The hill continues to rise gradually for about two miles further north, untill it reaches the top of Ben-Cloch, which is the highest of the Alva hills, and is the summit of all the Ochills; and according to the observations taken by Mr Udney, land surveyor, is about 2420 feet above the level of the Devon. The view from the top of Ben-Cloch is the most extensive and beautiful any where to be found, and is visited by all travellers of curiosity who delight in fine prospects.
Rev. Mr John Duncan
Statistical Account of Scotland
Statistical Account of Scotland
1797
Paul's outing to the Ochil Hills was on for today. It should have been on last week but for some reason we decided to go to Arran instead. The morning was grey but our weatherman said that a thin band of rain would quickly clear and sunnier weather would follow. This would be around one o'clock, said he, and we believed him for he is good at this kind of thing.
Therefore, to follow in illustrious footsteps - Albert Einstein has walked these hills, and Walter Scott, and the Wordsworths, Coleridge and others - we travelled north to the car park at Alva Glen. Not that we were for Alva Glen, though, but the car park here gave us a good starting point. A map board showed us how to get out of the car park. It was examined. After a few minutes, Jimmy moved off followed by Davie and Rex only to be called back for the ‘leader’ was unsure of the way. Eventually we went Jimmy’s way.
Down into a wee glen we went, over a rustic bridge beside a waterfall, took the first path on the right, and came into open ground. The path slanted up the hillside but it was between stands of whin and was narrow. We were reduced to Indian file. That didn’t stop us halting to admire the view and point out landmarks, the message being relayed down the line. There’s the Kincardine Bridge, and that’s Grangemouth - the Kincardine bridge and Grangemouth - the Kincardine bridge and ......... Even before the information reached the end, the question was returning, ‘Is that Grangemouth and the Kincardine Bridge?’ Is it not amazing how many comments are made and repeated by those who haven’t heard? We used to think it was Davie’s hearing but now we are all at it. However, Rex did manage to point out Grangemouth several more times, as we slanted upward across the hill.
We found a road, a track really, that climbed the hill in our direction and Paul directed us up it. We also found a man, a local chap, and stopped for a blether. He had already been on the top and told us it was cold up there. It wasn’t particularly cold where we stood but then the first spots of rain hit us and the dampness chilled. We donned the waterproofs. Before we parted with our newfound friend, he told us the best pub to go to on our return. There are some decent left folk in the world.
The track continued to climb and the rain went. It was heating up under waterproofs so, at a style in a fence, we stopped to disrobe. The view over the upper Forth estuary, as far down as the Pentlands, was good albeit dull and greyish under the lowering sky. But, was the sky beginning to lift? The mist certainly lifted in front of us as we climbed, but only sufficiently to show the hills in front still hiding in the clag.
Coffee was called and a break was had where the track levelled out. We could see quad tracks that would take us to Ben Ever, our next objective but, like everything above us, these disappeared into the mist that seemed to be returning. Then the rain hit, and did it hit. Waterproofs were thrown on just in time for something akin to a monsoon hit us then. Ben Ever became Ben Never for, in the light of the deluge, it was decided to take the track round it rather than go over it.
We kept to the track which contoured the side of Ben Ever above what might have been the top of Alva Glen. Had the rain not been so heavy, we might have stopped to consult the map. However, it was not the weather for stopping. We ploughed on through the wet. Then the rain eased and the sky lifted before us once more. Yet, we still managed to come into the fog before the top of the pass. When this happened, we can’t be sure for rain and mist merged one into the other. All we can say is that the rain went and the fog was here.
Rex set the pace when we left the track at the head of the pass and took to the open hill. It’s always a bad move to let Rex set the pace for he can move faster than the rest of us and today was no exception. Quad tracks eased the climb but still Robert and Jimmy struggled on this upward section and Davie complained of a sair knee. View stops might have been called if there had been views. As it was, the mist closed thickly around us and we struggled on upward. The climb wasn’t too long, though, for we had done most of it on the track and we gained the summit of Ben Buck before we knew it. We also gained the full strength of the wind. Though this was strong and cold, it was in the tail and was no hindrance as we walked over the top of Ben Buck. towards Ben Cleuch.
Paul’s GPS said we now had very little ascent to the top of Ben Cleuch. It was right. The slope was gentle and the wind on the back was an assist. We got to the top easily enough and, as we did so, the mist lifted to reveal the landscape below us brooding under the heavy sky. Yet, the sun shone in the west and we were optimistic of a better day now given our weatherman’s prediction. It was now five to one, the rain had gone, and the sky was clearing. However, the wind was strong and cool and we didn’t wait too long on the top. We came down to find a reasonably sheltered spot for lunch. The sun now shone in the east as well, over Fife. In fact, it seemed to be shining everywhere except where we sat. At least it was dry.
Peece finished, we moved on. In front of us now rose Andrew Gannel Hill with an outcrop of rock marking the summit. ‘The last ascent of the day’, said Paul and the climb was easy for there was now a path to take us there.
'It's all downhill now' said the wise one, and it was. We dropped down the slope of the hill to the top of a steep-sided glen, Gannel Cleuch, and extension of the Mill Glen according to the map. The path led us down and across the steep side of this glen but it was narrow and we were reduced to single file again. Johnny, in the rear, called a halt to remove his waterproofs. He was heating up inside these. The rest persevered. Twenty metres later we had a silly-bugger's halt to allow Johnny to put his waterproofs back on as the rain came again. This wasn't heavy rain nor did it last long and it was the last we were to see for the day. We kept the waterproofs on, though, until we had cleared the hill at Tillicoultry and the sun shone on us at last.
Paul lied. Andrew Gannel Hill was not the last ascent of the day. When we found our way through the village and found the path back to Alva, it rose like a tarmac ski-slope in front of us. Nor was this the last climb. An even steeper one awaited us by the cemetery at Alva. Yet, between these climbs, the walk was pleasant. We came through a wood of autumn colour that put us in the notion for Nithsdale next week
.
It was on the down slope by Alva House that Johnny found it easier to jog than to walk for the pace had been gradually increased by the advanced pair of Rex and Jimmy and Johnny’s French break was telling on him. The cadence was kept high for the rest of the walk, even on the steep into Alva, and the group was split. We arrived back at the transport in two groups around a minute apart.
Paul was complimented warmly for his choice of walk. It won’t be the last time we come to these hills. However, it will be the last time we believe him when he says ‘This is the last ascent of the day’.
Our newfound friend of this morning was correct in two things - it was cold on top of the hill and the pub was good. It might not be the last time we use it.
Therefore, to follow in illustrious footsteps - Albert Einstein has walked these hills, and Walter Scott, and the Wordsworths, Coleridge and others - we travelled north to the car park at Alva Glen. Not that we were for Alva Glen, though, but the car park here gave us a good starting point. A map board showed us how to get out of the car park. It was examined. After a few minutes, Jimmy moved off followed by Davie and Rex only to be called back for the ‘leader’ was unsure of the way. Eventually we went Jimmy’s way.
Down into a wee glen we went, over a rustic bridge beside a waterfall, took the first path on the right, and came into open ground. The path slanted up the hillside but it was between stands of whin and was narrow. We were reduced to Indian file. That didn’t stop us halting to admire the view and point out landmarks, the message being relayed down the line. There’s the Kincardine Bridge, and that’s Grangemouth - the Kincardine bridge and Grangemouth - the Kincardine bridge and ......... Even before the information reached the end, the question was returning, ‘Is that Grangemouth and the Kincardine Bridge?’ Is it not amazing how many comments are made and repeated by those who haven’t heard? We used to think it was Davie’s hearing but now we are all at it. However, Rex did manage to point out Grangemouth several more times, as we slanted upward across the hill.
We found a road, a track really, that climbed the hill in our direction and Paul directed us up it. We also found a man, a local chap, and stopped for a blether. He had already been on the top and told us it was cold up there. It wasn’t particularly cold where we stood but then the first spots of rain hit us and the dampness chilled. We donned the waterproofs. Before we parted with our newfound friend, he told us the best pub to go to on our return. There are some decent left folk in the world.
The track continued to climb and the rain went. It was heating up under waterproofs so, at a style in a fence, we stopped to disrobe. The view over the upper Forth estuary, as far down as the Pentlands, was good albeit dull and greyish under the lowering sky. But, was the sky beginning to lift? The mist certainly lifted in front of us as we climbed, but only sufficiently to show the hills in front still hiding in the clag.Coffee was called and a break was had where the track levelled out. We could see quad tracks that would take us to Ben Ever, our next objective but, like everything above us, these disappeared into the mist that seemed to be returning. Then the rain hit, and did it hit. Waterproofs were thrown on just in time for something akin to a monsoon hit us then. Ben Ever became Ben Never for, in the light of the deluge, it was decided to take the track round it rather than go over it.
We kept to the track which contoured the side of Ben Ever above what might have been the top of Alva Glen. Had the rain not been so heavy, we might have stopped to consult the map. However, it was not the weather for stopping. We ploughed on through the wet. Then the rain eased and the sky lifted before us once more. Yet, we still managed to come into the fog before the top of the pass. When this happened, we can’t be sure for rain and mist merged one into the other. All we can say is that the rain went and the fog was here.
Rex set the pace when we left the track at the head of the pass and took to the open hill. It’s always a bad move to let Rex set the pace for he can move faster than the rest of us and today was no exception. Quad tracks eased the climb but still Robert and Jimmy struggled on this upward section and Davie complained of a sair knee. View stops might have been called if there had been views. As it was, the mist closed thickly around us and we struggled on upward. The climb wasn’t too long, though, for we had done most of it on the track and we gained the summit of Ben Buck before we knew it. We also gained the full strength of the wind. Though this was strong and cold, it was in the tail and was no hindrance as we walked over the top of Ben Buck. towards Ben Cleuch.
Paul’s GPS said we now had very little ascent to the top of Ben Cleuch. It was right. The slope was gentle and the wind on the back was an assist. We got to the top easily enough and, as we did so, the mist lifted to reveal the landscape below us brooding under the heavy sky. Yet, the sun shone in the west and we were optimistic of a better day now given our weatherman’s prediction. It was now five to one, the rain had gone, and the sky was clearing. However, the wind was strong and cool and we didn’t wait too long on the top. We came down to find a reasonably sheltered spot for lunch. The sun now shone in the east as well, over Fife. In fact, it seemed to be shining everywhere except where we sat. At least it was dry.
Peece finished, we moved on. In front of us now rose Andrew Gannel Hill with an outcrop of rock marking the summit. ‘The last ascent of the day’, said Paul and the climb was easy for there was now a path to take us there.
'It's all downhill now' said the wise one, and it was. We dropped down the slope of the hill to the top of a steep-sided glen, Gannel Cleuch, and extension of the Mill Glen according to the map. The path led us down and across the steep side of this glen but it was narrow and we were reduced to single file again. Johnny, in the rear, called a halt to remove his waterproofs. He was heating up inside these. The rest persevered. Twenty metres later we had a silly-bugger's halt to allow Johnny to put his waterproofs back on as the rain came again. This wasn't heavy rain nor did it last long and it was the last we were to see for the day. We kept the waterproofs on, though, until we had cleared the hill at Tillicoultry and the sun shone on us at last.
Paul lied. Andrew Gannel Hill was not the last ascent of the day. When we found our way through the village and found the path back to Alva, it rose like a tarmac ski-slope in front of us. Nor was this the last climb. An even steeper one awaited us by the cemetery at Alva. Yet, between these climbs, the walk was pleasant. We came through a wood of autumn colour that put us in the notion for Nithsdale next week
.It was on the down slope by Alva House that Johnny found it easier to jog than to walk for the pace had been gradually increased by the advanced pair of Rex and Jimmy and Johnny’s French break was telling on him. The cadence was kept high for the rest of the walk, even on the steep into Alva, and the group was split. We arrived back at the transport in two groups around a minute apart.
Paul was complimented warmly for his choice of walk. It won’t be the last time we come to these hills. However, it will be the last time we believe him when he says ‘This is the last ascent of the day’.
Our newfound friend of this morning was correct in two things - it was cold on top of the hill and the pub was good. It might not be the last time we use it.
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