Replacement Bus Service to Beinn Dòrain

[Phil Hinde]

A long, long time ago I trekked up Beinn Dòrain with a regular walking pal. The rain held off but the cloud didn’t, and we saw sweet nothing from about 2500 feet and upwards. I’m not even sure we actually found the true top. Coming back down to the pass we got disoriented – when we dropped out of the mist we were at 90 degrees to where we thought we were headed. We got a glimpse of Loch Lyon from Beinn an Dòthaidh but not much more. On the descent I slipped and cut my leg – the only time to date that the hill-walking first aid kit has been really called upon. Not a great outing!

So, having got past my initial target of 100 Munros, I decided to revisit a few that had been poor first time round, to see if I could do better at a second attempt. Top of the repeat list was Beinn Dòrain.

I worked out that, while flat sitting for my son in Edinburgh, a day trip was possible if I could dodge heat waves, train strikes and threats of hilltop murk. Full of hope I took a very early train across to Glasgow, relying (successfully) for a breakfast bacon roll from Greggs in George Square. But back at Queen Street station, what was this? The morning West Highland train was only going to Oban – Fort William passengers were invited to ‘enquire for assistance’. I duly enquired and learned that the line was blocked – I suspect, as sometimes happens, that a piece of the West Highlands had rolled down the mountainside and onto the railway. But the lady said buses were being laid on, and the line should be clear for my return later. So let’s go for it – with a Plan B in my mental back pocket of doing some Corbetting around Tyndrum, if things all looked too difficult.

But credit to Scotrail; when we got to Crianlarich buses were indeed visible, a couple of luxury coaches for touristy types headed for the Great Glen and a minibus for a handful just wanting Bridge of Orchy. We were four, myself, a couple of cyclists (slight delay while bikes were dismantled to fit on the bus), and a burly and bearded New Yorker needing to resume his West Highland Way-faring from the point he’d reached previously.

The bus dropped me conveniently at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel, useful as I wanted to check an important part of my plan – availability of beer and food when I came down off the hill before the evening train back to Glasgow. Then off up the path, encouraged by the fact that the tops were clear – but with enough cloud and breeze to reduce risk of sunburn or heat stroke. A few hearty folk were already coming down, the sort for whom a pair of thousand metre peaks were just a morning stroll. Good progress was made nevertheless, overtaking an Italian family who seemed to be finding that despite our modest altitudes, Scottish hills were still a bit of a challenge. At the bealach, Dorain was the prime objective. There was still about 300 metres of height to be won and I started to flag a bit. I got side-tracked onto what is really just a sheep trod along the west side below the ridge. But I could at least see that trains were now running on the railway far below. And the rather airy ‘path’ did eventually loop round and up to the summit – definitely the real one this time. Visibility was superb – all of the central and south western highlands laid out before me, from the Paps of Jura to Ben Lawers, and across to Ben Nevis. Time for a sandwich, some Irn Bru (my favoured hilltop tipple) and a doze in the heather.

But would I have time to include Ben an Dothaidh? Decision point was to be the time at which I reached the bealach between the peaks – which is actually over a mile back along and down the ridge. Happily I was ten minutes inside my planned time so on I strode; even in this dry summer there were some damp and peaty bits to negotiate. Dòthaidh offers a choice of summits, but I think the views from each are even better than from Dòrain, especially NW across Rannoch Moor. I could even pick out Sgùrr Innse, the craggy Corbett that pops up so dramatically above the Lairig Leacach if you walk through from Corrour to Roy Bridge. It was actually quite sunny by now, but predicted raincloud was gathering to the south: time to head down. A brief detour to the western top as recommended by the Walk Highlands route guide, to enjoy the view down to Loch Tulla, and then down the stony, shaley path. A short chat with an energetic pair of walkers led to agreement that while puffing uphill was hard, going down could become a different sort of hard, especially when the hotel and the train station were now in clear view but didn’t seem to be getting any closer!.

But I eventually staggered through the door of the hotel as the first raindrops fell, for my haggis, neeps and tatties and a pint of a most re-invigorating dark ale. By the time I ambled back up to the station for a mercifully punctual train back south, the West Highland Summer Experience (midges and drizzle) was in full swing, but overall it had been a fantastic, five stars on Trip Advisor, day out!