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Back in October, discretion was the better part of valour as I avoided the dangers of stalking that were plastered all over the gate at the entrance to the upper reaches of Glen Kinglas. Fortunately there were plenty of other options to pursue that day.
With no other outings to the hills since, I was grateful that this group of Corbetts in Arrochar lies within an easy drive and epitomise the essence of a quick day - provided you steal a march on the early morning rush-hour traffic through Glasgow.
The snows of winter had begun to settle. The itch of hill-withdrawal symptoms was being scratched: Goat Fell displayed itself in plastered glory every time I left the village. So, it was time to head north, cross the Rest And Be Thankful and head back to the elongated ridge of Stob Coire Creagach and Binnein an Fhidleir.
It was likely to be my last outing of the year.
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- A frosty Kinglass Water
A silent monochrome world greeted me at Butterbridge. The thin early morning mist hung in the valley but, having already glimpsed the sun-kissed summit of Ben Lomond from Tarbet, I knew this would soon be left below.
Having left the road behind, the only noises were harsh and discordant in the still air. My footsteps crunched along the track into Glen Kinglas and the occasional stone rattled as a startled deer leapt across the ditch. As I watched brittle sheets of ice extend from rocks in the bed of the stream, and crack as gravity took control of their fragile edges, I was reminded of the Nan Shepherd quote that adorns an RBS £5 note:
‘
But the struggle between frost and the force in running water is not quickly over. The battle fluctuates, and at the point of fluctuation between the motion in water and the immobility of frost, strange and beautiful forms are evolved.’
What a wordsmith and observer.
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- Beinn an Lochain peeps from the mist
I was shunning the recommended direct approach to the summit in favour of a longer, gentler approach. There was little point in getting hot, bothered and exhausted when there was plenty of time. I aimed to wander up the glen and let the ridge come down to me. When a suitably straightforward passage through the crags offered itself, I’d wend my way upwards. It was going to be easier clambering up three hundred metres than slogging up twice that height.
And so it proved.
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- Ben Donich and Beinn an Lochain from slopes of Coire Creagach
It was too early in the winter, and most probably too far south, for the snow to be in any kind of condition, but at least the ground beneath was firming up nicely. Whether there was a defined path was neither here nor there. Kicking into semi-frozen grass and the occasional patch of firmer snow made for relatively easy progress, and by the time the view north burst into view I felt puffed but not knackered.
The ridge ahead looked just as I’d hoped as it stretched away to the south-west and west: gently rising, enticing and with expansive views to all sides.
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- Stob Coire Creagach stretches ahead
With the sun out it was irresistible and the kind of walk you hoped would fill the rest of the remaining daylight. However, when clouds drifted over, it felt bleak and the twists and undulations suggested it might not be a straightforward walk if and when the weather closed in. But, my objective remained clearly in sight and I strode on ... and on ... and on.
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- Beinn Ime, The Cobbler, Beinn Luibhean and Loch Restil from Stob Coire Creagach
What I hadn’t realised was how long the ridge was. Ninety minutes later I stood by the cairn and trig point on Binnein an Fhidhleir. OK, I wasn’t hurrying, but the number of false tops to the Corbett seemed excessive, and that last stretch to the very end was reminding me that there’s a big difference between being gym-fit and hill-fit.
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- Beinn an Fhidhleir from Stob Coire Creagach
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- North west from the summit cairn of Beinn an Fhidhleir
After resting on the top for half an hour to soak up the views and have some lunch, I reluctantly started to head back towards the Corbett summit of Stob Coire Creagach and the direct descent to the road. It was barely 2.30pm but the valley was already deep in shade and was unlikely to see any sun again until late the next morning. Getting back to the car as the sky darkened would be perfect, topped only by hands being wrapped round a warm mug at the tea-van on the Rest And Be Thankful.
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- Only one way down - slowly and gingerly to the A83
Again grateful for the frost setting into the boggy patches on the descent, I gingerly made my way down. Evidence of lengthy bum-slides from the day before forewarned me of some of the more treacherous slopes, and having seen the rocks where some of them ran-out to, I was glad I didn’t succumb to temptation.
The thermometer in the car still registered well below freezing when I got back to Butterbridge and, with the breeze on top adding its own chill, I doubt it had ever been much warmer during the whole day.
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- Beinn Chorranach from Glen Kinglas - and the remains of a chilly day
I left looking forward to some more short winter visits to this part of Arrochar. I’d re-kindled the fire after a lengthy lay-off, stretched the legs and successfully tried out some new mitts acquired during the autumn. I didn’t have to unfold myself painfully from the car when I got home, and I even blitzed a spin class the following morning with no aftereffects.
So it’s off to the sub-tropical surroundings of Hampshire for Christmas and, following the example of one granddaughter who once promised herself more Greggs’ steak-bakes, wondering what New Year Resolution I’ll come up with.
