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Today was my first time back on the Arrochar Alps in nearly 20 years. The last Munro I attempted back then was Ben Vorlich from Ardlui but bad weather forced my friends and I back – so I had unfinished business. The intervening years have seen too many nights out and not enough exercise. I didn’t want to hold anyone up with my wheezy waddling so I thought I’d try this one solo, I did a couple of hills with a fitter friend at the end of last year and had trouble keeping up (although he politely slowed down) so I thought I’d start early and go at my own, easier pace.
I got to the Inveruglas car park at 9.30 and set off in my bright green fleece, red rucksack and blue hat looking like Timmy Mallett’s wackier brother and set off along the A82 roadside path up to the private road that leads around to Loch Sloy dam.
There were patchy clouds kissing the tops of the mountains, Ben Vane wore a distinguished white mop making it look like Father Ted or maybe Slobodan Milosevic. I passed the power storage wotsit, it was humming merrily, as were all the sheep pellets that were squished underfoot.
The road walk is quite long but nice easy going. I was thinking to myself ‘If this goes all the way to the top I’m laughing’ – Then I came to the cairn marking the start and looked up at the almost vertical slog to the top. The ghost of Frankie Howerd whispered into my ear ‘titter ye not…’
I’d never used a walking pole before but I must say I found it really useful for climbing big steps and vaulting mucky bogs – both of which dominated the hour or so up to the ridge. I started up my ancient mountain mantra from back in my climbing days:
The gold road’s sure a long road
Winds on through the hills for fifteen days
The pack on my back is aching
The straps seem to cut me like a knife
Eventually the vertical climb turns and merges into an easier ridge walk of sorts along to the summit. I had planned to stop for something to eat here but I was so relieved to be off Frodo’s staircase of hell and the clouds had cleared from the hilltops so I soldiered on.
The ridge walk was a joy by comparison. I had hardly encountered anyone on the walk and it was very liberating being alone with my strange little thoughts ( I had told my worried girlfriend that there would be loads of people out on the hills to help me out if things went wrong. She was sceptical ‘Don’t come running to me if you break both your legs etc.).
Eventually the summit rose into view. A couple were lunching by the trig point so I gave them an ‘I’m not a psycho, honest’ wave and smile combo and went over to the true summit for my Marks and Spence feta pasta. Tears may have welled up as I purveyed the amazing views, or it might have been my sweat drenched indie haircut flopping in my eyes, but I had done my first solo climb and, after far too long a gap, finally completed the Arrochar Alps.
The return trip was slower than I thought due again to the steepness and the muck (walking pole a lifesaver again) and finally interacted with some other humans literally as I stepped back onto the dam access road. I felt quite the expert as I conveyed my intimate knowledge of the Vorlichian terrain. Strode manfully back to the car for 2.45
I really enjoyed walking solo but I don’t think I could do it all the time. It’s great for recharging the mental batteries but there’s just something to be said for a shared experience. Like drinking alone – it’s fun enough but don’t go making a habit of it. Plus it’s really hard to take self-timer photos when it’s windy:
Scott