Confessions of a newbie hilllwalker

[ActiveLouise]

The car park is filling up as I arrive at 8am. I swing round, eagerly looking for a spot to dump my dusty Peugeot. I gaze furiously at those large vehicles dumped over two bays and those abandoned at unhelpful angles.  My heart quickens a little – having woken at 6am to be here the thought of missing out on a day’s adventure makes me nervous. The frustrations subside, though, when I spot a little patch of ground to park up on. Phew. The first challenge of the day is complete.

Today my target is Ben Vorlich as I work on ticking off many of the big peaks around Loch Lomond. After the initial panic surrounding the shortage of car parking spaces, I soon settle into a calm and steady rhythm. “Is this the way to Ben Vorlich?” someone asks, as I take a left out of the car park. He has an Ordnance Survey Map in his right hand, and a compass in the left. “Just follow the crowd.” I reply hesitantly.

The weather is surprisingly poor as I turn away from the main road and into the hills. A cloud of rain sits atop my very target, but I push on regardless. I haven’t yet gained any significant navigating skills so I rely on a Walk Highlands web page and a map on my phone to get my bearings. As the rain begins to dribble into what will be a steady stream throughout the morning, I slip the phone away and quicken the pace.        

The climb is a clear path but it is steeper than I had imagined and I sweat under my claustrophobic waterproof. To get wet and cool, or dry and hot, is the eternal dilemma of a summer hiker. On the path to the top, I fling off the garment on several occasions, only to replace it again moments later. The wind picks up near the peak, though, and finally I opt to keep it on. It really is quite chilly.

My quick pace means that I have successfully managed to abandon the crowds setting off together at the bottom. In fact, as I approach the summit, only a few groups plod up the unrelenting slope. I pass friendly greetings and words of encouragement and receive the same in return. It is exactly this sense of camaraderie that I have come to love most about hillwalking alone. It truly never feels like a solo adventure.

As I stumble up to the top I am hit by a wall of wind and rain. The views, which are supposed to look lusciously over Loch Lomond, are nowhere to be seen. Instead, I stand in the centre of the cloud that I had earlier watched from a distance. Still, I grin excitedly as I take selfies and pose for the stranger who has agreed to take my picture. Today the weather cannot dampen my joy of this accomplishment.

I linger at the top for mere minutes, before setting off back down the slope to warmer, and hopefully drier, weather. As I go, I chat happily with the stranger who recently took my photograph. We find a sheltered spot under a large bolder and he brings out some coffee, whilst I nibble on a tasteless cereal bar. “So, are you going to do Ben Vorlich after this?” he asks, and my stomach does a quick summersault. My reply is mumbled and confused, as I try to work out what he means. Isn’t this Ben Vorlich, I wonder?

A quick search of my current position shows that I am not, in fact, on Ben Vorlich. Instead I stand on Ben Vane, it's very near neighbor. I consider my mistake with every footstep I take downwards and it soon becomes obvious what I have done.

When setting off from the car park I had instinctively followed the crowd. However, unlike at a large-scale event, trailing a steady mass of people here would not take me to my destination. Today, it seems, the majority of people had different hillwalking plans to me.

On the way down, I contemplate whether or not to tell my family of my mistake. For my Mum it will deepen the anxieties she already holds around my solo hikes. For my brothers, it will be like handing over ammunition for a joke at my expense. In the end I tell them, of course, but not before I have signed up for a Hillwalking Navigation Course with Mountaineering Scotland. I know I was lucky this time. I do not want to be so foolish again.

The view clears as I near the bottom and I am finally able to witness the elongated strip of still blue water that is Loch Lomond. I sit for a while, appreciative of my surroundings and my experience, before the noise of a boom box disrupts my solitude and peace. A group of lads is on the approach for everyone to hear, it would seem, and so I decide to call it a day. I finish the last of my descent and avoid catching the eyes of those at the source of the offending noise. Inwards, though, I have a precise and practised speech on respectable behaviour outdoors. I will perform it another time, perhaps.

With the walk over I grab a coffee in the car park which is still busy with today’s adventurers. I send off some pictures to the family Whatsapp group and publish highlights on Instagram. It is not long before my Mum has replied. “I thought you were doing Ben Vorlich?” she says. “Change of plan!” I reply sheepishly.