Saturday 10 May
Distance and ascent: 23.5km 950m
Weather: mainly sunny with the occasional welcome fluffy cloud.
I shall save myself some typing by reproducing my morning messages to Mick:
Rather too eventful a night here. Woke up at 2315 with: a) a migraine (yesterday's oestrogen patch has fallen off my arm); and b)the tent being bashed by the wind. Lay here a while thinking I should go out and check the pegs and tension, what with being pitched on a bog. Eventually stirred myself to get dressed and go out. Somehow managed to slice my finger on way out of tent and next time I looked at my hand it was covered in blood! A bit of mopping up and a plaster sorted it. Wind continued thrashing for another 20 mins or so, then abated.
Current plan (0550) is to go up Beinn Mhor this morning, omit my second hill and go up the evening excursion one. The middle one is the easiest to get on a revisit. May yet opt against Beinn Mhor (I have others unbagged nearby, but I am only 400m below summit here, so it makes sense to do it).
0610: revised decision- not going up Beinn Mhor. Feeling quite poorly. Eating breakfast was a struggle. Easy day, and hope the new patch sticks and absorbs quickly.
0735: You'll be unsurprised to know I'm on my way up Beinn Mhor. May as well do something whilst waiting for tent to dry.
.........
It had been a hard, slow climb up (initially navigating via a photo I'd taken the previous night from across the glen, and making use of an old, now largely grown over with reeds, logging track) and a much faster descent. I think it was about 1030 by the time I was down and had the (by then perfectly dry) tent packed away and was ready to go. Having done what was supposed to be the morning's first hill last night, I was now effectively taking my FWA, straight down Bernice Glen.
That was a bit trickier than expected, especially at the bottom where natural woodland is sprouting up across the entrance to the glen. I had to hunt around a bit to find a way through the trees to the start of the track I was to take, and on my way I managed to kick a small boulder with my left foot causing it to roll into my right ankle. Oh the pain!
There was swearing. It wouldn't immediately bear weight. But I also knew that it was only going to be bruised, not actually injured, so I gave it a couple of minutes then limped on. Like a premiership footballer who has been writhing around on the floor, within a dozen paces the pain had been forgotten (only remembered at the end of Sunday when I caught sight of the bruise).
The Cowal Peninsula was hit hard by a winter storm in 2023, closing various trails on the N side of the woodland I was now entering. I didn't know what the status was on the S side, but was soon to find out. I don't think 'impressive' is quite the right word, but the force of nature was soon clear to see and I could only imagine what it would have been like to witness the storm destroying parts of the forest and its tracks. Aside from deeply washed out sections of track (in one case going on for hundreds of metres) there were places where landslips had clearly transported trees, still upright, from above the track, to on the track. Those trees have now all been felled, so I'd be walking along and suddenly there'd be a mound across the path, covered in relatively freshly cut stumps. All were perfectly passable, so it was a surprise to find a sign at the Glenbranter end of the track telling me that it was closed.
Glenbranter visitor centre is now permanently closed, but they still have toilets, picnic benches and a drinking water tap. I was happy to avail myself of all of those facilities, although I opted for a bench in the shade of the building rather than a picnic one on the grass.
I may have even had a cheeky wash of my hair, using the sink in the toilets. Cold water only but on another hot day it was all I wanted or needed.
I'd not long emerged from my hair wash when another backpacker appeared who turned out to be a Challenger, Kevin. He'd started a day after me and was now overtaking me.
He left first whilst I faffed and enjoyed the shade a while longer.
I'd not long left the Visitor Centre when I was slightly outraged that the Cowal Way followed a fast A road with no pavement. Then I looked at the map and realised I'd left the CW again. I wasn't on the road for long before I turned off towards the hill I'd decided not to do. Going past it was still of value as I got a good look, from various vantage points, of the various ways up through gaps in the forest, which has changed my mind about how to will approach it when I return.
The track I was on was relentlessly uphill to a pass and on my way I passed probably about a dozen walkers all spread out. I didn't ask any of them whether they were on a day walk or doing the Cowal Way.
Just before the Bealach, I passed a perfect camping pitch. To stop or to go on? I have a loose rule that if I see a good pitch within the last hour of the day then I should take it. I didn't take it, although only because I wanted to keep my options open for an evening excursion up Beinn Lochain.
Just before Curra Lochan, I filled my water bottles from a nice side burn, coming down from Beinn Lochain, in preparation to camp by the lochan. Alas, closer to it became apparent that the nice green patch that looked promising from a distance wasn't viable. So, I paused to put the water bottles into my bag, and having not seen anyone for hours, I didn't perceive a risk of not bothering to step more than 3 paces off the path for a wee. Cue Kevin suddenly appearing over the rise behind me. I don't know - I see one Challenger in 3 days and he catches me with my trousers down!
After working out how I'd got ahead of him (I'd short cut the Cowal Way; he'd followed it), he went on ahead.
I then faffed around trying to find a pitch. The longest detour I took was about five minutes each way to a likely looking spot on the far side of the loch, but again when I got there looks had been deceptive.
On reflection, there may have been a spot by the out flow, but there were three chaps in and out of the water and they were occupying it so I didn't explore it's potential. My evening hill was thus firmly off the agenda and I put my hope in something next to Lettermay Burn.
When I got to the furthest point I was prepared to go (didn't want to get too close to civilisation on a sunny Saturday night, not that Lochgoilhead is a heaving metropolis) it became a case of choosing the least bad ground I could. Not the best pitch ever, but far from the worst.
That it was in the shade of trees was a bonus. That it lost the sun completely (behind the hill I hadn't gone up) at just gone 5.30pm, less so. It cooled down quickly.
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