The elusive Ben Ledi

 

Ben Ledi from Ben Gullipen 

Loch Venachar and Ben Ledi

I have climbed Ben Ledi over thirty times, more than any other Scottish Mountain. I could climb it from my in-laws' back garden and did so several times a year, sometimes carrying skis to the top for some dodgy descents. I trained for mountain marathons by running it in the 1980s and 90s and occasionally dragged my children and their friends up. Although it is less than half an hour away from home, I have only made a handful of visits since moving house several years ago.

It has been my intention to climb it since my hip operation, but I had been diffident about attempting it too soon. I had climbed the local smaller hills half a dozen times and had a couple of days hillwalking in the Lake District. After my weekly exercise session in Callander and on a perfect summer's day, I decided the time was right for Ben Ledi. It was midday as I drove to the start point at the Stank; the car park was full and so were the parking places on the A84 to the north. It was the day before the schools went back and families and teachers were maxing out on their summer holidays;  I decided to make a shorter excursion up Ben Gullipen instead. As recently as late 2004, it had taken a mere 45 minutes if I ran the less steep sections on the ascent and ran all the way down.

It was 27°C as I began the seriously steep section at the start of the ascent, stopping every few minutes; and when I reached the gentler gradients, there was no oomph in the legs. I ambled to the summit in 45 minutes. The reward was Ben Ledi looking magnificent set against the crystal-clear blue skies. I was thankful that the car park had been full. It would have taken a couple of hours to reach the summit in the heat at today's pace. I began to justify my walk by telling myself that it is sometimes better to admire the mountains from below. I walked down at a sedate pace; the hip was no problem; it was a sore back and breathing that held me back. I was home by 2pm. My exercise class and a slow plod up and down a micro hill were sufficient to prompt a heatwave-induced siesta. Ben Ledi could wait.