I found myself thinking about my Mum a lot the past couple of days, which might be why I felt drawn towards revisiting some places we used to go as a family when I was young, near where my grandparents used to live. I stopped and sat at the Falls of Dochart for a while – an equally stunning and fascinating stretch of river with giant slabs of rock that I used to clamber over as a kid. Its amazing to think about how long this has been here, changing imperceptibly year by year.
I got myself some new walking trousers while I was in Killin – best ones I’ve found yet – which spurred me on to plan a BIG walk for the next day. I headed towards Invervar where there is a 4 munro hike on the north side of Glen Lyon. The route there took me through some more favourite places including Kenmore, with fantastic views down Loch Tay, and passing the town of Dull, which my Gran was always tickled to tell us (many times) is twinned with the town of Boring, Oregon USA.
I also stopped in Fortingall to say hello to the Yew tree that’s been standing there for thousands of years. Estimates vary – Wikipedia says modern estimates think its only 2- or 3,000 years old, though some estimates put it at around 5,000 years old which would make it the oldest living thing in Britain. Either way its important to respect your elders when they’re this old.
This pic doesn’t do it justice, but the wooden pegs indicate the original perimeter of the tree. For a while (a long long time ago) folk used to light fires in the hollow centre, and at some point there was also a tradition of walking funeral processions though the tree, which is why they built a wall and it now looks like its in tree-jail.
Anyway, I headed on and found a quiet spot to wild camp. This was very quiet indeed as it turned out to be a mobile dead zone. No-G for me. That would have been quite nice if I had already plotted my route and downloaded the map on my phone. I also realised I hadn’t told anyone at all that I was heading in this direction and couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take them to find me if I got lost on a mountain noone knew I was on…
So next morning I was up and driving back where I’d come from down the narrow road with passing places, until I got back in to the land of 4G. In my haste I hadn’t *quite* put everything away in the van and shuddered as I turned a corner and heard the kettle and a flask clatter across the van. Lesson learned!
After all this faffing about I didn’t end up setting off until about 10am but hey ho at least was on my way to 4 munros in one day! I have to say though, I didn’t love this walk from the off. The munros sit on the Chesthill estate (lots of signs wanted me to know this) and it felt like right of access was begrudged. Walkers were to follow the green and yellow markers, stick to the trail, and walk the route in a clockwise direction only. Hmm.
The trudge up to Carn Gorm (1024m) was long and thankless. My legs informed me that one rest day after the weekend of walking with Daniel was woefully insufficient, and protested the entire way up. It was a bit of a desolate walk over grassy slopes, which felt pretty thoroughly (over?)grazed and not like the rich and luscious valleys I’d been in at the weekend. The mist engulfed me as I plodded on through the devastation of some false summits which were Not What I Needed at the time. Carn Gorm was the standard cairn with white backdrop you’re all used to seeing in my pics.
But. As I continued the route – clockwise as instructed of course – the day seemed to brighten. The breeze picked up moving the mist along and the sun came out. Maybe this will be a nice stroll across some hilltops I thought. Wrong.
I decided to walk up to the second ‘top’ which wasn’t strictly on my route but I felt sorry for it if noone walks up there just because its too close to other munros to be considered one in its own right. (Very unlikely that I’ll stick with this approach, don’t hold me to it).
On I went to the second munro, bargaining with myself that we wouldn’t eat the sandwiches until we had at least 2 in the bag. As I got up there, the winds REALLY picked up, and I remembered seeing that little ’50’ in the wind speed row of the weather forecast. It was the sort of wind where you pull your hat on tighter, more worried about losing an ear than your hat.
The second munro – Meall Garbh – had a strange cairn surrounded by rusted old iron fence posts, imprisoning the cairn stones. Looked eerily like something out of Game of Thrones.
Munro number three looked a lifetime away so I had a rest en route and cowered from the wind behind a giant boulder. I was looking over to another impressive hill – surely high enough to be a munro – which was looking back at me and seeming awfully familiar. I dug out the map and got a boost to realise it was… Shiehallion! It felt like seeing an old friend. I haven’t actually climbed Shiehallion (yet) but I’ve got a clear memory of us going to hike it when I was very young, and turning back before we even got to the hill because the wind was lifting me off my feet while I hung onto my Dad’s hand.
Carn Mairg, which was the third munro, was the most interesting hill of the day. It had a bouldery craggy top to one side like a dodgy 80s haircut. This was the highest summit of the day at 1042m and at that height I was really fighting with the wind. But the wind had really opened up the views so I couldn’t complain too much and every time I looked up there was big sky and hills as far as I could see in all directions.
Meall nan Aighean, the fourth munro – seriously I was getting tired of this now – was still inexplicably far away and the path descended about 200m – gaaah – before climbing back up to 981m. It was worth it though since this summit brought yet more enormous views and bluer skies.
After the fourth munro I was shattered and ready to be back at the van so it was a loong walk down. But after all that I headed into Aberfeldy to pick up an entirely deserved pizza supper for tea, which to you English readers means I went to the chip shop and got a deep fried half-pizza and chips 😀
Only Young Twice 