Beinn nan Oighreag: a curate’s egg

[old danensian]

I needed some hill-distance in my legs, nothing serious, just a reminder about the difference between being gym-fit and hill-fit. However, I was reluctant to head into Galloway for my stand-by jaunt of The Merrick. Flicking through the Corbett guide I latched on to Beinn nan Oighreag, lurking between Glen Lochay and Glen Lyon. In fading light last November I’d declined the opportunity to tackle the muddy trudge after doing Meall nam Maigheach (no walk report – one of the few outings where I found it impossible to think of anything to write). It was time to make amends, see what I could see, and be home in time to do some evening gardening.

Wispy clouds clung stubbornly to the tops as I drove through Callander and Killin, but streaks of stratus patterned blue sky above. Optimism reigned as the road twisted its way up Glen Lochay.

A picturesque Glen Lochay

With the car tucked safely off the road, the zig-zagging tarmac track gave easy access to the hillside and the only way was up. Glancing at the map at home, it looked like it would be gradual and pleasant. It suggested a day when nothing too taxing need be tackled.

The wisps dissolved as height was gained, on tarmac at first, then across the open hillside, searching for hints of the path and walls to clamber. Glen Lochay was at its picturesque best. Cloud shadows drifted across slopes, whitewashed cottages speckled the glen, and scattered copses littered the pastures below like dark green cotton wool balls. But walking, not waxing lyrical was the order of the day.

It was a day when tracks and paths appeared and disappeared following a logic of their own. Some are marked by rotting timber, some by crumbling walls and others by girders of rusting iron, all followed while watching brightly-clad figures starting their ascent of neighbouring Meall Ghaordaidh. Posts appeared on the horizon for little or no apparent reason. There might have been some sensible points at which to cross the Allt a Choire Ghlais and the Allt Dhuin Croisg. If I’d looked at the map I’d have noticed a couple of footbridges that might have come in useful had either water course been in spate.

A robust crossing point - with Maoll Ghaoraidh

The first glimpse of Beinn nan Oighreagh frustrated - hiding behind Carn Shionnach

Once across the two streams, the southern shoulder of Beinn nan Oighreag just sat there waiting, a second- or third-gear slope that simply asked for rhythm, in-through-the-nose-out-through-the-mouth breathing, and the occasional excuse masquerading as a photo-opportunity.

But, just as the line of fence posts heading to the top were met, the welcoming committee arrived. The cloud base gently lowered, sufficient to block all but the occasional glimpse of the glen below as I stayed for a frustrating hour or so, ever hopeful, on the top.

Beinn nan Oighreagh from Carn Shionnach as the atmosphere gets gloomier

I came up: the cloud came down - Beinn nan Oighreagh's pile of summit stones

Waiting hopefully ....

Lunch eaten, legs and lungs rested, and the possibility of skipping across to the Munro of Meal Ghaordaidh consigned to “another time,” I followed the glibbest of guidebook directions: “follow the fenceposts during a very steep descent.” It’s at times like this you marvel at the ingenuity and determination of those undertaking these boundary-making tasks. Fortunately, it wasn’t wet.

At the Lairig Luaidhe visibility returned and, while wandering along the Allt na h Iolaire, I enjoyed one of the most pleasant walk-out descents I’ve ever experienced.

As the weather clears - descending alongside the Allt na h Iolaire

I paused, sat, scribbled in my notebook, taking in what caught my senses: floral colours; watery noises; the soft tread of the barely discernible path in flattened grass; the spoor and smell of a recently departed beast; the breeze mercifully keeping the clegs and midges at bay. But that was me trying to wax lyrical again rather than getting back to weed a herbaceous bed, mow the lawn and water the fledgling cucumbers in the greenhouse.

Sod's Law - Meall Ghaoraidh and the surrounding tops open up

Joining the path descending from Meall Ghoardaih, the track turned into a motorway slicing between banks of bracken. At least there’s no danger of falling prey to a host of ticks, or so I hoped. And in no time, I was where those heading up the Munro normally park. Which is, of course, a good (or bad) couple of kilometres from where I’d started the day.

Cutting through the bracken to end the day

I don’t normally favour a tarmac trudge at the end of the day, and while this was no exception, it proved to be a forty-minute saunter in the sun to get back to the car. The road surface might have been unforgiving, but at least the surroundings were relaxing as was the chance to watch unrecognisable birds flitting around. It was time to think about the day gone by, its good bits, its frustrating bits, its disappointing bits and its inspiring bits. Truly, a curate’s egg of a walk.

And the lawn now displays some impressive stripes.

[audreywaugh]

Myself and a friend did this hill last year and it was one of the most enjoyable we have done, it had a bit of everything, sure I counted around 7 of these plank bridges