East Lomond with old friends and new

West Lomond from East Lomond

Across the 'cleavage of Fife', perhaps?

Once upon a time Doonhamergeordie had the misfortune to be one of my flatmates when we were students in Dundee. We shared a hovel on Cleghorn Street, which had no heating, frayed carpets and windows which would sometimes fall completely out of their frames into the rooms. In our first winter there, I remember it being so cold that the water in the toilet and sink froze solid. One morning I also recall Doonhamergeordie announcing that we had gained double-glazing during the night. The secondary glazing was of course a layer of ice on the glass. Happily the landlord, despite his various aliases, tax-dodging scams, and his abhorrence of maintenance, charged very little for our slum, where we spent several amusing years.

After Uni, and our respective marriages to fellow students, he settled in NE England - adding the 'geordie' bit of his nom de plume. Following that he became a blogger (you can read his adventures here), although his literary output has been somewhat curtailed by the growth of their family, all of whom descended on us the other day. With six kids in tow we went out for the day - after some lengthy discussion about where to go and what to do. The suggestion was raised that we could 'do one of the Lomonds', which as the forecast was reasonable seemed like a good way of ensuring that childrens' energy would be constructively (and non-violently) expended. The thought of 'doing a Lomond' filled me with a childhood horror however- not that I grew up within sight of a Lomond, either East or West let alone a Ben Lomond! Rather, when I was in my third year at Clarendon School a teacher called Mrs Rutledge had a huge stack of books filled with tedious and ever-more-tricky arithmetic exercises. These books had a photo of a Scottish peak on the front cover and were called "Lomond Maths". I can still hear Mrs Rutledge admonishing me: "get on and do your Lomond'.

Happily the childhood personality scars associated with Lomond weren't so deep that I needed psychoanalysis in order to drive to Falkland, and take the little road from the back of the village up to the car-park on the ridge - nestling between the respective Paps of Fife. Its an easy road to miss in the village, and the Doonhamergeordie's and ourselves had a bit of a hunt around the place looking for the correct turning. Once on the road the car-park is unmissable, in that it is host to Scotlands most malodorous public cludgie, evidence that attracting tourists is a low priority for Fife Council.

After successfully meeting up with the Doonhmergeordie clan, and introducing our respective children to each other, we took to the path along the ridge towards East Lomond. Countless drivers on the M90 between Edinburgh and Perth are treated to a fine view of the Lomond Hills (and the smaller Bishop's Hill) as they pass Kinross, few of them probably realise that these hills provide easily accessible, pleasant walking on gentle hills with wonderful views. The ridge to East Lomond from the car-park is broad and gentle, and only becomes steep when the summit cairn is reached, and little hands demand to be held - and the smallest people demand to be carried. The pull to the top is quickly rewarded however with views across the Forth to the Pentlands, Bass Rock and Berwick Law, to the West across the Ochil ridge, North to the lower hills around Perth and into the vast tangle of peaks in highland Perthshire, and Eastwards to the Sidlaws and their distinctive radio-masts marking the skyline by Dundee. In the immediate foreground the the land slumps steeply and ominously away to the pretty and ancient village of Falkland on one side and towards ghastly Glenrothes, that 1960s new-town and full-frontal assault on aesthetics, on the other. But as is often noted from the top of the hills, with such a glorious backdrop, 'even Glenrothes looks nice from up here'. High praise indeed.

With the noise, chatter, silliness, and occasional tears which mark a hilwalk with six-young children we enjoyed the view, some snacks and took photos before clambering back down the hill. Then the rain came, soaked us, chilled us and made the little ones a bit grumpy. Once at the car it was decided to halt the proceedings (the playpark at Loch Leven can wait) and adjourn to our house for hot chocolate and a serious assault on the chocolate cake which Mrs Hideous had taken the precaution of baking the previous evening. Time was short and they were too soon forced to head back to Falkirk, where food and grand-parents awaited. But it was great to catch up with old (and not-seen-for -years) friends and to finally meet their entertaining kids!