A wet day in the woods above Aberfoyle

Monday 27th May 2013

My intention for this walk had been to go to the Trossachs and climb Ben Venue, a mountain that I had planned on doing in 2007 until a road closure forced me to change my plans and walk up Ben Ledi instead. On this occasion the weather was instrumental in forcing me to change my plans again as it was raining when I got up and it rarely stopped all day, but that wasn’t my main problem. I underestimated how long it would take me to get to Loch Achray and eventually got fed up of walking along monotonous forestry roads in the rain. The root of my problem stems from the way I go walking in Scotland. For almost ten years I have followed the same plan when walking in Scotland of basing myself in one place, usually a youth hostel, and doing the walks in the area, but since the youth hostel is not usually at the foot of the mountain I would need to take public transport to get nearer. For example, the day before this walk I caught a bus to the foot of Ben Cleuch and now I started this walk by catching a bus to the village of Aberfoyle in the Trossachs, which is the closest a bus could take me, but is still a long way away from Ben Venue.

The Trossachs is a small woodland glen that lies between Ben A'an to the north and Ben Venue to the south, with Loch Katrine to the west and Loch Achray to the east, although generally the whole area including Aberfoyle is referred to as the Trossachs. In order to get to the actual Trossachs I started walking through the woods north of Aberfoyle, which are part of the Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, and despite the rain this started off as not being a bad walk. The lower slopes of the wood are mostly deciduous which provided me with an interesting and, at times, picturesque walk. On reaching a stream I could hear the unmistakable sound of a waterfall and a short walk upstream revealed the source of the sound, a tall, spectacular waterfall with the rain-swollen Allt a’ Mhangham falling in many cascades to the rock pool below surrounded by an amphitheatre of trees.

Unfortunately, after climbing the bank on the other side of the waterfall, I soon left the deciduous trees behind and entered one of the many conifer plantations that plague Scotland. I was following the National Cycle Network route seven along dull, wide forest roads with little variation in the terrain or the vegetation. The rain continued to fall and the forest road was taking such a winding, torturous route over the hill it was taking me a lot longer to get to the Trossachs than I had anticipated and I was not enjoying the journey. I was getting wet, not getting anywhere, the view was terrible, the forest road was tedious in the extreme, and the prospect of climbing Ben Venue in this weather did not fill me with excitement. There is a world of difference between the top of a mountain in good weather and in bad weather. In good weather it is the best place in the world, in bad weather it is the worst place you could possibly be; why would you choose to go up there in bad weather?

I have been up mountains in bad weather many times before and they do have their appeal, but as I get older those advantages lose their appeal compared with the insurmountable disadvantages; it is just not worth the effort. In the end I just gave up, turned around and headed back the way I had come towards Aberfoyle. Beyond the waterfall I climbed up to the visitor centre, which was closed due to renovation, so I had my lunch sitting outside before leaving along one of a number of way-marked paths in the area that had attracted my attention. These stay mainly in the deciduous area of the wood keeping away from the conifer plantation that had so depressed me earlier, so I started with a path marked with green posts and labelled the Oat Coppice Trail. This was so much better than the forest roads I’d been on earlier as the path was narrow and undulating, winding around the hillside and working with the terrain rather than bulldozing through it. Unlike the lifeless undergrowth in the conifer plantation, the oak coppice was full of woodland flowers that were a pleasure to walk past even though many of the flowers hadn’t come out yet.
 

Just before returning to the waterfall I came upon another trail, so I turned right and followed the blue posts that marked the Highland Boundary Fault Trail. After a pleasant stroll beside the stream I turned left steeply up the hillside until I eventually arrived at Lime Craig, feeling a lot warmer than I’d been at the bottom of the hill. I was able to get my breath back while walking along a forest track that was perched high above the valley, and took me to a crossroads that I’d actually crossed, in both directions, earlier in the day. Here I turned off the blue-posted trail onto the red-posted Duke’s Pass Trail. This trail climbs up to the top of the Duke’s Pass and crosses the road onto a lovely little, narrow path that climbs through a felled area of the woodland where wild flowers are able to take a hold. This was a much more satisfying walk, despite the rain that continued to fall as I began to descend once more, across the road and through the woodland past the top of the waterfall. What started as being a disaster when the intended walk was abandoned, by staying out of the commercialised forest, turned into a thoroughly enjoyable walk.

Once I had completed my amalgam of all the visitor centre trails I made my back down the hill into Aberfoyle where I went for a stroll beside the River Forth while waiting for my bus and I thought about what had gone wrong with this walk. It was badly conceived from the start due to my inability to start from where I had wanted. For a walk up Ben Venue I should have started from the car park at the head of Loch Achray, but for that I would have needed a car because the bus doesn’t go there. Ultimately this wasn’t a bad day as I eventually enjoyed my walk in the woods, but it has shown that I need to do a big rethink on the way I do walks in Scotland and come up with something completely different.

The Ochil Hills

Sunday 26th May 2013

My annual two-week holiday in Scotland started in the historic city of Stirling and in order to gradually get myself into the groove for the fortnight I began with some easier walking nearby. After a wonderful evening spent in glorious weather exploring the castle and the nearby Wallace Monument, I awoke to a more overcast day with the good weather of the previous day a distant memory. Not far from Stirling is a range of hills called the Ochil Hills whose most striking feature is in the deep ravines on the southern edge of the escarpment that lead down to a string of towns at the foot of the hills sited to take advantage of water-power from the fast moving burns. First thing in the morning I caught a bus to one of these towns, Tillicoultry, where I walked up into the Ochil Hills through the ravine of Mill Glen, a name that gives a hint of the area's industrial past. Unfortunately, when I got to the start of the path through the glen, I found that it had been closed due to the danger of rockfall.

This was a disappointing start to the walk as I’m sure the ravine would have been exactly the sort of place that I love to walk. Undeterred I took the diversion that climbs the hillside overlooking the town and the wider Forth Valley before contouring around the side of the hill high above the glen. This may not have been my intended route, but it was an excellent path that zigzags cleverly up the southern slope of the hill and later clings precipitously above the glen affording me with tremendous views into the deep, murky ravine before eventually dropping down a series of steps into the valley and joining the closed footpath. After crossing the burn I climbed the steep, grassy hill opposite up to the top of the hills where my interest in the walk diminished. The best bits of this walk were in the ravines while the actual tops were relatively dull as the path continued up the grassy hillside to the slender top of the Law where I found myself in the clouds.

It was quite cold and miserable at the top and the terrain didn’t improve as the narrow ridge opened out and gradually led me up easy slopes to the top of Ben Cleuch, the highest point in the Ochil Hills and classified as a Graham in the vast array of Scottish hill lists. The Ochil Hills are mainly just an undulating range of grassy hills with no significant peaks in them. I could have traipsed across all of the hills, through many bogs, bagging each and every top above two thousand feet, but it wasn’t the weather for such an endeavour and I really couldn’t be bothered. I continued along the top of the hill and gradually descended grassy slopes and turning towards the south and the col at the top of Millglen Burn. Passing over the top of Ben Ever I joined a track that descends steeply to the col between the Glenwinniel Burn and the Silver Burn. The low hill ahead of me at this point is marked as a viewpoint on maps so I climbed the short slope up to the top of the Nebit where I had my lunch while gazing across the wide Forth Valley.

After eating I came down from the top of the Nebit but on reaching a track I turned right and followed it round the lower slopes of the hill and back up into the hills high above the Alva Burn. It wasn’t my intention to climb back up into the hills, but to descend into Alva Glen where I hoped to discover the delights that this ravine would reveal, but this is such a deep glen it wasn’t until the Strabanster Burn joins the Alva Burn that I was finally able to safely get down the steep slopes from the track to the bottom of the valley. There I found a faint path beside the burn that eventually improved fabulously and stays safely above the spectacularly narrow ravine before steeply descending many zigzags, where an abundant array of wild flowers delightfully graced the hillside, into the glen for an exciting walk through the gorge. This path was just getting better and better from its meagre beginnings to the heavily constructed boardwalks that clung to the rocks at the bottom of the ravine. Alva Glen more than made up for my disappointment in missing out on Mill Glen as this glen was full of so many wild flowers I was enthralled and excited at every turn of the path until eventually it led me down into the town of Alva.

On reaching the outskirts of Alva I found a path that led me into the Ochil Hills Woodland Park, but this was a little disappointing after the excitement of Alva Glen. It was a nice wood really, especially since it was full of bluebells, but it couldn’t compete with the abundance of wild flowers in the glen. Tillicoultry lay a short distance beyond the wood and brought to a close a walk that was surprisingly much better than I had anticipated. I had thought this walk was going to be very short, but by diverting to Alva Glen I not only managed to extend the walk but passed through a fantastic glen that was easily the highlight of the day, if not the whole holiday. Before catching a bus back to Stirling I investigated the damage to the path in Mill Glen, climbing around the barrier that had closed off the path (at my own risk, of course). I found that large boulders had fallen onto the path in several places not only blocking the path but damaging the metal handrail that guards against falls into the deep ravine. I could easily see why the path had been closed and actually decided to turn back myself because the path was too damaged. This is a great pity as what I saw would have made for an exciting walk, but maybe not as good as that through Alva Glen. I look forward to returning when the path has been repaired and maybe exploring some of the other glens in the area as they are definitely the jewels in the Ochil Hills.