The High Road

I set off west along the high road and walked the two miles to where the Allt Badour meets the track. Further along the glen I could see rain falling but it was still dry here as I turned right to head north along the stream. There were three streams coming together at the road and I followed the middle one but there was little sign of a path.

Outlying ridge on the approach

I plodded on keeping to a northerly heading and after about a mile I veered left and made for the ridge. It was an easy enough gradient but boggy and squelchy with the long grass wrapping round your ankles - the cloud was now low over the tops and the first drops of rain were hanging in the air.

Having got to the top of the ridge I got glimpses of Beinn Heasgarnich but the cloud made it difficult to get a good idea of distance. It still looked rather a long way away. There was another valley to cross first so I contoured round to the head of it so as not to lose any height and then continued with the long trudge.

Beinn Heasgarnich through the clouds

The rain was coming down steadily now and the cloud had closed in so I couldn't see my destination at all. There seemed to be yet another valley in the way - well a dip in the ground anyway - which didn't really correspond to the map and I was getting slightly concerned about navigation. Still, Beinn Heasgarnich sits astride a whopping great ridge running north to south, and has a regular, steep drop on its western side. I only had to keep heading west and I should come to the crest of the ridge.

On I plodded and eventually, to my great satisfaction, sure enough I reached the edge of the ridge. After that I just had to turn right and walk up the gentle, stony slope to the summit. As I approached the cairn another sodden figure appeared through the murk, heading towards it from the opposite direction. We got there at the same time. (15.20)

The summit of Beinn Heasnargich

After getting him to take the obligatory photograph of myself in the middle of a cloud I suggested we go back down together, as navigation looked a bit tricky with all those ridges, grass and bog. He was happy to do that although he had got one of the GPS devices that tells you where you are and the direction to take so he wasn't really worried.
His name was Ralph and he looked as if he was in his mid 40s - originally from Birmingham but living in Edinburgh for the past 20 years. We squelched back through the mist and bog together and had no real problems, just continued due east and eventually arrived at the unclassified road about 2 miles north of where I'd parked my car. I offered to say goodbye then, not wanting to soil his car with my muddy, sodden self, but being a nice chap he said not to worry about that but to get in and he'd give me a lift back to my car. So I jumped in and he did just that.


Couldn't find any B&Bs in Killin so I stayed at the Coach House Hotel - £36.

My room at the Coach House Hotel

The next day it looked like rain. I drove over to Crianlarich through the odd shower and weighed up the dark clouds drifting on and off the tops. I didn't want another soaking after the one I'd had the day before and when yet another shower started I decided to call it a day and turn south for home. Apart from anything else most of my stuff was still wet… and the car was acquiring a rather distinctive 'old wet socks' odour which delicate nostrils might find rather repellent.