Web Development by Alistair Robinson

Ever since Chernobyl, these gaiters have never been the same*

Yesterday Stu and I went up Beinn a’ Bheithir (something like bin a veer I think) on the summerest summer day of the summer so far – the day was hot and long and hazy and glowing and pulsating and sticky and gloriously summer.

I was out on Friday night and had a great time, but I stayed out one hour beyond my peak and that was partly why, at six in the morning, I could be seen by our neighbours staggering out to the taxi in Ann’s dressing gown, having just been woken by a knock at the door courtesy of Scott next-door. I got the taxi-driver to come back half-an-hour later, at which time – with Ann’s help – I was rockin’ and rollin’.

So I was a wee bit late, and left a trail of destruction behind me: Ann was woken up, Stu and Michelle were woken up when I called him to say I’d be late – which also disturbed Millie, who was apparently restless and crying for some time afterwards – and my neighbours couldn’t have been too happy about the taxi sitting there with its engine going – but hey, that wasn’t my fault!

*A quote from a fellow walker. Stu overheard him saying it.

Our mountain was just west of Glencoe, by the sea. On the way along the glen the mountains were looking magnificent in the morning sunshine, the light filling the air and harrowing the land like a physical, touchable thing. Above is Bidean nam Bian.

Setting off from Ballachulish – famous for its slate quarry – we took the interesting route up to the top, along the top of a ridge. This picture of Stuart at the foot of the ridge gives some idea of what a relentless slog it was. And the peak that’s visible at the top is not the top – oh no! The first peak was some way above and beyond that, and the Munro peak itself was some way above and beyond that.

Glowing birch trees, with the visually unappealing (but economically necessary) Scandinavian spruces frowning down upon the natives.

We saw two or three of these big fat hairy caterpillars, apparently basking in the sun in the openness of the path. The thing you gotta remember when taking photos like this is to include something to give it some scale. I forgot. Anyway, it was pretty big.

Let the scrambling begin. High up on the ridges of the highlands the bones of the Earth are exposed, and if you’re ascending on the spine of a mountain, as we were, that means scrambling. It’s not walking, it’s not climbing – maybe it’s better than both.

That’s my hand. I’m about to climb up an exposed rock face. Just dangerous enough to be exciting.

The view began to get really impressive. There comes a point when it hits you: hey, we’re pretty high up here.

And the scrambling continues.

So we reached the first peak. You can see the munro peak at the end of this arcing ridge. Just visible are a couple of human dots on the crest, probably the Irish walkers who had overtaken us (not one of them under 40 years old) on the way up.

Either side of the ridge it was steep and scree-strewn. I reckon it’s possible to slide almost all the way down this mountain in the winter without dying. We shall see.

We bought sandwiches on the way up, in Tyndrum this time rather than Crianlarich.

We have this man to thank for a particularly unsatisfying lunch last time. Crianlarich’s shop stocks only Brian Turner’s sandwiches, and we innocently thought these must be some pretty special sandwiches, if not made by the great TV chef himself then endorsed by him all the same. What a disappointment. Brian, I don’t know what to say, except: what were you thinking? I mean, is money really more important than your public reputation? No, I don’t think so! (That’ll wipe the smile off his face)

So the ones we got – unprepossessing affairs to be sure – were pretty damn well OK.

So here we are, on top of the world.

Here’s the top untainted by Robinsons.

Did I mention that this mountain actually has two munros? Well this here picture is of the second, and a fine looking peak it is too, with some impressive looking north-facing cliffiness at the top. Well we didn’t make it up there. I’m not about to apologise for it. I don’t have excuses. I’m quite relaxed about the whole thing. Hell, we’d climbed a 1024 metre peak from sea level, so gimme a break!

So we’d dropped down to the bealach between the two peaks, and made the decision to go down, and our descent didn’t look too bad, shown above. But see that conifer plantation half way down? Well…

This was what we really wanted to avoid, but we were forced into the trees by a gorge that prevented us from following the burn. Yes it looks like a shit situation, and anyone who’s had to fight their way through one of these places will know it’s not fun, but there was actually a path of sorts that led us out onto a road after not too long – panic over.

Stu had found a good staff with which to fight off any marauding dragonflies, and it served him well for a time. But a lack of love on his part, mixed perhaps with a degree of inexperience, led to tragedy.

Alas poor stick.

The colours you see in the highlands can be surprising.

It was a really pleasant good-natured walk down the road, with some good views of Loch Linnhe and Loch Leven.

My big aim, except the mountain, was to go for a swim after we got down, and I really needed it. After much uncertainty and disagreement we ended up stopping on the way back, much further south: it was a nice surprise when Stu picked out a spot by the loch that had been in my mind all day as the perfect place for an invigorating dip. Loch Lubnaig is what it’s called, not far from Callander.

It was sheltered, lined with trees and the water was quite warm (everything’s relative remember). I was envious of the campers, even though I knew that once the light had dropped below a certain level the dreaded midges would be out.

I definitely want to return and camp there. In this photo, it’s not rubbish at the bottom right, it’s part of somebody’s camp site.

A glorious day, rounded off perfectly with a swim in fresh water that really was incredibly refreshing and energizing.

Tags: hillwalking, mountains, scotland, walking
Posted in places, walking | 3 Comments »