[Trip Index] [Munro Index] [Home] 10th September 2003   Beinn a Chroin An Caisteal Map Warm, no breeze, blue skies with a few white clouds as the day wore on - a great day. We parked the car in a layby about a mile and a half south of Crianlarich, where the River Falloch turns away at right angles from the road. Pulled on the new boots and the silly sun hat and set off across a meadow, under the railway and along a cart-track which followed the river for about 1.5 miles. After that the cart-track became a path along the valley bottom, boggy in places and running for another 1.5 miles past some dozy looking cows. Andrew at the start of the cart-track At the end of the valley which had been pretty much level, just the faintest rising as we went, we came face to face with the slopes of Beinn a Chroin - all grassy with a few crags, moderately steep in places but fairly straightforward. Up we went to the summit which we reached at 1.00 (having set out at 10.25). Summit of Beinn a Chroin The sea of hilltops We sat there and enjoyed the views which were excellent - a sea of hilltops disappearing into the distance in almost every direction. Beinn a Chroin is a ridge with a summit at each end, not to mention the odd one or two in the middle; the easternmost summit is the highest by just two metres (940m as opposed to 938m). As we walked west towards the lesser summit we met a man with a dog coming the other way - 'Got to do em both,' he observed sagely, not breaking stride, 'the Ordnance Survey might have made a mistake.' The top of the ridge was mostly stones and cropped grass, along with some rocky outcrops and beyond the western summit there was a very steep descent down to a col, then a straightforward ascent up a stony path to the top of An Caisteal (3.00). Three blokes and two dogs were at the top at the same time as us, having come up from the Derrydorrach approach - ie up the NW spur. During the descent from Beinn a Chroin We enjoyed the views for a few minutes then set off north along the long ridge called Twistin Hill. A very pleasant, easy going descent which brings you to a final viewpoint called Sron Gharbh where you can look down on Glen Falloch and the A82, and beyond that towards distant hills. The ridge ends there, falling steeply down to the valley with the path appearing and disappearing. There was some long reed-like grass in the lower bits and a recently-made path of flattened grass through this which we followed all the way back to the cart-track we'd started on. I think this path must have been made by someone dragging a shot deer back, this being the shooting season. The route along Twistin Hill Glen Falloch, the A82 and distant hills Anyway once back at the cart-track it was a simple amble back to the car - about 5.00. We drove south and tried to stay in Drymen but as before it was full up apart from a place a couple of miles out of town. We carried on and eventually ended up in Lennoxtown in a B&B called Eilean (£25). The B&B was OK but Lennoxtown itself proved to be a dreadful dump of shuttered shops and desolate grimness. We ventured first into the Swan Inn which had an enticing sign outside saying food served till 9.00. Unfortunately this apparently means you have to order it by 8.30 and as it was now 8.40 we didn't qualify. Instead we got a vegetable curry at a seedy take-away and sat in the gloom on a form by the road eating it with a plastic fork. Then, spiritually uplifted and physically fortified, we stepped bravely through the doors of 'the Drookit Dug' - a pub whose name I believe means the Drunken Dog, although it may have been a reference to the landlady's chest. Anyway it had a picture of a wild-eyed hound on the Inn Sign beside the inspiring legend: 'Why pay more an' be a mug? Buy ye'r pint at the Drookit Dug!' As we entered there was a football match showing on the TV - on a couple of TVs in fact. It was Scotland playing Germany (they lost 2-1). There was a pool table there with some young clientele lounging around it and a few older types were propping up the bar. Very basic décor - an awful, raucous dump really. Braced ourselves with a pint there and then went back to the Swan where we stayed the rest of the night. I drank Guinness as I don't much care for that 70 Shilling and 80 Shilling stuff they sell in Scotland; the football match was on there too but eventually finished and was replaced by MTV. The Swan was not a lot better than the Dug really but there didn't seem to be a great choice of pubs - although there was one we missed. The owner of the B&B had been a hill-climber himself, he said, but his knees had gone and he could do it no more (he looked about 55). He told Andrew that he had lots of pictures of himself at the top of mountains and they all looked the same - himself in the middle of a lot of grey cloud. He could only tell the difference, he said, by who he was with in the photo, or by the colour of his anorak. He told me exactly the same tale when I went to pay him. He was a nice chap and drew us a map of the best way to get back to the motorway.