One Day Like This

Walking for most people involves the voluntary act of one foot following the other until the custodian of the appendages orders a halt to either gain a rest or has reached his/her end destination.

Walking long distances to many in this automotive world is a completely alien concept which is exampled by the expanding girths of our nation’s populace. Many of whom baulk at the thought of raising their ‘well covered’ bones from the sofa to pick up the TV remote.

We, as a couple of reassembly fit bipeds uphold the beliefs of the American physician and cardiologist Paul Dudley White that ‘A vigorous five-mile walk will do more good for an unhappy but otherwise healthy adult than all the medicine and psychology in the world.’

The physical benefits of distance walking are well documented; additionally we have found that distance walking enhances ones personal identity by:

• Learning to focus and relax your mind
• Attain the ability to enjoy yourself and your surroundings
• Gain patience as you walk longer distances
• Using your mind to overcome adversity
• Master your mind, and be able to accomplish any goal you set for yourself

These attributes were to be severely tested on this meander, a 30+ mile, 2 day walk around The Isle of Bute.

The Isle of Bute lies in Scotland’s Firth of Clyde, tucked into the spectacular sea lochs of southern Argyll. 15 miles long by approximately 4 miles wide Bute is less than two hours from the city of Glasgow. The island was a popular Victorian seaside destination, when the main town of Rothesay would be bustling with trippers who had come “doon the watter” during the Glasgow Fair and disembarked from the many steamers that sailed the Clyde.

Cruising into Rothesay harbour on a hot summer’s day offers a surreal vista of elegant Victorian architecture garnished with an abundance of palm trees swaying along the prom. It is amongst this Victorian elegance that our stopover for the evening is situated; The Glendale Guest House. Looking over the harbour this mini castle is resplendent with turrets and strategically placed bay windows, furnished with a tasteful mixture of oak and leather. The view from our room and adjoining lounge cannot be understated in its description as truly breathtaking, the sort of view that one could happily sit at all evening and forget that time exists.

Arriving at mid-morning our landlady kindly lets us into our room to leave our bags as we quickly rush to catch a bus to take us to the south of the island where we begin our quest to conquer The West Island Way.

The West Island Way is Scotland's first long distance island footpath. It was developed and opened in 2000 as part of Bute's events to celebrate the millennium. The path is 30 miles of way marked walking which runs from south to north and takes in track, moor, forest and coastal walking.

The first section of the West Island Way is a short loop which begins and ends in Kilchattan Bay. A distance of some four and a half miles, it was a pre-existing and well-known walk before the West Island Way was developed. As we walk through the southern tip of the island we take a slight detour from the path to gaze over the short stretch of water to Arran and reminisce back to our recent climb of Goat Fell in Arran via glorious Glen Sannox. This early four and half miles proves to be a hard slog over difficult underfoot conditions, which sees us return to Kilchattan Bay just before the local post office shuts its doors at four o’clock. Never, has a cold drink and ice cream tasted as good as we rest or weary limbs under an increasingly intense sun.

Rejuvenated and rehydrated we head North on the nine mile stretch to our overnight stop at Rothesay. Within the first couple of miles we arrive at an airfield which has been playing host to a number of small single-engine aircraft all morning. The quick elevation gained with very little speed by these light aircraft is mighty impressive as we look on at there departure and arrivals. Pressing on and gaining some elevation of our own we climb up the backbone of the island accompanied by increasingly intensive heat. As we reach the highest point of the day we celebrate with dance of joy at the well structured trig point. From here a flat farmer’s track takes along the southern backbone of the island before a welcome downhill stretch takes us past Loch Ascog which is a popular viewing spot for birdwatchers and Loch Fad a renowned fishing Loch with a healthy stock of fine Brown Trout.

As the midges start to make their irksome presence felt we arrive back at Rothesay and waste no time in acquiring a fish supper which we devour at a speed that makes the gathering seagulls eating habits look cultured by comparison. As we walk the short distance to our Guest House we look over the harbour to the retiring sun as it sets the sky ablaze with a combination of fiery red and flaming orange, magnified by the still cool water. Silently drawing the day to a close you can almost hear it whisper "Farewell" to the world as it sinks lower and lower in a lazy manner; almost as if it never wants to leave.

Day two and 17 miles to complete before the final ferry to the mainland begins in ideal walking conditions, an overcast sky and gentle breeze accompanies us on the first hilly stretch to Port Bannatyne. On arrival the sun peers through the cloud and spreads its life enhancing qualities around us as blue replaces grey in the skies above and we resign ourselves to another strength sapping day. Port Bannatyne comes complete with a tea room, and with its own wreck. This is the abandoned fishing vessel the Co-Worker which ran aground and has since been referred to, perhaps a little fancifully, as "Bute's Eifel Tower." Scenically attractive, the small town also plays host to three pubs and an off-license all within a three minute walk of each other. Could there be an alcohol problem in the village ;-)

Moving on at speed we traverse the island towards Ettrick Bay and then climb north to the islands other main ferry terminal at Rhubodach. Passing through extensive grazing pastures and rich farmland we stop for a few minutes at a farm and watch some sheep being expertly sheared by two expert shearers whom we are told also ply their trade in New Zealand. Working within strict time parameters we press on through some overgrown terrain, the last ferry to the mainland is at 7pm and power walking is the order of the day should we hope to make it.
It is at this stage to the north of the island that we meet the first fellow walker of the way, ‘a nuclear scientist.’ Throughout our travels these past few months we have found that walking has aided us immensely to explore and learn about a place and its history, customs, people, geography, etc. This meander also furnishes us with some fascinating insights about the British Governments energy policies as our fellow walker is heavily involved in the design of Britain’s new generation of nuclear power stations and seems happy to answer all our environmental issues.

Isn’t it strange the people you meet in the middle of nowhere?

On reaching Rhubodach the way follows the main road down the North West shore of the island to the finish line at Port Bannatyne. At this point the scientist strikes out on his own as we begin to wilt under the unforgiving sun. This walk is now changing from a pleasant stroll into a serious slog as the final 5 miles along the tar macadam road begins to take its toll on our rapidly tiring legs. Determination to overcome adversity drives us on to the finish line seven hours and 17 hilly miles after we started.

Was it the heat, the lack of proper sleep, the power walking, and lack of carbohydrates/water or was our fitness levels not what they should be?

Whatever the reason, this walk turned into a real test of character for us and one which we will look back on with great pride coupled with fond memories of those two sweltering days on The Isle of Bute.

One Day Like This A Year Would See Me Right ;-)

Video highlights below.

Ben Donich

The A83 trunk road has for centuries been known as the Rest And Be Thankful. Travellers have welcomed the chance to draw their breath and enjoy the view as they cross the summit at 860 feet on the road that leads from Loch Long to Loch Awe via Glen Croe and past the picturesque Butterbridge into Glen Kinlas. There can be few roads in Scotland so well documented by travellers over the centuries or so affectionately named as “The Rest”.

Its highest point is an ideal starting point for climbing Ben Donich (The Brown Mountain), The Brack, Beinn Luibhean and the impressive and rocky Beinn an Lochain, all of which are classed as Corbetts.

Our climb today is Ben Donich, a squat bulky mass which dominates the small village of Lochgoilhead.

Most of the hills in this area are prone to slope failure, and Ben Donich has some very spectacular examples. The North ridge path passes through some convoluted land slide debris and crevassed terrain at about 600m and a little way off to the north of the east-ridge there are 60 foot deep fissures at right angles, isolating a large block of hillside.

The climb starts with some lung busting zigzags before developing into a pleasant stroll up a well defined path eventually gaining the summit at 2780ft which offers stunning views over Loch Fyne to Firth of Clyde and The Kyles of Bute, Argyll, Knapdale and Kintyre.
The ascent proves to be relatively easy, so in an effort to add some excitement to our meander we decide to take an alternative descent from the summit and head straight back down via the highest gully. These quick descents from the top always look the quickest way of return but in reality prove to be more time consuming and tiresome than envisaged. And so it proves for us as we clamber down the steep decline in a crab like manner to the forest below which in turn throws up a mixed terrain of thick bracken, rocky stream and fallen trees.

This perceived quick route off the hill does in fact take us 30 minutes longer than the climb up the mountains well trodden path.

We rejoice on reaching flat ground which affords our overstretched quads a relaxing stretch along the final 10 minute stretch of forest road back to the car.

Paddy's Milestone

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."

Wind in the Willows -Kenneth Grahame

We don’t know much about sailing. However, over the course of our travels these past few months we have come to the realisation that sailing is an unfettered joy, and spending a prolonged period out on the water is beautiful and relaxing, as long as it’s on someone else’s boat.

When the weather is right it has to be the most rewarding mode of transport available to man. It’s slow, to be sure. Taking seven hours to go 25 miles isn’t exactly efficient. But you aren’t strapped in your seat like you are in an airplane, a bus, or a car. You can get up and move around like you can on a train and assuming the boat isn’t tiny; you have more room to sprawl out in than a first class sleeper carriage.

The usual means of transport between the Scottish Islands is by the state subsidised Caledonian MacBrayne. For our journey today we have gone private as our end destination is an uninhabited volcanic plug out with Cal-Macs route itinerary.

This meander over water takes us across the Firth of Clyde to Ailsa Craig which lies nine miles offshore from Girvan on Scotland’s south west coast. Standing proud at 1,109 feet the islands sea cliffs are home to the third largest gannetry in the UK - comprising 36,000 pairs - with a supporting cast of guillemots, razorbills, black guillemots and increasing numbers of puffins.

Arriving at Girvan harbour at 11am we have no time to obey the usual parking protocol procedures as we quickly abandon the car on the pier and rush aboard the old fishing trawler (our cruise ship for today) which has a full accompaniment of passengers on board awaiting our arrival. As we leave the safety of the harbour the gentle breeze created by our slow passage through the flat calm sea offers a welcome respite from the intensity of the sun. Slowly the Ayrshire coast opens up behind us and ahead of us the island begins to grow larger as the gentle putt-putt of the engine aids us through the deep blue waters creating a marble effect across our bow supplemented by the suns polarizing assistance.

As we circumnavigate the island, evidence of the islands redundant mining industry looms large with the rusting decay of abandoned rails and bogies. Geologically, the island was formed through volcanic activity and boasts large quantities of granite, which for a time was mined and shipped back to the main land where it was shaped and polished into curling stones. Mining began sometime in the early 19th century and ended in the early 1970s.

Ailsa Craig is also known colloquially as "Paddy's Mile Stone" as it lies halfway between the cities of Glasgow and Belfast is a well known marine navigational hazard giving home to a solar powered lighthouse. Initially, the lighthouse used oil-burning lamps, but by 1911, these were replaced with incandescent lighting. Fog signals were discontinued in 1987. Then, in 1990, the lighthouse was automated, and a refurbishment took place in 2001, when it was converted to run on solar power.

Coming back to the mainland it becomes apparent that some of the elderly trippers on the boat are beginning to feel a tad uncomfortable under the unforgiving sun and absence of the expected comfort stop on the island. These feelings of discomfort pass without notice by the skipper and his mate who has sprawled his carcass out on the bow of the tiny vessel while blowing out more smoke from his countless cigarettes than the boats old engine can muster under a full head of steam. Clearly these two pirates of the modern age are lamenting the decline of the local fishing industry by trawling the pockets of visiting tourists. They offer no interpretation facilities as the customers are left to share information and stories amongst themselves and damningly they offer no toilet facilities on a 4hr boat trip populated by elderly customers. The tricorn hat, long coat, trusty cutlass and obligatory parrot on the shoulder would have been more suitable attire for these two as we look on with sympathy at the seniors’ discomfort.

As we arrive back at Girvan, the harbour closes around us like embracing, welcoming arms and we ponder on Kenneth Grahame’s enthusiasm for all things nautical and wonder if some of the elderly passengers who shared this trip with us would agree with his musing.

People Have A Thing For Mountains!

People have a thing for mountains.

God has a thing for mountains, too. God chose to do some of his best work and made some stunning revelations of himself to people at high altitudes. On the tops of mountains, God made a promise to Noah, supplied a substitutionary sacrifice to Abraham for his son Isaac, talked to Moses through a burning bush, gave Moses the Law, participated with Elijah in a definitive showdown with false prophets, gave a glimpse of his glory in the Transfiguration of Christ, who later ascended to heaven from a mountain top.

So why do mere mortals climb a mountain?

George Leigh Mallory replied on being asked why he was climbing Everest in 1923 “Because it’s there”.

Our motivation for ascending the mountains is not for spiritual enlightenment or the fact that there is an abundance of them in Scotland nor is it derived from a wish fulfilment fantasy to climb every Munro in Scotland. Our simple motivation is derived from looking at the weather forecast and deciding which hill will endure our presence the next day. The choice of mountain can often be a head scratching conundrum entailing a trawl through various mountaineering websites rammed with climbing gobbledygook incomprehensible to anyone who doesn’t know the back end of a compass from a GPS system.

It is through this haphazard decision making process that we happen upon Ben Venue (pronounced Ben Venoo, gaelic = mountain of the caves). Rising proud from the wooded slopes of the Trossachs, Ben Venue is a rugged little climb. Dark cliffs and rocky knolls may suggest an air of impregnability, but the fortress-like defences of the peak's summit can be breached if you know where to look. There are two different starting points to choose from, we choose the longer path rising from Loch Ard. This route like some other ascents we have traversed recently throws up the bizarre anomaly of not being able to see the summit you are about to surmount. This method of ascent via a Google print out adds an extra spice to the climb as we continually guess which of the peaks above us will be our final destination. It also leads us up many blind summits which further add to the excitement of the mountain.

The weather today sees the mountain blessed with brilliant sunshine as we set off mid-morning in one of the hottest days of the year so far. The bottom quarter of the climb cuts through a mixed forest of beautiful deciduous trees followed by geometric blocks of commercial sitka spruce plantations which offer welcome cover from the burning sun. Eventually the route bears right for the final ascent to the bealach where a low fence is crossed by a stile and Ben Venue comes into view at last and our guess attempts about our final destination prove wildly inaccurate. Once across the stile the route takes on an alpine feel as the route to the summit lies enticingly ahead of us. We capture the summit just as ‘The Sir Walter Scott’ departs below on its afternoon sail from Trossachs Pier around Loch Katrine. Once the summit is attained we gaze admiringly around us as views open up of the Firth of Forth, the Clyde, Isle of Arran, Paps of Jura and to the north Ben A'an, Ben More, Stob Binnein, Ben Lomond and the Arrochar Alps.

Our retrace back down the hill is blessed by a large grey cloud which makes the descent an enjoyable trek that passes all too quickly allowing the sun to reappear as we hit flat ground at our start point.

Previous walks in this locale have made us aware of a spectacular waterfall and pool at Inversnaid which is situated by the north banks of Loch Lomond on the West Highland Way. Foresight and anticipation of extreme heat and a sweated brow have ensured that bathing costumes of a fashion have been packed in the car as we make haste to rest our weary limbs in the natural black eddy, fashioned by peat soaked water cascading over clashing rocks to form natures own hydrotherapy pool. The remote location of this organic spa ensures that we have complete seclusion as the sun slowly disappears behind the surrounding hills.

Ahh Bliss.

Shouldn’t every long hot day finish this way ;-)

Doon The Watter

Tell someone that you are going “doon the watter,” and you will be met with puzzled looks. Unless of course they are from Glasgow, in which case they will immediately understand you plan to sail “down the waters” of the river Clyde.

For Eric any trip doon the watter would be incomplete without a visit to the holiday destination of his childhood Millport.

Millport is the only town on the island of Great Cumbrae, which sits one and a half miles off the coast of north Ayrshire. Alongside other towns like its island neighbour Rothesay it used to be a popular destination for holidaymakers coming doon the watter on paddle steamers from Glasgow.

In the 20th century, Millport became a tourist destination with thousands of families taking trips from Glasgow, Greenock and other Clyde towns. Some would stay in Millport throughout the summer with fathers taking the boat to join their families at the weekend. At this time there were hundreds of pleasure steamers linking all the Clyde costs towns. Today, the paddle steamer Waverley (last seagoing paddle steamer in the world) continues this tradition with regular visits to Millport in the summer months.
For today’s meander by car, foot, boat and bike we are joined by Emma’s good friend Janice from Lowestoft who has taken six days sabbatical in Scotland to recharge her batteries. To get there we take the ferry from Largs on Scotland’s west coast. The crossing only takes 15 minutes. The small car ferry alights on the islands north shore and from here it takes a leisurely 10 minutes to the timeless hamlet of Millport. Once you arrive, the traditional way to see Great Cumbrae is by bike. It's only 11 miles round and the road is flat thus making it a great place to cycle. We quickly hire our cycles and take off around the coastline, taking in the delights of the island's nature and wildlife, sandy bays and pebble beaches.

Our first stop off point is 3 miles in to the trip as we feast on tea and cake at Fintry Bay a renowned café and popular resting place for the thousands of cyclists who circumnavigate the island each year. Shortly after Fintry we view the first of several bizarre rock formations that has evolved on the island over the years ‘Indian Rock’. The Indian's face was possibly done by Fern Andy who lived in a cave near the area in the 1920's. It is probable that the eyes of the Indian were painted as a guide point for boats sometime previously.

Further around the island we encounter ‘The Lion Rock’. Its proper name is Houloon Keipel Dyke & it's a natural rock formation from volcanic lava - but the folklore story is that good elves were building a bridge to the mainland, the bad ogres tried to copy them but didn't do it very well, so kicked holes in the bottom & it ended up looking like a lion. As lions are frightening to elves, they all ran off & you'll never see an elf on the east side of the island today!

On returning to Millport we pass perhaps the most famous of the islands legendary rocks ‘Crocodile Rock’. The crocodile was painted by a retired architect, Robert Brown, in the early 20th century. He came out of the tavern after his regular lunchtime tipple & remarked that the rock looked remarkably like a crocodile, the next day he took it upon himself to paint it. It's been freshened up many times since but the black, red & white colours you still see today are the same colours used by Robert Brown.

As we return our bikes after our 3 hour sojourn around an island that remains unaffected by the passing of time we venture over to The Royal George Hotel for rehydration and rest before ascending to the highest point on the island to capture a panoramic image and then speeding down off the hill to catch the ferry we have been tracing coming over from Largs and quickly clambering aboard it’s opening bow securing us back to the mainland.

Goat Fell And A Wrong Turn

The 9:45am ferry to the Isle of Arran, departing from Ardrossan on the Firth of Clyde is our first time parameter today as we set off in anticipation of a gentle ascent up Arran’s highest peak. On arriving at Ardrossan pier we find the stunning vista across the water to Arran that usually greets its visitors is today obscured by a heavy haze which sadly fails to lift as the day progresses.

The Isle of Arran is one of the most southerly Scottish islands and sits between Ayrshire and Kintyre on the South, West coast. It is 19 miles long by 10 miles wide but has a remarkable diversity of landscapes and seascapes and is often regarded as "Scotland in miniature". The pretty villages on Arran's beautiful coastline are complemented by a rugged and mountainous interior in the north and green rolling hills and woodland in the south which is home to the majority of the 4,500 people who live here.

Our gentle 55 minute cruise on flat calm waters is enlivened by a trial rescue mission by some of the ships crew as they clamber aboard the rescue RIB and take off at great speed on a phantom exercise. It is not until we reach a few miles offshore that the Isle opens up too us and we catch our first glimpse of the mountain we are about to ascend, Goat Fell. At 874 metres (2,867 ft), Goat Fell it is one of four Corbetts on the island. The name is believed to mean either 'Mountain of Wind' (from the Gaelic gaoth) or 'Goat Mountain' (from the Norse geita). It is a spectacular example of an open, rugged, upland landscape formed during the last ice age and on a clear day you may see as far as Ben Lomond to the north and the coast of Ireland to the south-west.

The start of our anticipated climb entails catching a local bus which conveniently awaits our arrival at the pier, then departing around the island at a leisurely pace it delivers its local passengers to their doorstep whilst stopping for a few seconds as we recognise a few seals lounging on some rocks. On being dropped at the small hamlet of Sannox we start our assault on Goat Fell. This is also where, with the benefit of hindsight that we make a wrong turn which eventually puts an extra 3 hours on our day and turns our anticipated gentle climb in to something a tad more exhilarating and rewarding. As indicated on the map above, we do not veer to the left on entering Glen Sannox but cross over the stream and head due east through the majestic Glen towards and a sweat inducing climb up ‘The Saddle’ which separates Glen Sannox from Glen Rossa. While walking through Sannox, Eric narrowly escapes being bitten by Britain’s only venomous snake; ‘The Adder’, as he unwittingly strolls through open heathland.

From the top of The Saddle we head east up on to North Goatfell. An easy walk with a couple of harmless scrambles it wasn't long before we were perched on the slab of the false summit. From here we set off south for the top of Goatfell, half a mile away. A well graded ridge - Stacach - links the two peaks. This section calls for a steady nerve as we traverse over a set of delightful granite tors, the rocky bunions offering an array of handholds and ledges which were not listed in our anticipated itinerary.

The summit trig point offers a welcoming rest point as we take in the haze restricted view of the outgoing ferry leaving Brodick Bay far below. Our rest break at the summit is cut short on the realisation that we must catch this outgoing ferry on its return to Brodick 2hr 30mins hence. Our descent from the summit takes on an almost comical element as we hurtle down the boulder strewn path at great speed in the quest to make the last ferry to the mainland. As we reach the final 2 mile stretch along Brodick beach we see the ferry in the horizon preparing to land at the pier. Once again we step up our pace and run along the promenade like errant children running for a school bus and we board the ferry with 5 minutes to spare.

Our return journey to Ardrossan is guided by partying Porpoises as they ride high on the bow waves of the ship, and as the haze begins to rise we capture a final sunset shot of the mountain where we took the wrong turn.

The Cobbler

Convinced that Spring has truly arrived after the Baltic conditions encountered on Beinn Odhar last week, we are relived to find high cloud cover above our climb for today; Ben Arthur or The Cobbler as it is known colloquially.
The Cobbler is just short of a Munro but is still one of Scotland's most spectacular mountains due to the unusual skyline and fabulous views. One of a group of mountains known as 'The Arrochar Alps' The Cobbler was the happy hunting ground of many of Scotland's early climbers and climbing clubs.

Arriving at the car park west of Arrochar at 12:30pm we struggle to find a parking space, which reflects the mountains popularity and proximity to the heavily populated central belt. Crossing over the A83 we start our ascent up the gentle zigzags as a beautiful vista of Loch Long and Arrochar open up below us. As we pass a small reservoir the three peaks of The Cobbler become visible with the figure of the 'crooked shoe maker' - the Cobbler, clearly distinguishable on the right hand peak (see photo). The next mile or so gives gentle relief over welcoming terrain after the endless zigzag climb out of Loch Long. At the foot of the final climb the path offers two varied routes, the easy way is to carry on to the right and follow the path around the back of the hill and ascent the final summit via the many well placed stone steps up the side of the hill. Or, alternatively you can veer left and head straight up the front of the final summit which entails climbing over various ill placed rocks and potential leg breaks for the unwary.

We take the wooses’ route and climb round the back of the hill and look on in amusement at the number of climbers descending down from the surrounding peaks in ant like fashion to the aforementioned car park. As we clear the numerous thigh building stone steps we sweep round to see the jagged summit populated by numerous parents, children and dogs giving the dangerous summit a surreal vision of a family day out. As we ascend the final ridge views to the south open up to Loch Long, Gareloch, the Firth of Clyde, Bute, Arran and the Atlantic beyond. To the east are views over Arrochar to Loch Lomond, Ben Lomond and as far as the Lake of Menteith in the hazy distance. To the west views open up on a clear day of the isles of Jura and Islay. Views to the north take in a huge swath of the highlands with many well known peaks which would only be identifiable to us with the help of map & compass.

To truly capture the summit it is required that you access the centre peak. To achieve this, the climber has to pass through a small opening in the rock which leads to a narrow ledge facing a 150 ft vertigo inspiring drop. Once on the ledge an awkward sloping ramp leads to a final step onto the flat summit rock - on which few choose to stand upright. (The large rock on the left of panoramic above). Again the wooses’ option is chosen by us as we watch various brave (foolhardy) individuals’ display their high levels of testosterone.

On capturing our photographic panoramic and a brave effort by Eric to surmount his own personal precipice (see photo) we return via the bolder strewn path down the front of the mountain, which may be shorter in length but is no shorter in time to descend as the various obstacles in the path ensure and uncomfortable and time consuming effort to achieve flat ground.
As we return to the car park six hours after departure we find that it has emptied and bizarrely we realise that we are alone for the first time today.