We started from the highest point of the Hell's Glen road from where a forestry track runs high into the forest and there was no difficulty when it finished in wandering through the straggly trees onto the open hill above. Once on the open hill however our troubles began because the wind made it difficult to stand. Frequent flurries of hail aggravated the problem. We donned all our waterproofs and then continued upwards, partly in drunken zigzags and partly on all fours. We dropped onto the eastern side of the ridge but as so often the mountain made its own wind patterns and the strong west wind swirled round the hill and struck us almost as violently from the opposite direction. Eventually steep crags on either side channelled us onto the exposed grassy ridge. My feet hardly touched the ground and I felt light as a feather and with little more control than a feather as the wind drove me upwards. As my head came over the skyline I saw the trig point only a couple of metres away and I dropped to the ground to avoid being swept over the crags beyond it. We crawled to the top and lay on the little ring of stones which surrounded the pillar.
A knobbly ridge lay ahead, running down to a col and round to the lower summit of Beinn an t-Seilich. On a better day we would have made the circuit but now without a word said we reliquished our hold on the one stable feature in the vicinity and crawled back over the lip of the tiny summit platform. I stood up warily. Although we were now trying to proceed quite steeply downhill it took all my strength to move into the teeth of the gale. Fortunately we had gained the relative shelter on the eastern side of the ridge when the next fierce hailstorm struck. It lasted only a few minutes and as it cleared shafts of sunlight shone through the stormy sky and illuminated the waters of Loch Goil far below. So often the moments of greatest beauty shine suddenly through the clouds of a dismal day. We arrived back at the car in time to hear a severe weather warning for Scotland with gusts of 70mph forecast. How strong had the wind been on the top of Stob an Eas we wondered.
We set out on the forest walk, the trees were beautifully coated in fresh snow which showed no sign of thawing. By the time we left the circular route for the much rougher track to Coilessan we were struggling through an inch or two of fresh powdery snow. The path was icy in places but it was perhaps not quite cold enough, for some of the bogs were almost impassable. A stile took us onto the open hill. The views were fantastic with every mountain freshly decked in white, yet with each rocky rib etched sharply black against the undrifted snow. There was no wind and no water. Seldom can two consecutive days have been so different.
Our two undone Grahams on the other side of Loch Goil were particularly conspicuous along with Mullach Coire a'Chuir which has a more distinctive outline but, by reason of insufficient reascent, fails to make it into the tables. [picture] All these hills looked rocky and formidable in these conditions. The Corbetts, Ben Donich and The Brack, closer at hand, looked easy by comparison but behind the latter peeped the most dramatic mountain in the view, the craggy outline of The Cobbler.
We left the line of posts marking the through route to Loch Long and trudged up the grassy north ridge of Cnoc Coinnich. Very suddenly, as the gradient steepened, the soft powder turned to treacherous ice. In these perfect conditions it was easy to detach the ice axe from the rucksack, retreat a little and turn the obstacle but this sharp surprise served as a timely warning and a reminder of how easy it is to walk into trouble on the winter hills. Trouble threatened again as we approached the summit, a circumstance which I have encountered before. The very top few feet of the mountain had been swept clear of fresh snow by the wind and was extremely icy. Only the easing gradient made it possible to continue to the top without donning crampons.
A small cairn, beautifully adorned with sparkling crystals of frost, marked the spot where we could stand with our heads in the realm of Corbetts, for this mountain is top of the list of Grahams at 2497 feet. [picture] At this time it claimed top place by alphabetical supremacy over Sgurr a'Chaorainn of equal altitude. Subsequently Beinn Talaidh fell from the bottom of the Corbett list onto the top of the Graham one, again only by alphabetical ascendancy.
The highest Corbett, Beinn Dearg, we have always called King of the Corbetts although it now seems that with resurveying its throne may be usurped by one of Scotland's loveliest hills, Foinaven. At this time the Grahams were known as the Elsies, short for Lesser Corbetts, which clearly must have instead a queen, or rather two queens. The conditions under which we climbed Cnoc Coinnich made it inevitable that she should become the White Queen of the Elsies, leaving Sgurr a'Chaorainn, by default, as the Black Queen of the Elsies. It remains to be seen if she merits this more sinister appelation.
The summit of our white queen was a beautiful place, an untrodden carpet of purest white, a dome of clearest blue and a frieze of mountain splendour more magnificent than any artist's canvas; a palace fit for a queen indeed. [picture] Only to the south lay a subtle threat as a thin line of clouds sullied the blue and veiled the sun so that it cast an orange glow on the still waters of Loch Long. This glow, evocative of sunset, introduced an ominous air of evening although it was little past midday. [picture]
The ridge south started steep and icy, the exit to the forest road was doubtful, tomorrow was the shortest day of the year so common sense decreed abandoning our original plan of continuing down the Ardgoil peninsula and we returned by our upward route, varying it only by following the second half of the forest walk with the trees still decked in Christmas card apparel. There had been no thawing at all of the fresh snow which touched their branches with such beauty. Two deer crossed the track, slipping silently into the forest. This magical day was also slipping silently away as we dropped down to Lochgoilhead where the sea, now totally unruffled, reflected the snowy slopes of our lovely mountain and the perfect half of the waxing moon.
After adding only two two-thousanders to our tally during our stay on Loch Goil we were determined to get one more on the way home and chose the easiest looking option, Beinn Dubh (previously listed as Mid Hill). We had intended to climb this hill on our way north but arrived at Luss in driving rain with only a few hundred feet of the ridge visible below the mist, just enough to make out a grassy track running up through the bracken. Our last day was very different. We drove out over the Rest and be Thankful pass through scenery of alpine splendour and were quite surprised to find the shores of Loch Lomond free of snow.
The long south-east ridge of our mountain presented frozen and rather slippery grass in its lower reaches but as it steepened belied its title 'Black Hill', being completely white. A subsidiary top is followed by a drop to a col of peat hags which were filled with icy pools and drifts of smooth untrodden snow. The hill was not untrodden however, there was a clear path most of the way with lots of footmarks in the snow and it was a relief to find it ankle rather than thigh deep.
As we gained height the beautiful backward view over the islands of Loch Lomond [picture], a perfect excuse for frequent rests, was replace by a widening panorama of snowy mountains. The Campsies eastwards were glowing in the best of the sunshine while to the west the more spectacular mountains of the Arrochar alps were living up to their name and displaying a truly alpine aspect, albeit with only an occasional shaft of sunlight to pick out at one moment the unmistakeable rocky outline of The Cobbler and a little later the pure white slopes of the highest hill Ben Ime. Closer at hand lay an array of two-thousanders awaiting our attention, Beinn Bhreac being the one which stood out dramatically illuminated by brilliant sunshine whilst its neighbour Tullich Hill lay in deep shadow. [picture]
The closer hills immediately to our west and south carried a curious tablecloth of cloud and just as I arrived at the summit, which is a short distance beyond the cairn, a strange mist gathered from nowhere and hid it from view. A few minutes later it dispersed as mysteriously as it had come to leave a perfectly clear view for the photograph of Rowland arriving at the cairn with Ben Lomond catching the sunlight behind. [picture] [Doune Hill from the summit]
There were several other parties on the hill and all were continuing round the obvious circuit which descends the other ridge, also a south-east one, into Glen Luss. We were apprehensive of this steep and unknown ridge in these potentially icy conditions. Moreover the glen was in deep shadow. It did not take us long to agree to return the way we had come, the slight reascent being a small effort to make for the pleasure of keeping high for as long as possible, enjoying the superb panorama of snowy peaks and descending as dusk fell over Loch Lomond.
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