A wet day on Ben Lomond.

25/10/2017.


The highlight of our Holiday in Scotland was to be the climbing of a Munro...But which one? We have plenty to pick from, I have only conquered 22 of them in the past. As we are staying in the Loch Lomond and the Trossachs national park it had to be no other than Ben Lomond. Its a popular hill, as its the most southernly of the 282 Munros, being close to Glasgow and the built up areas of central Scotland. Standing at 3196ft, I have read somewhere that the summit attracts around 30,000 people every year...I hoped it wasn't going to be too busy today..We chose today for our walk as we have been checking the weather forcast and all weathermen informed us that today was going to be the best day of the week..so here we go.

Parked up at Rowardennan, nice and early we set off along the Tourist path,apparently its quite an easy climb on a decent path all the way to the summit..On reaching the summit we would then return along the entertaining Ptarmigan ridge. The walk starts through beautiful ancient Birch and Oak woodland. We climbed steadily through the trees and then suddenly we were treated to our first view of the Ben.

It was up there somewhere, head in the clouds, just as you would expect for a biggy. We soon freed ourselves of the trees , grand views were beginning to open up behind us, looking back over the Loch...It was along here that we passed a strange looking chap.He was wearing a huge coat that came down below his knees,Hood up, head down. In his hand was a Co-op carrier bag containing several bottles of pop and what looked like a road atlas...he grasped onto this bag with the largest pair of motorcycle gloves you have ever seen...He walked weirdly too, sort of on tip toes..As we passed him I said morning...he looked at me with hollow eyes,but said nothing. I assumed he was a drug addict, trying to clean his mind in a way that only mountains can...Anyway he was soon left behind. I looked back often until he was just a spot in the distance.

Drizzly rain came and went, I remember swearing about the weather man. After a steep section we made it out onto a plateau, and suddenly there it was in front of us, the summit that we had come to climb, still in the clouds but we got a good idea of what we still had to ascend..Spoke to a Dutch family along here with two young boys..the boys seemed to have had enough,..being buffeted about by really fierce winds I said to the Dutchman that this was supposed to be the best day of the week..He laughed like a drain although I had the feeling he didn't know what I had said..

Its a bit of a long dull trudge if the truth be told...and any excitement is held back until we neared the summit. Soaked through to the skin now as the zip had broken on my jacket, gloves came out for the first time this year, putting them on was a struggle ,cold and wet I shouted at the rain, I believe I called it an arsehole at the top of my voice..

The low cloud came and went, then came and went again. Spoke to a couple from darn sarf..They said Alfie didn't look very happy, he has seen worse I said as I pulled him back down to earth by his lead after a strong gust lifted him of his feet.

Well we made it to the summit, heres a picture of the missus and dog to prove it. That's 23 Munros in the bag...I thought about the first person to climb the Munros, I believe he was a vicar called A E Robertson in 1901. I vaguely remember a story that on completing his round of Munros he kissed the summit cairn and then his wife...No kissing today. We peered over the edge looking down to the Ptarmigan ridge, you're not getting me down there in this weather said the missus. So we tucked our tails firmly between our legs and returned the way we came...That long trudge back down seemed like a nightmare, my foot was hurting and we were cold and wet...but looking back now, I cant wait to do it all again...pain is soon forgotten...Halfway down we came across Co-op bag man, still head down, still on tip toes...I didn't bother saying hello in case he killed me. My camera stayed in its bag on the way down.. as we made it down to the trees, our old friend the Sun made a brief appearence 

Typical.

Two Scottish tiddlers

Ben Aan and Conic hill.

October 2017.

Been up to Scotland for the week to chill out in a wonderfully remote cottage on the southern shores of Loch Katrine near Stronachlachar......Early in the week we walked to the tops of two lovely little hills..Firstly came Ben Aan, a popular little hill smack bang in the middle of the Trossachs national park.. Rising to a height of 1512ft, the summit cone stands proud looking out across Loch Katrine and Loch Achray

I believe the walk was 3 miles long from Loch Achray, perfect for a short morning walk...A bit dull and grey as we set off, hoping the forcasted rain would keep away until we returned. Some lovely Autumn colours around the Trossachs at the moment, as you can see from the next picture taken on the lowers slopes of the hill.

The colours of Autumn were not to last though as much of the southern side of the hill has undergone extensive felling..The lack of trees made the summit cone stand out even more prominently...How the hell are we going to get up there we thought.

It turned out to be a simple, though steep climb up a well made path up to a notch on the right of the summit. As we climbed we were treated to good views across to neighbouring Ben Venue..Maybe a hill for later in the week we thought.We reached the summit via a short scramble of the summit rocks, looking out across Loch Katrine we could see the rain rushing in towards us so we didn't stay long. After a couple of photographs we retraced our steps back to the car.

A shame we didn't get much of a view but that's what hillwalking is all about, some you win and some you lose. The views are why we do it I suppose...On our way back down we met about 100 people from all nations..we stopped to pass the time of day with lots of them, there were Americans, Indians, Polish, Scottish, English, Chinese, Dutch and even Geordies...It was a nice walk that I would award 7 out of 10....

A couple of days later we found ourselves on another busy little hill...This time Conic hill from the village of Balmaha on the eastern shores of Loch Lomond...Its a knobbly little fella with smashing views out across the loch to the west, while to the south we looked across to the Campsie fells, known as the sleeping giant.

An interesting feature of the hill is that it sits right on the line of the Highland boundary fault, where the highlands meet the lowlands...some strange rocks up there...Another reason for its popularity is the fact that the West Highland way long distance path crosses over it..It never had the crowds that we encountered on Ben Aan but it was still a very popular hill.

Spoke to a fella from the Netherlands on top, he was blown away with the great views, he explained how flat Holland was and that he was chuffed to have made it up to the summit of Ben Lomond...I didn't want to, but I had to burst his bubble telling him that this wasn't Ben Lomond...I pointed it out, several miles distant, its head in the clouds as usual. I told him it was about three times the height of this little hill..i feel I may have just spoilt his holiday as he trudged off looking disappointed.

We followed a ridgeline back down to Loch Lomond, looking back often at this most attractive looking hill...Its only 1,184 ft high but it seemed much higher than Ben Aan did and totally different in character...

Back down to sea level we enjoyed a walk back along the loch shore to Balmaha where a much needed pint hit the spot.

Discovering Little Fryup dale.

15/10/2017.

I fancied the Lake district this weekend but what with all the rain they have had up there I decided against it. The North York moors looked like the best shot for decent weather. I always check the weather, don't know why? there's nothing I can do about it, I suppose it's just what the English do, we all love the weather,don't we?..It looked good, nice and sunny with temps in the low 20s. I was looking forward to the nice drive over the moors from Hutton le hole to Castleton..What a joke, viability was down to about 50 yards as we crawled along at 25 miles an hour. Good job that the lines in the middle of the road had been freshly painted...We eventually made it down to Eskdale and to the starting point for todays walk, The Moors centre at Danby lodge. What's with all the people I said as we pulled into the car park...Dozens of miserable looking people jumping around on the spot, doing stretches, There was some sort of running event on...Serious people those runners, never seen one crack a smile..i had hoped to have a look around the visitors centre but with all these people around we just wanted to get started...get away from it.

Todays walk was going to take us up into Little Fryup dale, a place I have never walked before. I like the name Fryup, it is said to derive from the old English Fring.hop. Fring was an Anglo Saxon goddess and Hop denotes a small valley. We never saw Fring today in fact we only saw one other person during the whole walk, which is just how I like it.

We hadn't been walking long before we came to Duck bridge. This sturdy,high arched bridge is a fine example of a 14th century Packhorse bridge. It was originally known as Danby castle bridge until it was repaired in 1715 by a George Duck hence its present name..Apparently it remained open to traffic until 1993. I doubt many of todays cars would be small enough to pass over it.

Just up the lane from the bridge we came to another 14th century gem, the remains of Danby castle sitting on a spur overlooking the Esk valley. It was built for local lord of Danby, Lord Latimer as a sign of his great wealth. It is also well known that Catherine Parr once lived her, Henry VIIIs sixth and last wife. Today the castle is open to visiting groups by appointment only. It is also a venue for weddings.

Such a quite valley, with just a handful of farms along it's entire length. I was enjoying the walk although I kept looking up to the high ground wishing I was up there. We could see a few people moving at speed along the ridge, probably miserable runners I thought...The cows in the valley looked happy munching away at the lush green fields, they made me happy they hardly bothered looking up as we passed by.

We picked up a lane which we were to follow up the valley toward Fairy cross plain, and the hills at the head of the valley. Fairy cross plain is another strange name, I have read that Fairies are said to live by a stream up there somewhere. The small round hill on the left in my picture is marked on the map as Round hill, centuries ago it was known as fairy hill...I find these old tales of folklore really interesting...What's wrong with believing in fairies?

A little further on and we spotted a molecatcher's Gibbet. I counted 98 moles hanging on barbed wire fences.Once a common sight but something you don't see much of these days, part of farming life. The molecatcher will hang his catches up to show the landowner that he is doing his job. This chap has certainly been busy. Over the years I have seen other examples of this behaviour I have seen Rats hanging or more commonly Rooks and Crows.

At last we made it up to higher ground on the slopes of Heads..It was here we stopped to eat, sitting looking out over the emerald green fields in the valley. The views from up there were the highlight of the walk for me. I enjoy all walking but it's always best to get onto the hills rather than looking up at them.

We traversed along the top of Danby crags before dropping down and doubling back on ourselves to pass though Crag wood.. Some lovely autumn colours on display as we passed through the woods...A bit muddy in places though [which pleased the dog].

Back down in the valley we came to the River Esk where we decided to clean the dog off [which pleased the dog]..All that was left now was to follow the quiet lane back to the start...I looked back to the dale often...it had been a good walk with some outstanding views, roll on the next one.