Close Encounter on Beinn Bhuidhe

[ChrisLP]

It was the 1st October 2021 and we were coming to an end of a weeks Scottish holiday. Myself and 2 friends had rented a cottage in Arrochar and for a week we did the things we like doing and not the things work likes us to do. Walking, of course, visiting a distillery (Glengoyne since you ask) and eating, drinking and catching up with each others news in this new Covid effected world we live in.
Walking wise we had been up Ben Vorlich (the Lomond one) in deteriorating weather. Beinn Narnain and Beinn Ime (plus the inimitable Cobbler) in improving weather. Then Ben Cruachan and Stob Daimh in weather that started well, deteriorated sharply in the middle then finished well. It was a new area to us and we had loved the walks, and were quietly satisfied that we had nudged our Munro total up a bit whilst having a lot of fun doing so.
Friday the 1st had a bit of a mixed forecast and it was home time the next day so we spent the morning pootling out to the Falls of Falloch and scratching the itch of the camera buffs amongst us. Once the falls had been thoroughly documented from all conceivable, and some fairly inconceivable, angles we drove up to Crainlarich for a short walk. Looking up at the towering presence of Ben More which had a clear top non of us could help but notice that the weather was considerably better than had been forecast. So we returned to Arrochar and had a quick lunch and a conflab about what to do in the afternoon. I quite fancied at least an attempt on Beinn Bhuidhe utilising a bike hike via the new hydro track that continues beyond the track marked on the os map (as walk reports on WalkHighlands had alerted me to). The other two decided that photography and a local walk was more appealing.
So we parted ways and I tethered the bike to the car and set off for Loch Fyne. The landslip traffic lights going through the ‘Rest and be Thankful’ were inevitably against me but that didn’t delay me too much and I arrived in pretty good time about 30 mins or so after setting out from Arrochar. I think there is a new walkers car park at Loch Fyne now. I say ‘I think’ because being on my own and therefore both driver and navigator I had memorised where the os map said the car park was. When turning though there was an old looking sign for a Car Park, a sign for Achadunan Brewery and I’m pretty sure a sign for a new walkers car park too all vying for attention. On this occasion I stuck with my memory as to where the os showed the car park to be, reasoning I could always turn round if the parking was closed. I can’t pretend I wasn’t distracted by the brewery sign either. As it happened the ‘old’ car park was open even if the untarmacked surface was a bit soft. After parking I kitted up got my bike off the rack and peddled off.

Screenshot of route

I took the track up the west side of the burn afraid that if I went the other way the brewery might be as far as I got. Best to avoid that sort of temptation early doors if possible. After a fairly industrial start through a gravel pit with various bits of heavy machinery noisily working in the distance I came to a left turn up a grassy landrover track. Soon enough you are into a forested area which is gated at both ends as the track climbs ever upwards. This continues for some distance past a couple of reservoirs (the map shows only one reservoir but I’m pretty sure there were two- well either that or I was hallucinating already) along a track which is never quite too steep to ride but never flat enough to be comfortable riding. There is even a short downhill section if memory serves just after the reservoirs. Navigation isn’t much of an issue it is more a case of making sure you don’t turn off the track.

View from just beyond the Forestry section back down towards Loch Fyne

About a Kilometre on from the reservoirs you will come to a locked gate. Having done it I don’t think it is actually worth taking your bike beyond the gate. However, I didn’t know that and duly lifted my bike over. Around the next left the track steepens considerably, so much so, that I would say that if you are able to peddle your bike up that section you should definitely be in the Olympics for something. Sadly my Olympic dreams are long behind me and after puffing up the first 20 metres or so I gave in and walked the bike up the rest. Once at the top of the steep section it is only a couple of hundred metres on till the footpath intersects the track around about the 600 meter contour I would guess. Once there I changed into boots, locked up the bike and carried on up the path.

View from where the track and path intersect. Taken on the way down but it gives you an idea.

The path climbs onto what is a small plateau across which the whale like summit ridge of Beinn Bhuidhe rises. It’s inevitably a bit boggy across this section so stepping lightly the path makes its way across the plain towards a gully which ascends to the east of the summit to the main ridge. The gully is hard work, probably the route started as a path following the course of a burn, but over the years path has attracted water and people have made their way around the water so that you have, eventually, a kind of Schrodinger’s path sort of situation where you aren’t quite sure where the path starts and the burn ends and vice versa. Being steep it is some effort but happily you reach the ridge quickly and probably with some relief. From there it is a simple case of a left turn towards the summit and follow the obvious path along the ridge line.
I did, fleetingly, think I was going to get a clear top as the sun made an appearance through the mist whipping over the ridge I snapped a quick photo (coincidentally from what looks like almost the exact place as the Bhuidhe illustration photo on walkhighlands) and hurried on, but, alas it was not to be and the mist was firmly in control by the time I got to the top.

Approach to Summit. Hopes raised that I might just get a clear top.

Even in the swirling wind driven mist however this is an impressive place. The shattered trig point (to the extent that there are only what were presumably 4 metal anchor points left) give the impression that there is not a lot to stop the force of westerly storms before the prow of Beinn Bhuidhe catches the full force of them. I hung about 5 minutes or so hoping for a lucky break in the clouds but aware that with sunset somewhere around 6.30 and me setting off at around 2.30 I didn’t have an awful lot of time to play with. A brisk cold westerly wind and essentially shelter less summit didn’t encourage lingering either. So after crouching behind some rocks and having a bar with rapidly numbing fingers I quickly donned my gloves again and gave up the waiting game sadly without the summit clearing. That is the luck of munroing though. I think I read quite recently that one very determined munroist was on his 10th round before he could say that he had had a clear summit on all 282 Munros. I hope he will excuse me if I hope he had worse than average luck.

Sadly not. This was my summit view.

The route down was back the same way and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the burn gully descent. As with most things though once I buckled down to it and concentrated on my footing it went pretty well and in pretty short measure I was making my way back over the boggy plateau to intersect with the hydro track where I had left my bike. Footware changed and helmet affixed I set off back down the track on two wheels. What was a steep uphill was now a steep downhill of course, but aware that now was definitely not the time for an accident, and, given I was almost certainly going to be the last person off the hill this way, I liberally applied brakes and slowly zig zagged down this section. Once that was done I lifted the bike back over the locked gate and continued the descent.

I think this is Vorlich, Vane and Ime lined up over the intervening ridge but I might be wrong.

Say what you like about bikes but the capacity to get down a hill quickly is unmatched. I was tempted a little by the alternative track off to the left that descended more directly into Glen Fyne but there is an advantage in knowing the ground so I stuck with my original route past the reservoirs etcetera. In pretty short order I was at the gated wooded section and it was here my close encounter took place.
I got my bike through the gate and closed it behind me with a clang. Then got back on the bike and started gathering speed. Fairly quickly it became obvious that something noisy was happening to my right. It takes something quite loud to attract your attention once you get going on a bike as there is competition from the tyres crunching over the ground and the wind whistling past your ears but it was increasingly clear that there were various crashing noises coming from the forest on my right. At first I thought a tree was coming down so I tentatively started braking unsure whether I was going to need to speed up or slow down to avoid something. At that point a large stag burst from the forest on my right and ran down the small bank and across the track. My tentative braking became very serious braking and though it felt very close he probably crossed the track 5 metres or so in front of me. I caught a flash of ragged velveted antlers, a wild eye and a broad muscular flank as he passed, then he was away following a break in the trees towards Merk Burn at considerable speed. I was so involved in this drama that I quite forgot to glance back right, where, if my stag had had a friend with him I might have been collected and be off on a trip to Merk Burn myself. Happily for me he was alone so I braked to a stop and watched his off white rump disappear into the gathering gloom.
I’ve since read that Stags can reach 200 Kg in weight so though it would have been quite a collision he would undoubtedly have won. As I watched him go I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, partly with exhilaration and partly with relief at the near miss. There’s always an adventure to be had on the hills.
I pondered for a moment how the phone call with work come Monday might have gone had matters turned out differently. ‘No not injured on a stag do…injured by an actual stag’ smiled, thanked whichever lucky star was looking after me and rolled on towards Loch Fyne and my parked car.