Linda had a meeting on Bute, I had gear to test and photograph so I used that as an excuse and we booked a ferry trip for two. I’ve been in Wemyss Bay more in the last couple of years than in the whole of my life to that point, but I’ve not been down the slip to the ferry since the 70’s.
We were in good time, got a good queue spot and got on the boat fast. We also got up the stairs to the lounge fast and nabbed the last two hot rolls in the cafe.

We enjoyed our wee breakfast then took to the deck to enjoy the clear skies and cool sea breeze. A fine start to the day.
We were soon spinning expertly into the berth at Rothesay and once we hit the tarmac I left Linda to walk up and out of town solo to look for some adventure for a few hours.

I followed the roads right and left until a nice long stretch took me from the streets and into the fields and trees where I found a junction I’d seen on Geograph so I knew I was going in the right direction. Geograph is still the best planning tool, so many times it’s got better information than a map.

That was proven right when I took a well used and established track with gates into the trees that isn’t on the map. But the track was going my way, so I followed it up towards the sunshine.

Clear of the trees a wee herd of Heilan Coos snacked happily and didn’t bat an eyelid at my presence. This lovely beastie was snacking with purpose and I could have hung out all day and watched them. But the modest skyline was calling from not too much further away and I did have one eye on the time, so I reluctantly wandered uphill again.

It was lovely, bright and sunny but cold enough in the breeze for me to keep my jacket on. Perfect walking weather really, so walk I did. I climbed the stile just below Barone Hill where I’d planned to go but there were other inviting shapes nearby so I headed over to a little 140m-ish hump for cracking views out to sea over the bays on the west of the island. It would have been so easy to walk coast to coast here, that’s definitely on for another time.

I headed further over to Craw Hill, a lump of gorse, heather and rock with fantastic views over to Arran. This is a magic spot, you could spend time here, it’s a place I’d come back to regularly if I lived on the island. Here’s the thing though, there are almost no tracks up here. Those that are established are obviously very lightly used too. Why aren’t folk walking these lovely wee hills?

I was bemused more than I was complaining because I happily had the whole wee range to myself. Despite the beautiful day and the easy accessibility I never saw a soul from the fringes of Rothesay until I was down at the standing stone later.

Peace.

There are lovely old walls all over and they’re mostly in a good state of repair. Much easier to shin one of them than get through the gorse which is rampant, but very pretty too.
There was some meandering around the clumps of it to get a clear route back and onto the wee top of Barone Hill.

There was a fort here they say in prehistory and there’s some evidence of it slipping under the heather, but I wonder how much of it ended up as part of these walls a few hundred years ago.

I took a proper break here, pack off, arse on a rock and I sat back and listened to buzzing and chirping for a while. Beep, beep… I looked at the notification – “I’ll be another couple of hours”
I sat back with a grin. Oh the hardship.

I took a northerly-ish line towards what looked like the thinnest part of the trees skirting the hill. It was steep and rough the whole way down and I was overjoyed not to have decked it on the way as my knees seemed to be improving recently and I really didn’t want to do the twist again, like we did last summer. Yeah…
However that thin line was gorse over bog and I really thought I was going have to re-ascend and have another go from a different angle. However a patch of some funny looking trees with small widely splaying branches broke through the line of gorse so I climbed into the them and tarzaned my way though with much chuckling and no possibility of recording it in any way with the bog below me waiting to permanently claim my phone.

I fell out into a field grinning to the sound of the pipes floating across to me from the ruined farm I was heading for. I had seen some coloured dots heading in from the road to the west from the top and with pipes I was thinking maybe ashes being scattered? There was no “Flowers of the Forest” being played, but not everyone is a traditionalist.

I climbed onto a giant fallen tree to wait for a while, let the folk have some peace without my intrusion. I pulled my brim down and let the day edge ahead without me.

It had been quiet for a while when I walked into the farm and I found it as ruined as they say. It has tangible marks of life though, the window and doors frames had once been carefully painted, fireplaces still help long cold ashes and the animal sheds had drinking wells for the beasts waiting to be cleaned and filled. Atmospheric, but melancholy.

I saw figures shift through the glassless windows, I heard rustling in the bushes on the other side of tumbling stonework. My heart raced, my breathing stopped, I was suddenly in a Hammer Horror, I was in a 70s telly drama that scarred my generation for life, I was in a… group of hippies sleeping around the standing stone?

I picked my way quietly and I hope respectfully around the various figures to get some shots of the very thing I’d climbed through the trees for, the wonderfully impressive stone.
I was as ignored by those who were still awake as I was by those asleep and I followed the GPS to the nearby burial cist where I met two lovely ladies with whom I had a long and interesting conversation with.

I had already realised this wasn’t an ashes scattering: “Are you having a gathering today?” I ventured. I’d forgotten it was Earth Day as we had been wrapped up in our mission from early that morning, but these folks were indeed there for reasons that could be aligned with that, but also along with their more esoteric aims.
The want to bring back the power to the stone they said, we touched on lay lines, physical history, social issues and much more, I was even treated to Gaelic song.
You don’t have to believe to appreciate and you don’t have to understand to empathise. If you think a better world can be made by lying in the grass by a standing stone rather than bombing children to make a profit on the markets, I’ll give you a listen.

Craigberoch has been long abandoned and the plan is to reinstate it using the farm buildings as the foundation for a bigger building and to use it for various business and group purposes.
It’s the kind of scheme that rings as many alarm bells as it does release balloons of hope.

I’m atheist, I’m an engineer, I’m pragmatic in so many ways. I’m also a dreamer and prone to daily flights of fancy. I want peace, I want security, I want fresh running water to feed the unicorns, not for me but for my daughter’s future.
As I left the burial cist and my new friends behind I had lots to think about as I tried to get over an electric fence without landing square on it crotch-first and get back down to the road.

I followed a path that cut east from the road with what looks more like an aqueduct than a burn and it took me to the top end of Rothesay where Linda was waiting at the end of the road by the waterfront.
I just caught a heron taking off before I circled the church and walked between buildings for the first time an a while, ah, that’s what shade feels like.

There was no ferry leaving for an hour so we grabbed some food and enjoyed the view from under the palm trees. We walked around the shops too, lots of independents here and many will absolutely need visited when we have more time on the next visit. But although most were shutting by now, ice cream was acquired and enjoyed on the walk back the motor parked at the front of the ferry queue an hour ago.

The Victorian toilets on the pier were visited and they’re genuinely brilliant, the original fixtures are a joy to see and use.

A fancy French cruise ship had been ferrying it’s passengers across in a red coloured launch to take guided tours while we were waiting, it all felt just a little Star Wars imperial-esque to me, I was playing the music in my head the whole time I was watching them.
I guess I don’t get as many Black Sabbath album cover visions when I’m out and about in the summer so I have to replace that with something equally weird.

We sat down on the way back, a little less energy to burn than on the way over earlier. The Arrochar Alps were looking blurry but fine to the north.

I had the best time exploring a beautiful bit of the island, I met interesting folk and I got to hang out with my wee wife on a school day which doesn’t happen so much these days.

Happy times.

Lots of things kept getting in the way but the chat was always soon, and what if, or maybe we could… Then an email from Scotrail came in, a flash sale, any return ticket in Scotland for £20.
Linda had always wanted to come back to Loch Ossian so tickets to Corrour were the first thought, then camping while we were there looked like a no-brainer. I know the trails round there, some nice manageable loops and point-to-points. Tickets were bought, maps were perused, weather watching became an instant obsession.

Gear for Linda was the next task. I’d just done some down bags for TGO and I knew they were warm and light, then I put together the rest of a loadout from stock with a few new bits and pieces to hopefully make it easier.  That included the only pack I could get to fit Linda’s 4’11” frame, a Karrimor X-Lite 45 that I had long forgotten about but had begrudgingly came to think of positively.

It was fun, looking at it all fresh instead of autopiloting for solo trips. The night before we were completely packed and in the morning we made a nice lunch for the train. The sun shone and our seats were waiting for us on the Mallaig train which we caught at Dumbarton Central, two stops down the track from home.

We were off.

We spent half the time running across the carriage to see what was happening outside the other windows like kids on a school trip. It’s such a wonderful railway and there’s so much joy at not driving it.
We thought we were derailing near Inveruglas which was an icebreaker with our fellow travellers and the lassie on the trolley was a cheerful, chatty soul. The guard (?) made sure everyone for Corrour was on the first carriage to suit the short platform and a surprising amount a folk go off into the sunshine, including a 50th birthday party heading for the hostel with kids and trollies of supplies in tow.

I love when the train leaves you here. It’s silent and beautiful. Our grins were wide and feet eager to get going.

The track is easy going and the views are wonderful. A cool breeze and bright sun both soothed as we walked. In usual current form, no cameras were deployed so we snapped away on our phones which was fun. Although a full 5G signal was present the whole time which was a wee bit disheartening, I used to enjoy being completely cut off.

We missed the trail junction as we wandered which meant a bit of a back track but we still had plenty time. It was a later train we had to book to get the cheap tickets on a Friday but sunset was still a couple of hours away and I was optimistic of getting somewhere nice to camp.

Beinn na Lap rises bluntly all along our left horizon. It looks so plain but I think of it fondly as the destination of my first summit camp something near 20 years ago when I walked in from Fersit to the north. A brand new Laserlite tent and a borrowed camera, different days indeed.

It wasn’t too warm, we both kept our jackets on. But it was pleasant, nice walking conditions. The light was warm too, the horizon had a haze and the sun was heading towards it.
I looked ahead, I looked around, I looked for water. Not yet, keep going Linda. I wasn’t sure about our potential water usage and so we were carrying some, not something I’d usually do but I wanted it safe and comfortable for Linda. It meant extra weight though and it was probably the wrong call for my wee wife, but I literally couldn’t get any more stuff into my pack.

Linda started pointing at flat spots, I kept saying just a little further… It worked out though, there’s a fast flowing burn south of Peter’s Rock and I saw a flat heathery knoll a short climb from the track close to the burn.
The sun was sinking, Linda needed her dinner, I needed to mess with this unfamiliar tent with energy and daylight, we clambered up to our home for the night.

What a spot. Perfect.

There was good space, it was dead flat and with a few places to set up the stove nearby. A few friendly rocks silently shared our space too and I could pick up water easily from the ice cold tumble over the rocks in the burn nearby.
The burn spoke to us til we left the next day with a hissy gurgle whispered from nearby and low rumble echoed from a little further away. I suppose it was quite loud, but it was just so soothing.

The tent went up easy and we were set up for dinner pretty quick. I inflated the mats with much comedy afterwards as Linda refused to listen to my instruction to let air out til it was comfortable and stable, she prefered instead to roll off constantly and berate me for it. Eventually I got to the valve when she wasn’t looking…
Dinner was fine, Summit to Eat dehydrated meals, mac ‘n’ cheese for the win for me every time and Linda enjoyed her chicken and fried rice. A pastry, some cuppas and a view with along contented sigh afterwards.

Peace and quiet. Briefly some stars too, and as I found out later the odd colouring was the aurora. Jeezo. It clouded over and the temperature dropped, but there was some sound sleeping to be had.

Cuppas and porridge to start the day is perfect, the mist and low cloud didn’t dent that feeling at all. There might even have been some extra napping which was only curtailed by thoughts of a bit of a walk down to Rannoch for the train home later.
You have to have another cuppa first though, I mean it’s traditional if not an actual law.

The packs were much lighter now, that was a relief. I should just have brought my regular cooking kit and no water. Never thought I’d be over cautious, maybe I’m finally growing up?

The trail is easy going and the views are fine. Nevis never came out of the murk but as we got closer to the tail of Blackwater, Glen Coe and it’s neighbours were clear and visible under a very dramatic sky. The sky was often dark and even stormy looking but all we even got was a cold breeze a few spits of rain. It was perfectly lovely for the walk out.

It’s an odd shot that, it looks like I’m carrying paraglider kit or something. I love that pack, and it’s getting old and a little worn now. Deary me.

We cut off the track to visit the old lodge and it’s definitely in worse shape than last I saw it, a few more collapses here and there. It’s excellent for shelter though and snack and a drink were had out of the wind and shower.

It’s very wet underfoot in here too. I wonder if the lodge was damp, not a the best for a sanatorium.
There were some frogs, and some of them were becoming very close friends too. Linda is still traumatised by this.

Stops were the order of the day. Views and snacks, chat and photies. Here it really felt like it was going to downpour but the darkness came to nothing and light started to break through in patches.

I looked at the time, I looked at our progress on the map. Hmm, we really had to keep going. But we really could have just sat on those rocks. The freedom of not driving comes at the cost of timetable adherence.

The next sitting attempt resulted in a poor landing. At least it wasn’t an aircraft carrier she was aiming for.
Lots of new track here from the hydro works, definitely easier getting onto Carn Dearg now, but it’s just a little less wild than I remember it.

I think the contractors made themselves a wee stone circle too.

We caught up with a couple with a dog on the last endless straight out to the road and as we got to the end of it they asked if we wanted a lift to the station.
Oh happy day. Bless you wonderful people. 2.5km of tarmac avoided.

Rather than rushing over the bridge to the platform while looking at the time we now sauntered into the visitor centre room and popped on the kettle at the honesty box table to make some dinner.
The lassie was setting up the kitchen ready to open the cafe for the new season the next day while the ASDA delivery fella (who was from Stockholm interestingly) struggled over the bridge with a sack barrow stacked with boxes of stock one after the other.

We had plenty of chat with them and I got to read the displays too. It’s a proper oasis and we were ever so happy to be sitting there. The lassie has taken over the cafe for this year, I hope she does well.

The train was on time, our seats were waiting and we rumbled home in comfort and darkness, tired and so very happy with the experience.

After showers and sleeps...

Linda loved it despite my patchy packing choices and wants to go again. Gear, logistics and tickets are being discussed. It was good for me in unexpected ways, I’m feeling enthused from being a part of Linda’s fun, sharing it all does add another dimension.
Happy times indeed.

We’ve booked a train north with the flash sale Scotrail had this week, we saved around £70 on the tickets and there’ll be some trekking and a wild camp between the out and back journeys.
Some miles were needed to see how we were feeling about the mileage I’ve planned for us and get us in the right mood. Linda’s health and fitness stuff is her story to tell, but mine has been a simple mechanical: my right knee on descents and it’s really screwed up my plans the past few weeks.
I needed an easy descent, Linda needed distance, the Greenock Cut then?

It was frosty as we stopped by the Tesco in Port Glasgow and still no warmer as we claimed a spot in the surprisingly nearly empty and always tiny Overtun car park. Leaving early ftw? Who’d have thought.
I was wearing my just-washed vintage-ish Buffalo Mountain Shirt that had arrived the day before from a nicely friendly eBay seller and I was feeling just-right. Worn over bare skin as designed and with a beanie and liner gloves on I was set.

It was bright enough but to the north it was hazy, the cloud looked to be down to 600-700m and that robbed us of the views we get when cutting over the hills that rise in the middle of the Cut.
We stopped for a cuppa and I gauged the misses’ mood, she seemed happy and had energy to spare. Linda doesn’t not like a change of plan though, I mean at all, but I risked it, I mean we’re best pals after all.
“How do you fancy taking a detour? We won’t get the views today, we could walk to Wemyss Bay and get the train back for the car, maybe catch the butcher/deli place…”

We had a new plan. It was brighter but not much warmer as we swung round to the visitor centre where getting another cuppa and some hot food was a necessity. It was still morning, just, so this was breakfast, pre-lunch maybe?
It’s nice in the wee cafe at Cornalees, the lassie is always friendly and grub’s good.
After a wee sit down wee took to the road briefly and started on the Kelly Cut which I walked for the first time last year. It starts well, smooth paths well maintained, but that doesn’t last.

We stopped to talk to some volunteers fixing the nature trail which is good news. It’s a raised wooden walkway through the heather and woodland which has been shut for repairs for years. Looking forward to trying it for the first time.
Soon we’re into bog, haphazard floating bridges and a wilder trail with different views. It’s lovely going this way.

We stopped for a rest and what remained of our snacks with patches of sun flitting by. It was beautiful light through the day, the hills this fat south got the best of it and it was lovely.
It was windy all day but I was comfy, I used the vents now and then to keep cool and found that maybe a single garment can work. More testing needed of course, but that’ll be no hardship.
After around 13km there’s a sign bolted to a rock that says “Half Way to Weymss Bay” but it means from Cornalees of course, it’s just 3 miles to the trail end. But the look on Linda’s face…

We sat in the sun at the Kelly Reservoir for a wee while as ferries criss-cossed the Firth of Clyde below, What a busy wee stretch that is, Rothesay still pulling in the punters for a day trip.
The walk down is pleasant at first, a farm track through moor and then woodland with a short quiet road section before a dark wooded, steep sided gorge that felt a lot more sinister than last time took us out onto the main road just as the butchers audibly pulled down their shutters. Good grief.
The cafe in the station was shut half an hour early too. The toilets were open though, yay. We caught the next train to Drumfochar where a shin up the brae found the car and a quick run up the road for home made dinner and getting our feet up in a bath.

19km or so and not a whisper from my knee which is good. The Buffalo shirt was something of a revelation which was also good. Linda had no trouble with the miles either, the good kept on coming.

I was packed in plenty of time, despite the last minute crampons switch which I’ll be talking about in detail another time. But for some unknowable reason, by some undecipherable cause, despite only having to fill a flask, it was late when I left.
It was bright though, and very cold. The road was okay too, light traffic and a 57mph average which was fine for a boy from 1968. Ben Lomond looked like it had icing the snow cover was so thick and grinned all the way to Arrochar.
The car park of course is where things took a sinister turn with a few folk wandering around gazing to the sky like electronic disciples holding their phones closer to the satellite god to get a better reception as the sole ticket machine was gubbed.
Unexpectedly I had useable O2 4G and had to use of all of it’s sauce to download the parking app (the one that isn’t RingGo, green coloured, the name escapes me) to pay for my parking because I knew I’d be there until dark time. In the time I was doing this two council vans had visited the car park, I think it’s probably best to pay these days. I have an old personal beef with Argyle and Bute Council, but this isn’t the field to fight them on.

I was bitterly cold by the way, I had got back in the van and restarted the engine and heater while doing my parking penance. I was then away quickly to get some heat in me and soon enough I was in the sun and there was no escaping the heat in those rays.
I had my vents open and my zips undone to keep cool and a mug of coffee to sip and warm me up, it was a metaphor for the rest of my life. It was a lovely walk up on the recently remodelled path which now feels steeper and longer despite following the same lines, maybe it’s just me. The works on the lower part up to the forest road are delight to walk on but it still looks pretty rough in a few places higher up, time will diminish the impact and the surface grading and drainage looks like it’ll do the job, but it’s freshly sewn wound material right now.

Lomond shone like it’s name depicts and one clear of the trees the familiar points of the Cobbler and Narnain sparkled back and white above the golden grass of the wide shallow coire. It’s like coming up for air arriving here, every time is better than the last.
The track is lovely all the way to the Narnain Boulders, twisty turny, up and down and always with some of the best scenery you’ll find. I know The Cobbler is the star, the pin-up, but Beinn Narnain just draws my eye and my feet follow on nine times out of ten.

I took a different line in the southern coire, I went high to the right with a view to circling below the big crags near the bealach. The terrain is as fun and funky higher up as it is down the middle and I was very much watching every single foot placement in case I lost a leg down the gaps between the jumble of rock that is this whole coire. It’s the standard approach here which is always exacerbated by heather growing over the gaps but with height I also had pristine snow filling every gap and hollow I wanted to step on.
It’s tiring and getting it wrong is a nerve sharpener, I have a couple of cracking bruises today from getting it a wee bit wrong on my climb up.

The terrain is rough and many rest stops cooled me and let me gaze around this wonderful wee place. Not a soul to be seen near me but there was a couple crossing the bealach above and a few folk by the Cobbler’s summit, obviously thinking about whether to chance the clamber up or not. I looked ahead, those big crags were pretty close and it looked like it would be better to circle onto the top of them. Easier and safer ground for sure, but also there’s view waiting for me that I’d never had.
I was soon sitting on dry rock with my pack leaning on a boulder with a hot cuppa in my hand. It is a glorious spot and I’ll be back next time, I think I’ve found a new favourite corner on a hill of favourite corners.

I sat and time ticked past me. I stretched my legs out, I was a wee bit stiff and the stumble had given me a few niggles and I will not hide it, my nerves were rattled. Had I jarred my neck again? This is my single biggest fear, the recent six months of limited feeling and mobility in my right hand is not something I will forget quickly.
Ach, I could go back down. I had a wee photo job to do while I was out and I’d done it, I’d be home for dinner time. Narnain will always be there.
Whoop whoop whoop whoop
A raven rose from the coire and passed close over my head, it circled below Cruach nam Miseag and flew back over my head
Whoop whoop whoop whoop
It flew across the coire and its graceful black wings carried it to the tip of the spearhead buttress where it landed deftly on an iced rock just off the top.
Raawwrrrkkk

I know it’s stupid, I’m a science and dinosaur guy remember, but that was as plain an invitation as I’ve ever had. Okay pal, wait for me there, I’m on my way.

The bealach was close and was the first place I felt that my Kahtoola spikes were too short, the second place was on the first short iced scramble. But what a place to be, the crags towering over me with teeth of ice bristling on every surface, the blue sky above and the wind trying to cut through me and failing on my multi coloured shield of invincibility.
I was soon swinging my pick into the neve ahead of me as I scrambled over the steep iced terrain, my spikes didn’t bring me enough confidence to feel like they were enough so I was making it safe and having the best time doing it.
I passed old camping spots, I took in the views, I looked down at the sunshine on snow between my feet as my ice axe leash took a little weight and I pulled myself up with the gripless shaft.

The final scramble is in darkness between crags covered in white teeth and then I was in bright sunshine on top of the spearhead. Where’s my pal? Ah, gone till next time, eh?
The summit plateau was deserted but not empty, it was full of colour and light and joy and then the wind tore it to shreds and weaved back it into that rarest of moments where everything is just fine.
It’s funny how you can sweat and swear yourself into a place of peace and contentment.

I wandered around, crunching from view to view. It’s such a wonderful place to be, to spend some time. I started to descend, planning on taking the long slope through the boulder field and picking up the main track for a less complicated way home. But the light changed and I was back at the trig point again in case I missed something, just for a second the thought “What if I never come back?” flitted from ear to ear. Age brings so many previously unknown concepts with it.
But oh, to have had a tent.
I meant it the next time, an hour in the top is plenty in that temperature and I walked confidently west again only to meet a smiling Italian fella, who too was full of the joy of what we’d discovered.
It was lovely, we had a long chat, I passed some descent advice his way which I saw very happily that he’d followed and I pointed out a nice wee bit of trivia for him – “See that little dark pyramid on the horizon? All of the curling stones being used back home at the Olympics come from there”. Ailsa Craig.

 

We parted and with now extremely cold hands because I’d stopped for so long I descended into glorious colours on steep snow. The Cobbler looked ten times it’s height, Beinn Ime reclined muscularly as it’s snowy flanks burned pink into the night.
My hands eventually warmed to match my heart and soul. One little hill, one big day.

I walked out in darkness as the green coloured parking app weakly implored me to top it up. The sky was black, the stars twinkled and my breath obscured my headtorch beam.
Haggis neeps and tattie were waiting for me and I was buying new crampons as soon as I could get to a shop.

The story doesn’t end here.