Can You Keep a Secret?

[Cloudscraper]

Secrets should never be divulged, they say. But on the other hand, “a secret is something you tell someone else”… now this is not the place to get into philosophical debate (plenty of time for that in the mountains), so without further ado, I’ll lower my voice and whisper that Ben More and Stob Binnein should NOT be climbed by the traditional route.
For many years, like nearly everybody else, I’d been climbing this brute of a Ben and its more shapely neighbour by the infamous direct route, straight up the north face from a starting point on the A85 near Benmore Farm. Akin to climbing a ladder for several thousand feet, the only thing that can be said in favour of this joyless ascent is that it gets you there quickly. Having endured this torture several times, summer and winter - including one gale-blasted November day when I ended up huddled with three other climbers and my dog in a summit snow hole, at minus 18 degrees C, I finally decided this time - in much warmer, sunnier conditions, to cast a fresh eye over the map.
There’s a strong human tendency to follow in the footsteps of others; that’s why we love paths. And the Ben More path is certainly a beaut. For lengthy sections it has been efficiently paved, with flattish boulders, and while this makes the going slightly easier, you’ll never escape that brutal sensation of hauling yourself up a ladder; and you’ll probably be in so much pain that you won’t even notice the breathtaking panorama unfolding behind you.
No, there had to be another way… so throwing caution to the wind, I reversed myself along the traditional “off” route, heading up the shepherd’s track along the floor of Benmore Glen. My OS map showed this running for around 2km before petering out, far below the summit of Ben More; and that’s where things got interesting. My plan was to continue southwards towards the head of the valley, keeping close to the stream and bypassing the Bealach-eadar-dha Beinn on my left (where the off-route heads up towards the ridge), then ascend via the far (south) side of Stob Binnein, but I quickly found myself trudging ever deeper into a vast bog. Snow melt was pouring off the hill, swelling tributaries and replenishing the quagmire; but trending south-east and beginning to climb on open, pathless mountainside, a delightful grassy moss made the going much easier.
Then heading for the rocky escarpment which forms the south-west face of Stob Binnein, the slope steepened considerably. Without the ease of a path to guide me, it was pot luck, using the map and visual judgement to pick a route through the shattered faces. You need to be careful with navigation here, which involves a gradual rising left turn through around 45 degrees; no problem at all in sunny, clear conditions, but in cloud finding the ridge, which joins Stob Coire an Lochain to Stob Binnein, could be problematic. It’s a steep haul, even more brutal in places than the steepest parts of Ben More, but mercifully shorter.
And there it was - the beautiful, grassy ridge I’d been looking for. From the plateau of Stob Coire an Lochain it swept up gracefully to gnarled rocky summit of Stob Binnein. As I hauled myself up, memories of that boggy, pathless terrain vanished. It had been worth it. Closer to freezing point now - ribbons of snow still clung on here and there, and with not a cloud in the sky, the clarity was astounding. Ben Nevis, the Glencoe mountains and Ben Cruachan dotted the horizon, while nearby the clutter of summits around Balquhidder and Loch Lomond sparkled in the sunshine.
From Stob Binnein it was a glorious descent to the bealach; and back on the regular route now, I encountered numerous other climbers - a Spanish man, half jogging half walking, who seemed delighted by it all; a visitor from Devon, on only his second visit to Scotland; and my first Munro-bagging punk, sporting six-inch blond hair spikes and nose rings, all of them wonderful people equally in awe of the landscape.
Then rising up the south face of Ben More - my first time in this direction, the climb felt entirely new, as did the descent on the far side, perhaps the most spectacular part of the entire day, as that amazing panorama, always behind you on the “normal” route up the mountain, lay before me every step of the way down.
So hands down probably a much better way to climb both mountains. Distance-wise, there’s not much to compare - the reverse route is only around half a kilometre longer than the traditional route, and the overall ascent is pretty much the same.
Certainly an interesting insight into climbing psychology; those paths always look so tempting! Sometimes, it seems, it’s better to go your own way, and make your own path; and sometimes, you’ll be rewarded in spades.