4.71 miles 2h 42min ascent 553m (abandoned: strong winds)
Looks like I picked the wrong week for my two day Donald-bagging in the Ochils.
The planned walk for day 1 had been: Ochils Woodland Park-Silver Glen-Ben Ever-Blairdenon-Glenforet Hill-Ben Buck-Ben Cleuch, then back over The Law to Tillicoultry. I even thought about an extension to include Andrewgannell and King’s Seat Hills if energy and time allowed (I didn’t expect it would). As it was this turned into a Ben Ever there and back.
I parked in a small car park in Ochils Woodland Park, though reaching the car park proved more difficult than expected. Several construction vehicles were blocking the road and passing places, requiring complex manoeuvres to allow cars to pass. Sitting in the car I was able to consider how much more useful it would have been at school to have considered problems where three lorries/JCBs could be moved to allow cars to pass either way with passing places each large enough for just one vehicle, rather than the “if two men take four hours to dig a trench…”. Mustn’t moan too much though. They did actually make the effort to let me through, and the car park, being a picnic area had benches to sit on while tying laces etc.
Path from the car park
At the car park it was cold but not overly breezy, being amongst the trees. A good track, with a red way-marker starts by the car park. This led up through the trees, climbing steeply at times, to the Silver Glen, joining the large zig-zag track at about 200m.
The zig-zag track was warm-me-up steep and soon climbed from dry and brown to ice and snow covered. The forecast was easterly or ESE winds so I had assumed it would be sheltered in the glen. I hadn’t considered funnelling which somehow had the wind blowing in my face as I trudged onwards and upwards. It is strange how the wind blowing in your face can take your breath away. I’m sure this is more than just the extra effort, perhaps a Venturi effect actually stealing my breath away?
Approaching the sheep pens below Ben Ever
The trudging became increasingly arduous and as I walked up the Silver Glen’s track I decided that I would ditch the Blairdenon/Glenforet arm of the route. By the time I had reached the fences and gates at 360m the snow was deeper and collecting in small drifts.
Despite the snow, a track was still visible heading up Ben Ever. The snow was initially calf deep but soon reduced to a more manageable ankle deep though as ever the snow was deeper on the path than on the surrounding grass. The wind by then seemed to be blowing against my right cheek (face), and though it was not actually snowing, the air was filled with sharp ice crystals. Drifts were collecting beyond any obstruction, particularly larger tussocks, and should have alerted me to the actual wind direction.
As I climbed out of the glen, the wind strengthened and I began to wish I had chosen a smaller, svelte rucksack, rather than the sail I had on my back. By then it was difficult to stop for a breather without kneeling down, and the wind would occasionally have me stumbling to the side.
At the summit there were two cairns, a wee one right by the track and a larger one perhaps 10-15m to my right. To be honest, the small one looked a more likely summit candidate but I felt it would be prudent to visit the larger one.
Buffeted on Ben Ever’s summit
Here I experienced the wind fully for the first time. I turned towards the cairn and was immediately blown backwards. No matter how hard I tried I could make little headway towards the cairn. I found that I could only move forward if I crouched but subsequently found that getting on all fours worked best. I had hoped I could sit behind the cairn but the only way to avoid being blown over was to lie down. I wondered if this was the wind felt to its full extent for the first time as I emerged from the relative shelter of the lower slopes, or a particularly strong gusting episode, but on reflection I decided it hardly mattered.
This seemed an excellent opportunity to adjust my plans in light of the conditions. Tactical matters first: there was no way I could have a cup of coffee there. Indeed I suspected that if I took my rucksack off, either I or rucksack would fall below critical mass and be blown away. Then to strategic matters: There was no way I would be able to get over Ben Cleuch in wind of that strength. I can see why in similar conditions people might have to crawl into a survival bag and wait for it to pass. But I would be able to get off the summit relatively quickly in the direction of the wind and back into the milder winds of the lower slopes.
View of The Nebit on the descent
In coming off the hill I realised that my impression of the wind being in my face when climbing was mistaken. It was now blowing into my left eye. But as ever, the first law of hillwalking proved correct, and downhill was easier than uphill. On the way down I was accompanied by snowballs of various sizes rolling down beside me and, unexpectedly, a water vole, black against the snow, ran across my path. I hope it found its way home.
Back at the car I looked at the forecast for the next day “East or southeasterly, in the range 40 to 60mph; gusts on some higher summits and ridges may reach 80mph”. So my planned two days in the Ochils became just a half-day.
I’ll be back.
