Aka Ben More and more.

As of last weekend this flat was no longer open for viewing, and I decided to go away walking. After flicking through my books and train timetables, I decided to do what I've meant to do for a month or so now, and take a day trip to the so-called "Arrochar Alps". This involved getting the 7.00 train to Glasgow, in order to catch the first Fort William train. Really didn't require my Sunday to be free, but should be fun.

I woke up late due to failing to set my alarm. I'd changed the time of the alarm, but not activated it. D'oh! I believe this is the first time I have woken up late at 6.45.

Anyway, no harm done. Since I was looking forward to getting away, I persuaded myself not to go back to my warm bed for some more kip, knowing I'd regret it later. After checking a few times, I decided to go to Crianlarich for the night, staying at the youth hostel there. Got my stuff together, remembered to make a flask of coffee and put my book in my bag, stopped by Thins^WBlackwells on the way to the train station to get a map, and I was off.

A very nice train journey it was too, from a bit out of Glasgow to Crianlarich at least, going up the side of Loch Long and Loch Lomond, sun streaming through the windows, open to let in a gentle breeze. The book was The Winter Queen, which describes itself as "Tolstoy writing James Bond with the logical rigour of Sherlock Holmes". Quite amusing, a little farcical, and I'm not entirely sure whether I enjoyed the plot; the style of writing, however, was a pleasure to read.

The second train gets into Crianlarich at about 2.30, and everything was running very promptly. When I finally got my bearings, I headed off out on the road East, towards the imposing form of Ben More. Feels a little dangerous walking along the road actually, while the cars were all very considerate and left a wide margin, even though I walked off the road when cars were coming, they still go at quite a speed and I find it quite intimidating, particularly when tired.

Anyway, got to the farm at the foot of Ben More, and proceeded to climb by the direct route. This is, as I had been lead to believe, a right slog. It got a bit chilly, and the visibility was closing in, so I was glad to meet the path to the top. Naturally it's always a bit further than you think, even when you second guess yourself. Some patches of snow in the lee... Got to the top, could see bugger all; the trig point was visible from the other end of the summit plateau, but that's it. I like the formation of rock below the trig point, lovely shelter to stop in for a bite to eat.

Anyway, yeah, went along the ridge to the bealach, and up to Stob Binnean. The climb was rather more pleasent, and not merely by virtue of having already gained much of the height already. From Stob Binnean, I had to head back up the valley to the road, not wanting to get caught out after dark.

Got back to the hostel, checked in (I am now a member...), dumped my stuff and headed for the pub. Unfortunate that I hadn't got around to picking up some pasta or something to cook for dinner, but I wasn't as hungry as I could have been after my sandwiches, so I settled for a couple of pints at the "local". I say that, rather a touristy place it was at the time. Live music from a bunch of jokers; nothing special, and in times cringeworthy, but an okay end to a day.

I was up early as possible the next morning - this turns out to be just after 7.00 - and out of the hostel by 7.30. This provided plenty of time to sleepily wander off the wrong road out of Crianlarich. Took me a while to realise, so by the time I wandered over to where I meant to be (via a short stretch of the West Highland Way) I'd lost quite a bit of time.

Anyway, to cut a long story short—or, at least, to preview it—I climbed An Caistel, Beinn Chabhair and Beinn a' Chroin that day, bringing the total to 5 Munros for the weekend. I've a funny feeling I'm becoming a bagger...

Was hard going after the previous day's walking, but I struggled up the ridge leading to An Caistel, and very glad I was of it too. My path to the top was a long walk along the ridge of Twistin Hill, and the views were rather spiffing. Unlike the previous day, the weather stayed pretty clear, or at least the clouds were up high. So, interesting little path to the top of An Caistel.

Now, never one to take the easy option, I decided that I would indeed include Beinn Chabhair, so off down a steepish slope I went. Reached the appropriate bottom, and slogged up the hill. Now, this was a fairly direct attack on the side of the hill, and it felt like one of those stepping machines, although it got more interesting towards the top.

I didn't hang around, instead I descended by the same route, tum te tum, and then slogged back up towards the high bealach between the first and third hills of the day. Up the path to the top (well, except I deviated from the path where it went overly vertical, feeling a little weak from all that walking, and ascended by a grassy section around the corner). Along the long top, and back down to the valley of squelchy doom. I don't think the valley took that long to walk up—maybe only an hour, or just over—but it felt like quite some time, squelch squelch. This was one of those places where "path" is a euphemism for "interesting elongated section of mud". My trousers were brown to the knees from splashes, and my boots barely recognisable; the bogginess led me to reconsider the advisability of gators.

So, train back to edinburgh, home before 11. Don't think I have any pictures that are worthy of putting up, they're all pretty terrible. I'll have another look see.