Category: Europe
Oban, a town that I’ve oft frequented
17th July 2008 For various reasons and a variety of journeys, I have happened on Oban on a good number of my trips to Scotland. Unlike either Fort William or Kinlochleven, it is not immediately surrounded by hill country and so might seem a surprising destination for a hill wanderer. However, its plentiful supply of accommodation and decent transport connections very much work in its favour as a base for exploring Lorn and any nearby islands.
Casting my mind back over the numerous trips that had me frequenting the place, the thing that strikes me is how I made something of the opportunities that basing myself there given that they aren't exactly on its doorstep. Of course, the internet helps with planning, but it is hardly a substitute for going somewhere in person and just skimming the surface to get a feel for what might be there. After all, I have often found that ideas for future visits come from trips that I have been making. For example, my most recent outing to the Lake District bore that out when I came home with more walking ideas than I would have had if I never went walking from Borrowdale into Great Langdale. It's great that you can hardly ever run out of places to see and explore, even on an island the size of Great Britain.
When I first wandered into Oban on a day trip from Edinburgh in June 1999, I was very much in skimming the surface mode. That day, I was heading off on a day excursion to Mull of my own making and saw enough that I liked to nearly make visits to Lorn and Mull an annual occurrence since then. There have been years when my attention lay elsewhere (2000, 2006 & 2007) but I always seem to be able to make a return to sample more of what the area has to offer.
There were actually two trips in 1999 with the second one being made with my brother. In both cases and also for a trip in 2001, Oban acted as a staging post for Mull and Iona, something that it does very well. An inclement weekend in November 2002 saw me walking on the island of Kerrera and by Loch Etive with friends from Edinburgh. In July 2003, I managed to avoid the rain and even catch some sun on walks that took me from Oban to Taynuilt via Glen Lonan and then from Taynuilt up the shore of Loch Etive to Glen Kinglass and back again. I snatched a drier interlude in July 2004 to hike from Oban to Taynuilt (again via Glen Lonan) and then up the shore of Loch Etive in showery weather that allowed the hills to show their dramatic side. Deeper incursions into hill country occupied me on a wonderful weekend in June 2005 with Mull and Loch Etive behaving as muses yet again. The quality of the walking was such that, if I did it now, there might have been two trip reports on this blog afterwards. Summing up the trekking in a few lines just doesn't seem to do a deserved amount of justice, so a retrospective posting might be the way to go. As it happens, it surprises me that my hillwalking attention drifted to other parts after that, but it did, and it was May of this year before I found myself back in Oban again. You may already have seen my telling of the first part of that adventure, and the second part has spawned this piece, delaying its appearance in the process.
In that quick potted history, Mull turns up more than once. My initial visit to the island saw me perambulating along roads and tracks on its eastern side. I ended up walking from Craignure to Duart Point and back. Along the way, I crossed both Duart Castle and Torosay Castle. The day started off cloudy and, like so many Scottish days, got better and better as it wore on. The result was memorable views up Loch Linnhe from Duart Point, and the castle looked splendid too. In August of the same year, I returned with my brother on an organised day excursion to Iona. I wouldn't be surprised if he came away with a wrong impression of the islands because neither Mull nor Iona were looking far from their best in the murk and rain. Two years later, I had better luck with the weather when I dropped in on Tobermory. Cloud may have rolled in as the day went on, but I got enough sun on the ferry ride and when I first reached the said town to satisfy me. I did a spot of road ambling that day rather than proper hill wandering. That was left until a trip nearly four years later when I crossed the island from Salen and picked up a hill track that took me past Loch Ba and into Glen Camel. The right of way continued on for Glen More, but I had a ferry to catch, and so retraced my steps.
Loch Etive is another name that crops up a fair bit when I think of my explorations of north Argyll. That first visit under grumpy skies in November 2002 exposed me to the sight of the hills lining both its shores and Glen Etive. In fact, you could say that you are seeing all the way up towards Glen Coe. That first stroll took us from Taynuilt to Glen Noe by way of Bonawe Furnace and Inverawe Country Park, with a scary bridge crossing over the River Awe that I have made a number of times since. The outing was enough to whet my appetite and I returned the next summer and got up beyond Glen Kinglass before turning back, catching another side of the Ben Cruachan massif along the away. The route that I had taken was identical to that followed in November; I just continued on further and without any navigational blunders. Speaking of blunders, I did make one: I left Oban thinking that I had more camera film than I did, only to end up rationing it later. My next encounter with the sea loch was on a lengthy tramp from Loch Awe station to Taynuilt. My route took me up Glen Strae, over Lairig Dhoireann, down Glen Kinglass and along Loch Etive again. I started it later than I should have done, so a taxi was needed to get me back to Oban afterwards. Nevertheless, what started out showery in Glen Strae, turned glorious in Glen Kinglass and memorable along Loch Etive. Speaking of memorable exploits, a two-day hike from Taynuilt to Kingshouse at the head of Glen Coe beckons. For now, that's for the future and will need me to abandon my usual overnighting habits to use a bothy at the end of Glen Etive. I could what seems on paper to be an epic walk from Oban if I wanted, following the quiet road through Glen Lonan that I have done on a number of occasions. It's good to have possibilities in mind.
Even with all my visits, North Argyll still has more to offer my love of hill wandering, and Oban may even see me again. Now that I have got the history shared between us out of the way, it's about time that part two of that report on my most recent stay in the area made its appearance here. I'll need to get on with it, then...
A weekend around Argyll: Part 1
19th June 2008 It's been a while coming, so here's the first instalment of the description of my trip to Scotland over the Spring Bank Holiday weekend. The outing itself turned out to be planned at the last minute because the overall tenor of the weather forecast hadn't been the most promising. As it happened, I gleaned that heading north was best, and that's why I tried Scotland. I was far from wrong: the weather in Scotland couldn't have been better, and I ended up kicking myself that I hadn't taken a day off from work to spend a little more time up there.
Of course, I had gone for a spot of walking among hills and my first day, the main subject of this post, was spent making my way along a hill track from Inverarnan to Dalmally. The idea originally came to mind a while back when pondering improvements to the route of the West Highland Way. The route that I took was encapsulated by road walking, first along the A82 from The Drovers Inn to Glen Falloch farm and latterly on the A85 until I reached Dalmally. In between, progress was over good tracks and pathless moor in open country, albeit with a line of pylons stalking their way through the glen and over the bealach. Navigation was non too taxing for the most part, even if a spot of forestry track building needed rather more thought than would have been desired.
The route came from Scotways' Scottish Hill Tracks, a good source of ideas, even if caution is needed when following them on the ground. Don't expect nice clear tracks because they may not exist, and I followed enough of them to know. In fact, anyone following Mick and Gayle's LEJOG might know that their following another of those hill tracks involved negotiating loads of fallen trees; it almost reminds of my WHW hike along the shores of Loch Lomond last year. There's a certain caveat emptor to the whole business, so it's best to be prepared, as the old scout mantra goes.
Anyway, to the day itself. It began under cloudy skies with the sun struggling to make its way through as I made my way up the A82; some blue sky made its appearance a little later only to disappear again. As I know well from my WHW tramp from Inverarnan to Crianlarich last August, this is a busy road that creates an unpleasant amount of noise. At 08:00 in the morning, it was quieter, but there was no pleasure in plying along its margin watching out for traffic and keeping in from approaching vehicles. I was happy to be rid of it when I picked up a clear track that took me up the slopes around Troisgeach Bheag. I crossed a bridge over the West Highland railway just as a rail tour passed beneath me, and took in views over Loch Lomond on the ascent.
All the while, the hubbub grew all the weaker. It wasn't intrusive like that day last August, but I like my wild country without that racket. I also rather it without pylons, but that was not to be as I flew along the track up Gleann nan Caorann. Though clouds filled the sky, the sun managed to light up the summits of Ben Oss, Ben Lui and Ben a' Chleibh, at least when I first glimpsed them. It didn't stay that way for long, and the sun continued to fight a losing battle with the clouds until I crested the bealach between Ben a' Chleibh and Meall nan Tighearn. The track stayed with me for most of the journey into a landscape that was boggy and crossed by a myriad of watercourses. Losing the track as it reached its terminus, a shieling, meant I was in for a schlep through and over what was a watershed. I followed whatever vague track took me where I wanted to go for a lot of the time, but some freestyle wandering was needed too, and that line of pylons served as an excellent handrail. As I continued on a lung and leg busting ascent, a good view of the many lines etched into the terrain across it opened up.
Other views opened on making the crest of the bealach, and the sun came out to enliven them too; it was to remain thus for the rest of the day. I could see now beyond the glens occupied by the Orchy and Lochy rivers towards Ben Cruachan and such like. Such an arresting vista demanded a stop for its appreciation, and I took the opportunity to have some food too. After that, my nigh on pathless course continued as I started on my descent, confident that I was to reach Oban, where I was going to be staying on this visit.
Pylons were being painted, so a myriad of rough ATV tracks abounded, and I picked my way down to the entrance to the forestry plantation that lay between me and the A85. That entrance wasn't a welcoming one, with its rickety wooden gate and the need to dodge water and mud to get in. In hindsight, it could have been seen as a portent of what was to come. I made my way down the firebreak with no sign of the path shown on my map, but a track to the left soon offered itself. That took onto another track, a well-made affair that clearly had received recent attention and lorries were making their way along it. Navigating forestry tracks can be a confounding experience, but all seemed well for now; new tracks can appear, and the OS might not be able to keep up with a path turning into a track. However, I don't know whether I missed a left turn due to an episode of reverie or what happened, but I started to feel that something was not quite right about where I was going. Trees had been cleared, so I could see the A85 below me and I opted to use my right to roam for a more direct approach to reach it, even if it meant crossing the railway and the River Lochy, a perfectly traversable affair. It was not the most dignified route, yet I got to the A85 and turned left for the tarmac tramp to Dalmally.
Walking along a busy road like the A85 is hardly the best, yet it can cure all sense of navigational uncertainty. The road margin was generously proportioned, but that did not excise the need for being ever watchful of cars and other vehicles; it was a constant necessity. The day was by now glorious and hotter than I would have liked, but I made Dalmally in good time. I wasn't timely enough to make the 17:03 to Oban, the base for my visit, but the 19:08 was easily made, and I got a good rest too. While I suppose that I could have gone and walked about a bit, it had been a long day of walking and the heat made relaxation the better option. I was soon enough in Oban and, rather than me plotting out the next day's wandering, the need for a good night's rest took over. Sunday was another day...
Not a bad weekend…
15th June 2008 It's the sort of time when I might have been off somewhere, braving the threat of showers. However, a bout of flu picked up last weekend in Ireland has meant that staying at home has been the most sensible option. Still, getting grounded with sunny skies outside does wonders for the outdoors enthusiasm, never a bad thing. For one thing, it allows ideas for excursions to foment, and the same could be said for that weekend in Ireland.
Regular visitors will know that my native Ireland has never played host to a proper hillwalking outing of mine to date and that I am always wanting to change that, even if plans have never come to fruition to date. Last weekend's outing to Killarney was as strong a reminder of that as any. It was anything but my typical outing with it involving a lot of driving and I doing it. My people are not big into walking, but I still managed to get a stroll lasting up to two hours out of the day.
This part of Kerry plays host to a goodly amount of quality hill country, and there's a very tempting long-distance trail that threads its way though a lot of it: the Kerry Way. As it happened, my short walk wandered along part of the said trail as I plied my way from Muckross House to Torc Waterfall and back again. The day was a grey one, damp at times, but the scenery was nonetheless wonderful; if we had the weather of the preceding and subsequent days, then the appearance of the surrounding landscape would have been next to peerless. I had to leave the tempting track of the old Kenmare road after me, or those with me might have been wondering what happened to me on my brief escape. The amble was a good taster, and I must sort out that proper Irish hillwalking trip...
From Borrowdale into Great Langdale
5th June 2008 Last Saturday was a day when I was torn between possibilities. One dilemma that I didn't face was whether to go somewhere for a dander or not; that one was settled. It's where I was going that was the outstanding question, and the choice was between Wales and Cumbria. Even though Dolwyddelan tempted and remained a backup in the event of anything going awry on the travel front, it was Cumbria's Lake District that was to get my vote because a walk in Borrowdale was in my head for a while and I hadn't been to the area since last July anyway. If my time was more restricted, then my decision could have been very different.
My journey to Borrowdale was set to involve many changes: Stockport, Crewe, Penrith, Keswick. With this number ahead of me, it would have been better if passengers could control themselves and police didn't need to meet what was to be my train from Crewe. Luckily, I had a twenty-minute wait in Penrith in prospect, but losing ten minutes due to a delayed train soon chopped that down to size and delays can beget further delays. As it turned out, I had no cause for concern, and I easily made my bus to Keswick. However, I was reminded of my connection to Borrowdale when I saw slow traffic on the A66 and more people getting on at Threlkeld than I had ever seen before. It so happened that the Borrowdale bus was late, sufficiently so that one would start to wonder if it had departed without my seeing it. Keswick bus interchange was a busy spot that day.
Following all those opportunities for groundless anxiousness, I found myself in Rosthwaite, relaxed and enjoying wonderful sunshine. Eating an ice cream, I found my way onto the Cumbria Way that I was set to follow all the way into Langdale. Being a sunny day in the Lake District, solitude was not to be expected, but there were to be moments when I had a lot of space to myself. Still, it never seems to surprise me how easy it can be to lose them. Even so, Rosthwaite and Stonethwaite were hardly overrun anyway, but most of those perambulating about them seem to have got nary a thought of going further afield. With the sights that were on offer, I suppose that it is hard to blame them.
Having skirted past Stonethwaite, another choice presented itself: to stick with the original plan to walk to Dungeon Ghyll or tramp over Greenup Edge to Grasmere. If things got a bit too crowded on the former, the latter was to be my plan. They didn't, and I managed to drag myself onward to leave the Grasmere option for another day. A sign for Watendlath had tempted me earlier, but I managed to put that into my stash of ideas for the future too. Thus, I struck on for and through Langstrath, a wide, open and empty space in keeping with its Scottish-esque name. Also in keeping with any pseudo-Scottishness, it was here where I met next to nobody but a goodly number of Herdwick sheep.
The seemingly obvious southbound exit from Langstrath is to follow the valley's beck to Angle Tarn and drop down from there by the side of Rosset Gill. This is not the way taken by the Cumbria Way, though; instead, a more direct route over Stake Pass is its choice. On paper, this is a seemingly unimpressive 200–300 metres of ascent. In reality, as with many slopes in these parts, that apparent "walk in the park" can be a lot more testing than those numbers might suggest. For one thing, you can guarantee steepness and erosion means that route finding involves a spot of blundering about on a maze of paths, many deviating from the "correct" one. Couple all of that with the hot and often breezeless day, and you have to take it nice and slow on the ascent. A descent still offers plenty of footholds, but you still need your wits about you so as not to take a more horizontal position than you would like.
On reaching the top, I soon found a spot to rest a while after my exertions. By this stage of the day, the sky was full of cloud and the sun had become well hidden. It remained pleasantly warm, though, and I enjoyed the flatter gradients before the descent that faced me. The state of the path down couldn't be more different than the one that I used on my way up. The National Trust have been keeping an eye on things and have been doing some further work over the past few months to improve things. I might have said that it didn't need the attention and that the path from Langstrath to Stake Pass needed it more. There is a counterpoint to this of course: the way up from the floor of Langdale is a busier trail because of the proximity of such delights as the Langdale Pikes, Pike'o'Stickle and many more. The result of the attentions was that I made steady progress down a well-built and pitched path that would be obstructed in places by big bags of big stones.
That descent and obstacle dodging completed, the track really levelled out and, apart maybe from the deepness of the loose stone surface in parts, it was easy and undemanding walking all the way to the Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel. If I had arrived twenty minutes earlier, I might have caught the 16:30 bus to Ambleside, but a wait of over an hour, in blissful surroundings with the sun attempting to get through the cloud, for the next one was no hardship. I did consider walking further along Great Langdale, but reconsidered it on the grounds of time and wiled away the time on a shorter stroll instead.
When the bus did turn up, we found out that it terminated in Ambleside rather than Kendal as per the timetable. There were those who were far from happy with this state of affairs, more than likely those with ongoing connections. I suppose that anyone who was going south of Oxenholme would have had the limitations of late Saturday evening services on their minds. As with my travel that morning, any connection anxiety was needless since we easily made a connecting bus from Ambleside. That got me to Windermere in plenty of time for the start of the railway journey home, with changes in Oxenholme and Manchester. The sun was out as I was leaving; was it an effort to coax me into a return trip for those walking ideas that I had to set aside earlier that day?
Dolwyddelan bound but Dolgarrog destined
3rd June 2008 The strange title comes from the fact that a planned walking trip to Dolwyddelan got scuppered by a public transport lapse. I was travelling on a sunny Sunday a few weeks ago when the promised 07:40 rail replacement coach service to Wilmslow didn't materialise; what was listed on the National Rail website was a work of fiction. The result was that my train tickets for Dolwyddelan weren't to be fully used because of missed connections.
Instead, I resolved that a safer prospect to go part way up the Conwy valley to the quiet backwater of Dolgarrog. I was sorely tempted by the idea of a bus connection to my intended destination but I stuck to my guns for a walk with a slightly earlier start. Inspections of maps since then has made me realise that Dolwyddelan would still have been an option but that's not how I saw it at the time.
Once in Dolgarrog, I made my way up the steep wooded slopes that really worked out my legs and warmed me up. The confusing maze of paths and tracks also exercised by navigational skills and I am pleased to state that no failures occurred. After that start, things levelled out a bit and I rounded Coedty reservoir to set off into open country as part of a circular hike. Clouds were aplenty but the sun still broke though as steady progress was made along a good track along the lower slopes of Moel Eilio. I soon reached the broken dams of Llyn Eigiau, a relic of the disaster than struck in 1925 and a reminder of the 16 people who died in Dolgarrog and the need for the reservoir legislation that has been passed since then. Somewhat appropriately, members of the Carneddau offered a brooding backdrop to the scene as I then turned away to start my return trek to civilisation again. As I plied my way, I detoured over Waen Bryn-gwenith for some freestyle wandering before returning to the tarmac for a timely drop down into Tal-y-Bont, a short hop north of Dolgarrog, in ample time for a bus back to Llandudno Junction from where the railway conveyed me home again and without mythical connections confounding my progress.
All in all, it was a good day out. I might not have got to Dolwyddelan as planned but there are seeds sown for future outings. A walk from Dolwyddelan to Capel Curing is one such ploy but another is a trek from the Conwy Valley through to Bethesda or Bangor, passing by the Carneddau. It's a tempting possibility even if there would be a goodly amount of ascent and descent for those legs in the middle of the hike. Leaving somewhere with ideas for return visits is far from disappointing; in fact, I am inclined to consider it a successful attribute of a good day out. Having new places to explore does keep me going back to the outdoors and, if I ever felt that I had explored everywhere, a clear impossibility, then that desire for the outdoors could wither. I think that I may have experienced that sort of feeling at times over the last year so it feels good be building up a list of potential trips for one of them to be pulled off the shelf and dusted down when an opportunity presents itself. I hope that those ideas keep coming.
