Ben Tirran
David Kaye
17 August 2017
Another postponement! I feel I am being punished. Perhaps I did something terrible, like voting SNP, in a former life.
Sadly the ascent of the Wee Buachaille was washed out, like several other plans in what we laughingly refer to as “summer” in Scotland. The good news was that Jimbo rode to the rescue with a master plan to head for the balmy Angus Glens and tackle the mighty Ben Tirran. This attracted a strong team of six souls suffering from Hill Withdrawal Syndrome. The meeting point was Wheen in Glen Clova.
Now, the more learned of you will know that Wheen is an old Scots word meaning “a great many”. Little did we know that there were a wheen of Wheens in Glen Clove. Our two cars contrived to wait at alternative Wheens. The deadlock was broken when Russell had the wit to drive round the Wheens until he found us. Clearly we need a new collective noun for Wheens. I suggest a “Confusion of Wheens”.
We duly set off slightly later than advertised. After a stimulating debate about whether the wheen of paths bore any resemblance to the map, and which particular path junction we were on, we eventually arrived at the bothy by Loch Wharral where tea and kitkats were consumed. This produced the well known bothy-effect – on emerging from the warmth we immediately succumbed to hypothermia.
Little daunted, we climbed the exiguous path and duly arrived at the trig point. I had floated the idea of continuing over Green Hill and descending by Loch Brandy to the delights of the Clova Hotel. Wiser counsel prevailed. It was starting to drizzle (which didn’t last) so we headed back to the cars. Mike and I took a short-cut so arrived twenty minutes after everyone else. We drove to the Hotel where coffees and sticky buns were downed with relish.
All-in-all Jimbo had saved the day. “Hurrah for the Demented Half-Dozen”.
In the unlikely event of a glimmer of sunshine, we have the exciting prospect of The Cobbler pencilled in for Friday 1st September. Signed up already are Jim, Jack, Russell, new girl Sarah and David. I await confirmation from Sandra, for whom the date was specially selected, and anyone else who sees the glass half full.
Can I finally bring a planned walk to fruition? I’m sure there is an apt phrase for my organisational abilities. Something to do with urinals and breweries? Cheers, David.
Photographic evidence that we did indeed reach the summit of Ben Tirran. Smiling or grimacing? Photographer Mike had the broadest smile as he bagged another “Featureless plateau” for his collection. David.
