Ben Challum

I walked this hill back in January. I could tell you that this post is overdue simply because I’ve been busy. But let’s be honest, its at least partially because I’m a little bitter (read: a lot bitter) about this walk. And – it gets worse – I actually changed my plans to walk this hill. But every so often in Scotland, the weather forecast genuinely is change-your-plans good, and my Ridiculously Optimisitic Brain is only too ready to believe it. So there I was having rescheduled my intended visit to my Dad’s, and a planned modification to the van, all to walk this sodding earthy lump.

But oh man, that forecast. The summit was going to be sunny, with a wind speed of approximately *zero miles-per-hour*. I know it sounds too good to be true, but who could pass up the chance that it might just be exactly as forecast? Not me, apparently.

I set off later than planned – as usual – and by the time I got to the layby my only option was to tuck in at the end, having to go well onto the verge to be clear off the road. How did that go, you ask? Let’s take a look shall we.

Still, no time to dwell, the hill was waiting, so I stuffed my guilt about this horrific parking into my bag with everything else, and toddled on. The walk starts on part of the West Highland Way, and this section of the route passes some ancient graveyards, a ruined chapel and a rainbow.

This was all Very Nice so far, wandering along on the flat. But the minute I started to climb my legs began grumbling. In fairness I had conquered a lot of munros in the previous week. I won’t detail the ins and outs of negotiation between me and my legs to get up this, but this was a slow ascent, ladies and gentlemen.

Pretty soon I was into serious bog country. This is the type of bog you don’t negotiate with – so over the fence I went. But 20 paces on after crossing the fence and – oh look! – bog on this side too. I must’ve been back and forth over this fence half a dozen times. What a joy. 😐

In case it wasn’t *abundantly* obvious, I have a distinctly grumpy memory of this walk. So imagine my displeasure at looking through the photos for this post and finding these delightful snaps. I don’t know how they found their way into my phone, doesn’t look anything like the walk I was on. But feel free to enjoy them anyway.

What I do remember about the slog up this hill is that it was gradual, and lasted for circa All Of Eternity. And when I got closer to the top, I was subsumed into a weather pattern that I’m pretty sure was manifested solely to take the piss out of me. As if to say “you believed a forecast of 0mph winds? Haha! Fool! We don’t blow below 40mph up here – show some respect!”.

Anyway. One very cold sandwich stop later I started the slog down, only pausing to dig out the waterproof troos since the wind seemed to think it’d be funny to forcefully cover me in wet cloud. Lovely. 🙄

And at least I had some pictures that accurately reflect my memory of this trudge. I swear 90% of the walk looked like this:

So was there anything good about this walk? Well. I will admit, reluctantly, that this one view was pretty special. I am a sucker for a ready-to-set sun, sitting in blue sky, above some clouds. I made some peace with the hill for this. One redeeming feature for this trudge up a mountain and complete trolling by the weather. Was it worth it? Not sure. Would I do it again? Certainly.