I felt nervous and hesitant as I packed my backpack the night before. The backpack was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as the weight I felt inside. I was packing for a night out in the mountains without my hiking companion of the last several years, Eve. It had been more than 3 years since I had last gone wild camping alone. I felt an odd sensation inside. I felt as if I was being unfaithful. Letting Eve and Sarah down somehow. Truth be known. I felt I was also letting you, the reader, down as well.
I know only too well that people read, follow and support us. But predominantly Eve, as it should be and as I would want it! But, and it is a big BUT… We are a family of three individual and unique people. We all have different strengths and different needs. This is my time alone. Not as a father or husband, but as me, Ian - a middle-aged, neurodiverse man with a passion for adventures, to explore the wild and write about it. I have more information in my head than I can contain and a desire to inspire and motivate you to explore your corner of the world, wherever you may be. What is the best way I know how to do that? Through this little corner of the internet. Our… no, YOUR Spectrum Adventures.
So here we go...
From stories and tales to random ramblings. I'll discuss my exploits in the wild, on trail or wherever the path may lead. I'll show life in the untamed places of Scotland through exploring and adventuring wherever my mind and soul desire is to be. These places are where I feel the most comfortable and confident. Out of reach and all alone. But I must admit I miss Eve and Sarah!
So let’s start at the only place a story should start. At the beginning, obviously! But ‘obvious’ wasn’t my strength on this day! And I paid a price for it (literally) - £15 in fuel to be precise!
It was all going so well until it wasn’t! Not a big, dramatic issue, and certainly not one that warrants mention here. But at the time, it left me feeling like I was crossing a bridge that was slowly disintegrating beneath me! I disappointed myself, and there is no harsher critic than the voice in my head.
The Brack and Cnoc Còinnich are corbetts in the Arrochar Alps overlooking Loch Long. Although slightly shorter than a Munro, they give nothing to their larger siblings. The Brack and Cnoc Còinnich offer the most incredible, dramatic, and challenging mountain days. Reaching their rocky peaks would not be easy. I had planned this trek carefully, avoiding main footpaths as much as possible and adding sections for challenging navigation.
It started with a 90-minute drive to the small car park at Ardgartan, which would be both my start and end location, creating a large, almost circular route.
I arrived at Ardgartan in enough time to eat my packed lunch in the car I had made the night before. The day was hot, and the small car park was busy. I was excited and had a peculiar feeling in my stomach. I kept looking for Eve. I’m so pre-programmed to keep Eve constantly in my line of sight that not having her there beside me felt unnatural. I felt uneasy and nervous.
With my lunch consumed and ready to head off. I laced up my boots. Swung my backpack onto my back. Tightened up the straps. Locked the car. Grabbed my hiking poles… and… that's where it went wrong!
When I packed my backpack the day before, I disregarded anything 'Eve-centric'. My hiking poles are stored with Eve's, so I had not given them any consideration. I had not packed my hiking poles!
Now, hiking poles get nowhere near the attention they deserve. I consider them a critical piece of kit. They are not just hiking poles; they are safety equipment every hill walker should have and know how to use. I never hike without them, and today would be no different.
So at midday, I put my backpack back in the car, unlaced my boots and drove the 90 minutes home, followed by another 90-minute drive back to Ardgartan. It was 4 pm by the time I was back at the little car park. I was disappointed in myself. I set myself high standards, and forgetting something as critical as hiking poles, costing the additional fuel money, left me uneasy. An ominous sign not to head into the mountains, maybe? I don’t know, but it wouldn’t stop me; I would have to adapt my plans.
Day 1 - The Brack (almost)
I arrived back at Ardgartan just before 4 pm. The sun was low in the sky, and the temperature was unseasonably high. I put my boots back on, threw my pack on my back, and grabbed my hiking poles! Locking the car, I set off—and not a moment too soon.
Car park at Ardgartan
The trek started quickly, following a forest track through shaded woodland and commercial forestry. It was easy walking, but this would be short-lived.
Reaching a small gap in the trees, the uphill climb started, and itwas steep—very steep! Ironically, my hiking poles proved no help here. It was a steep scramble requiring hands, feet, and knees. Doing this with a heavy backpack, pulling me off balance, was hard!
With my heart pounding, breathing deeply, and legs burning, the ground slowly eased to a steep climb (as opposed to a scramble) over wet ground. Zig-zagging through the trees, trying not to trip or stumble and taking plenty of breaks, I reached the treeline. I took my first proper break and enjoyed the cool breeze the higher elevation afforded me. It was peaceful, cool and calm. I sat listening to the wind and the sound of the birds behind me. It felt wonderful.
I was slowly, ever so slowly, getting used to not looking out for Eve. When out with Eve, I constantly check that she is there and ‘okay’. Instead, I listened to my thoughts. The monologue was loud and clear, and I loved every second! The voice in my head was telling me to “push on”. I didn’t! Choosing to sit there, absorb it. It was poetry in the air. I was captivated!
I finally pulled myself off the rock I had sat on, heaved on the backpack, and headed off—more steep uphill climbing, more snaking through the boulders. The further I climbed, the more my thoughts turned to food and drink. It was getting late, and my stomach was grumbling with increasing aggression.
Stopping at the top of a waterfall, I collected water and had a small snack to stave off the stomach grumblings. Dinner would have to wait. I wanted to camp on the summit of The Brack. I still had a fair way to go and more challenging terrain to cover.
By now, there was no path or trail to follow. The route I had chosen went straight up. I zig-zagged as much as possible, making the relentless climb somewhat easier but keeping near to a minor burn that eventually dwindled and dried out.
I kept climbing, aiming for a slight dip in the landscape that felt increasingly out of reach. I stopped regularly to catch my breath. The ground was wet and boggy, making the climb hard. Wearing waterproof boots was a good decision.
Reaching the small plato close to the rocky cap of The Brack, I passed beside a small Lochan. I had walked into sunlight and out of the shade on the top, opposite flank of the mountain. The wind was strong, and the air was cool. The views were breathtaking—stunning in every direction.
Looking down Loch Long, I could see the summits of Ben Lomond and even Conic Hill on the West Highland Way, with Loch Lomond below it. English is the language of Shakespeare and Rudyard Kipling and countless poets and storytellers who penned such beautiful and profound verses. But here, all alone, looking down on the world and over the hills and mountains, no words or writers could capture the sense of beauty and wonder these places hold. To the religious, heaven is always portrayed as being above. Climbing into these places, as close to heaven as possible, and it’s not hard to see why!
I wandered around the lochan, listening to the wind and talking to myself, discussing my options and choice for a wild camping spot.
As much as I wanted to camp on the summit of The Brack, this was too good an opportunity to miss. I decided to stop where I was for the night. I had the lochan for water, a patch of ground that would be bathed in the morning sun and a stomach rumbling loudly. It was now 7 pm, and I was exhausted.
The tent I’m using is new (to me). It’s a small 1-person tent that we bought cheap, being an old model. It’s not light at nearly 1.8 kg, but having limited budgets, purchasing a lightweight tent wasn’t an option. But I love the colour, and the single-hopped design is strong and stable in the wind. For mountain camping, this tent offers me what I need. If you're interested the tent is a Terra Nova Compact AS 2023.
Loch Long and my home for the night
After a lot of faffing, the tent was finally up. This was the first time I had pitched the tent. I made the tent cosy, blew up my airbed and stretched out my sleeping bag. I had my home for the night. Next was dinner. Dinner was pasta and canned fish in a spicy sauce. It tasted perfect, and for pudding, Reese’s peanut cupcakes! I couldn’t have wished for more. This was the ideal end to an eventful day and a physically challenging afternoon.
I couldn’t have been happier and couldn’t have asked more! I sat late into the night in the doorway to the tent, watching the sky darken, the lights below twinkling, and the wind drop to a gentle breeze that felt like a gentle hug.
Day 2 | summiting The Brack and Cnoc Còinnich
I slept better and for longer that night than I have in a tent for a long time. Wild camping with Eve, I always have a broken night, slightly unsettled, keeping an ear out for Eve, checking her to ensure she is warm and comfortable. Last night I didn’t have to concern myself with Eve, knowing she was safe and happy with her mum! Waking at 7.30 am, the sun was high and the tent was hot. I swung open the door, and the cool air rushed in with a sensation of refreshment after 7 hours of deep slumber.
Breakfast was quick and easy: a peanut butter flapjack and a strong coffee. I was in no rush today, so I took my time getting up and packing. Even taking my time, I was still ready to start waking just before 9 am! Typically, the morning routine takes us about 2 hours from waking up! I think Eve is a bad influence on me!
Camping just below the rocky boulder-strewn summit of The Brack, I knew it wouldn't be a long walk to the trig point and small grassy plateau at the top.
Metaphors. Some people love them, some people hate them! I like metaphors! It gives comparable context to sometimes abstract or hard-to-imagine ideas, or in my case, places. Being on a mountain is a paradox. It makes me feel like an insignificant little human, sometimes like a giant. On occasions, it’s like a set from some fantasy film. This morning was a combination of all three. The rocky formation I had to climb through gave me the impression of being Goliath, but then the intricate patterns and mountains surrounding me, making me feel small, striding over the hills of rock and millions of years of geology. As for the film set, looking over the rolling green hills, it looked like a scene from The Sound of Music as they escape over the mountains. That morning, I felt every positive feeling you could hope for, and I felt dizzy with the sense of freedom and beauty surrounding the summit of The Brack.
The Brack
On the summit, I sat for three-quarters of an hour leaning against the trig point, looking around, feeling at peace. The monologue in my head quietened and for a period fell silent. This is what I came here for. The physical challenge and a sense of calm. Deep inner peace can only be experienced in solitude when embraced and not feared for what it is. Silence and solitude are good. Solitude is healthy. Loneliness is not! I am blessed with a fantastic family that allows me the time and space to experience solitude, knowing what awaits me at home.
Sat on the summit of the Brack, I could see the summit of Cnoc Còinnich - my next summit of the day. Cnoc Còinnich appeared out of the ground, like a curled-up dog, slowly stretching and arching its back. It was an impressive, formidable sight, with a broad crag along the side, although the image doesn’t show it. Cnoc Còinnich looked easier to climb than it proved to be! Arguably, Cnoc Còinnich was supposed to be the tougher of the two Corbetts.
The walk down off the summit of The Brack was surprisingly easy and swift. I had assumed it would be a long, drawn-out process with micro navigation through rocks and crags, but it wasn’t necessary. I followed a small ridge before taking a compass bearing to follow, aiming off my attack point (a small cairn), to handrail the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way with a small collection of white tipped posts at the base of Cnoc Còinnich… phew. I apologise if that’s too many navigational phrases! There is a reason for that but, I will discuss that with you later when I explain some of our plans!
One thing I am confident of is that climbing The Brack from the direction I did was the best decision of the day. I wouldn’t want to be retracing my steps down the steep, gnarly track I had climbed the day before! This was a much more fun and leisurely route!
As I dropped into the Coilessan Glen, I could see the cairn come into view. It was easy to spot, mitigating the need to refer to the map and compass constantly! In poor weather, this would be a very different situation indeed!
Reaching the small cairn on the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way brought back memories. Eve and I walked this trail as part of our charity hike along Scotland’s Great Trails. It felt bizarre to be back without Eve! I took a small break but didn’t loiter for too long, keen to crack on and start the ascent.
The climb up Cnoc Còinnich was challenging. Tougher than I was expecting. It was primarily a steep grassy incline with tussocks and the occasional rock to trip on. It felt harder than the previous day's climb. There was also a strong, cold wind. Pausing for a few minutes to catch my breath, I could feel my body temperature drop considerably despite the sunny blue sky! This is part of the danger of mountain walking that people fail to consider. Not so much the physical effort, but the change in weather, despite it looking warm and inviting from below.
I climbed zig-zagging as much as possible, with the impulse to ‘go for it’ and climb straight upwards towards the summit above me! This effort didn’t last long; I was breathless and left with burning legs. It was hard work!
I didn’t give myself much time on the ascent to contemplate my thoughts. Usually on a challenging climb, I like to think deeply, go into my thoughts and meditate. My most profound ideas, thoughts and inspirations come during intense physical activity. When my brain is engrossed in a more profound sense of self, the quiet mummering in our subconscious can become loud, clear and coherent. It also provides the best time to process thoughts and feelings, such as loss, upset and anger. The rush of endorphins is the ultimate addictive drug that we all have inside us.
Reaching the summit of Cnoc Còinnich felt terrific. Given the late start the day before, I doubted I would get to this point, but I was relieved to be there. If I hadn't summited Cnoc Còinnich, I would have felt deeply disappointed in myself.
The summit of Cnoc Còinnich is flat but with large boulders and smaller crags scattered around, marked by a tiny cairn. I added a few smaller stones to the cairn for Eve. Eve always has to add a few rocks to a cairn. This has developed into a tradition over the years and is one tradition I intend to continue!
On the summit, I took all the obligatory photographs, selfies, and a 360-degree video before finding a sheltered spot under an overhanging boulder to eat lunch and make coffee. I sat for nearly an hour in the still air under the rock, listening to the wind swirling before me. I was cold, but it felt good, wrapping my cold fingers around my hot coffee mug. I could live like this forever and never get tired or bored! Sarah might have something to say about that lifestyle choice! I can be somewhat extreme at times!
The walk down Cnoc Còinnich was very challenging and at times risky. I didn’t intend to retrace my footsteps, which meant navigating a formidable crag with a few gulleys that may or may not be safe to descend. I set off with caution.
As a precautionary note, I plan on these occasions to never climb down things I can’t safely back out of. I also knew I may have needed to walk back to the summit of Cnoc Còinnich to reassess my approach and find a different way down. As it happened, I didn’t have to do that!
I found myself on the top of a few high crags with steep drops, but took great pains to avoid getting too close. I hand-railed along, passing a few gullies that I felt were too steep or blind to descend safely. I eventually came across a gully carved out by a minor burn that, after carefully assessing it, I felt would be safe enough to attempt a descent.
I carefully walked down, crossing from one side to the other, following a plan I had already formed for my elevated viewpoint. Making minor adjustments on the way down is always necessary. After helping guide Eve for many years, I’ve become confident, not arrogant, at route finding over challenging terrain.
I took my time. Taking care to place every footstep with consideration. I sat on my bottom to slide down if it was too steep, knowing I could scramble back up if required. It was a slow, methodical process that took nearly an hour. I loved every second and can’t wait to do it again sometime! It’s exhilarating and gave me a sense of empowerment and control over my mind and body! I was walking on adrenaline, and it felt good!
I crossed a large area of open moorland, unwittingly disturbing a few sheep with lambs. My target was the same small cairn I had aimed for when descending off The Brack.
Reaching this cairn in Coilessan Glen felt like the start of the end. The walk out would involve a slow descent down the Coilessan Glen towards Loch Long. Eve and I had walked this section before as part of the Loch Lomond and Cowal Way. I recognised all it except for a tiny section.
The felling of trees had decimated the treeline. The whole area looked and felt starkly different to when Eve and I had walked through the previous year. This time, it was a desolate area, lifeless and void of anything, except the twisted remains of the trees that once stood tall and proud. I knew it was a commercial forest, no different ultimately to a farmer's crop. But it looks like a scene of devastation and obliteration. I was happy to leave the area behind and descend further into the glen.
By now, the wind had all but gone. The sun's heat was unrelenting, and my feet inside robust waterproof boots were uncomfortable. I didn’t pause, I was keen to plod on, thinking of what I had seen and done over the last 24 hours. The monotony of walking can play very well with my autistic mind! It is soothing in its rhythm.
It wasn't long until I made the sharp left turn to follow another forest track along the side of Loch Long. The track led me slowly closer towards the loch until I could smell the salt in the air. This smell alone helped make the trek's end more unique and special. A final blast of excitement for the senses, as the noise of the A83 came into earshot and the sight of increasing numbers of people milling around the loch side enjoying the sun.
There is always a tangible sense of relief to see the car. Not to escape the area or to shelter from the elements, but simply that it hasn't been stolen or vandalised. Reaching the car is bittersweet; I'm pleased that I'll be seeing Sarah and Eve, but also sad that the adventure has ended. Being in the hills and on the trail is deeply profound and necessary for every part of me, from the challenges of autism to the medicine it gives my body. There is nowhere I would rather be and a place I feel at home and comfortable!
Eve is already planning our next adventure together, and I can’t wait to put that backpack back on my back! Sharing this passion for the outdoors with Eve is the most incredible honour I have as a father, and I hope she goes on to bigger and better things in her life. However, I am more than content with these short, sharp escapades into the mountains with the hope of one day embarking on a much longer hike somewhere.
I sincerely hope we can continue to share these adventures together for as long as we can.
Thank you for reading.
Ian Alderman
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Thank you. Ian & Eve 🙏
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