The Road goes ever on and on; Down from the door where it began;
Now far ahead the Road has gone; And I must follow, if I can;
Pursuing it with eager feet; Until it joins some larger way;
Where many paths and errands met; And whither then? I cannot say.

[JRR Tolkien, Lord of the Rings]

Sunday, 20 October 2019

Carleatheran and Meikle Bin

Sunday 20 October

In 2008, on our way from Land's End to John o'Groats, we passed through a gap (named the Spout of Ballochleam) in a stunning escarpment to the S of the town of Kippen. On one side of that gap sits a hill called Stronend, to the other side sits Carleatheran, both Marilyns. As nice as it would have been to have walked both as a single outing with Mick*, hugging the top of the escarpment, the logistically easier option was to park at the N end of Carron Valley Reservoir and visit both Carleatheran and, across the glen, Meikle Bin (of whose summit we passed within 2km in 2008), leaving Stronend for another time.

Carleatheran (NS687918; 485m)
Distance: 10 miles biked, 0.5 mile walked
Ascent: Around 400 or so metres
Weather: Sunny! A bit of frost on the ground first thing.

Red track = bike; purple track = walk

Since I used my bike to access some hills in April this year my cycling has extended to a few trips to supermarkets and laundrettes, mainly using my Brompton on German cycle paths. It's therefore no surprise that by the time I had huffed and puffed my way up to the top of the windfarm road, on a track with some noticeable undulations (so not all down hill on the way back!), I was putting this ride into the category of 'quite hard'. The uphill headwind didn't help either, but I'm sure it was still a whole lot easier than the first few rides I did to access hills, when I bought my bike in 2017.

Morning light looking up the Carron Valley

The prominent point is Meikle Bin, my second hill of the day.

At this point in 2008 we left the track (which wasn't marked on the map we were using at the time) and headed across to the ruin visible in this snap, from where we made our way up through the Spout of Ballochleam.

Before I reached the end of the track, as marked on my map, I could see that it had been extended and although I couldn't be certain of its destination, I felt sufficiently confident that it was going in a helpful direction that I didn't abandon my bike and take to my feet. Instead I teetered on a cattle grid and man-handled my steed over the railing (there was a taller-than-average locked gate on the other side and the cattle grid's side railing offered the point of least resistance).

At the highest point on the windfarm track, I turned off onto a rough track and a short distance later abandoned the bike at the point where the track degraded to unsurfaced and boggy.

Five minutes later I was at the summit.

Summit selfie

Summit view. Whilst I was being blinded by the sun to the SE, the views to all northerly aspects were mighty fine.

Another five minutes had me back at my bike** and half an hour later I'd toiled back up the ups and whizzed down the downs and was back at Bertie, an hour ahead of schedule and two hours ahead of the 'panic if I'm not back by' time (we had no mobile phone reception where Bertie was parked, which always puts pressure on me to be as quick as possible to minimise Mick's worrying time.)

Meikle Bin (NS667821; 570m)
Distance: 6.2 miles bike, 1.2 miles walk
Ascent: 220m bike, 160m walk
Weather: Still a lovely day but a bit cloudier and a bit warmer.

Red = bike, purple = walk

I'd not intended to head out for this hill until after lunch, but having enjoyed a croissant and coffee for elevenses, and once my feet had thawed out (I'd carelessly wandered into a bog during the first outing), I thought I may as well get on with it. 

As the stats suggest, this ride in was far easier than the first one had been, even on legs that were starting to feel the efforts of the day. The walk turned out to be surprisingly easy too. My expectation had been the need to bash out of the forest then climb pathlessly up to the summit. When I started seening "Meikle Bin' signposts at every junction, I began to expect that there would be a path, but it was only when I reached it that I came to appreciate that this is a popular hill.

The well-trodden line to the summit, dotted with people

Summit selfie

My final ascent would have been more moderate if I hadn't got myself into a race with a woman (she had been gaining on me and my perception was that she was trying to get to the top before me, so obviously I then *had* to go faster. Yep, completely ridiculous). I fair trotted back down having enjoyed another excellent set of views from the top. Being a pointier hill, and with no windfarm on its flanks, they were good in all directions.

Looking down over the reservoir

Thanks to gravity and only a few minor undulations in the forest track, the return biking leg was quick and easy.

An enjoyable couple of hills, although in hindsight I would have preferred to have visited Meikle Bin on a weekday morning, when it would have been a little less busy, particularly with dogs, some of whom were desperate to put their muddy paws on my jacket.

(*In the event, Mick didn't join me today as he was resting a thigh strain he incurred yesterday.
**Even though on most of my hills it's highly unlikely that anyone will happen along and take my bike, I do always lock it up. Except today I opened my hip-belt pocket, looked at the key hanging there and wondered how I could possibly have with me the key to the wrong lock, as the one that fits my 'beefy' lock always lives in that pocket. I didn't even try it, as it so clearly fitted the 'puny' lock. It was only when I went into Bertie's drawer in between my hills and saw the two key types side by side that I realised I'd had the correct one with me all along. Doh!)

Friday, 18 October 2019

Knock of Crieff (NN873233; 279m)

Friday 18 October
Distance: 1.75 miles
Ascent: 120m
Weather: A cool and damp autumnal day, with cloud hanging in the valleys.
What a lovely little hill the Knock of Crieff is! Having either walked up hill(s) or been for a run every day for the last week, I'd allocated today as a rest day, but even rest days require some exercise and this little hill was perfect for a short walk with the bonus of scoring another Marilyn tick too.

With Bertie parked in a slightly ignorant position, Mick stayed behind as I strode up an engineered path through natural woodland:

That brought me to a viewpoint on the first minor summit...

...where the view to the west of glens full of mist was far better than I managed to capture (in fact, my snap is so bad that I've not included it - the photo above shows the clearer view to the north).

After descending a little way, still on a good path, I picked up a muddy line through trees that felt like it was going in the right direction. It was, and less than twenty minutes after leaving Bertie I reached the summit cairn, which sits amongst the ugly piled-up remains of a recently felled forest. I shouldn't complain - before the forest was felled there can't have been any view from this summit, and it's a view worth seeing, even on a dull, overcast day.

Look beyond the piles of wood-harvesting detritus and there's a far-reaching view of cloud hanging in the dips. I walked through some of that low lying layer of cloud on my way down.

Obligatory summit selfie.

As can be seen from the map snippet, I formed an almost-circuit by using a good track for my descent (not as attractive as my ascent route, but pleasant enough), arriving back at Bertie half an hour after leaving.

Bonus snap for Conrad (based on his question a couple of days ago), of today's elevenses:

Thursday, 17 October 2019

Meall nan Caorach (NN928338; 624m) and Meall Reamhar (618m)

Thursday 17 October
Distance: a few yards under 8 miles
Ascent: 530m
Weather: disappointingly low cloud, but only a few spots of drizzle.

Yesterday I looked at potential hills that could be visited between Blair Atholl (where we were at the time) and Stirling (where we intend to be at the weekend). I then consulted Google Maps for some distance calculations and discovered that travelling to Stirling via Crieff on the A822 was marginally shorter than going down the A9. Bonus! The A822 may not be as big and quick as the A9, but it meant we could bag some hills without adding any extra distance to our journey south.

Bearing in mind the weather forecast and my wish for Mick to feel inclined to come along with me, out of all the hills accessible fromt his road I opted for the two named above. They sit not much more than a kilometre apart, either side of a pass that is accessed via a track.

Most people seem to park at the end of the Girron farm track and StreetView suggested it would be big enough for Bertie, so that's to where we drove. Objectively there was enough room, but it felt a bit rude plonking something so much bigger than a car in that location so we backtracked to the village hall I'd spotted in Amulree just over a kilometre earlier. It looked like the sort of place we could validly park and that was confirmed when we saw the 'You're welcome to use our car park but please consider making a donation' sign.

Contrary to the forecast lifting of the cloud and general brightening-up, as we arrived, rain started to come down. The flask of coffee was retrieved from one of our daypacks and the butteries from the other, and we had elevenses whilst waiting for the rain to stop.

Stop it did and out we headed, just at the same moment as were the only other occupants of the car park. This couple were on bikes, heading off in a different direction, but we all agreed that we hadn't chosen a good day for our respective activities. For us, our summits were up over 600m and as we set out the cloud base was somewhere between 400 and 450m.

Heading up the track the cloud started to lift and there was even some blue sky to the east, but our optimism that it would clear further as we ascended was misplaced.

Many people do these hills as a circuit, which would have definite merit in better conditions. We chose the easy option, using the track to nearly the top of the pass, then doing an out-and-back up Meall nan Caorach.

Summit snap with a murky backdrop

Steps were retraced to the track where we paused for fig rolls and a sip of water. Given the rain-induced delay in setting out it had now become clear that it would have been a really good idea to have made another flask and have packed some lunch.

During that brief break I plotted what looked to be the best (i.e. avoiding the steepest terrain) line up Meall Reamhar and we set out on a navigation exercise as the cloud descended onto us again.

An old fence was an obstacle easily crossed and we did an excellent job of following bearings to the summit cairn.

Not nearly the worst visibility ever had on a summit, but no good for views either.

Consideration was given to walking back along the ridge, which I'm sure is a lovely option when there are views to be had, but today there seemed no point when we could drop back below the cloud and take advantage of the same track we'd walked in on.

Mick crossing the base of the glen

The track in the upper reaches of the glen is a lovely grassy one

A bit of drizzly rain started to fall just before we reached the road,and we feared that our timing had been ill, but in the end it didn't amount to enough leave us with wet kit needing to be dried.

By the time we were back at Bertie, changed and had lunch cooking it was quarter to three and we were hungry enough to eat a scabby dog. Yep, definitely should have taken sandwiches and a flask with us!

Wednesday, 16 October 2019

The Fara (NN598842; 911m)

Tuesday 15 October
Distance: 8.6 miles
Ascent: 570m
Weather: Overcast start, sunny intervals later. A bit of mizzle as we were up in the cloud on the summit.

In 2013 The Fara appeared on our TGO Challenge Route Sheet. In fact, we were supposed to go over it the day before we didn't go over Carn na Caim (but went over Meall Cruaich instead - see Monday's post). Unlike Carn na Caim, it didn't go onto my 'must get around to going up there' list and barely did I think of the hill over the next 6.5 years. Then on Monday, as we descended from Carn na Caim and its neighbour, we had The Fara in front of us and suddenly it seemed like a jolly good idea to stay around Dalwhinnie for an extra night and nip up it.

The plan was cemented not only by an acceptable weather forecast, but when I saw that there's another Marilyn next door (Meall nan Eagan) that could be combined into a pleasing-looking lollipop of a walk.

Read on to find out what happened to the lollipop plan and the second hill. 
Leaving Bertie just to the north of Dalwhinnie, a road walk took us to the track that runs along the Allt an t-Sluic, half a kilometre or so along which we bore off onto a track that doesn't appear on my 2010 map, but that we could see would take us a significant distance towards our ridge.

Bottom left you can see a ford at the start of our ascent track (snap taken on the return leg, hence the blue sky). We didn't get wet feet, opting instead to detour 100m downstream to a simple, non-permanent bridge that's currently in place.

We gained height quickly, which gave us a good vantage point to observe a group of tweed-clad chaps heading out from the lodge and up the glen - in the direction of our second hill.

The track wiggling its way up the hill. Our second summit is on the right of the snap.

Initially we knew not where they may be heading, but that question was broadly answered as we walked past a group of beaters working their way through the heather in between our ascending track and the one running along the glen. It was at this point that we decided that our second hill was being taken off the agenda. We accidentally walked through a shoot once before and it's no fun scurrying up a hill with shots being fired nearby.

That still gave us The Fara as an objective and after a relatively easy walk (first on the track then on firm, short vegetation up the ridge) we arrived at its summit only about a quarter of an hour after pausing for elevenses in the lee of some convenient little crags. The wind was biting up there and shelter was a fundamental requirement of any break.

Our arrival at the summit was only just in time...

Looking a bit grey as Mick snapped me atop the summit tor

I snapped Mick from a higher vantage point, so captured the views too

...for as we stood at the high point, the cloud descended. It had been brushing the top earlier, but this was undoubtedly the lowest level it reached all day. It was at 800m that we dropped below it (or it rose above us, or a combination of the two) as we retraced our steps. We had given thought to forming a circuit by dropping off the east side of the ridge, but were deterred by the visible sogginess of the ground down there.

As we descended we could see the beaters now working on the other side of the glen, seemingly confirming the merit of our decision not to continue on to Meall nan Eagan. Had we not stopped for lunch, we would thus have gone away happy. As it was, as we reached the ford the vehicles of the tweed-brigade all drove back out to the road. Harrumph! We not only could have done our second hill, but we would have had good weather for it. The cloud that had descended whilst we were on The Fara was the last hurrah of the grey skies and from then on the day only got sunnier.

Ne'er mind. There's another Marilyn just up the road, so at some point in the future I'll combine Meall nan Eagan with that one.

Tuesday, 15 October 2019

Creag Dhubh (NN823997; 445m; classification: sub-HUMP)

Saturday 12 October
Distance: 5.7 miles
Ascent: 240m
Weather: Dry with sunny intervals

We went anti-clockwise

We happened (by careful arrangement) to find ourselves in the same car park, in Inshriach Forest, as Louise and David on Saturday morning. As we don't get to see them very often the day got off to a chatty start, including a good period of admiration of their campervan Ellie, who we'd not met before. By then it was elevenses time and it would be negligent to go out for a walk without elevenses when elevenses time has passed. With a bit more chatting we then found that lunchtime was upon us, but with iron resolve managed to get out of the door with our lunches untouched in our bags.

The late start was of no matter on this occasion as the walk we had planned wasn't a long one. Somehow I had been nominated as 'responsible adult' so I had plotted the route (using Open Street Maps, so as to take advantage of paths not shown on my aged OS maps) and was in charge of keeping us on course. Mick forewarned everyone that when I say 'We need to turn right' it's wise to check whether I mean 'right' or 'the other right' (and vice versa). If you look carefully at the map snippet above you may spot a couple of minor backtracks that occurred when everyone was too polite to heed Mick's advice.

A pleasant walk past a large pond and variously through forest and cleared forest took us on tracks up to the trig point that was our objective*, where it appears that Mick and David were camera shy, but I got a nice snap (if you ignore the shadow, from my phone-holding arm, across my face) of the female half of the group:

A Vanessa Trig Point. Not an overly common design.

Being surrounded by trees, views were lacking, but the stones around the trig gave reasonable seating so we sat ourselves down for lunch. Am I right in recalling that a few drops of rain fell on us? If they did, it didn't amount to anything.

A fat-bike had come past whilst we were eating, but no alarm bells rang. Another bike came past shortly after we set back off (we watched him fall off about 20m before he reached us, and he admitted that he was watching us stepping well off the path, rather than where he was going). It was still a while later before I observed that the way our path was wiggling through the trees, it was clearly a mountain bike trail, rather than a walkers' path. Fortunately the evidence of our first 5 minutes on it proved to be atypical; we didn't meet a single other bike as we wiggled around all over t'shop to get back to the main forest tracks which took us back to Bertie and Ellie.

Walking down the mountain bike trail. See, Mick & David were present!

Views where the trees opened up

One of three ponds in the forest

It may not have been a long outing, but it was in good company, in pleasant surroundings and on the nicest day yet of the Scottish leg of our trip.

(*A check of lists of Relative Hills tells me that this summit has been demoted from HUMP to sub-HUMP as it is now known to only have 96m of prominence. For the avoidance of doubt I've not become a bagger of *really* obscure hills - it just looked a nice walk with the bonus of visiting a trig point.)

Monday, 14 October 2019

Carn na Caim (940m) and A'Bhuidheanach Beag (936m)

Monday 14 October
Distance: 13.3 miles
Ascent: 890m
Weather: dry with a few periods of sunshine. Cloud base variable but mainly above our summits.
Number of times I've written this blog post: twice. Not sure if losing all my work the first time was operator error or technical glitch.

I couldn't quite fit all of the route onto the screen; our start point was where the cycle path leaves the A889 just to the S of Dalwhinnie.

In 2013 our TGO Challenge Route Sheet had us going over Carn na Caim. For reasons that I can't remember, and that my blog post from that day doesn't make clear, we re-routed to the north and went over Meall Cruaich instead. Carn na Caim thus went onto the 'must get around to it' list and today, just 6.5 years later, we did exactly that, adding its neighbour into the outing because if we were making the effort to get up onto the plateau it made sense to visit both Munros, even though only one of them is a Marilyn.

As hills of this size go, these are remarkably accessible, sitting not just alongside the A9, but also having tracks most of the way to the summits. Initially it's an engineered track that leads from the road, under the power lines and up (getting steeper as it goes) to an old quarry.

Beyond the quarry we opted to go left, to visit Carn na Caim first (being the Marilyn, that was the top of most interest to me).

Beyond the quarry the track became unsurfaced, but still gave easy walking

Once the track ended, an obvious set of trodden lines followed the old iron fence posts of the boundary line right up to the summit.

Mick on what appeared to be the highest ground, with a good view up the Spey valley behind him.

Selfie at the summit cairn

Coffee and butteries on the summit, whilst admiring the views, would have been nice, but the breeze (which was barely a breath) had such a chill to it that we opted instead to defer our break for a more sheltered spot.

Steps were retraced to the top of Coire Uilleim where we sat completely out of the wind, but at the expense of having a view, before more steps were retraced until we were above the quarry again (which, incidentally is marked as such on the map, but isn't massively evident on the ground - we're not talking huge holes in the ground).

Considering how close these hills lie to the A9, the mainline railway and the Beauly-Denny power lines, it was impressive for how much of the time the only obviously man-made thing we could see was the track upon which we were walking.

The way south to our second top was slightly less obvious than the ease of Carn na Caim, but in the good visibiilty that prevailed it presented us with no difficulties as we made our way to the trig point.

Trig point selfie

Cloud had been tickling this summit all morning, but it had cleared by the time we arrived and, with the help of a bit of sunshine, it was warm enough up therefor lunch. Joined after a while by a couple from Edinburgh, Sam and Malcolm, our break became longer than is our norm as we chatted.

They left the top before us, but it was only a couple of minutes before we followed. Our descent was entirely a reversal of our outwards route (save for an accidental wander that you can pick out on the map snippet at the top of this post), but it was made more interesting by the company. First came a brief chat with a chap who was just ascending for the same two hills (he had very long legs, so we reckoned he would just make it to both and back down before dark), then we walked the final section back down to the A9 with Sam & Malcolm. Sam is a geologist (more precisely a volcanologist) - what an interesting and adventurous job!

We parted company at the A9 and within minutes Mick & I were back at Bertie, where I prioritised checking the weather forecast. There's another hill we were eyeing up on our way down today and it looks like tomorrow's weather will be good enough to entice us up it...

Tuesday, 8 October 2019

Creag Liath (NH663007; 743m)

I've mentioned before on this blog that my shin muscles have very short memories. I only have to take my eye off the hills for five minutes and the next time I go up (or, more accurately, come down) a hill, they'll spend the next few days sorely protesting.

We thus found ourselves at the road end above Newtonmore yesterday afternoon, with the hill I wanted to go up looking like this...

The one under the orange arrow

...but with my shins too sore to contemplate the outing. Probably a good thing as not long after I took this photo one heck of a squall came through (one of a succession, interspersed with sunshine), battering Bertie with wind and rain. I was glad not to be out in that. The drowned rats who returned to the vehicle next to us later in the day probably wished they hadn't been either.

Today's forecast was generally worse than yesterday's, but there was a window of 'not too bad' due between 8 and 11am. I set the alarm for 6.30.

The alarm sounded and Mick groaned. It was early, dark and raining (as it had been all night). I quickly reassured him that he didn't have to come with me if he didn't want to and he didn't take any persuading to stay in bed whilst I breakfasted and threw some things into a bag.

The sun was a long way from making it over the hills to the east as I made my way along the River Calder.

I went anticlockwise

You can see from the map snippet above that I'd not gone far along the track when I took a detour. This was the obstacle:

A poor snap of an unexpected ford (taken on the way back)

There's been a lot of rain since Saturday afternoon and what would otherwise be an innocuous trickle down the hillside had created a sizeable ford. In hindsight, I should have just splashed straight through, as I ended up wading further upstream anyway. Or maybe I should have tippy-toed across a couple of rocks just downstream of the ford, as I did on my way back.

As I approached the fork in the track a while later, I conteplated my options: out and back via the shortest route, or to walk significantly further to make a lollipop of it? Surveying the hill from that vantage point, I opted for the easier (but further) ascent route so splashed my way up a rough track that was doing a good impression of a river.

I'd not gone very far when I started doubting my belief that there was a bridge at the far end of the track. With so much water in such a tearing hurry to reach the sea, in the absence of a bridge I would be turning back with my hill unbagged.

I was thus happy when this came into sight...

...although in my efforts not to get my phone wet (a light shower was passing at this point) I completely failed to capture the roiling water directly underneath the bridge.

Leaving a sodden ATV track at a point that was probably a couple of hundred yards later than the optimum point, the going up to the summit was pretty easy. However, this was the point where I started to wonder whether mesh trail runners had been the right choice, as my toes temporarily turned into blocks of ice following their plunging into so many pools of cold water. (Hindsight: yep, they were a perfectly good choice. The cold toes only lasted a few minutes before they warmed back up).

A few wisps of cloud were tickling the summit when I got there and I could see rain approaching. I stayed long enough to snap photos...

Summit selfie

Summit view

... and have a quick text message chat with Mick (who could see me atop my summit without having to move from his seat in Bertie), then I popped my waterproof gloves back on and set off down the more direct descent route.

It was rough, steep* and sodden, confirming that although it probably would have been faster to go up that way, it wouldn't have been as enjoyable. (*A slightly different line would have made it less steep, but with the rain coming down and my hands encased in chunky mittens, and with visibility being good, I opted not to navigate from the map but to just go in the right direction, which put me on steeper ground than was strictly necessary.)

Making my way back along the track towards Bertie I thought I was going to be able to dry off a little in the final half-mile, but the pause in the rain was brief. I couldn't complain too much - I'd had rain for maybe a third of the time I'd been out and the vast majority had been on my descent, when it had been on my back. The wind had been nowhere near as fierce as predicted either.

I made it back to Bertie at 10.35 and, as forecast, at around 11 the pattering on the roof increased noticeably. It hasn't yet stopped and isn't forecast to let up until midnight.

The stats were:
- 7.6 miles walked with around 460m ascent (2hrs45)
- Number of deer seen: dozens, all in small groups
- Number of stags heard bellowing: lots, including one standing on a prominent rock on the skyline and one at relatively close quarters as it chased three hinds.
- Number of hare seen: 7
- Number of frogs nearly trodden on: 1
- Number of frogs actually trodden on: none, I hope.