Meall Mor (NN303471; 492m)

Distance: 1.8 miles
Ascent: less than 200m
Weather: Sunny intervals; dry.
Start point: Layby on E side of A82 at around NN 31411 47228.

Two years ago I set off from the same layby as today and walked the short distance up Glas Bheinn, which sits on the east side of the A82 and completely failed to notice that approximately the same small distance away, across the other side of the road, there sits another Marilyn.

I raved about the views from Glas Bheinn, and I felt sure that Meall Mcor would offer more of the same. It did:




The significant difference between the two hills was that two years ago we were right in the middle of a very dry spell and the bog that lies between the road and Glas Bheinn had dried out. Today I felt at times like Wellington boots would have been the footwear of choice (although not an option, given I don't own a pair!).

Meanwhile Mick decided that in a continuing effort to regain his fitness, and to really test out the state of his ribs, his best course of action today would be to walk, with his full backpack, from Bridge of Orchy (where we spent last night) to Kingshouse. Thus it is something of a role reversal that I am currently sitting in Bertie waiting for Mick to finish a walk, rather than the other way around.

Beinn Udlaidh and Beinn Bhreac-liath

Beinn Udlaidh (NN280331; 840m) and Beinn Bhreac-liath (NN302339; 802m)

Distance (foot): 7.6 miles
Ascent: 940m
Start point: parking for about 3 vehicles at gateway into forest at around NN 27801 36739.
Weather: Quite a bit of sunshine and only a couple of light showers, one of which was soft hail.

In due course I shall put a screen grab of the route I recorded during today's outing (edit: as you now see above), but I would caution anyone looking at it as a resource that the lines we took up our first hill and down our second were not the best choices. There are easier ways.

The first bit of our route was easier than expected. The Cicerone guide to the Corbetts describes the initial section through the forest as being rough, with just a few animal tracks to help you along. For most of the way, we followed a track, leaving it each time it seemed to be going off in an unhelpful direction, only to join it a little later, after a squelch through a bog.

Once we got out of the forest the book said we were to find ourselves on easy terrain as we made our way up the open hillside. Here I made the first bad decision. Instead of following the line of the relatively-new deer fence, which would (I later realised) have taken us nicely up onto the shoulder we were meant to be following, we crossed through the fence and continued along the track. On this route we soon came to appreciate that the 'easy hillside' had now been planted as natural woodland. The trees are still tiny twigs, but with all the digging involved in establishing a new forest, the going was far rougher than 'easy' and by the time we struck off up the hill we had given ourselves a steeper task than was necessary.

Still, the sun was shining, the air was clear and it was a fine day to be hauling ourselves up a steep hillside. Even a pause, as we hit the snowline, for elevenses, didn't cool us down too much.

Elevenses

Elevenses view

A couple of minutes after elevenses we finally gained the ridge and the going became much easier, allowing us to skip along until we reached the big cairn...

...which is not the summit. Soon after, we reached a tiny cairn, which marks the actual top:

Contemplating the second hill

By luck rather than judgement, the exact right line was taken through the crags and onwards down to the pass.

Sitting down for lunch just before the next climb, we pondered again what had become of the two chaps who had been just walking off down the road as we arrived at our start point and whom we had seen atop our second hill as we stood atop the first. Finally, as we made inroads into our sandwiches, they came into view and had the misfortune of two bystanders observing their progress through the crags. From below, we could see the good lines. From above, they could not.

We never did see them to speak to, as we passed at a distance of about 100 yards, as we took what proved to be a very efficient way up to the summit of Beinn Bhreac-liath.

On Beinn Bhreac-liath, with Beinn Udlaidh behind

For the third time this week, a shower hit us just as we were on the summit, and again it was hail. It accompanied us as we made our way the 2km along the ridge, before we started descending.

The descent seemed to go on for ever and I was ready for it to be over by about a third of the way down. All dull, knee-killing things must come to an end though, and we eventually reached the edge of a forest, from where we only had to yomp through some more bogginess to reach the road. Bertie was then just a couple of minutes further along.

With the exception of the final descent, I found it to be another very enjoyable outing. Mick may beg to differ, although only because after weeks of inactivity due to his poorly ribs, this sudden flurry of longer routes on hard terrain is proving (understandably) to be a bit of a shock to his body. As for his ribs, they're definitely heading in the right direction, although not quite healed yet.

Meall Odhar and Beinn Chuirn

Meall Odhar (NN298298; 656m) and Beinn Chuirn (NN280292; 880m)

Distance (foot): 9.8 miles
Ascent: around 1000m
Weather: Showers, but with some good periods of sunshine.
Start point: Tyndrum

Our line up to the SE shoulder of Beinn Chuirn wasn't as straight as shown here. I turned the Garmin Gadget off as we lunched and there was a delay in me remembering to turn it back on.

Our day started with some deliberation over which direction to walk our intended circuit, the result of which was a decision to go anticlockwise. I was having a crisis of confidence as to the steepness of the east side of Beinn Chuirn and we reckoned that it would be easier to decide whether it was doable, and to spot a route through the crags, from the vantage point of Meall Odhar, rather than from above.

First, however, we had to get to the top of Meall Odhar, to which end we started by ascending the path which switches its way back and forth through the old lead mine above Tyndrum. Our short-cutting of the biggest switchback was an accident - we simply lost the path in the face of spoil heaps covered in trodden lines.

We should have gone over the top of Srón nan Colan, which was the route I had plotted, but a failure to navigate had us skirt it instead. A longer route but with less ascent - I couldn't help but feel that going over the top would have been quicker and easier.

Skirting the top of a forest, a trodden line was found and it led us all the way to the top of our first objective:

On Meall Odhar with Beinn Chuirn behind me

This is a very lovely area and the views to the snow capped Ben Lui and its neighbours were exellent, as were those over the general lumpiness in all other directions. What caught our attention the most, though, was the east side of Beinn Chuirn.

I picked out what looked to be a feasible line. Mick was dubious. What he was surprisingly undubious about (given my track record) was the feasibility of getting through the trees that lay between us and the beallach between the two hills. Aerial photos told me it should be easy to get through them, but looking at them from ground level didn't immediately give the same impression. Happily, the aerial photos were right and soon we were cursing our way over a deer fence and finding somewhere to perch for first lunch. Having undercatered for this outing, we thought we would have one sandwich and half a cup of coffee at this point and save the other half of each for later.

Our route up onto the SE shoulder of Beinn Chuirn worked nicely, with just a few areas where falling would have been a bad idea (not that falling is ever a particularly good idea), then it was a straightforward yomp to the summit.

Racing an approaching shower, I paused to snap a quick panorama of Ben Lui et al, before they got obscured by the weather...

...which slowed me down enough to allow the arrival of the shower to just pip us to the top. Its front edge was hail, followed swiftly by snow, and it worked to prevent us from pausing for second lunch.

There being barely any wind today, the showers were slow moving. Whilst we had been lucky that most had skirted us, we were fully underneath this one and it didn't pass until we were off the hill and well along the track back to Tyndrum. By that time (in fact at about 450m) the snow had, of course, turned to rain.

We've walked the track back to Tyndrum a few times before, and it was no shorter nor more interesting today, but in its favour, it is a fast walking surface.

All in all, it was a very satisfactory day out, marred only by the bit where the snow turned to rain and got us wet. Oh, and that second half of lunch? We never did find a suitable time to stop for it, so it came with us all the way back to Bertie.

Tullich Hill and Beinn Bhreac

Tullich Hill (NN293006; 632m) and Beinn Bhreac (NN321000; 681m)

Wednesday 25 April
Distance walked: 6 miles
Ascent: around 900m
Start point: parking area at NS310987
Weather: Heavy showers of rain, hail and snow

Having arrived at the start point for today's intended hills (Beinn Damhain & Meall an Fhudair, from the S), Mick asked if I really wanted to do them today. They were heavily shrouded in cloud, the parking situation from my chosen start point was such that Mick would have to stay with Bertie, and it wasn't a particularly nice place to sit for four or more hours whilst I battled through rough terrain in dreary conditions. So, after very little thought, I decided that those hills, which had already been deferred from last year to this, could be deferred again.

A short while later we arrived at the parking area for Tullich Hill and Beinn Bhreac instead. A much better choice: although not much lower, they were cloud free and the parking area here was good, so Mick could come with me.

I'd opted to do these two as a clockwise circuit, which gave us a short road walk at the beginning, followed by a moderately steep ascent. Two deer fences had to be crossed, one of which had two stiles only about 100m apart; the other we had to climb. Except for that, the going was straightforward, in a slightly rough sort of way.

The weather, that had been reasonably clear as we clambered up the flanks, didn't play fair, and as we made our way the final 500m to the summit the wind was positively hurling hail at us and all views had been obliterated:

By the time we left the summit it was snowing. At least snow is neither painful nor particularly wet.

Reaching the beallach (An t-sreang) the sun was out, so a brief pause was had for lunch and we observed that sandwiches made of four-day-old crusts (scraping the bottom of the barrel on that loaf) do work to remove all moisture from your mouth. It was a pity I hadn't packed a flask.

The next shower arrived just as the last chunk of dry bread was arduously swallowed, and next came a 1.5km traverse up to the dip between Ben Reoch and Beinn Bhreac. Animal trods helped us along, but it's never comfortable walking that distance across a hillside, with ankles constantly at an unnatural angle.

Rain hit us again as we reached the pass, and such was our reluctance to turn to face into it that we walked further than necessary across it. We also completely missed the vague path that would have taken us more easily up to our second summit. We did pick it up eventually, after a bit more rough stuff.


Loch Lomond would have been visible in the far right of this snap, if it wasn't for the cloud

There it is! The view was far better than this snap suggests

Four chaps were met on the summit who were doing the same route but in reverse, and they gave us a valuable bit of advice about where a gate lay in the fence we would meet on our way down.

Taken on the way down. Our route pretty well followed this photo ascending Ben Tullich on the far left, dropping to the beallach the ascending to Beinn Bhreac on the right.

Also taken on the way down. I'm throwing this one in just because I like it.

The final bit of the descent was horribly wet. It's a feature of Scotland this year. Whereas for the last two Aprils I've found myself skipping across crisp, dried out bogs, there has not been such a warm dry spell yet this year and the ground is about as waterlogged as it gets. I was happy to have opted for waterproof boots today rather than my usual mesh slippers.

The outing (excluding our brief lunch stop) took 3 hours 35 minutes, covering 6 miles. Quite a contrast in the nature of the terrain compared with, say, Scaw'd Fell a few days ago, which was 9.8 miles (although only 500m of ascent) in 3 hours.

Corse Hill (NS984464; 376m)

Distance (Bike): 15.4 miles
Distance (Foot): 0
Ascent: 200m?
Weather: Overcast and windy with one heavy shower
Start Point: Start of windfarm track to the west, at NS 51795 48598

A couple of days ago I realised that by modifying our route to Glasgow a little, we would almost be passing Corse Hill, thus it belatedly got added to the agenda and it seemed to me that it could sensibly be approached from the W. This gives a much longer approach from the usual route from the north, but it minimised our deviation from our drive northwards, and a few extra miles weren't going to do me any harm.

Or, that's what I thought until Bertie started rocking in the howling wind last night. We know it's strong when we're rocking that much when parked end-on to the wind. I pored over the map some more and came up with a couple of contingency plans, as a return leg in a westerly direction didn't seem like a fun prospect in the face (quite literally) of 30mph WSW winds.

The contingency plans weren't required. It was still breezier than I would have liked this morning, but far calmer than last night.

Plentiful parking was found at the end of the windfarm track, and there I left Mick to read his book or go for a walk, as he chose, whilst I flung a leg over my bicycle and set out upwards.

The route turned out to be longer than expected, as the waymarker posts (helpfully marking a good number of the junctions through this truly enormous maze of a windfarm) told me I should go straight on when I had intended to turn left. I would have been rebellious on the issue, except to the left lay a rough track and straight on a surface smoother than most of the B-roads we've travelled this week (not a difficult feat; had I been abducted by aliens and then abandoned on one of those roads, I would have guessed that I was in a third world country by the quality of the surfaces and the amounts of litter).

From the map I knew that I could cycle very close to the top of this one, but I didn't expect to find myself using the trig point as a bicycle stand as I took my summit selfie:

Trig point and bicycle

A few drops of rain hit me just as I reached the top, and that was a precursor of what was to come. The shower that passed straight over head about ten minutes later certainly didn't hold back. Gosh, that was unpleasant! And it made me wish that at some point in the last 13 months (i.e. since the day I bought the bike and the mudguards) that I'd got around to fitting the mudguards.

It had been an undulating route out and thus it was an undulating route back, but this is a gently lumpy area, so no incline challenged my lungs. My right knee was another matter. It doesn't seem to like cycling too much.

Just the one hill today, even though it was a quick one. There were domestic chores to be done this afternoon.

Cairn Table and Middlefield Law

Cairn Table (NS724242; 593m)

Distance walked: 5.2 miles
Ascent: 350m ish
Start Point: Kames
Weather: Rain at first, windy for all of it.

There's a Walkers' Car Park and an information board of walking routes at Kames, suggesting that this is a popular hill. The broad trodden line through the mire then up its flanks also suggested that. Setting off before 9am on a wet Monday morning, we saw not a hint of another person.

The route starts by crossing an area of old mine workings, with dozens of small undulations in the ground, but all greened over. Then it descended a little before flattening out and ascending. That was the really wet bit. Wetness underfoot that couldn't even be avoided with the duckboards that were dotted around. Thus wet feet were the order of the day (in my case because I choose to wear mesh slippers, in Mick's because his waterproof membrane is no longer doing its job).

The climb, once we got to it was entirely straightforward, and it probably would have been a joy on a better day. Whilst the rain was petering out by now, we didn't have the benefit of good views:

Looking back whence we had come

Approaching the top. Yes, that is a massive cairn on Cairn Table.

I thought that the pile of stones behind me looked higher than the trig point, so we wandered over to it just to be sure.

The original intention had been to walk a circuit, but with the wetness and the wind, we lost the inclination and went the shortest return (i.e. a retrace of steps). The skies finally started to brighten as we got back down towards the bogfest...

...and before long our feet were drying out and our hands were warming up, wrapped around mugs of coffee.

Middlefield Law (NS681307; 466m)

Distance walked: 1.7 miles
Ascent: 150m ish
Start Point: Pull-in on minor road to S ( NS 68532 29700)
Weather: Still breezy, but dry.

This was about as straight-forward an up-and-down as one gets on obscure Marilyns. A large pull-in by an unlocked gate gives access to an ATV track, which leads (boggily, of course) to the very top.

It's the sort of hill that Mick usually looks at, then opts to sit out, but in the interests of increasing his fitness pre-TGO Challenge (his training to date having been hampered by a rib injury that's only just healing now) he joined me.

We were up and back in forty minutes, including the time spent snapping photos and spotting hills at the top:

This morning's hill is the barely perceptible lump to the right of Mick. It was more lumpy to the naked eye

And over there was Nutberry Fell, that I visited yesterday

An enjoyable, if short, little outing.

(As an aside, we arrived in Kames yesterday afternoon to find that there was a Rally going on at the race track there. Such a shame that it wasn't a warm sunny afternoon, as the rain discouraged us from spectating for very long. We were, however, parked in a position such that we could see two parts of the track from Bertie's windows. And, of course, we had the full sound effects. The oldest vehicle there was a Mk1 Escort. The most rally-esque was a Scooby Doo. It made for a far more interesting afternoon than we usually get when parked up at the end of a dead-end road, positioned for the next day's hill.)