First Hill For Cooper

"I was ambling along through trees and country paths, fair enjoying my wee dauner, Master trailing in my wake as I pulled the tow rope with all the strength I could manage. Now and then I paused for a sniff (So many scents! Where to start???) and chased a few wee beasties, and now and then I managed to almost pull him off his feet as he seemed in a bit of a trance - big smile on his coupon for a change and a definite spring in his step."

"So, I'm thinking: been about an hour now and no end of this walk in sight. He's usually turned tail and headed for home by now, wonder if I'll get some of those brilliant wee bits of sausage he normally gives me when I'm good (sometimes I just pretend I'm being good in order to get a treat!). Then he does the strangest thing: he rummages about in his pockets (I like it when he does that, usually he'll come out with something tasty) and produces this silly looking yellow thing I've never seen before, breaks it in half and proffers it to me like he usually does when I'm getting a treat. Looks quite pleased with himself too. Well, I'm pretty famished by now and as I said, we've been on the go for over an hour and no treats so far, so when he says "What's this, Cooper," my eyes light up. So, I get tore in to this offering, and what do you know, tastes brilliant! Jelly Babies he calls them. Needless to say, I was on my best behavior for ages after that. Well, at least until the Jelly Babies ran out. Think I'll need to get out on the big hills with Master more often, maybe he's got more stashed away somewhere."

"Anyway, after a good few Jelly Babies, I begin to realize that he's not going back the way we came and that this wee stroll is turning into something much more serious. These Jelly Babies are just bribery! We soon reach a rocky, slabby section where the ground gets much steeper and all the humans are slowing down. This is great because we start overtaking loads of them and it makes me feel quite fit. I have noticed however that Master is also slowing down somewhat and I'm the one doing all the work at the front of the tow rope he has me tied to. He likes to think he knows what he's doing, so he does, but it seems to be me who's the leader on this walk - I'll show him who's the fittest."

So, as we near the top of Goat Fell I'm quite glad that Cooper seems to be in good shape. He's actually pulling me up the hill behind him. He's just 18 months and this is his first bigger hill. Vets recommend not walking them too far when they're younger, as it can damage their bones when they're still developing.

I'm on Goat Fell today, same as this time last year, supporting a colleague who's busking at the summit to raise money for Ayrshire Hospice. I bump into Eddy, already hunkered down at the top, guitar in hands, dressed in a warm jacket with the hood up and wearing a top hat. He starts busking as Cooper and I get tucked into some tasty tuna and corned beef rolls. Cooper manages to eat about the same amount as me, which is unusual for him. He obviously used up a lot of energy pulling me up the hill. Then we get somebody to take a snap of Cooper and I.

But the summit is really busy today, and I like things a bit more peaceful, so I put some money in Eddy's tin and head off down Stacach to escape the madding crowd. Little more than five minutes later we're alone and savoring the solitude. The weather is improving by the minute and we go for a wee scramble over one of the stacks before taking an easier route across to North Goat Fell. Then we descend into Corrie Lan for a leisurely stroll down to Corrie, where we'll catch a bus to connect with the 4.40pm ferry.

We stopped for a breather just inside the tree line (lots of encouraging new Silver Birch and Mountain Ash regeneration) and I noticed some movement in my peripheral vision. I looked down to see a small black snake of about 45-50cm in length shoot off to my right. I quickly got my phone onto video setting and had the privilege of witnessing either a young Adder or a Grass Snake (ongoing debate) beating a hasty retreat to some better cover in a grass banking beside the path.

Not the greatest picture of a snake ever taken, but hey, I was in a hurry!

Not much later we found ourselves in the lovely wee village of Corrie, where we stopped at The Rock Pool for a takeaway coffee and carrot cake, before catching the bus just ten minutes later. What a great day out we had, me and the dug, and given his immense capacity for such a wee thing, I'll be  sure to take hime on many a mountain wander in future. Wonder what Cooper thinks.

"Well, given the fact that he fed me well, and particularly the discovery of my love for Jelly Babies, I might just take to this mountain lark. Anyway, don't suppose I've much of a choice when he decides to rope me up and sets off into the wild blue yonder. There are worse things in life, I suppose, chasing cats excepted, and those tuna rolls wee pretty tasty too. I'll go along with it for the meantime anyway- maybe he'll get a bit fitter and keep up next time."

When I Get Older, Losing My Hair...

The day started well enough: breakfast at 7.15am - poached egg on toast. Checked FB, read some mail, looked at some bike stuff online - all good so far, usual Saturday morning. Got out on bike at 7.50 with Colin and rode over to Dalgarven, where Al joined us, before heading up the steep wee hill at the back of the mill and out onto route 7. At this point the heavens opened and we struggled up the Blair, before the rain stopped near RNAD Beith.

We headed across the bypass and through Beith toon centre before dropping into the valley and hanging a right on a wee country road alongside the dump - mingin!!! before following the Barr Loch along to the Hungry Monk and then down a section of busy road before joining a nice new cycle path from the RSPB centre down to Castle Semple. By this time the sun had put in an appearance and we warmed up as we stopped for a quick blether before heading back up the cycle route towards Kilbirnie. The plan was to head over the Hagthorn, as Colin's gears were jumping around a bit and he didn't want to test them on Auchengree hill, at Longbar.

We headed off the cycle route at Stoneyholm Road, Kilbirnie, headed through the Cross and down to Garden City, before being stopped by a police car, which had closed the road to Dalry. They informed us there had been a gas main severed along the route and we hurriedly revised our plans, heading along the wee road to Glengarnock.

We had just passed the railway station when catastrophe struck - there was a loud crunching sound as Colin's chain snapped, whipped his shin and wrapped itself around his rear cassette. Clearly he would be going no further.

Being Colin, he didn't have either phone or cash on his person, so he borrowed my phone to call his wife for assistance. No reply! Al and I figured we had enough money between us to fund his train fare to Kilwinning, but that would've meant walking home from the train station, so he declined this offer. Eventually, I phoned Pam to come to our aid. Three roof-mounted cycle carriers are very handy.

Chain-less and incapacitated

We then waited in a shelter on the railway platform, while a clearly disgruntled Colin gently simmered, annoyed at his misfortune recently. A few weeks previously, whilst out on his other bike, he had snapped a crank in half and had to walk home unaided from Dalry. Well, at least he had made it a wee bit further this time, but he hasn't had his bike problems to seek lately and they will be expensive to remedy.

Happy Chappy!

Pam arrived in the Broom Wagon very quickly and we loaded the bikes onto the roof before beating a hasty retreat to the comfort and warmth of home, as the weather continued to rage unabated all around us. Colin - you did us a favour getting us away from the clag and wind - every cloud has a silver lining. We can organize a benefit gig to pay for repairs. I'll sing and Al can play guitar - we'll sing 'When I'm Sixty-Four' by the Beatles, and you can play spoons!

Good Things Come in Twos

A cancelled work engagement is invariably an opportunity for a cycle. This morning, I found myself in Irvine for a meeting that never was and sometimes that's a good thing. So, I quickly revised my plans and headed home to change into my cycling gear, collect my bike and head in to work at Kilbirnie.

That was the first positive thing.

The second positive was discovering a lost Fiver down the back of my bedside cabinet - and now a cake from the bakers would be my treat on arrival at work - Yowser!

The Skydiver in question

Unfortunately though, good things don't always come in threes, as I discovered when I punctured a tyre before I'd even got out of Kilwinning. Never mind, there was no time pressure and I took my time changing the tube before boldly setting off again, over the viaduct and up the Blair on a well-travelled route that I still enjoy immensely.

Eventually, the fourth positive thing arrived when I discovered that I had loads of TOIL. So, I managed to deal with a shedload of work stuff (as well as a tasty cake!) before finishing early and taking the long way home - 25 miles to be precise. Kilbirnie - Beith - Lugton - Dunlop - Stewarton - Kilmaurs - Cunninghamehead - Benslie, and home again, pleasantly knackered but thoroughly satisfied.

Ben Bhuidhe Bike And Hike (The Election Antidote)

Man!!!! The guidebooks really under-sell this hill!

I reckon the guys who've written about Ben Bhuidhe must've gone up in bad weather. I can see how this could put you off, as navigation would certainly be difficult. But, go up on a cracking Spring day like today and this under-rated mountain will take you by surprise.

Additionally, today's jaunt was my medicine, having worked 16 hours yesterday at a polling station on election duty. The sacrifices one has to make to oil the wheels of democracy. Or more appropriately, to earn enough to purchase a Kindle and a load of books for my next backpacking trip!

The wee car park, just up the road from Loch Fyne Oyster Bar, is a badly potholed undercarriage- wrecker, ready to rip your exhaust off with one careless lunge. I parked, got my trusty steed off the car roof and blew the place off as quickly as I could, heading up Glen Fyne with the wind at my tail and a song in my head. The route proper starts just past Invercharochan (about 5 miles up the glen) and halfway up the road I was aware of envious glances being cast in my direction, as this is a long walk-in, with the same route to be re-traced on your return. And, quite frankly, the legs, knees and feet need a wee rest after the steep descent (but more of that later).

The road up Glen Fyne

It really was a fine day in the aptly named Glen Fyne. Once I'd parked my bike (I'd forgotten to bring my lock - ah well! I'd just have to employ trust!), I headed through a gate and onwards towards Inverchorachan. A Cuckoo called out as I made my way along the road past banks of primrose and newly-budded rowan and birch bursting into bloom. Then, as I made my way up into the gorge behind Inverchorachan I stopped to photograph some beautiful wee wildflowers.

Start of the gorge

Higher up, once the head of the gorge had been passed, I cut across an ugly road that has been bulldozed across the hillside, I presume for the nearby hydro electric operation. Once across the road I lost the faint path for a while, crossing a quite flat, boggy section before the hill proper. At this point, the craggy ramparts of Ben Bhuidhe appear quite tricky. I stopped to take a bearing on the col and put on a pair of gloves and a hat, as the temperature became noticeably cooler.

Looking across the bog to the gully leading to the col

The view back down to Glen Fyne

A steep gully has to be climbed to reach the col, but appearances can be deceptive as the gully isn't quite as serious as first imagined and I gained the col in double quick time. Once up there, the views really open up.

Looking ahead to the summit

Another 15 minutes from the col and I was at the summit and chatting to a fellow cyclist/walker who had sat down to eat lunch and drink in the amazing views. The lady in question was from Cheshire and had headed north on a month long annual holiday. We attempted to identify the many peaks on display and discovered that we shared our first time on this mountain, both having forsaken it in favour of the many other, more accessible hills in the area. We concluded that the guidebooks were wrong in their lacklustre descriptions of Ben Bhuidhe and agreed that this was a hill well worth doing. 

Looking back from the north top to the summit

After I'd eaten my leftover goodies from yesterday's election duty I headed for the north top, deciding that it would be rude not to. I descended by a more direct route back to the head of the gorge and started the knee-crunching descent back to Inverchorachan and then to where I'd dumped my bike earlier. I was so glad to get in the saddle for the trip back down the glen, rather than a rather long and arduous walk-out on Shanks' Pony.

Ben Vorlich - A Timewarp!

It was one of those days when climbing hills was more of a box-ticking exercise than a desire to enjoy the beauty of the hills. We went up hills because that's what we did - we just climbed hills. Fair weather or foul and every kind of in-between. Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn - we just climbed hills for the love of climbing, walking, being outdoors, experiencing adventures and feeding the wanderlust, the unrelenting quest for whatever lay around the next corner, over the next hill - just a bit further, lets see what's there.

I've always loved being outside and hated being cooped up indoors. When friends at school gathered in the playground to replay the previous night's TV and review the latest jokes, I would listen intently and try to join in. Sometimes I could get the gist of a story and enter into the conversation, laughing along at the tales of who did what or what was said by this comedian or that. But I could rarely drum up the enthusiasm or effort required to carry off a fully fledged discussion on the latest topic. You see, when my mates were indoors watching telly, I was usually outside. Didn't matter what I was doing, I was just outside, and at the time I even thought of myself as a bit of an oddity. I wanted to be cool and watch what they watched, do what they did, have the latest trainers or football kit. I wanted to like what my friends liked and go to the places they frequented….but I wanted to be outdoors more than any of that.

It all started on camping trips to Arran in the summer holidays. Aims (in no particular order) - 

• go camping
• get a massive carry-out
• check out the local talent
• live on tins of whatever for a week
• run wild. 

Now, don't get me wrong - I enjoyed all of the above and was usually pretty darned good at it. I could run wild as much as the next guy and party till the break of day, and then get a couple of hours kip and start all over again. Hey, you're only young once, right? 

But things changed one amazing morning when I woke early and decided to go for a walk. 

Base camp was Glen Rosa, a lawless hinterland at the gateway to some of the most amazing mountain country Arran had to offer. Far enough away from the town to ensure wild shenanigans would go unnoticed (or unpunished!), and close enough to nature that I felt like some kind of frontiersman. Someone once asked me what I intended to use the seven inch Bowie Knife I was carrying for. I replied that it was for hunting. That sounded manly enough. When asked what I would hunt with it, I hadn't a clue. But it looked the business! Anyway, John Rambo carried one in First Blood, and if it was good enough for Rambo, it was certainly good enough for me.

Anyway, back to the walk. 

It really was a fine morning, Heaven sent, I reckon. 8.00am. Everyone else was fast asleep, deeply hungover after managing to stagger back to their tents about two hours earlier. I was the same. But, for some reason I couldn't sleep, so I decided to explore the upper reaches of the glen. I'd spotted some guys bivvying on the valley floor on a previous sortie and was kind of impressed - real mountain men! This looked way more macho than swanning around with a knife and a can of lager. So I thought I'd go and see what the attraction was.

One exceedingly steep scramble up some loose scree and bracken later and I was right in among the sort of place I could only dream of - Torr Breac, I reckon. A wee pimple of a crag on the way up to Cul Nan Creagan. Maybe so, but what a view I had. A herd of Red Deer bounded away (downwind of me) in the distance. A gentle stream trickled in the background, as birds sang in the morning sunshine. And, you know what? (much cheesieness about to take place) I felt glad to be alive. In fact, I'd never felt more alive and free. I'd only wandered about a mile from the campsite, but it felt like a hundred miles. Right there and then I knew, without a shadow of doubt that this was where I wanted to be. Where I needed to be. This was what I wanted to do with my spare time. In fact, at that moment in time I felt like dropping everything and going back to nature. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I knew I wanted it more than I'd ever wanted anything, ever!

And so, fast forward about ten years to that box-ticking day I'd started to tell you about before I got all thoughtful and un-manly: we'd just come off Ben Vane in thick cloud, heavy rain and a fairly stiff breeze. Fair to say it was "blawin' a hoolie." (technical term). 

"Lets nip over to Ben Vorlich and knock it off before dinner". Seemed like a good idea and so we scampered off down to Sloy Dam and virtually ran up the hill. In the mist and howling wind we steamed off in the general direction of the summit, eager to tick it off and add another Munro to our rapidly increasing haul. All we saw of Ben Vorlich that awful day was the inside of our hoods. We could've been anywhere, on any hill, on the surface of the moon, but all that mattered was achieving the summit. Mission accomplished!

Fast forward another twenty years and things are so different now (and yet, not so different). It's a beautiful Spring day. The sun is shining and there's a gentle breeze, just enough to be enjoyably cool and not too warm and sticky. My companion for today is my daughter Rachel. She's sixteen and full of the joys of youth. The same age I was, some thirty years previously, on that fine morning in Glen Rosa. She's out in the hills with her auld Paw, looking to climb Ben Vorlich.

Looking across to Ben Vane

Father and Daughter

We somehow managed to miss the footpath from the road to Sloy Dam, which made the going difficult initially, before eventually locating it when were tiring - phew! From there, it was easy going all the way to the summit, crossing a few small snow fields. But, in contrast to my first experience of this hill, what a joy today was! Fine weather. Even finer company. A great hill, with magnificent views to the southern end of Loch Lomond on one side, and a panorama of peaks, flat-bottomed/fluffy topped clouds and amazing Spring colours all around. Rachel took a number of panoramic photos, of which the one she took at the summit found its way onto my Facebook page as a cover photo - excellent photography, Rach!

Biking Blues Through The Blair and Bridge of Weir

We decided on an earlier start for this Saturday's bike run, partly because we wanted to get some extra miles under our belts, and more accurately, because we're all running scared of our partners and need to get back home by lunchtime on a Saturday. Well, there's shopping to do, isn't there??? The bright lights and sports shops of Braehead were beckoning for me, and like a moth to a flame, I was compelled to set the controls for the heart of the mall.

Anyway, on a rain-free, if not cold and damp morning, we set off as usual from Dalgarven - Colin, Alistair and myself (Gav was working and Stevie taking a rain check) and headed up the steep hill behind the mill, striking out for the Blair and Garnock Valley on Route 7. This route is so well trodden by us all now, as we've passed this way many times before, but it's familiarity never seems to diminish our enjoyment of this quiet wee country road. Alistair was sporting a new helmet (!!!) due to a fall earlier in the week during his commute to work and Colin was finding it difficult to get a breath in the damp conditions. Yours Truly was just trying to keep up, after a long winter of inactivity and an inclination to consume too many cakes! Bring on Castle Semple cafe!

The weather seemed to brighten up as the morning progressed and before long we found ourselves passing Castle Semple at 8.50, determined to reach Bridge of Weir as our half way point before turning tail to head back to Semple for the culinary delights and coffee of our much-frequented watering hole. Colin was setting a blistering pace by this point in the morning, whilst Alistair and I towed each other along quite a distance behind by taking turns leading and then drafting.

Being able to draft another cyclist by riding close to their rear wheel means that you are sheltered and tucked in an air pocket where you are no longer pushing through the air that the lead rider is breaking (and believe me, Alistair can break wind!). Consequently, you are literally being carried along by the eddy of forward moving air directly behind the leader, and therefore using 20-40% less energy. This technique really worked well for us today and we weren't too far behind Colin by the time we rolled up at the cafe.

After the customary coffee, sweet stuff and cycling banter at the Lochwinnoch pit stop, we set out for the home leg suitably refreshed, if a little cold and tired. By this time the wind was now facing us and fairly fresh, ensuring we were suitably tested on the hilly home strait. Achengree hill proved challenging, providing a stern test of character and weakening the muscles before it's smaller siblings flexed their biceps in the Blair estate, and we arrived again at Dalgarven in dire need of food, liquid and rest - pity we had a serious afternoon's shopping in prospect. Braehead? Bring it on!

New Boots on Ben Lawers

I got up at 4.45am this morning, had a quick porridge and a brew, before heading out onto the extremely foggy road to Killin to climb Ben Lawers. A previous attempt at this hill was a complete washout, with only the summit of Bein Ghlas being reached before beating a hasty retreat, broken but unbowed!

Thankfully, today's weather was cold and crisp - just the way I like it, and as I arrived somewhat early in the car park, I decided just to go for it and see the sun come up on the hill. So, head torch on, I ventured forth on icy tracks out onto the open hillside. I must admit to being a wee bit uptight this
morning, as I was trying out a new pair of boots (Scarpa Manta) for the first time, and they had felt a
touch tight when I tried them on at home. However, my fears soon melted away, as they felt just fine
on the move. I have a couple of other pairs of Scarpas and they are right for my feet, so stands to reason that the Mantas should be okay.

I purchased the Mantas, as I was looking for a winter boot that would take step-in crampons. My Scarpa SLs didn't have the groove above the heel and my Scarpa Vegas were okay on technical routes, but overkill on straightforward walks.

Sunrise across Loch Tay

Early cloud on the summit

So, boots feeling good, body in reasonably good shape, of sound mind and starved of winter action due to crap weather, I breezed up Bein Ghlas in no time at all and barely paused for breath before pressing onward to Ben Lawers. The sun came up in the east, across Loch Tay, which was obscured by cloud from a temperature inversion. Here on the hill, early cloud was lifting, the sun was burning through and all was well with the world. I had the hill all to myself and the only sound to be heard was the Ptarmigan, which due to their winter plumage, I couldn't see. Some spindrift danced magically around the rim of the Corrie below and the cloud that had been clinging to the summit of Lawers scudded away to reveal the mountain in all its winter grandeur - whit a day to be oot and about!

View from the summit, looking north

There are two pillars at the summit of the mountain, atop a raised section - I think the story goes that
they tried to artificially elevate the hill to 4000 foot status - idiots! That aside, Ben Lawers is
officially the 10th highest Scottish mountain and really should need no outside assistance to display its beauty. Additionally, easy access to the hill from a high car park, coupled with NTS status has
meant that a lot of path work has been undertaken, leading to high visitor numbers. And as I began
my descent, I discovered that many others had opted to shake off the Christmas turkey and try out all the new gear that Santa had bestowed upon them. Can't really complain though, the solitude was good while it lasted.

Bright enough for shades!

Finally, lots of tricky wee icy bits on the path, cleverly disguised with a sugar coating of snow, ensured that getting back to car was eventful, as I was too lazy to get the crampons on. All in all, an excellent day and well worth a re-visit outwith monsoon season. Ben Lawers - winter garb suits you better than a raincoat!