The Rossendale Rambler

At 7 p.m. on the Saturday night I sat in the deep coarse grass on the banks of a mountain burn, the Allt Hallater, watching the 'waterfall', really a succession of smooth bleached rock slabs where the water frolicked and slid through cleft and pool, in spite of several dry weeks, still cold, fresh and crystal clear. Between Loch Etive and Rannoch Moor it gathers itself on the slopes of big mountains, Ben Starav, Beinn nan Aighenan and from Beinn nan Lus (709m) rising behind me, then tumbles down another mile to join the main river in remote Glen Kinglass. There a dusty landrover track meanders away a full 13 miles before it reaches the road at Taynuilt.

I had already climbed the last 1000ft to the summit of Beinn nan Lus one hour ago, up steep unpathed slopes of lush vegetation strewn with crags. I found the cairn in a sea of ridges and furrows where pale rocks adorn the turf, and felt the chill of evening breeze and the thrill of vast isolation.

Beinn nan Lus, not particularly magnificent among mountains is nevertheless one of a list I have devised, of some 300 mountains which I would like to climb before I retire. This ambition has led me to discover so many remote and beautiful places on numerous expeditions. In this area one other from my list is Beinn Suidhe (675m), some 6 miles to the east. They are both so awkwardly placed, remote from roads, that a 2-day walk to climb them seemed the best and most interesting plan. I needed to sleep out this one night.

Anyone can do it. You carry enough food for 2 days (cold rations, mainly sandwiches are OK in summer), some warm clothes, a change of socks and knickers, and a sleeping bag. I didn't even have a tent (a slight risk?) My last tent was stolen two years ago, but this has given me the experience of the 'wild bivouac'. You have so much more freedom. You can settle down for your camp, or pack up again, in 5 minutes. And what pleasure to wake in the night to see the brilliant stars wheeling and sparkling overhead against a deep black sky! But beware of midges of course. Down in warm humid Glen Kinglass they were very troublesome, but I chose this place higher up above 1000 ft where there was a cool breeze, and I saw hardly any.

Saturday had gone very well. I had parked my car at Tyndrum and caught the 11a.m. train to Loch Awe. The main road was buzzing with traffic heading for the coast, but soon I left that behind. I was on a quiet B-road for a mile, then a rough track going up Glen Strea, and at last a faint footpath climbing north into the hills and leading to the 2000ft bealach of Lairig Dhoireann ( a pass over the first mountain range to Glen Kinglass beyond).

My pack was heavy, but under no time pressure I walked at a gentle pace, stopping frequently to rest and admire the expanding views away south towards Loch Awe. It was pleasantly warm, not too hot. The path, a bold black line on the map, was hardly discernable on the ground, taking me through deep coarse grass studded beautifully with an abundance of flowers:- knapweed, harebells, hawkbits and bell heather. The only sound was the quiet trickle of the burn, the occasional chirrup of a meadow pippit, or the papery whirr of a dragonfly's wings. Saturday's walk was 16 miles. I was tired and content at the end.

Sunday was a much brighter day, with sunshine right from the start at 7a.m., while a cooling east wind kept it very comfortable for walking. The path up Glen Kinglass soon became delightfully overgrown and little used. After 4 miles I turned aside even from this to tackle the ascent of Beinn Suidhe. This was only 1¼ miles with 1100 ft of ascent, but very tough, often through thigh-deep grass or heather. And beautiful too:- Higher up the shorter purple heather was bestrewn with yellow flowers of mountain orchids. On these lesser hills with no footpaths you see the true highland wilderness.

The summit area had turfy hillocks in a succession of rocky outcrops, bright sunshine, a cool breeze and grand views. Ben Cruachan's pointed peak, 10 miles away to the SW looked spectacular from this angle.

I had seen a few distant deer on my walk and often noticed their droppings or places where they had flattened the grass at a sleeping place. This weekend of the 7th August was really my last chance of the summer to do this walk. For from the 'glorious' 12th August the deer stalking season is in full swing, and your presence in remote corries, where you might disrupt the shoot, would be very undesirable. It is important to maintain the good relationship between walkers and landowners, so that people will be welcome to enjoy the mountains for years to come. The main season usually lasts for about 10 weeks until late October. (Please seek info/permission for walks in this period).

Once back in the glen I found the riverside path along Abhainn Shira very attractive, with lots of flowers and a soft breeze rippling the water and hissing through the long seedy grasses. But on reaching the road at Victoria Bridge I met crowds of people. So many walkers in large noisy groups plodding their way along the West Highland Way, and of course enjoying it. I must have passed 30 or 40 walkers in the last 3 miles to Bridge of Orchy. I confess to feeling satisfied that most people have not the imagination to venture off the wellbeaten track and leaving the solitude of more remote places to eccentrics such as myself! The venison casserole at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel was delicious. Try it sometime - and maybe try a 2-day hike through some other Scottish wilderness. Scotland is vast. There are plenty to choose from. And remember there are few, if any other places in the world where you could enjoy the freedom of such a trip. We are very fortunate.

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