Have you ever read The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame? If you haven’t, then I highly recommend it. It’s one of my all time favorite books. Written with such joyous poetry, I can only aspire to write with such eloquence to entice the reader and paint a masterpiece for the mind's eye. The words we write and read can have a profound effect on our souls and moods. More so than any other medium of communication. To me, the Wind in the Willows is a masterpiece of the written word in glorious and childish simplicity.
What does any of that have to do with the Corbett Bevane? Let me tell you.
Yesterday, I headed out the front door at the break of dawn to climb Benvane. With Sarah and Eve away on holiday, I couldn’t stay in the house any longer. Despite the list of jobs I had created for myself, the hills were calling! Like the character Mole from The Wind in the Willows, there was a “stirring in the air above and around”. When you give yourself to the great British outdoors, its beauty and hardships, it is a drug like no other. It stirs inside, and there is nothing you can do to quell its call as it shouts louder. To quote the Mole once again as he trotted down the riverside, “bewitched, entranced and fascinated,”. This is precisely how I feel about the wild places of our small island nation. The fascination and desire grow inside until you can’t help but shout “Bother! and oh Blow!” and head out the door in search of adventure.
Arriving at the small parking area in Glen Buckie, the start of the southern ascent of Benvane, I was all alone. There is a small cottage close by and a large farm, but even there, I saw not a single person. I hoped to be the only person to make Benvane home for the day—wishful thinking, I know. As it happens, I met some people later in the day, but it wasn’t a bad thing—far from it!
When I set off, It was still early, and a thin layer of frost was on the ground. The sun was hovering low in the sky, and you could feel its warm embrace starting to puncture a hole in the cold air.
It was the 12th of November yesterday when I climbed Benvane. I’m not that old, 44, and I don’t remember any November being this warm since I was born in 1980. We should be fighting the frigid air by this time of the year, wrapping up warm. As I set off up Benvane, all I could think of was removing layers of clothes as the air warmed the higher I went. In the hills, as most people know, the higher you go, the colder it gets. one degree per one hundred meters of ascent on average. By the time I had reached the top, I could have been in shorts and a T-shirt. It felt quite ridiculous and almost surreal. I was bathing in the sunlight and warmth when people below were planning for Christmas!
I couldn’t help but wonder why people bother going to Spain for a sunshine break. Just climb Benvane in November, and don’t forget the sunscreen!
The start of the ascent of Benvane crosses a bridge before heading over a lush green field filled with some very curious sheep. At the edge of the field, I had to choose between two gates. Taking the one of the right, over the style, put me immediately onto the hillside. The grass was long and wet, but a well-made trail was created by what I can only assume was a farmer's quad bike.
The ascent of Benvane starts steep, going immediately uphill. The views around are pleasant, and the noise of the A85 is never far away. Benvane doesn't have the feeling of wilderness like Beinn a’Choin, which I climbed a week or so ago. Benvane is, however, much easier and straightforward. Given that Sarah and Eve are away on holiday, I know they wouldn’t want me to attempt a more tricky climb, especially with the shorter days and longer nights. Benvane was an easy fix for my longing for the outdoors. I carried two head torches just incase!
The going was still challenging, albeit on my lungs and heart due to the ascent and less due to the rough terrain. Despite Eve and I having walked thousands of miles over the last few years, my fitness has never been where I would like it to be. I will never be a speed demon or a mountain goat. I like the challenge; feeling my heart beating fast and breathing hard has always felt good. Work, for pleasure or otherwise, is nothing to be shy of. Hard work should be embraced and encouraged. It’s what we are all conditioned to do, after all! However, if people were to walk past me, they would be forgiven for thinking I was about to keel over. I try to pace myself and enjoy the journey. The destination is not the point, merely the superficial goal of an autistic adult who likes a degree of structure and purpose. The summit of Benvane, however, was to be more of a spectacle than I could ever have imagined or hoped for!
The climb was regularly punctuated with short stops, but not for the sake of a break. Looking behind me, I saw a small cloud inversion sitting in the glen around Balquidder. Cloud inversions are one of the most spectacular phenomena you can witness in the hills. Seeing the clouds hug the glens and lowlands like a pillow on a bed is spellbinding. There is seldom a better sight and reward after a hard climb than an inversion!
Plodding on and looking at the map frequently, I could see the contour lines spreading out. This first steep section was to become easier and flatter. I was looking forward to it as I had decided to stop her for my first proper break and sip at the coffee in my flask. Reaching this section was a wonderful surprise. It wasn’t simply flat or another uphill push, but a landscape of mounds capped with mini rocky summits. It was alien and confusing to the eye. You could imagine yourself as a giant walking amongst the mountains of the highlands or a small rodent in the undergrowth navigating small lumps and bumps in the earth. I found more humour in imagining myself as a giant stomping like the BFG on the way to share a Golden Phizzwizard!
It was fun to find ways around these mounds, so much so I didn’t bother to look up or in front of me much, if at all. Hopping over bogs and climbing these mounds was so much fun I failed to see the enormous mound coming up in front of me—the mound of Benvane itself.
Seeing Benvane set against the low sun left me breathless and motionless. I stood there for what felt like minutes but was, in fact, about half an hour. I stood alone, staring in awe and wonder at the silhouette. Hills and mountains can appear threatening, aggressive, and formidable, but once experienced, you soon realise they are anything but. Benvane was standing there looking like a big, friendly mountain giant.
Benvane was everything you could hope for from a day in the hills when the purpose isn’t to challenge oneself or to set a world record but to simply be out in the wild for the sake of mind, body and soul. Benvane sat there, towering over me, not like a beast or insurmountable lump that would involve toil and tears, stressing sinew and tendon to reach its peak, But like a friend who you know had your back and would help you with every step. I can imagine how a small pet might feel when looking up at its devoted master, who looks down upon it, full of love and compassion. That's what the outdoors can do to people like you and me. It can speak to us in a way that nothing else can. With no preconditions or expectations, it is what it is and will always be like that. There for you when you need it the most with its silent embrace that can only speak to you if you open yourself to its endless possibilities!
This section was flat(ish), but with a tapestry of deep bog and saturated ground, it meant a fair amount of zigzagging to stay dry. I am sure there is an easier way through this section, but I would, with every ten to fifteen steps, find myself on the edge of something that looked like it would swallow me up whole. My excuse, and I'm sticking to it, was that Benvane in front of me was still captivating and demanding so much attention. Fearful as I was not to miss a single thing or ray of sunshine as it landed on the hillside, creating shadows the looked alive.
There is a fence that runs parallel for most of the section, so navigation wasn’t an issue, not at least in good weather like today. I found my way through and onto the final section of Benvane.
The last section was steep again. Not quite as steep as the first mile, but steep enough to get the heart pumping and the lungs expanding. By now, I could see a lone walker coming up behind me in the distance. A tall, thin male who I would meet and talk to on the summit. He was a friendly chap with considerably more experience in the hills than me!
When I reached the small Cain at the summit of Benvane, I was so nearly overwhelmed by the spectacle stretching out before me. Benvane sits close to the highland boundary fault, with the highlands to the north and the lowlands to the south. The inversion that I had been so in awe of as I first started to climb was nothing compared to what I was about to witness.
Benvane summit video
The entire lowlands before me were blanketed with a cushion of white clouds. Stirling was shrouded with just the Wallace monument exposed above the white like an island in the sea. All around me were mountains, from the Arracher Alps to Ben Lomond and the Crianlarich Hills. It was beyond words or reckoning then or now as I try to write this journal entry! We, as humans, are so small and insignificant, but our impact on the natural order of things is so profound. We have nothing to offer the planet, but we take everything. We assume we are so important and nothing is ever quite good enough. When we simply stop and look around us, at nature and the landscapes, how can we, in all honesty, want or need anything more in our lives than this: love, family, and obviously the NHS!
I phoned Sarah and Eve from the summit to speak to them, sounding almost drunk as I spoke. Such was the impact of what I was witnessing all around me. We talked and said our farewell. Sarah and Eve were having fun together, and I was as happy as I could ever want to be. For that moment in time, life was perfect. If heaven exists, this is precisely what I would picture it as!
The gentleman who had been hot on my heels for the last hour or so finally reached the summit as I finished speaking to Sarah and Eve. We both stood talking, eating our snacks and sipping from flasks. The sun was warm, and the sky was clear. It was a pleasure.
We each took photographs, and he headed off, leaving me once again alone on the summit to ‘muse’, as he put it, and muse it did! A few more groups were slowly heading up the hill, so I knew my time alone was limited. I made the most of it, walking around, sipping coffee, and enjoying the tranquillity whilst lost in my thoughts.
Eventually, the decision had to be made—time to start the descent. I reluctantly retreated, slowly at first but gaining pace. I seemed to cross the bogs easily, and before I knew it, I looked back up at the lump of Benvane from where I had first seen it a few hours ago. I was sorry to leave it and longed to turn 190 degrees and head back to the summit. I didn’t, however, back home; the cats needed feeding, and I knew they relied on me for their evening meal.
I don’t have too much to say about the return journey. Being lost in my thoughts and contemplations, I failed to make many mental notes of sights, sounds and smells. The sun was still burning hot, and I sweated as much coming down as I did going up. I did, however, make a slight detour to the summit of a nondescript rocky lump called Mullach an t-Samraidh. Try saying that after a few drams! As it was so obvious, I did note the amount of faeces on the hillside. Not human or dog, thank goodness. I do not know what species it was from, but I think it might have been Pine Marten or Badger. If you know or can identify it, please let me know; I would be very grateful.
When I arrived back at the wee car park, the gentleman I had spoken to was just driving off. He paused and asked how the descent was. It had taken its toll on both of our knees. The descent always doesn't, especially when going slightly faster than I should have been.
On the drive home, I paused for a few minutes at the head of Loch Voil close to Balquhidder, the burial place of Rob Roy MacGregor. Loch Voil looked spectacular like a vast mirror spread out on the ground. It’s hard to tell where the water stops and the mountain begins. I think I will leave you today with that image!
Sitting at home writing this journal, I cannot wait to return for another day in the hills. An overnighter with Eve on some remote summit to see the day roll into the night and watch the setting sun. That would be bliss!
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed reading my journal of Benvane.
Ian
Thank you so much for reading.
If you enjoyed this post as much as I did writing it, please consider buying me a coffee below or simply share this article with a friend. Your support is hugely appreciated. Ian
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