My sciatica has had me out of bed in the early hours for several nights in a row. I make a cuppas, sit on the couch in the dark with the hot bean bag at my hip and gaze out of the window as the occasional motor screams past in a blur of LED’s.

Today is merged into breakfast with the girls and then picking at the laptop keyboard. Linda said “It’s nice out there. why don’t we go?” and since walking is a pain free endeavour, I packed us up some essentials and off we went to the Greenock Cut via Tesco’s in Port Glasgow for a couple of meal deals.

Linda was quite taken with the middle route over the hills we took last time so after a late lunch in a corner out of the wind we took a left onto the rougher track into the quieter centre of the loop.
We’d seen a handful of walkers on the Cut loop but it was delightfully deserted here and the views were magic with the Luss hills streaked with snow before their modest tops nudged into the ribbons of cloud being dragged across us by the pretty nippy wind.

The light was lovely as the dipping sun found gaps in the clouds out to see and shone golden across us and the hills to the north. It had been warm enough at the start but it was cold now and we ended up wrapped up after we decided to cut off the track and explore a bit we hadn’t seen yet.
There was no continuous noted track on the map but I could could see a line working it’s way towards the little hidden reservoirs so we strode off in pursuit of this new stuff with confidence.

It was a great trail, nicely rough throughout and designed to repel the wary with some inescapable bog hopping here and there. And great views north again. I’m frequently thankful that I sucked in my misplaced mountaineering pride and started going to all these local spots. It’s just so much fun.

We caught up with the regular route as the sun went down and were soon glad of a quickly warming car. More joy was to come though, there was a brand new toastie maker in the boot. Oh, what dinner delights we had.

We had a wedding/birthday/christmas present of a couple of nights in an eco hut at Loch Katrine. We’d been by them many times and thought “they look nice” and as the nice lassie showed us to the door we were pleased to discover that they were.
We turned on the heating, unpacked, set up all our kit and looked back outside. Ben Venue’s snow streaked slopes rose into the clouds and there was still some light left.

We stuck our jackets back on and went to see what was happening outside.

Across the deserted, blustery and sleety car park was the stone stepped access to the Loch Katrine’s Roderick Dhu Viewpoint which was happily grippy enough in my worn-out Converse.
It really is a lovely job what they’ve done here. The track fits into the contours pretty well, even incorporating a boulder and living tree into its lines rather than shift them and the tower and walkways at the top are brilliant. The design lets light through, so while it’s a substantial installation it isn’t solid, the world is visible through all of it’s walls. It’s fun too, Scotts’ Lady of the Lake poem is written across it here and there and there are many viewpoints that give changing perspectives and there’ll be room for plenty visitors too.
Even in the wet wintery gloom, it was magic.

We got back to the hut in the dark for dinner and a low-res movie before slipping into some test sleeping bags and setting an alarm for mountain fun.

The weather was actually worse in the morning, but that was fine. We’d adjust our activity to suit. Porridge, packed and off we went.
We’ve been to Bracklinn Falls a few times and although the new bridge is a bit underwhelming it’s a lovely spot. There’s a walking loop that goes up river from the bridge to the next crossing which goes high on the hillside and through the forest and that looked like it would be fun to do regardless of the weather.

It’s a popular place this, but deserted today. We put on over trousers and shell jackets, hats and gloves, the camera went in a dry bag and stayed there. With hoods up and grins fixed, off we went.

The falls were epic, dark brown and angry white water thundered through the deep, sheer split in the hillside as the rain pattered onto our hoods and ran off of our peaks. We crossed over and followed the trail into the trees where the rain still found its way onto us through the gap in the trees.
Higher up we entered the mist and left all our colours behind. It was cold but there was no wind in here, the sound of it was all around us though, the trees were telling us what to expect. And indeed the trees eventually thinned and we were thrown back into the weather.
But what a fine wee place to find ourselves with glimpses of the hills that lead up to the tail of the Loch Earn Munros. It’s moments like that that make me think “need to come back and see what’s up there…”

The river was charging under the wee low bridge as we stood on it giggling at each other as the rain lashed our faces and rendered our glasses useless.
From here the walk is on an empty road to some farm buildings and fully in the weather the while time. Water poured from my gloves with every hand movement I made as I squished them and when I stopped to examine the old nuclear bunker high on the hillside I could feel the cold creeping up on me really fast and thought it best to explore it more thoroughly on another day.

The car heated up fast and we skipped into Callander having thought better of having our cold pieces in the carpark and to our joy the Tasty Fry chippy was open and we came out with sausage suppers and curry sauce.
We sat in the flooded car park with the ducks and gulls sailing past as happy as we could be. Half an hour away was a warm hut, cozy sleeping bags, snacks and another low-res movie with another day for exploring to come.

Tell you though, it’s been years, maybe decades since I’ve been out on the hills in such consistently heavy rain. And it was fine, we both had a great time.
A lovely wee trip, just our kind of thing, our mini-moon.

The day before was magic, ice cold air between blue skies and fresh snow. I could go, I was ready to go, but circumstance took me elsewhere.
It did mean I was ready the next morning and after dropping Holly off for here early shift I drove north until something pulled at me enough to park.
Beinn Dorain did it surprisingly, always had nice times here and it was time to have more.

I was dull, it was snowing lightly and the tops were in cloud. The ground was grass sticking through water ice until the snow covered it all. I could have worn crampons from the roadside but put it off until I could no further, even then they had to bite hard to keep me upright.

There were a handful of others through the day, all friendly, all kitted out properly for the day which so lovely to see. One fella caught the bottle I’d let slip as it hurtled downhill and brought it to me as he passed. headed to the RAF he was. What a time to be looking to defend your country eh.

I was slow and taking lots of photies for a wee piece that’s coming up in. I was warm and comfy and head to toe in 90s gear which I absolutely loved.
But near the top my knee was squealing on every foot placement. Deep soft snow and crampons on for hours will do that.

I had lunch on a crag, watched the ravens and then headed back. I wore crampons to the railway station. I could have used them to the car park. Oh I hope it’s not the last of it.

Two days on and news years day dinner is still weighing heavy on mind and body. The traditional easy walk on the 2nd or 3rd was never more welcome. Holly had an early shift serving breakfast to “ignorant bastards in SUVs” through a window in McDonalds so we dropped her off and headed to a local favourite trail in the frozen darkness.
We sailed down empty roads with a the moon looking straight at us like a searchlight trained on Nakatomi Plaza. It was very pleasant but the cold reached right through our layers when we parked up high above Greenock and pulled on our packs at the boot of the motor.
As we we crunched away on the heavy frost zips were pulled as high as they could go, hoods were pulled up, then double hoods, hats and buffs over our faces. I was still cold too.

It was beautiful though. The moon was yellow on a pink canvas with dark ground and streets everywhere between as the high ground to the south blocked the glow of the sun as it crawled towards the horizon. Even when the sun broke through and lit up the tops across the firth and picked out the snow on Beinn Ime and beyond there was no warmth in the light.
I was too cold, I needed fed and (hot) watered. Coffee and possible the last of the Christmas themed sandwich fillings saves my day. We set off again under brighter skies with lighter feet to match.
The hoods stayed up though, no chances were taken, we were taking the wind full-on here and the comment “It’s like arctic daggers” was delivered without humour, I could feel the cold reaching through my layers like they weren’t there and I had all the best gear on today.

We took a detour off the Cut track to cross the hills in the middle. It’s fun, the views are brilliant and we wanted some sunshine on us, not just the scenery across the Clyde. It was a good call, it was lovely once we gained a bit of height, The sun actually had some warmth in it too once we got out of the wind.

Met some mountain bikers, first folk we’d seen all day. I say all day, we’d been out for hours and it was still breakfast time, so it’s kinda relative. We had a wee explore and decided against the big knee annoying descent from Dunrod Hill to the visitor centre and instead ambled to the radio towers to find a windless nook for breakfast part 2.
From here it was negotiating iced puddles which reminded us of what we did at school (we had proper winters when we were young) and I only needed minor encouragement to try and pick out big sheets of ice and break them over my head.
Ah those were the days.

The wind picked up a jaunty pace again, the temperature dropped to match its mischief and by the time we got back to the motor I was frozen once more. The higher hills looked lovely but I’ve never been so glad to be stuck at the 300m contour.
The sound of the kettle very soon after was music, music I tell you.