A few more Munros
Scotland, August 2020
It was a while ago that I decided to take a few days to revive my flagging Munro-bagging efforts – it had been 11 years since I last stood on a Munro summit. I needed to be within easy travelling distance of the Glasgow – Edinburgh area so I opted to pick off a few in the southern highlands.
Sunday 23 August – Ben Lomond
I’d always travelled further north than the most southerly Munro so was determined to visit it this time. I drove up on Saturday and checked in at the Rowardennan Hotel simply because it’s right at the start of the tourist route up the mountain.
I knew Ben Lomond was popular and it was a Sunday, but I wasn’t expecting the crowds to be so big! The clear and well-trodden path is maintained and in places restored and protected by the National Trust for Scotland. Starting through woodland before reaching the open hillside it rises in a series of steeper sections separated by easier gradients. Despite my early start there were already people coming down as I headed up. Looking back I could see more and more people on the path below. Almost everyone exchanged friendly greetings, which was nice. My southern accent made me feel a bit self-conscious, having been variously greeted as ‘Pal’, ‘Big Man’ and ‘Bruh’.
The summit itself was crowded: snacks were being eaten, selfies were being taken. There was nothing precious about this Munro; today it was the People’s Munro.
For the sake of simplicity and speed I returned the same way. Among the crowds, two or three people still going up asked “Is it far to the top?” I answered as best I could. Then it was back to the hotel to pick up the car and drive to the Lochearnhead Hotel.
Did I mention the midges? There were midges. Plenty of them.
Monday 24 August – Ben Chonzie
A driveable track leaves the narrow public road at Invergeldie in Glen Lednock above Comrie; it’s possible to park at the side of the road there. I assume the track exists to support grouse shooting because it ends high on the slopes of Ben Chonzie. It’s rather a dull slog although the wide open views that open up behind are worth turning round to admire.
Near the end of the track, before the final bends, a pile of stones on the left marks the start of what looked like a squelchy path towards the summit. I continued on the main track for another few hundred metres to a second pile of stones at the start of another path. This duly led to the broad grassy summit ridge with the summit in view a kilometre away round the eastern corrie above Glen Turret. A line of old and twisted iron fence posts would guide the way in mist.
Ben Chonzie has a reputation for being one of the duller Munros. The SMC District Guide says “the summit plateau is rather featureless”. However on my visit, with clear and improving weather, wide views, the reservoir in Glen Turret visible below and few other people, I’ve been on plenty of less attractive summits.
I returned by the same route.
Wednesday 26 August – Ben Vane (Arrochar)
Tuesday was a write-off. One of those named storms passed through; the mountain weather forecast was for “hurricane force winds on the summits and incessant heavy rain” all day. I spent the day at the hotel with a book.
Wednesday started rather dreich, so expecting Ben Vane to take only about 4 hours I didn’t set off from the car park at Inveruglas on Loch Lomond until nearly 11.30. Currently measured at 916 metres, Ben Vane just creeps into the list of Munros at number 280 out of 283. I had missed climbing it when I climbed all the other Arrochar Munros some years ago.
I followed the recommended route up the road towards the Loch Sloy dam, turning left before the dam to pass a small spur and cross a bridge over a burn. The path up the broad south-east ridge starts just beyond the bridge.
Judging by the large pile of empty bags – the huge ones used to carry rocks slung under helicopters – the path had only recently had some maintenance. It’s steep, and for the lower half and parts of the upper half the maintenance work has created an unrelenting stone staircase. Mist and drizzle came and went; crags loomed ahead, looking larger in the mist than they are in reality. Going was slow as I got higher and more tired; two or three short scrambles on wet rock slowed me down even more. I found myself looking at my altimeter every few minutes to see how much more climbing I had to do.
But as a Munro companion once remarked many years ago, “Every hill will surely succumb to a prolonged and determined assault”, and I finally reached the small summit plateau. The rain stopped, and views broken by lower clouds opened up with Loch Sloy visible 600 metres below.
I spent a little while on the summit to recover and consider my options. The thought of jolting my knees back down the unrelenting stone staircase and doubts about the safety of getting down the wet scrambles on my own made me think about other ways down. I remembered the guidebook had suggested heading north and then descending to the loch and the dam, and now that most of that route was visible that’s what I decided to do.
It worked out well. The eastern flank is a mixture of long grass, marsh reeds and small crags and it wasn’t difficult to pick a way down. If there is a path on this side I didn’t find it. I did find that the quickest way to lose height on the steeper ground was to glissade* in the waterproof trousers I was still wearing. That way I eventually reached the dam, crossed it to reach the access road, and walked the final few kilometres back to Loch Lomond and the car.
Instead of the four hours or so I had expected the whole trip had taken me six and a quarter. To paraphrase Shakespeare, “Though Ben Vane be but little she is fierce”.
* a technical term for bum-slide.
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