Craig Royston.

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Section 1 Ben Donich The Brack Beinn Bheula The Cobbler Beinn an Lochain Beinn Luibheinn Binnein an Fhidhleir Meall an Fhudair Beinn Chuirn Beinn a'Choin Stob a'Choin Ceann na Bantigherna Ben Ledi Benvane Meall an-t-Seallaidh Creag MacRanaich Beinn Each Meall na Fearna Creag Uchdag Creagan Na Beinne Auchnafree Hill Section 0 Section 3 Section 2 Section 6 Return to Corbett index Return Home.

Beinn a Choin Summit.  Ben a'Choin  770m  2524'  Hound's Hill  Map

Ben a'Choin 770m

This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam
Flutes and low to the lake falls home.

A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth
Turns and twindles over the broth
Of a pool so pitchblack, fell-frowning
It rounds and rounds Despair to drowning.

Degged with dew, dappled with dew
Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through,
Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern,
And the beadbonny ash that sits over the burn.

What would the world be, once bereft
Of wet and of wilderness? Let them be left,
O let them be left, wilderness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

Inversnaid by Gerald Manley Hopkins

Beinn a'Choin from Beinn Damhain, Inverarnan

 

A foul October day, wind, rain and indecision. Was it worth a dooking to add the small off-beat hill of Beinn a'Choin to the Corbett tally? In the end I followed Scott, Wordsworth and Hopkins down to Inversnaid, wondered at the vast deluge of darksome, horseback brown water falling into Loch Lomond, dodged the coach parties and retreated to the Trossachs where I passed a relatively dry late afternoon on Beinn A'an and its parent summit. A few years later I would follow the footsteps of Hogg, and finaly climb Beinn a'Choin.

A fine October, three years later, I left the car at Stroneachlachar, opposite the wee island where a certain cattle merchant called Rob Roy MacGregor once imprisoned the factor of the Duke of Montrose, having first relieved him of the rents he was carrying. Soon Graham of Killearn was free, but his boss was lighter by the tune of a large ransom. I would be following many famous footsteps on this hill, but MacGregor's cut the deepest.

Above Stroneachlachar

I planned to get around the parking problems associated with the usual starting point of Coirearklet by exploring the east of the hill, Glen Gyle and Loch Katrine. Being October, the wooded slopes here would be more interesting than a sheep farm. Parking is a breeze at the pier, if you are early enough.

After a neck between a pine clad promontory and the hill, I was able to force a way through the knots of bracken and to make a start on the steep slopes of Maol Mor. Coirearklet is more gentle, a green armchair headed by the summit and flanked by Maol Mor and Stob an Fhainne, a tempting horseshoe. Here however, it was bog and crag, tussocks and fences. There was evidence of tree planting, you know, real trees, alder and sally in the boggy bits, oak and birch on the ribs. Height was gained slowly and it was no surprise to later find out that Loch Arklet got its name from Arcleid, difficulty slope.

A quick break to win some water from a burn, another overgrown gate and then I was free on sheep grazed slopes. Quicker progress now, a boggy brae and a trig point, not a summit, but a view. Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd once worked this hill. He described once falling asleep here, only on waking he saw circling ravens or buzzards. His cry of 'I'm no deid yet' is a cheery encouragement to tired limbs that were up until far too late the night before.

Maol Mor and Beinn a'Choin in the background.

Below Lomond, the Ben and Loch were clearly visible. Towards the west end of calendar-friendly Loch Arkaig lie the ruins of a garrison, its purpose, MacGregor control. It was sacked twice, the last time by Seumas Mor, Rob Roy's eldest in the '45. It was still manned until late in the 18th century , when Sir Walter Scott encountered its last solitary soldier. It is amazing to think that this corner of Stirlingshire, so close to the lowlands was such infamous bandit country. Look across Loch Lomond, and you would encounter the almost as infamous MacFarlanes, there was no passage here without influence, money or both.
Stob a'Choin Dubh.

Maol Mor is typical Crianlarich area knobbly ridge. Sheep paths make efficient progress through the maze and soon to the steep little crag of Stob a'Choin Dubh. Dave Hewitt likened this to a miniature Half Dome, and there are a few lines that look interesting. Pass this narrowing and plunge down to a boggy hollow below the main summit. It may look squat but its steep going up to the summit plateau where a fence has to be crossed before a steep little scramble up the summit tower.

The Laoigh group and the rocky north ridge.

Beinn a'Choin is set back from Loch Lomond, there is not too good a view of the Loch. Surprisingly the best view is of Arrochar and Loch Long. While there is no immediate plunge to the West Highland Way from the summit, anyone approaching from Doune is in for a steep slog. The hill is steep on all sides, save the brae of difficulty above Loch Arkaig. The northward view is also fine, especially a strangely broad Beinn Laoigh. A strenuous looking ridge followed the Dumbartonshire border northwards over fine rocky tops, Stob nan Eighrach and Beinn Dubcteach. The knooted group of Falloch Munros were all too challenging, bare knuckles of schist everywhere.

I was all to aware of the steepness of the east side of the hill and hoped to be able to thread a route down to Glen Gyle. This was quite tricky, there is rock a plenty up here. Rock of the wet and vegetated variety, awaiting a hard winter and the coming of the spiky bits. Probably this lonely corner will sleep through such a winter and not grace the new routes section of the SMC Journal.

Beinn Chabhair from the east side of Beinn a'Choin.

On the way down I passed two parties on their way up, only the second time in seventeen Corbetts that I had met anyone. Despite being so far south, there are as yet no paths on the hill. They would be rewarded for their late start by a fine afternoon.

The descent was a struggle, back through the tussocks again, but the colours of the birk woods and bracken made it a pleasure. At last I heard a stag roar, this hill is not deer country (thus a good choice for October), and the roar came from bulky Meal Mor across Glenm Gyle. I hoped for a quad bike track, but there was none, a corner still given over to the weeds and wilderness. Katrine features strongly in the view and I saw the same white steamer that Seaton Gordon saw from here, The S.S. Sir Walter Scott. This ship was carted up in sections from Loch Lomond, and has been working Loch Katrine for over one hundred years, the last surviving steamship in Scotland. More crag and bog and I was down.

I walked the last few hundred yards of Glen Gyle. The glen carries pylons now, and their access road, but in wilder days it was the corpse road, used to carry MacGregors to consecrated ground on a Lomond isle. It was also a conduit for cattle heading to the Lowland marts, if you were on the right side of Rob Roy that was. I was just about to pass his birthplace and home, just across the expanded waters of Loch Katrine.

Loch Katrine and Beinn a'Choin(left) from Ben Venue.

Rob Roy MacGregor was born at Glengyle House at the head of Loch Katrine in 1671. He was, they say, in the cattle business . He traded cattle, but also for a consideration, made sure that your cattle passed safely through these lawless lands. Whilst Coll of Barisdale in Knoydart is credited with the coining of the term Blackmail, it was also Rob Roy's business. Blackmail was literally Black Meal , the highland cattle. Other forays into lawlessness involved raids on lowland herds in times of famine.

Maybe it was his connections, his mother was a Campbell, or his skills as a businessman, but he stayed 'respectable' for some time. Eventually he fell foul of the Duke of Montrose, money for a cattle purchase going astray and Rob Roy was outlawed. Gyle was burned and he took to the hills, the natural habitat of the MacGregor. This was his heroic age. For seven years he was credited with daring raids, helping tenants in need, (and locking up pesky factors). He turned up at Sheriffmuir in the '15 and was even alongside the Spaniards in Geln Sheil. After that he drifted back into respectability living quietly amongst his kin over the hill at Balquidder. He died peacefully at Inverlochlarig, below Stob a Choin in 1734.

Loch Katrine and Beinn Venue, from the waterboard road.

From Glengyle I had an easy walk along the good road that runs along the north of Loch Katrine. A good road this as it is only open to walkers and cyclists. There were a few bikes out on this fine afternoon, and even more on foot, it's a good outing from Glasgow. There was just enough tar to ensure sore feet by the time I returned to the pier. I was treated to fine views of Ben Venue and tree colours. The unusual descent route paid off in autumn gold.