Beinn Eunaich and Beinn a' Chochuill

Beinn Eunaich summit with Beinn a' Chochuill behind

And again

These two hidden Munros are to the northeast of Ben Cruachan and provide a relatively easy day out. Alex had rented a cottage in Tyndrum so that he could climb the nearby Munros. I went up for the first day, and although all the hills had been climbed in this area, I was happy to get another day on the hills with Alex and John. We met at the Real Food cafe and spent half an hour catching up before driving the dozen miles down Glen Lochy to start the walk by Castles farm at the foot of Loch Awe. The forecast was good for the afternoon and the morning was dry although the tops were still enveloped in cloud.

I had already climbed them during my present round of Munros on a day when I met Gerry McPartlin, a retired GP who was beginning his successful continuous round of the Munros. I have usually climbed the hills as a short half day. In 1991 managed the circuit in 1 hour 55 minutes with my hill running partner. We had left work in Glasgow mid-afternoon and I was home by 6:30pm. I also combined these hills with the two Munros of Ben Cruachan with an overnight bivvy on the ridge after a 9pm start so that I could be home the following afternoon.

Ben Cruachan on the ascent up the track

Monday, March 26, 2018

Ascent:     1268 metres

Distance:   14 kilometres

Time:         5 hours 49 minutes

Beinn Eunaich           989m      2hrs 28mins

Beinn a' Chochuill     980m      3hrs 54mins 

Today we were in boots and equipped with winter gear with no intention of anything other than a leisurely round. It was Alex and John's first outing of the year and it usually takes a few walks to acquire hill fitness. We walked past the farm and began the long track up the glen to the bealach at Latrig Noe. At about 200 metres we came upon a stalker who was carrying out the annual deer count through his powerful binoculars. We chatted for 15 minutes, he informed us about the poor condition of many of the hinds after a long winter. Several periods of heavy snowfall had made it difficult for the deer to feed. The cull of hinds in January and February had found them in poor condition, few of which could be sold to butcher for venison. He explained how the estate worked and spoke about protecting the wildlife on the mountains including the golden eagles that nested on the estate. As we continued our walk up the track he passed us on his quad bike to continue the deer count higher up the glen.

There is a cairn at about 270 metres from where a very steep path climbs up to Stob Maol, the end of the southern ridge from Beinn Eunaich. I had always climbed the hills in the opposite direction but no one objected to taking the anti-clockwise route today. It was a hard pull of 350 metres to the ridge but once there the gradient to the summit provides good walking. From 800 metres we were crunching through a snowfield, there were few footprints from previous walkers. The cloud had lifted and there were views towards Ben Cruachan with its cluster of spiky peaks. There was a magnificent cornice to the northeast that we gingerly skirted around to reach the insignificant cairn. The air was still and it was warm enough to sit and eat some lunch at the summit. A young couple arrived as we were about to leave and asked if we were going over to Ben Cruachan. They were but had no ice axes or crampons, this would make the climb up to and the traverse of the various tops of Cruachan a tricky assignment.

The descent to the bealach at 690 metres required care as the snow on the steep slope had developed an icy crust in places. I lent Alex my crampons at the bealach so that he could practice for more difficult outings later in the week. The climb up the long curved ridge to the summit of Beinn a' Chochuill encapsulated all that is best in Scottish hill walking. The day was becoming brighter with spectacular vistas of Ben Cruachan, Glen Etive, Glencoe, and Ben Starav. In the style of the day, we spent more time at the summit basking in the warmth of the sun and drooling at the glorious mountainscapes.

We returned back down the ridge until about halfway to the bealach. There was an obvious line down the flank of the hill to the track below and the snow made for easy walking.  Once we dropped below the snowline we hit the path and it provided a quick if twisting descent to the track. We sauntered down from here, content with our choice of hills on a good day with winter conditions remaining on the tops. The highland cattle were congregated on the track above Castles farm with a young calf amongst them so we kept to the right of the fence and judging by the response we had called this right. We were down by 5pm. I dropped the others at their holiday cottage in Tyndrum and whilst driving home received a call from some renewable energy engineers who were in Stirling to discuss some solar energy projects. My bath would have to wait.

The cornice on Beinn Eunaich

On the summit of Beinn Eunaich

The last leg to Beinn a' Chochuill

Beinn a' Chochuill summit

Loch Etive and the Glencoe mountains from Beinn a' Chochuill

Ben Cruachan

Looking back along the Beinn a' Chochuill ridge towards Beinn Eunaich

Final view of Cruachan

Highland cattle above Castle farm

Ben Lomond

Lomond view

Ben Lomond is the most southerly Munro, less than an hour away from Glasgow. It is visible from the house and has been my most visited Munro. When living and working in Glasgow, it was a mountain to climb on a fine summer evening after work or on midsummer's day when I harangued my team to come along with a carry out for watching the sunset at the summit. Since living in its shadow I have made only ten visits in thirty years as I have focused on climbing the rest of the Munros. I seldom repeat hills during a Munro round. The past two days have brought clear skies and a cold easterly wind. I was returning home from a meeting in the early afternoon when Ben Lomond appeared at its most beguiling, a snow white cone set against an azure sky. I grabbed my rucksack and a sandwich and set out for my first climb of the year. It was long overdue.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Ascent:            1071 metres

Distance:         12 kilometres

Time:                4 hours 16 minutes

Ben Lomond    974m   2hrs 11mins

I was parked at Rowardennan by 1:50pm, the day was warmed by the early afternoon sun as I climbed the steep path from the lochside. The early starters were on their descents and warned me against the icy conditions at the summit. I figured that the sun may have changed that by the time I reached the higher levels, although it might freeze again during my descent. 

At about 400 metres where the path had steepened again, I spotted two Jack Russell dogs scampering down the rock steps and heard the familiar tone of Angela Mudge talking to a friend. She had persuaded me to get involved in a running club six years ago and last week was interviewed on Radio 4 talking about her career as the most successful women's hill runner in the UK. She said that her aim was still to be running at 70. I had heard this as I was setting out on my 70th birthday run and found it both reassuring and a testament to my persistence in getting out for a run, particularly on the days when I really couldn't be bothered. We blethered for a while before I began to "dig in" for the climb ahead, as they used to shout during hill races. 

The snow was down to 450 metres so I found a steady pace tramping through the snow that had softened at the lower levels and set my sights on the summit. The views were opening up, the snow had been shaped into a myriad of horizontal fingers by the wind, there were patches of ice and the footprints of previous climbers began to scatter over the snowfield ahead as the path was no longer visible. There were pairs and the occasional solo walkers descending almost all the way to the summit, my final reckoning was 34 including 11 women. By 700 metres it was time to put on gloves and take out a walking pole as the slopes ramped up and sections of hard ice had to be crossed. At the end of the path along the ridge below the summit, five walkers had congregated to extol the perfect winter conditions, I joined them to identify the horizon of mountains from Arran to the Ochils.

As I set out again I was joined by a hill runner who was clad in knee-length shorts and running shoes. We chatted at the summit, he was from Birmingham and his occupation was a Legionnaire's inspector. He had finished his inspection of premises in Glasgow in the early afternoon and decided it was too good a day to return home so had decided to run up Ben Lomond. We took photos and lingered in the alpine beauty of the summit with views of Glencoe, Ben Lui and across to Jura. We explored the possibility of descending the steep north-west face and descending via Ptarmigan Hill but it was too steep and icy for his trainers and I didn't really want to put on my crampons. He jogged off down and I followed, there was just one more climber coming up with his dog. 

It seemed a longer descent than I remembered, there were icy sections below the summit that required care before a couple of slopes where I could skate down the steeper snow. The path down the south ridge seemed interminable before emerging from the snow-filled path just above the highest gate. Apart from taking some photos, I kept going with the intent of catching two pairs of walkers ahead before reaching the car park. Why I still engage in these challenges at my age is the habit of years of hillwalking, maybe its because it is difficult to do the same when out running nowadays. I was down just after 6pm, legs tired but with a sense of achievement after the first mountain walk of the year.

The final section of ascent

Looking north over Loch Lomond towards Ben Lui

Eastwards from summit

Looking east over Coire Fuar

Loch Lomond from near the summit

Loch Lomond from the summit

Looking south-east towards the Campsies

Towards Loch Ard and Lake of Menteith

Checking out the descent to the Ptarmigan ridge, too steep and icy

Snow freezing as the light fadesduring the descent

Half a lifetime

Older and Wiser?

I reached seventy today. Instead of lamenting the march of time, I realised that it was exactly half a lifetime ago I took up running to prepare for the Glasgow marathon. I had watched the first Glasgow marathon in 1982 with one child on my shoulders and another in the buggy. As I watched the diverse group of entrants variously race, run, jog and walk past, I thought I could do that. I had been the mile champion at school and usually won cross country races.

After overdosing on too many sports during the 1970s in Glasgow: football, rugby, cricket, golf, skiing, mountain marathons, climbing, hillwalking, sailing, squash as well as a Sunday run; I had settled down to family life. I still played five-a-side every week, ran around Queen's Park every Sunday night in times that were getting quicker. I also kept fit by renovating and decorating an old house, playing with my young daughters - walking, pushing and carrying them everywhere as we lived in the city and I've always refused to use a car for short journeys. I had given up contact sports a few years earlier after breaking a leg, which had to be reset and fixed with five titanium screws. After eighteen months of recovery, the leg had settled down and running gave me no difficulty or pain.

So on my 35th birthday, I bought my first pair of running shoes, Reebok AZIIs, and began to lengthen my runs and increase their frequency. Six months and 500 miles later I completed my first marathon in 3 hours 11minutes, thirty-four minutes ahead of my target time. It had taken 6 minutes to get across the start line after starting in the block of runners aiming for a time of 3 hours 45 minutes, then  I was held up by the annoyingly large posse of runners surrounding Jimmy Saville and finally, I was sick after taking an energy drink at 22 miles. Other than these diversions I had run well and even had the energy for a 5 mile loosening up run later in the afternoon.

It was the start of ten years of competitive running until I was 45 years of age and beginning to lose my speed. I had run a hundred miles every month but seldom managed more than 30 - 40 miles a week because of family and work commitments. After joining a running club in 1985, every run became an attempt at a personal best. I started organising races at my workplace as part of a campaign to obtain workplace shower facilities. It took five years and they were ironically named the KY memorial showers after I left the organisation.

I completed about 120 races over ten years with some reasonable results. I usually made the top 2 or 3% of finishers in most mass start marathons and half marathons. I had a top forty finish in the Snowdonia marathon, which was tagged as 'the agony and ecstasy' marathon. It had 850 metres of ascent in three fearsome climbs as it circumnavigated Snowdon and was the equivalent of a 29.2mile flat marathon. I also managed a couple of victories and quite a few podium finishes in 10k and 10 miles races that kept me in shoes and T-shirts. But most importantly I enjoyed the freedom of running whether in the parks, hills, quieter roads and trails. It was a time to reflect on life, sort out problems, compose reports and trigger the release of endorphins.

After moving from Glasgow to the Trossachs I was persuaded by my mountain marathon partner to switch to hill running. I had the stamina and lung capacity for the ascents but lacked the nerve for fast descents down the rocky ground, always aware of the damage that I might do to the screws in my leg. We had performed well in the Karrimor International Mountain Marathon and he invited me to be his running partner in the Scottish Islands Peaks Race. It remains my most cherished race with 65 miles covered in two and a bit days of sailing and running that included Ben More on Mull, the Paps of Jura and Goat Fell on Arran as well as a 5 mile run around Oban at the start of the race. Along with the three sailors in a relatively small yacht, we finished a creditable sixth out of 57 starters. I wisely decided to refuse future invitations to participate in the race as I knew it would be impossible to repeat the sheer exhilaration of the experience.

In 1994 on the advice of a doctor I reduced my monthly mileage to 50 or 60 miles a month after developing a hip problem during a 24-hour race. I remain sceptical about his advice but it coincided with 15 years of intense pressure at work and has meant that I have largely remained injury free apart from an occasional achilles tendon problem. On retirement, I trained hard and regained both speed and stamina. I was running a hundred miles a month again for four years. However, a couple of years ago I gave up trying to keep to the monthly target, there were other forms of activity and I now run when my mind and body are in the mood.

For my birthday I chose to run my favourite 12-kilometre circuit alongside the river Duchray, through the forest and back via scenic paths alongside a couple of lochs. It was unusually dry with shafts of morning sun warming the limbs. I allowed myself to revisit memories of favourite races as I jogged around at a comfortable pace. I returned home to find cards and messages reminding me that I had entered old age. They were a challenge and I was motivated to do some more exercise in defiance of my age. I cycled into the heart of the Queen Elizabeth forest to find the eagle owl that was bred in captivity in Norway and had been kept in a remote Forestry Enterprise location where it was fed daily. I spoke to a ranger who was checking bird boxes nearby, she explained that the eagle owl had never lived in the wild and had been kept originally for research purposes. The owl was caged and looked unsurprisingly grumpy. It was neither wise nor old. I am not ready for that sort of dependency or any loss of freedom just yet.

Looking at my running logs today I have almost reached 30,000 miles over the last 35 years. Running has been the activity that has kept me vaguely sane, although some would doubt that, during the stress of work and the happy and sad events that punctuate life. Hopefully, there is more mileage to come as half a lifetime extends.

Siberian Days

Not going out

'March is the month God created to show people who don't drink what a hangover is like.' 
Garrison Keillor

The so-called 'Beast from the East' had brought a second day of Siberian weather with numerous snow showers, a windchill factor of -12°C and a red weather warning from the Met Office. The nearby M80 motorway had been blocked with a thousand vehicles trapped overnight. At first light the deep snow had wiped out all traffic movement on the road outside, it looked like a day for not going out. By mid-morning, it was time to explore. 

The school was closed, the pavement was still ankle deep in snow with few footsteps, the village was bereft of people and vehicles. I walked along the river bank and saw a young couple making a snowman in the empty car park. They were from the Netherlands and asked me to take a photo of them with their exquisite snowman that was complete with hat, scarf, buttons, and sticks for arms. They were on a 10 day holiday to Scotland and had already visited the Cairngorms, the Torridons, and Skye during the cold clear days before the snows arrived. Their final couple of days were to be spent in the Trossachs. Scotland had been a revelation for them, they were smitten with the scenery and vowed to be back. I advised them of a local walk and continued my promenade through the village pleased to hear a group of noisy schoolchildren sledging in the park. There was time to clear the pavement and the drive before retreating to the house to contemplate hibernation.

Where have all the snowdrops gone

Creag Mhor

A walk along the Forth 

Dutch Snowman

Snow covered loch