So here we are, almost a week since the five mile travel restrictions were lifted in Scotland. I wondered what effect Nicola Sturgeon's request for us to holiday at home rather than travel abroad would have as I planned a little Munro bagging foray to Glen Affric? Last weekend up in Strathcarron, we only saw one chap on the hill, and one other camper the whole weekend, and the drive up suggested a similarly quiet highlands.
We had booked a static caravan in Cannich, at the excellent Cannich Holiday Caravans, where Matt and his son can't be more helpful. The van was spotlessly clean, midge-free and cosy, with all linen etc included. The site was very, very quiet though, despite the time of year, with only one motorhome on site and a few statics occupied. In the village, the Spar was open, but the pub was still closed. I suspect some people are waiting until the 15th July when places can open indoors, but there needs to be a balance struck between enough visitors to enable some of the local tourist economy to prosper, and too much that will inundate what few establishments are open, (irrespective of, and notwithstanding Covid concerns). We hardly had opportunity to speak to anyone, but there was an odd, subdued atmosphere.
But all that aside, we had a good, dry forecast, with little wind, so despite our post-lockdown corpulence, we settled on an anti-clockwise round of Carn Eighe, Beinn Fhionnlaidh and Mam Sodhail. I had wanted to check out the descent route which takes in the demoted Munro Sgurr na Lapaich, (no, not that one, another one!), so decided that an ascent up the boggy Gleann nam Fiadh, along the splendid East ridge onto Carn Eighe, the brutal and demoralising there-and-back on Beinn Fhionnlaidh and finally up onto Mam Sodhail before taking the ESE ridge off.
There is a new car park 200m before the old one at Chisholm bridge, all part of the hydro scheme mitigation I suspect, and this has a splendid new path that deposits you out on the improved track into the glen. There was evidence of disturbed earth everywhere, and I correctly assumed that this was to bury the new pipe from an intake somewhere near the outflow of the Allt Toll Easa. It had replaced an altogether rougher old track, so all things considered, it isn't an additional eyesore, and in my opinion preferable to wind turbines.
The continuation up the glen got ever prettier as we walked, the bell and cross-leaved heath heather both blooming purple, and the clouds gradually lifting. The bog is and was as ever, tedious, until we started to ascend on the surprising but altogether too short-lived stalkers path into the garbh coire, where we gained the eponymous bealach, and picked our way up the loose and steep path onto P1131. At one point there is what's left of a staircase of natural slabs arranged no doubt by a Victorian stalker for his laird, and still most welcome today. Paul spent much of the day questioning Sir Hugh's methodology as he scanned around at the demoted munro and the what appeared tiny Beinn Fhionnlaidh from this high eyrie, where so many 'tops' and summits are well above 3000ft, yet hardly get a mention. He was also dismayed at the large loss of height necessary after summiting Carn Eighe, in order to tick off Beinn Fhionnlaidh. It certainly is a head-game, as you have to come back the way you went, but we just 'got on with it', aided by a sandwich and some pain killers, which improved the mood.
On the return, you can make a traverse of Carn Eighe's Western flank to avoid a lot of effort, but this is best done from a flattening at the 1050m contour. This time we took a faint trace which started lower, and although we ended up on the main 'path' eventually, I still think it would have been easier to make the direct ascent to the pre-requisite height first, as we spent a fair while 'off-piste' as it were. That said, Paul's drugs had taken effect, and we marched steadily to the ostentatious summit cairn of Mam Sodhail in good order. 
The cairn is hollow, and most grand, testament to its importance to the OS during their survey. There we met the only other folks of the day, a couple and a young stalker out for a walk from their cottage on Loch Affric. We tugged our forlocks and pressed on. The views were great in the clean light, with Skye on the horizon, Rum, Torridon, Kintail, Knoydart, Lochaber and Ben Nevis easy to make out amongst the myriad hills.
The descent along the ridge was a treat, well, at least as far as the boggy ground at the foot of Sgurr na Lapaich, but we were tiring. There are a few steep little bluffs on the descent through the rocks, and the wet and eroded ground demanded concentration to add to our physical fatigue. We made it down to the track and Affric Lodge eventually, and tried to console ourselves along the long 3.5k road tramp that we had made a good time at just over 10 hours for the 30k and 1800m of ascent, but it was still a drag at the end of the day. We passed some optimistic loch-side campers on the way, and winced at the bare legs and arms as the midges sharpened their teeth in the encroaching evening light...I suspect they were first timers!
An absolutely fabulous day, with three highly prized munro ticks, views to die for and only one rain shower in the whole day. If only the Slater's Arms in Cannich had been open, we would have gladly put some funds into the local economy, but instead had to make do with a visit to the Spar and a cosy caravan. Still, you can't have everything.

So hopefully this will be one of my last enforced local walks, as the Scottish Government allows us to travel from this Friday, the 3rd July. Mind, it was an unexpected cracker, to which my photos on the gloomy day do little justice. I had intended to nip up Stronend from Fintry, a rocky escarpment which has caught my eye for many a year, but when I got to Carronbridge, the road was closed for repairs to the telephone lines. Grrrr!
So in a huff, I turned and drove towards the Ochils. Problem is, I have walked them so often and in so many ways that I just didn't want to go somewhere old hat as it were. As I drove, I remembered Dollar Glen, which I have cycled past a good few times during the 'incarceration', and settled on that. I seemed to recall walking up there with the kids many years ago, but I was sure we hadn't gone as high as King's Seat Hill, at 648m, so that was the objective.
I parked at the bottom of West Burnside, a delightful road on one side of the emotively named Burn Of Sorrow which rolls down from the high hills, originally powering mills, similar to so many of the Hillfoots glens. The houses tell of Dollar's Victorian opulence from this industry, as well as the classy Dollar Academy, set back in Academy place. Even the wee fountain was built with 'excess funds from an exhibition', illustrating the prosperity.
Walking up past the golf clubhouse and up Mill Green, I passed a few families and dog walkers enjoying the park-like nature of the green, reclaimed as it was by various local projects to cut back the undergrowth and establish an area for picnics and the like. Princess Anne opened it originally, and very nice it is too. Then it is into the steep-sided glen itself.
If you take the West path, it rises in a series of wooden steps and walk ways that keep kids from falling into the burn far below. It was here that I remembered for definite toiling up here with my wife and three young kids, initially aiming for the high hill, but realising at Bank Hill that it was far enough! It's a steep pull. The woodland has an abundance of mature oaks amongst the more run-of-the-mill beech, birch, alder, rowan and aspen, and it is a joy to take your time on the sharp switchback path above the tumbling water. There is an easier track which takes the more direct East bank towards the castle, nestled as it is at the confluence of the burns. It was originally called 'Castle Gloum', or Gloom, which rather than be derived from the darkness of the woods on this overcast day, is more likely from the Gaelic meaning 'chasm', which certainly abound. It was built in the early 15th Century, and is a splendid example of that era's Scottish architecture.
I took the path West, out onto the open hillside, cutting up steeply through the bracken. It really is a sharp pull onto Bank Hill at 346m, where there is a cairn. As you are coming up from pretty much sea level, the views open out immediately; the Firth of Forth, the industry at Grangemouth, Edinburgh, Fife and even far away Bass Rock. I pressed on, following an easy trace, through what I surmise were ancient land slips that have created some devious defiles in the hillside. I made mental note of them as excellent snow-holing locations in times of lowish level winter conditions!
​The onward slog up to King's Seat Hill at 648m is pretty unremarkable, apart from the lovingly tended memorial cairn to three young Canadian Spitfire pilots who crashed into the hill in January 1943, all aged 22 years old. You can only imagine the carnage, as each plane plunged one by one into the hillside in zero visibility. Despite the impact, one pilot survived, yet spent 2 days on the hill in full winter conditions before being found and rescued. So near to warmth and succour, yet so far.
After pausing there for a while, I made the summit, happy in the cool, breezy conditions that kept me comfortable and insect-free. So the plan was a there-and-back... but wait, what about those two inviting hills to the North East? Tarmangie and Whitewhisp Hills. They look so inviting. I could make a wide traverse via the bealach at Andrew Gannel Hill, and cross the Maddy Moss. Let's do it.
And so I did. Okay, so maybe the Maddy Moss idea was a little off-piste, but it was relatively dry underfoot despite the torrential rain of the day before, (when I ascended Earls Seat Hill, the highest in the Campsie Fells, getting sodden through....lots of seats these aristocracy had eh!?), so I made good progress. There were one or two deep re-entrants to negotiate, and I did wonder whether the more direct up and down route would not have been better as I toiled upwards, but where's the adventure?
The traverse of the two hills followed an old wall, with great views North to the Creiff and Comrie hills, the munros at Lochearnhead, the Lomond Hills in Fife and beyond to the Firth of Tay. I was loving it. What made it better were the cloudbursts all round, over Stirling, Falkirk and Auchterarder, but I stayed dry all day.
I made a steep grassy descent South East off the col of Saddle Hill, through the sheep fank and picked up the track back down the the castle. I should have taken the Eastern track for an easier descent, but ended up back on the Western one, so had some re-ascent before the wooded walkway back down to Mill Green. Pretty though it was, I could have done without the effort!
What a great way to spend an afternoon that started so inauspiciously, but boy was I looking forward to my tea. 
I have little positive to say about the effects of the Covid crisis, but as I mentioned in a previous blog, getting to know my local area more intimately has been a small consolation. If you haven't been there, do go, it's well worth it.