s day. A quick map check confirmed we had reached the Muir of Leckan, described by A.R.B. Haldane in The Drove Roads of Scotland as a vast expanse of upland moorland between Loch Fyne and Loch Awe traversed by drovers and their cattle in the 18th and 19th centuries. The moorlands served as an important resting place, or stance, for the drovers as they moved cattle from the Isles of Islay, Jura and Mull to the Crieff and Falkirk markets, also known as trysts. I took a moment to imagine the track jammed with herds of cattle and packs of ponies jostling for space on the hills.

Loch Leacann and the Muir of Leckan © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

Traversing the steep tracks beyond the loch was slow going, and it seemed we had not yet reached the highpoint. After multiple fords we entered a forest and crossed the much-appreciated bridge over Allt nan Sac. There was, however, a sting in the tail as this area was covered in a dense plantation forest. There appeared to have been a bit of a battle here with downed trees crossing the path, yet openings created by an unknown chainsaw wielding hero had cleared just enough of the route to allow bikes to be pushed through. We were thankful as this could have been a show stopper but was instead a slow shuffle with occasional bright and vibrant use of the English language. Finally, we emerged onto a wide forest track allowing for what was to be a speedy descent to the end of the drove road in Durran.

Plantation tree obstacles © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

Somewhat battered and bruised, the Durran to Furnace Drove Road was completed and we thankfully turned onto the B840, a lovely single track road with passing places. We enjoyed five or so glorious miles along the smooth tarmac. This was easy, too easy perhaps, and we felt like a losing team at half-time, but not to worry, after a quick pep talk we were ready to face the second half of the day’s riding.

Soon we came to a ScotWays sign that marked our turn off the tarmac onto the Ford to Carron Drove Road. After a short steep push, we quickly came upon the ruined medieval chapel of Kilneuair. It was illuminated by golden light and surrounded by a carpet of bluebells. Kilneuair was dedicated to St Columba and served as an important religious site in its day. According to Mary McGrigor in The Kist, the church property was in a key location for the droving trade, serving as the site for an annual cattle market outside the gates. I strained to imagine a bustling market at this peaceful site.

Kilneuair chapel © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

As we climbed the hill, Loch Awe came into view behind us. Described in The Drove Roads of Scotland, an 1807 marker once posted in this area to promote improvements to the road announced that ’by this route the inhabitants of [the western islands] take their cattle to the Low Country with hardly a single exception’. No such signage was present today however. We pushed on higher and higher, but this was easier than the climbing earlier in the day mainly due to the well engineered double track, so progress was consistent if not swift.

Views of Loch Awe from the Ford to Carron Drove Road © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

The beauty of the area was stunning, but we were distracted by exhaustion. It was time to look for a place to camp. Further down the climb there had been ample choice due to the high concentration of nature’s little lawnmowers but higher up the heather had won against the sheep and this made for a challenging search for a pitch. With the sun low in the sky, we settled on a site along the shore of Loch Gainmheach, a welcome place to pitch our tent and rest our heads.

Campsite on Loch Gainmheach © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

We awoke to another beautiful day. After coffees we set off from our campsite, straight up the Bealach Gaoithe. It was some time before I actually rode the bike because the pass was so steep. But soon we were riding along a decent track in an area dotted with lochans gleaming in the morning sun. This is a truly beautiful area and Scotland never ceases to amaze – how can so many lochans be perched on what is essentially the top of a hill? Soon enough the track started pointing downwards, but any hopes of a fast smooth descent were quickly dashed as the track deteriorated. We dismounted our bikes on a few sections, but it was easier to push down than up so we were grateful for that.

Bealach Gaoithe, pass of the wind © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

Finally Carron bothy came into view. Flanked by a tall Sitka spruce and an enormous old sycamore tree, the bothy was nestled in a beautiful spot. No one was in and the place was spotless, so we settled in to make yet more coffee and a well-earned breakfast. We loitered here for a couple of hours, comfortably cool within the old stone walls.

Aerial view of Carron Bothy © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

The ruins of Carron and nearby Creag an Iubhair were former 19th century shepherd’s cottages and farmsteads, located on the drove road between Furnace and Kirkmichael Glassary, a track marked on Roy’s map of 1750. In his article ‘Across the Leckan Muir’ in The Kist, Duncan Beaton describes the historical importance of these properties for the drovers. ‘In its heyday, Carron would have been a busy place, as here stood the first cattle stance on the road from the Kirkmichael Glassary trysts to the large markets at Falkirk or Crieff’. According to Beaton ‘by the time of the 1841 census, one of the tenants at Creag an Iubhair was named MacGilp and was the keeper of a change-house, licensed to sell alcoholic refreshments and victuals to passing travellers on the road’.

Fat bikes outside Carron Bothy © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

The story of Carron bothy’s rebuilding from ruin in the mid-1990s by Mountain Bothies Association volunteers has become part of bothy lore, described in detail by Jim Ross in An Account of a Bothy Renovation. He recounts the difficulties of transporting heavy items to the remote bothy along the old drove road where we had just cycled and pushed our bikes. Volunteers ‘hoped to bring the materials across the hill track from Loch Awe which rises to over 1,000 feet and is described as hard on vehicles. Half way up it became too hard even for a 4 wheel drive. After some hurried relocations, we ended up with bags of cement and sand spread around a large acreage of Argyll, a practice with which we were to become familiar on this project. A two-person all terrain barrow was used to rescue the materials’.

Rebuilding the Carron ruins in 1997 © Mountain Bothies Association

Jim goes on to describe the British Army’s Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers assistance with the rebuilding of the ruin and the reflections from the captain assigned to the task. ‘The continuous rain on Monday caused disaster as the Land Rover became bogged down up to its axles and snapped a half shaft. It took four hours to winch it out stage by stage up the track, only for it to become totally stuck at the bothy when the winch broke. The winch was removed from the Land Rover and taken away for repair’.

Despite the horrendous weather, logistical challenges and mechanical failures, the volunteers and their military partners succeeded in creating a beloved retreat at this now remote junction of two historically busy roads, adding yet another layer of history to the landscape.

Inside Carron Bothy © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

While at the bothy, I skimmed through the bothy book and came across an entry from July 2025: “After a tortuous day of pushing a bike through a bog I have arrived at a refuge being taken care of by those who have come before. Thank you all, friends and strangers, I shall leave the place better, for those who come after.” It was a fitting testament to the magic of bothy culture and a reminder of the bog slog still ahead of us.

The ruins of Creag an Iubhair © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

Time was marching on and our rest at the bothy had come to an end. We headed east and crossed a substantial 18th century stone bridge over the River Add, further evidence of the old road’s importance. Unfortunately, no beverages were for sale at Creag an Iubhair on this occasion, so we continued along the track into a forest. For the next hour we picked our way across what turned out to be a mile of bog. Our fat tyres sunk into the abyss, disappearing deep into the muck, nearly forever lost to the bogs. The track narrowed into a canyon of turf dykes and we were left with no choice but to yank and pull our bikes until we stumbled into a clearing and junction with a wide forest road.

The infamous bog living up to its name © Laura Thompson & Thomas Hill

Released from the shackles of the bogs, we sped along the forest track towards Furnace. Soon we crossed the High Bridge of Leckan where we had started the steep ascent the previous day. Not far from here, it is said that the last wolf of Argyll was killed in 1720. According to Mary McGrigor in The Kist, ‘it sprang upon a woman who was spinning as she walked along the track. She managed to kill it with her spindle, but died herself in the attack. Sadly, she might have been saved had only her cries been heard, for she was within half a mile of Auchindrain.’

We carried on past Auchindrain, one of the last remaining farming and crofting communities in the region, now preserved as a museum. A trip for another day perhaps? A short time later we were back in Furnace, exhausted but thrilled with our Argyll adventure.

Reflecting on our trip, we agreed that having some prior knowledge of the Heritage Paths brought to life stories of the lands at different points in history and forged a deeper connection with the route on which we travelled. Whether by bike or by foot, time on the trail is always welcome, but when you bring along some of the local history, you do not go alone into these wild places, but rather alongside those who have come before.

References

• Beaton, Duncan (1997) ‘Across the Leckan Muir’, The Kist, no.53, Natural History & Antiquarian Society of Mid-Argyll, pp. 15-16.
• Haldane, A.R.B. (1952) The Drove Roads of Scotland, pp. 89-90, 98.
• McGrigor, Mary (1994) ’The Durran Road’, The Kist, no.47, Natural History & Antiquarian Society of Mid-Argyll, p. 18.
• McGrigor, Mary (1994) ’The Old Parish Church of Kilneuair’, The Kist, no.48, Natural History & Antiquarian Society of Mid-Argyll, p. 11.
• McGrigor, Mary (2013) Argyll: Land of Blood and Beauty.
• Ross, Jim (1996-1997) ‘An Account of a Bothy Renovation’, Mountain Bothies Association Archive.