Ben Donich

Another addition to my mountain porn collection - the Corbetts - was given to me by my other half. A new book to read in bed and fantasise about. Fabulous. I had trawled through it in some depth, murmuring my approval while my other half told me to get out and satiate the hill-beast. I had decided on Ben Donich, only an hours drive from Glasgow and at 0645, I was on my way with the forecast of high pressure but with plenty of snow still on the hills. As I drove up Glen Croe, I had forgotten how beautiful it was. My last trip up here had been an 8-hour 'epic' trying to get a friend off Beinn Bhuidhe who had taken unwell on the way down - I thereby christened it Beinn Spewie. As I parked in the Rest and be Thankful car park, I made a stupid error and got the car stuck. Luckily for me, a truck driver had stopped to take a photograph of the fantastic vista on offer and he managed to get the car out, while I pushed - I actually thought he was going to drive the bloody car off but he was helpfully taking it back to the roadside - the cynic that I am. Appropriately I was thankful in that car park and the actual Corbett could begin. I walked along the B828 until I came across the Forestry Commission track. Even at this height, the views were stunning from the Cobbler to Ben Donich itself and Beinn Luibhean across the A83. This was going to one of those memorable days. I had recently bought 2 walking poles and I have to say, even in this short excursion I was converted. The rhythm was good and there is something quite special about walking through virgin snow with no other footprints (save the wildlife). It wasn't long before I reached the stile and the ascent began in earnest. I made good progress but I decided to sit down and relax during this walk rather than melt the snow with my after-burners. It lives longer in the memory. As I ascended, the scenes before me were breath-taking and I snapped happily on my camera - thankfully with a fully charged battery this time. I know Doogz had previously said in a post that all he could hear was the traffic on the road - I was lucky as they had closed the B828 to traffic and so the only music I heard was the crunch of snow and the beat of my blood.

I had read in the book that in deep snow, care should be taken with several rock fissures forming quite deep crevasses further on. As I approached the first crag, I was literally stopped in my tracks as the rock became split into quite large chasms full of snow - who knows how deep some of these fissures were but I certainly wasn't going 'direttisima'. I headed around the gaps as best possible but it did involve down-climbing, a little rock-climbing and a wee jump on to slippy rock to get past this - quite cerebral and I have to say an unexpected but pleasant surprise. This took me about 10 minutes to get round. Once past this, there are no difficulties and I began to relax. I had been conscious of keeping well back from the edges in case I was walking on any cornices. Without word of a lie, I was literally 0.5 km from the summit when I heard this almighty boom and rumble and I burst into a run quicker than a steroidal Ben Johnson. Anabolic Pollock? I don't know if I set an avalanche off down the N face but I didn't hing about to fun oot. It was very unnerving and I began to think it had been in my mind. I crossed the flat plateau to the OS trig point and sat and admired the view while getting stuck into my hot minestrone soup - one I had prepared earlier. Arran, the Paps of Jura and even Mull could be seen. Was that Newfoundland?!

The descent was less remarkable but still required care, reversing my route through and over the fissures. Once down and back at the car, I looked back and took in the view once more. I never saw a soul on the hill all day - wonderful. Corbetts? Yer damned tooting.