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Another fine April day, another early rise. Off to Inveruglas, feeling not too sore after yesterday's exertions. Arrived spot on 8am to find not one single parking space in the car park and an army of walkers heading along the road. Verge parking then, another day with no parking fees, though I would have paid today if I'd had the option.
Ben Lomond...I think it might be on the list for tomorrow in the rain...
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Al, on Flickr
The first time we did Ben Vorlich was with Alina and Gabir - it was a foul day of heavy downpours and Alina was dressed in some kind of Eastern European cloak/poncho in which she looked like a witch and Gabir had on £15 Lidl walking boots which disintegrated not far into the climb. But today it was just us and the many, many young people that had chosen to do Vorlich or Vane today. A brisk walk along to the stepped path up - after a short distance we passed a girl who was having a panic attack at the altitude she'd reached and had to turn tail and descend with her companion. Really, it was just like walking up stairs to this point, so perhaps mountains aren't going to be her thing. But everyone looked so young - apart from a rather splendid chap with flowing white hair and beard, I was the oldest person I saw all day. Which is a bit of a shock after doing Grahams and Marilyns, where the average bagger's age is...well it isn't young anyway.
After reaching about 550m height we turned off the path to pay a visit to the southern top, a Sim which we'd previously not done. Two blokes behind us said "do you think they realise they're not going the right way?" but they didn't follow on after us...I've clearly lost any mountain gravitas I might previously have had, now I get taken for a dodder who can't even follow a clear path
It was steep going up the grass, with Allison finding her lack of a working left arm/only one walking pole a bt of a trial. But we made it - nice to be away from the noise and hubbub of the main path.
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Al, on Flickr
Vorlich from the south top
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Al, on Flickr
From here we headed back to the path we'd left, cutting out all the steep eroded sections and emerging at around 800m. A gentle walk to the summit then out to the northern Top, where we had a quiet bite to eat. Back past the summit, where we met three lads who asked us if they were at the top, or if they should go out to the 931m top that we were coming back from. I tried to tell them what a Munro Top was, but I don think I made much impression. He asked if it would count as another Munro if her went out to it. When I told him no, he seemed to lose interest. The leader said this was his second Munro, and they'd been following his nephew, whom he introduced as a Ned. He in turn revealed that they'd missed the path up and had come straight up the hillside from the dam. But they'd made it. "Neds are the sherpas of Scotland, they can go anywhere" he proudly announced. And who can argue with that. They also asked how many Munros I'd done, and if I was bagging them...I muttered something about "Third round" but don't think that was understood either. Did get me thinking though about how many I have actually done - must be closing in on 900 now...
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Al, on Flickr
North Top
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Al, on Flickr
We took the standard path down, Allison, who's legs had become somewhat jellified, declining my suggestion that we go and do Ben Vane as well. I didn't think it was wise to push for it, to be honest, as we'd had a biggish (by post-covid standards) day yesterday, but it seemed a shame to be heading back to the car on a lovely sunny afternoon when it wasn't yet 2pm. Passing along the roadside we saw a couple sitting in front of their but-and-ben. I said how lovely the weather was, which the lady agreed, however, her curmudgeonly husband called out "that's all youse" pointing at the line of cars parked along the verge. And I have some sympathy as it must be annoying to have so many cars parked there every sunny weekend through the year - but if there are not sufficient suitable car parking facilities for a popular spot, then that's not really the walkers' fault either.
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Al, on Flickr
