Glen Sannox

Today was given over to what is definitely my favourite glen on the island - Glen Sannox. We were very slow getting away but arrived in time to find a space to park in Sannox and head off up the glen with Cioche na h’Oighe looming above us on our left. This is a scary mountain. I’ve never climbed further than halfway up - perhaps I was influenced by my mother’s story of landing at the top of it in mist with my father and two friends and both men trying to find the right way down and shouting out of the gloom, “don’t come this way” “no - don’t come this way” while their wives teetered on the steep slope above them.

Today, however, we were mindful of our years and Himself’s wrecked knee (wrecked, it has to be said, on another Arran mountain) and contented ourselves with walking right to the heart of the glen among the most wonderful purple heather and flowers and bog myrtle . There were yellow and black striped dragonflies and a brilliantly colourful butterfly that posed for me on a thistle. I looked around at all the summits and ridges I had visited in my day and knew my knees would never stand it now , but I loved being there as the grey sky cleared away and blue gradually replaced it.

We had our picnic sitting on a rock by the burn surrounded by heather and midges. They hadn’t bothered us as we walked but the moment you stop in those circumstances you’re too easy a prey. I bashed on some Smidge and managed not to eat too many. Happily when the sun came out the midges disappeared. I had a nasty moment on the way down. If you’re familiar with Glen Sannox you may know that the path has been carefully curated over the years – by the National Trust I think – and now is a neat orderly ribbon where in the past there was mud, massive bogs and random paths up the hillside created by desperate walkers trying to find solid ground. Nowadays the path is made of grit - perhaps from the burn - and passing small torrents are contained by boulders with gaps between them. Some of the gaps require a shorter walker to jump - just a little - to the next rock. Himself is not too keen on this and often prefers to climb down into the water and back up again. Worthy soul that I am, I was testing one of the last of such obstacles and realised too late that it was rather deeper than I had thought. My my leg was left behind and bent too far with a resulting sharp pain in the front of my knee. I just hope I’m not joining Himself in the wrecked knee brigade. It doesn’t feel too bad right now.

We drove home home in bright sunshine, passing the Corrie hotel with the flag of Ukraine flying from its roof, and up to our cottage in Glen Rosa with Goatfell peeping benignly over the hill at us. Now, I just need to find something to cook for dinner. But I thought I’d better write this before I pass out in my usual fashion.

Who knows what I might write with only a phone to do it on?