A head wetting session with a difference.

We'll give the pub a miss and head for the hills.

Congrats mate, you’re a dad, how is he ? How’s Louise ? And where are we going to go for his head wetting session ? The usual selection of ideas were banded around, but in all honesty they sounded nothing special. Within the last two years I’d started climbing “munros” and was keen to add to the tally. What about Ben Lomond ? I asked. Plenty of silence followed. I’d worked it out well; it was the most southerly “munro” (comparatively easy to get to), had accommodation (and pubs) near to hand and was regarded as a relatively easy “munro” to climb.

So that was it, the five of us - (Chris, Mark, Paul, John (Chris’s brother in law) - and me) set off early on Saturday morning. I was still feeling off it after two days off work, but couldn’t have stayed at home so summoned up the energy and dragged myself along. After all I couldn’t have missed out and subsequently listened whilst the others crowed over their hill walking experiences. However the nearer we came to Loch Lomond the better the weather and therefore the better the mood.

Having reached Rowardennan in brilliant sunshine, we parked up and set off up hill through the forest. The gradient soon had us all shedding layers and sweating bucket fulls. It was most oppressive as there was no breeze at all. Everything changed as we emerged out of the trees, the clouds had started to block out the sun, thankfully there was now a breeze and at last we had a view (very nice it was too – looking south over Loch Lomond). It then became cooler; mind you our pace probably had something to do with it. I can’t remember the last time we walked at such a pedestrian pace up a big hill. Perhaps it was something to do with the number of day-trippers out on the hill ? Yes, given the fact that it is the nearest big hill to Glasgow there seemed to be dozens of folk out taking their “5 minute constitutional” half way up Ben Lomond. Clearly they were slow and therefore we may have been unwittingly dragged along at a similar pace. Ben Lomond however did have some degree of defence, the last few hundred feet to the summit were much steeper. Although no handwork was required, being amongst the jumble of rock made it that much more interesting.

Time for celebration.

That’s it, we’ve reached the trig point. Someone remind me why we’re here ? Says Mark. Wouldn’t it be great if we could toast William. Guess what I’ve got here ? says Mark. As he produces (careful !) a bottle of bubbly and five plastic cups. Needless to say the Champagne flowed and William was duly toasted at 3,200’. Now we knew what was going on, but the other people on the summit probably thought we had just climbed our last Munro. As they looked on we kept quiet and left them to their beliefs. Dark clouds were hovering and so we decided that it was time to clear off and make a return to the car. Rather than go back the way that we had climbed it was decided that in the name of a change in scenery we should return over the subsidiary top of Ptarmigan. As John, Chris and Paul made their way down Mark and myself decided to stay a little while longer as we had found a decent patch of snow to lake with. Chris was still in range and had sportingly provided us with some target practice. It was amazing, there was no wind (for a change) where we stood and yet when we chucked our snowballs at Chris they changed direction alarmingly after about 30 yards. Clearly there was quite a wind blowing and we must have been sheltered against it. It was great fun aiming way to the right of Chris only for the snowballs to change direction and make a beeline straight for him. Ahh such fun.

From here we made our way over Ptarmigan in of all things a hail storm, then descended further in sunshine, had a good breather whilst ligged out and then ultimately rushed back to the car in a failed attempt to avoid a downpour. This weather was amazing, so many changes in such a short period of time.

We may have been back at the car, but the weather had not finished with us yet. Having parked up in Drymen we were making our way to a pub for a celebratory dram when the heavens opened big style. Any means of shelter was used, bus stops, walls, shop awnings, anything. It seemed to bucket it down for ages, and as quick as the downpour came it then left. Talk about being soaked. Needless to say the whisky became that little bit more welcome. I cannot finish this note without reference to the massive curry that we indulged in later that night in Balloch. In its own way it was just as impressive as the storm had been.

Maybe one day if any of us produce any more offspring a similar expedition should be undertaken. We will see.

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