by Norman_Grieve » Tue Oct 01, 2013 11:42 am
Having remarkably managed tae get Norma the 3 mile doon to the rail station by bike in plenty o' time for the 8.21am tae Achnasheen, despite the dodgy date, ah were just startin' to believe the superstitions were a load o' auld baloney... Then c.8am, ah couldnae help but noticing that the trains on the arrivals board comin' doon the line tae Airberdin were gettin' cancelled wan after t' other, which ah didnae think boded well for oor departure gang in t' opposite direction...
Sure 'nuf wi just minutes tae go oor choo choo was aussi cancelled, so a quick change o' plan was called for as I hotfoot back tae the ticket office tae get ma auld foggies el cheapo ticket changed tae a hastily inspired Plan B, o' Cruach Tairbert, despite the forecast for the SW being zehr dreich. Wance aboard oor 2nd choice train I attempted tae get engrossed in 50 Shades, which I only finally managed tae plough through twa weeks later on a rearranged Bidein Clann Raonaild take twa trip. By this time I'd come tae the independant conclusion that it could be safely dismissed as Momma Porn, agreeing with SK's analysis that it left wan wi nae compunction to progress tae 50 Shades Darker.
We arrived in Glasgie 2 1/2hr later having left the morning sunshine behind, as we killed time by nipping doon through the rain tae the Off Licence for booze & fags. Back at Queen St. I was tempted tae tether oor twa steel hosses ootside the entrance, seeing little need for them given the hill rises directly above Tarbert station. I was soon wishing I'd listened tae ma inner voice o' reason, as whilst Norma sailed through the barriers wi her wee steel pony, my big beast attracted the attention o' Queen St's ain Ms Whiplash, who cried out in alarm, halting moi in ma tracks. "Hiv ye got a bookin'?", says she, tae which I sheepishly admitted ah hadnae. She then got on her radio as she coralled moi & mein animal behind the barriers, whilst she waited for a definitive answer as to whether there was space aboard for ma steel hoss.
I was amazed by the crowds o' folk heading for the Oban train, although I'd heard the Lib Dem conference was starting that weekend, thinking that they were mebbe all heading for a pre-conf highland fling. With minutes tae spare the Iron Lady finally got the OK and she reluctantly let moi through tae join Norma & we headed doon the surprisingly lang row o' carriages. Wance aboard we found a vertical set o' empty tethering posts, many blocked by large suitcases, strapped our mounts securely in place, thence found ourselves seats in the crowded carriages. It wasnae lang afore we were on oor way under leaden skies, still producing bursts o' rain.
As we left Glasgie behind it still wasnae lookin' promising as even the wee Kilpatrick Hills were shrouded in mist, as conquered 7 months earlier last winter. Further doon the water the 1st glimmers o' brightness shone through beyond Helensburgh, my next conquest o' last February, Ben Bowie, rising up clear tae oor right. Past the naval dockyards o' Faslane and we soon spotted the distinctive outline o' the Cobbler also clear in the distance, the phrase 'Deil looks after his ain' wance mair springing tae mind on this improving Black Friday...
We extracted oor mounts fae their tethering posts well afore Arrochar, where we alighted at 1.45pm to inspect the timetable tae establish hoo lang we'd got tae climb the wee hill... The good news was that we had plenty o' time afore the train back tae Glasgie - the bad news was that it was nae 'til 8.06pm, which meant we'd only just make the last choo choo back up fae Glasgie tae Airberdin, which I need tae make as I was working the following day... Thus we made oor leisurely way doon the steps & turned right under the railway, tethering oor steeds wance mair, to the remains of a fence just a few yards up the well worn path. Somehow we managed tae miss the large noticeboard which featured in TRs by all 3 SHillers who'd bin this way afore, including the ubiquitous Foggie, on his lone ascent in the snow & mist, after a tres lang gas guzzling tour. We soon reached a junction where a wooden signpost indicated that left led doon tae Arrochar, whilst right promisingly pointed the way as Cruach Tairbeirt circular walk. Hoping that this actually took in the summit, we headed right through the woods, the path soon steepening up at a sharp left bend, where a lower smaller path rejoined after running alang above a wall. As we didnae see any of the striking wooden sculptures photographed by the 1st intrepid SHill pioneer [Trekpete], to post a TR on this wee bimble trois years back, wan may speculate that this was the divergence point of oor ways...?
Anyway the still sizeable gravelly path led steeply up the true right bank of a wee stream, the bonnie waters o' Loch Lomond soon being glimpsed twixt the branches, with the lower slopes of Ben Lomond towering above. I reflected that it was noo 32 years since I'd climbed this fine peak, with ma ex-mother-in-law, when she had been the same great age that I had noo attained. After grinding up a couple o' hunnerd feet o' relentless slog, Norma was soon cursing as we lost a few feet o' precious height, the path dropping doon tae cross the stream on the right, where we passed a couple coming back doon with a couple o' labs.
After a few hunnerd yards o' level going the path reached a fine wooden bench seat, where it narrowed, the pyramidal peak of Ben Lomond rising above the trees, mist curing around it's steep & rocky north face. There were mair curses fae Norma as the path led onward doon through the bracken, Ben Reoch at the northern end of the Luss Hills, also putting in a brief appearance above the trees. Although the path began to rise gently wance mair, I was rather relieved to see a smaller, grassy wee path slanting up more steeply to the left, up a forest ride. Concerned that the main path may just be a 'circular walk', this not including the desired summit, I led the way up this wee left fork.
This soon gave Norma yet mair reason to resume her cursing, as the wee 'path', became boggier, the odd fallen tree also rather impeding progress. I tried patronising her, congratulating her on well with each of these obstacles... considering her wee legs... with limited success. After mair soft & boggy going, with the odd further fallen tree to add interest, I was encouraged to find that the path firmed up & became mair defined beyond a wee stream crossing. There may have been another wee path coming up beside the stream at this point - perhaps the continuation of Trekpete's sculptured way?
Any idea that I may have had that Norma may have been placated by the much improved surface was soon dispelled, as unfortunately the gradient had risen considerably wance mair. Fortunately this relented rather sooner than the earlier steep ascent beside the 1st stream & the views started to open up right doon Loch Lomond and across to the Ben, as the wee path finally emerged fae the trees. I ambled on up the grassier, wetter wee path, which levelled out and curled round to the right, following the lower northern wee tributary of the wee burnie. The 'path' crossed the burn and began to climb more steeply passing below a few isolated larches and up through deep fronds of bracken.
Norma had by now fallen well behind, hidden by the wee copse of trees and in addition to her shouts, there seemed to be a babble of rather more distant voices. I gathered fae Norma's calls that she had lost the 'path' so took a few snaps to pass the time, whilst she hopefully refound it and began to catch up. Looking back over to the left, facing downhill, I could see Isle I Vow in the narrower northern end, towards the head of Loch Lomond, with the large whitewashed edifice of Inversnaid Hotel on it's eastern shore well down to it's right. It was much brighter in that direction and I reckoned that I could mebbe see distant Beinn Dorain peeking over the eastern spur of Ben Vorlich, on which I chanced a tadpole infested zoomed shot.
By dint of shouting back at Norma, she eventually reappeared, her mood having darkened perceptably, which only prompted moi tae keep a safe distance by continuing on up a few zig-zags in the wee path through the bracken. I also took the opportunity to feast on a few Bilberries which were still in season, nae doubt resulting in a severe case of purple lips & tongue. The bracken soon gave way to patches of long coarse grass & clumps of heather, as Norma drew rather too close for comfort. She seemed unimpressed with mein assurances that we were 'nearly there', professing to hae heard such premature pronouncements on many a previous occasion.
Her doubts were compounded when I cheerily disappeared up the steepening summit nose, remarking that the chosen way onward was clearly a stream gully, rather than the obvious continuation of the 'path', as I had claimed it to so be. I paused for a breather at the steepest point, whilst Norma gathered her energies for a final push way below. She soon seemed to be making such a good fist of the stream gully / path, that I felt it was opportune to advance, the angle soon laying back. I carried on up to what I felt sure was the final steepening before halting for another wee photostop, a large cruiser passing directly below the summit cone of Ben Lomond straight across the loch of the same name.
A high pointy peak had also now come into view in the distance behind the Inversnaid Hotel, which I reckoned might be Stobiniain. After a few minutes, still with nae sign o' Norma, I reluctantly went back doon tae the top of the steep 'stream gully', on which Norma didnae seem to have advanced markedly and was noo peering intae the heather. She later teld moi that she'd found a hairy caterpillar, which held her fascination for some time, before she slowly carried on up said 'gully'. I thus retraced mein steps to ma previous highpoint, from which it was but a stonesthrow tae the heatherclad summit area, sporting a white OS column o'er it's far side.
The highly distinctive silhouette of the South, Central & Northern Peak pinnacles of the Cobbler sprang starkly into view as I breasted the final heathery rise, then left the wee path to the right to check the height of the 1st of several wee knolls with ma GPS thingy. I thought I'd while awa the time 'til Norma made an appearance by establishing the highest point, which Foggie had apparently been teld was some rock 7m N o' the trig pt... I also took a few snaps o' the magnificent surroundings, the view NNW o'er tae Loch Sloy between Ben Vane & Ben Vorlich catching the eye in the sunshine.
Norma appeared surprisingly quickly & I took another pic looking doon Loch Long, pools of sunlight illuminating it's sparkling waters, twixt the dark towering shadows o' Tullich Hill to it's left & The Brack on the right. It was noo 4pm having taken a leisurely 2hr for the ascent and we were in nae rush with 4hr tae kill 'til the last train. After a circumnavigation o' all the wee competing tops we started doon the rather wet, grassy wee path heading south, directly back doon towards the station. This ran doon a shallow dip, splitting twa rocky wee ridges and after a wee steeper section I caught a wee frog, enjoying the wet conditions after the previous day's rain.
It was also spoilt for swimming pools, as Trekpete had noted on his pioneering TR, having tested oot the fathomless depths o' the dark waters in the pathside flooded holes. We hadnae dropped doon much further when the excited cries o' Norma indicated that she'd found the wee critter's cousin, to which she gave chase, soon trapping it in her wee haunds. Nae far ahead we reached the crux o' the route, where the path traversed left across the lip of a dirty rock face, which looked like it had only recently been exposed by the peaty ground having fallen awa. This led doon through deep heather below a higher craggy nose up tae the left, which would nae doubt have all proved a fairly taxing struggle for the likes o' foggie on their snowy ascents o' yesteryear.
By now there were even blue skies above Ben Lomond, which wance mair made a noble sight, moated by it's large loch o' it's namesake. The wee trail no crossed a wee shoulder then dropped doon through the bracken, heading towards the right side of a wee clearing at the top edge of the woods. We were soon plunging doon intae the dark interior under the trees, where conditions became much firmer underfoot, on the needle scattered bare earth. Norma was just ahead and soon came to a screeching halt beside the upper reaches o' the first wee burnie which we'd crossed on oor ascent, announcing that there was nae possible way onwards, this being blocked by it's ravine.
Thus I took the lead, following the narrow path steeply doon the wee burn's true left bank, at first down a narrow strip of open ground alongside the stream, then lower down entering the trees on the left. Here the indistinct earthy trail led between the roots of upended trees, which produced mair protests fae Norma, as I skipped on doon tae reach the guid path o' oor ROA, just after it crossed the burn where we'd met the couple with the twa dogs. After recrossing the stream we followed the wide path doon the 1st steep section alongside the burn and I continued straight on doon the narrower branch, where Norma followed the main path round to the right. After recrossing the stream we followed the wide path doon the 1st steep section alongside the burn and I continued straight on doon the narrower branch, where Norma followed the main path round to the right. My fork then led round to the right following close above a high wall, rejoining the main path not far above where we'd tethered oor faithful steel hosses tae yon fence.
By this time Norma had decided she was 'starving', so we galloped off into the fleshpots o' Tairbert, where I'd assured her there was a well stocked ye auld shoppe. However, this turned oot tae be a very closed Post Office, so we carried on doon past the immense hotel & across the busy A82, thence doon tae a bona fide touro shop above the pier. Whilst we were tethering oor steeds I noticed a young man come oot o' yon shop, then fold up the ice-cream sign outside, which turned out tae be amongst his 1st jobs after locking up the noo closed shop. This produced howls of starvation induced anguish fae Norma who I placated by assuring her that it 'wasnae faur', tae Arrochar, where there was a spendid chipper.
Thus we had soon recrossed the A82 and followed the A83 o'er the tarbet twixt lochs Lomond & Long, where entering the wee touro-village, I paused tae ask a young mannie waiting at a bus stop, wherebe yon ATM hole in the wall machine. Alas the slip o' a laddie assured us that this 20th Century technology had yet tae make it's prescence felt in these far flung parts o' the Hielans, so I gave up mein few remaining shekels tae Norma, who had just enuf for a kids fish supper - and an excellent tasty bite o' fish it was too by all accounts.
We then made oor way back up the hill alongside the A83 wance mair tae arrive back at the station for the 4th time that day, only for Norma tae point oot that ah wiz nae langer wearing mein wee haversack. I surmised that I musta left it back at the wee wooden seats & tables where I'd watched Norma scoff her wee supper, thus left her at the station whilst I raced back tae Arrochar tae try tae find it afore some lucky tinker.
However, there was nae sign o' it where I'd been sitting ootside so I entered the greasy interior, intent on enquiring within, only tae find the place packed with a queue o' paying customers. Turning tae leave in despair, I then spotted a generic wee black haversack sitting on the shelf behind a strapping young hunk o' a fellow, who glowered at me as I decided to unzip the bag, on the offchance that it might just possibly be mine. As it turned oot, the Deil was indeedy still lookin' after his ain, this fine Black Friday, as the wee sack spilled forth it's familiar looking contents...
