At the Uath Lochans

Creag Mhor & Beinn Heasgarnaich

Creag Mhor and Beinn Hearsgarnaich (the latter sometimes spelt Shearsgarnaich) are two remote hills in the Forest of Mamlorn, tucked away in the remotest corner of Perthshire. The round of the two hills involved a lot of climbing, and over fifteen miles of walking; and so an early start was required. Leaving Stewart's at 7:15 we drove from Perth, through over Glen Ogle and down to Killin - where we were too early to find a coffee anywhere!

The day before we climbed these hills, the country had been battered by 'Storm Ali', which had caused travel disruption, knocked over countless trees and dumped incredible volumes of rainwater on the land. The river and burns were all high as we drove west, but we weren't quite prepared for the sight of The Falls of Dochart in full spate, as we entered Killin. They were thundering with the most impressive display of white water crashing through the village, under the old stone bridge, and down into Loch Tay.

Our route took us North from the village and then westwards again alongside the other major river which feeds the Tay at Killin - The River Lochay. The Glen Lochay road is unclassified and unsignposted, and we weren't far along it before our hill-day appeared to be postponed. A large tree-trunk, felled by Storm Ali, lay across the road. Thankfully it was rotten enough to be light and between us we were able to roll it to the side, and drive the 10 or so kilometres down this dead-end road, to Kenknock. Older hillwalking books like Irvine Butterfield's suggest that it is possible to drive to Kenknock or even beyond it to Betavaime; but this is no longer possible. A walkers car park (no charge) has been provided, before the road-end, with the request that no parking takes place beyond it.

In steady rain we marched down the road past the farm. My hillwalking books (SMC and McNeish), all suggest that the route along the glen follows the valley floor track. However, a new track has been formed recently as part of the hydro-electricity works which cover these hills, which provides a better route. It runs along the North side of the glen, at about 380m, and is accessed from the old Kenknock to Loch Lyon road, veering left from it by the large hydro-pipeline.

Me, striking an inelegant pose; buffeted by strong winds in Glen Lochay -

 Ben Challum in the distance

There are several new deer-fences in these hills, however, the new hydro-track has walkers gates at every point, so there is no problem with access - in fact the estate has provided a map at the car  park, showing walkers where the new fences are, and the access points too. Once beyond the last deer fence, above the lonely farm building at Betavaime, we turned sharply into the hill, and began the huge ascent of the Sron nan Eun ridge. Above us, rocky outcrops loomed imperiously above us, while below, the lonely upper reaches of The River Lochay gave a real sense of isolation. The head of the glen is dominated by Ben Challum, which I climbed in 2011, but the view of it from Lochay shows its best side!

The Sron an Eun is hard work; it is steep, pathless and after the heavy rain, rather slippery. The best way up seems to follow the line of gully which cuts through the rocks. A path appears for a while, then fades again, and can't be trusted as a route-guide. The narrowing ridge up onto Creag Mhor was probably the finest part of the walk, but going was difficult here in high, blustery winds. Wind and rain, meant that this was quick (photo-less) stop; although Stewart mentioned that as this was his hundredth Munro, a dram was in  order. Toasting his milestone with a rare (and expensive) Tomatin, we got off the summit in search of some respite from the fierce wind.

In between rain-storms, expansive views across Mamlorn opened up.

The descent from Creag Mhor involved heading westwards, then northwards to avoid the steep cliffs which shape the summit cone. A distinctive lochan on the ridge (to Meall Tionail) is the cue to turn eastwards to the pass between this and Beinn Heasgarnaich. Again there is no path, and picking a route between the peat-bogs is the priority here. 

The climb towards Beinn Heargarnaich  goes up the Sron Taibh, and over the intermediate summit of Stob an Fhir-Bhoga. Not as long or quite as steep as the Sron nan Eaun, it is nevertheless a 500metre slog. A feint path appears after the first hundred metres or so, and is quite a good guide around some of the obstacles on the route. The top of Heasgarnaich is a long, broad ridge with a wide elevated end, where a large cairn marks the summit.

Broad summit, high winds. Stewart on the top of Heasgarnaich.

Picking a way down from here isn't obvious. We wound our way down past a series of lochans NE of the summit, before heading eastwards across the estate road over to the Loch Lyon dam. We met a mall shooting party heading up into the corrie, and the keeper gave us some advice on the best route through the peatbogs, and where to go to avoid the hunting.

Looking back along our route

The later half of the day had cheered up, weather-wise, but the weather had one last surprise for us. As we headed down the old crumbling tarmac of the Lochay-Lyon estate road, the wind picked up, the sky darkened and the rain once more lashed down. Back at the car, we extracted wet feet from wet boots, and drove home - back to Perth for 7. Two hard-won, but memorable Munros.

Back to the car, the Lochay-Lyon estate road

Thanks Stewart, for the photos!

The Uath Lochans

The Uath Lochans are a delightful little spot in Glen Feshie, in the southern part of the Cairngorms National Park. Pronounced 'Wah- Lochans', this collection of four little lochs in the heavily wooded glen, look like a pawprint on the map.

Despite the many days I have spent in this area,  walking and cycling, this was a place I had never come across, but I read a friend's Facebook post about it and decided that next time I was in area, I'd find it. 

The Uath Lochans turned out to be everything she described; charming, alluring, gentle, peaceful, lonely, isolated and yet easily accessible. Unlike other places like this in The Cairngorms, it's possible to drive right up to the first of the lochans.

Way-marked routes lead round to a charming craggy viewpoint in a lovely position over Glen Feshie.

Donside

Corgarff Castle

Book Notes: From Anger to Apathy - The British Experience Since 1975 by Mark Garnett

In this fast-paced, lively and hugely enjoyable book, Mark Garnett (a politics lecturer somewhere or other), takes the reader on a rollicking roller-coaster tour through British politics and culture covering almost five decades in a mere four hundred pages. In his tour de force, Garnet ranges easily between tiny details of stories, elections, characters and incidents on one hand - and generalisations about the country as a whole on the other.

Rather pleasingly, Garnett refuses to be drawn into the standard stereotypes that trap lazier historians; the most obvious is that (a) the 70s were a ghastly time to be alive, with strikes, three-day weeks, rampant inflation, and the Northern Irish troubles; and that (b) Thatcher then came and screwed up our previously wonderful nation. Such poor, but oft-invoked shoddy readings of history fail to satisfy the reader simply on the grounds of lack of internal consistency! Garnett is instead, suitably tough in his analysis of everyone.

His overarching argument (if there really is one), is that Britain has changed since the 70s, and while some of these changes have been good - many are to our detriment. While he paints a bleak enough picture of 70s Britain, he doesn't do it in a 2-dimensional way, but is rather more sympathetic to an age in which there were stronger community, class, union, family and social bonds holding people together.

The layout of the book is interesting too in that the material isn't arranged strictly chronologically, but in themes' with the themes being addressed in a logical order which does represent the times. The anger of the 70s, of the class-conflict and economic and social strife, and the racial riots which filled the headlines, boils over into the early 80s, and on to the miners strikes and poll-tax riots; but we find the anger levels lower at the start than the end of the period. In turn Garnett examines "Fear" (Cold War, Foot and Mouth, Millenium Bug, Aids); Charity Faith and Hope (Live Aid, and Secularisation), Greed (were the 80s really more greedy than other eras?  - not really!), Lust (sex, morality and scandals) and finally Apathy - where he leaves us. Here he is really bleak in his outlook, alleging that we have become stultified consumers, radical post-modern consumers, staring bleakly at moronic 'reality' TV shows, detached from 'reality' itself. He's not that impressed with our democracy, New Labour or the Iraq War either.... but then again, who is, these days?

The book is not just stimulating and sometimes surprising in its various assessments of people movements and ideas; but hugely enjoyable to read too. There were many events detailed here, which I vaguely remember, from childhood - nicely summarised and explained here too. It would be hard to imagine anyone agreeing with everything Garnett has to say, he's simply to much of a maverick to interpret all the events he discusses through a singly party-line; but I defy anyone not to find this book absorbing, gripping and thought-provoking.  

Linn of Dee

Upper Deeside

(click on image to enlarge)

Three Bridges

Sunset

Redeeming a naughty word?

Rugby League player and writer Dave Hadfield recounts a bizarre series of events during his team's trip to play 'Sevens' in Italy in he 1980s. The end result was that he was transferred between clubs during the interval and played each half for a different team - wearing shirts of both Oulton Rangers and and Hemel Stags in the course of the match. How his erstwhile team-mates treated him on the pitch after his radical switch of loyalties, he does not record! When Wayne Rooney first went back to Everton to play against his former team - but now earning Manchester United sized wages, it would be fair to describe the Goodison Park atmosphere, as at least er.. 'inhospitable'. I imagine that Hadfield will not have been treated to especially gentle tackling during the second half of the 'sevens' he played for his new team. Changes of loyalty, purpose and identity always stir the emotions.

This observation isn't just limited to the realm of sporting conflict either. People who change sides are routinely hailed as heroes by the new team-mates and their treachery denounced by those whom they have left behind. A politician in my region is still often reminded of her previous party-political affiliation prior to her current membership - with some bitterness. The truth is that like Dave Hadfield, she changed identity, purpose and direction of play, and this is a source of tension.

Essential to the Christian view of the spiritual life is just such a transition. The problem is that the word which was once routinely used to describe it, has fallen into disrepute. So poisonous has this word become that it is often suggested that we drop it from our descriptions of the Christian life altogether. I have some sympathy with the view that the word might be so toxic that its real meaning is obscured by its use, and that people will recoil from it without pausing to consider what it might actually mean. However I am also wary of the fact that sometimes, refusing to use a word that Jesus himself was happy to deploy, might be something akin to being slightly embarrassed of my new team-colours - and that perhaps if Jesus used it, so should I! Jesus of course, warned quite solemnly about people who are "ashamed of me and my words."(1)

The word, of course, is 'repent'! This dirty word in Christian discourse, is no longer considered to be the standard stuff of the spiritual life; but the domain of the swivel-eyed loons yelling at people in shopping centres; usually with Gandalf-length beards, and alarmist sandwich boards. The oft appended 'for the end of the world is nigh' only goes to enhance the sense of disconnection from reality with which the word has become synonymous. The comic-actress Tamsin Greig performed a hilarious little impromptu routine on the Graham Norton show, in which she talked about her atheist neighbour who dog-sits for her when she goes on holiday. The story goes that she gives her new dog a mad-name which her neighbour will be required to yell in the park in order to call it back to heel. The name of the new dog? Of course, it was "Repent!"

Is it possible to rehabilitate this most awkward and embarrassing of words, and deploy it for good, or is it irredeemably lost to us as a useful and helpful description of the transformation we experienced when we became Christians; let alone a credible way of commending this change to those who are outside it? While the cultural and linguistic tide may have turned, in this article I am going to suggest, (perhaps Canute-like), that the word still has much to commend it, and that we are poorer without it.

One of the issues around the word is that it is routinely misunderstood. Monty Python fans will remember the chanting monks who march through The Holy Grail movie, beating themselves over the head with wooden planks. Indeed, during the Great Plagues in England in the Middle Ages, there were flaggellists who did just that. Believing that The Black Death was an outpouring of the wrath of God, they sought to punish themselves, in order to deflect this wrath from the populace. While this might have been well-intentioned, it betrays a complete misunderstanding of what Jesus and the other biblical speakers and writers meant when they called people to "repent". It also (rather wryly) caricatures what many people believe the word to mean today.

If repentance is to be rescued from swivel-eyed loons and flagellists, it is important to try and define what we mean by it. Perhaps the best way to do that is not through complex semantics, but with reference to Rugby League player Dave Hadfield with who we began. When Dave joined his new team, there were certain things which changed. Firstly his rugby shirt was swapped - he publicly identified with his new team, and left something of his old one behind. There's something 'repentance' like about that, but it isn't quite the heart of the matter. Implicit with his free-transfer to his new club, was the understanding that he would completely change his direction of play. That, perhaps, begins to tease open the definition of repentance for us. There is nothing self-flaggellating about the transfer. After all, the Bible is insistent that entry to the Christian-faith is entirely founded upon the grace of God and doesn't require either self-denigrating acts of flagellation, any more than it does self-enhancing acts of charity. In fact, the picture is that passion of Christ, has completed any necessary flaggellation for the whole of humanity; and that as a result, our entry into the Christian life is a free-transfer.

Nevertheless, this free-transfer has immediate and life-changing implications, which we should be fully aware of before we commit to it. That is, nothing less than a complete change in our goals, aims and direction of play. This essentially involves heart-felt changes in patterns of behaviour; using the objective criteria of The Bible, as the standard by which some things which once mattered, matter less. Other things, which were once a regular feature of life are removed - and other things which were never even considered are taken up. In the West today, these typically involve a change to the way we relate to the big-beasts of the human-psyche, (money, sex and power); how we regard stuff, ourselves and others. Clearly this is a long process of refinement we commit to, not an instant or magic re-wiring of the personality. Christians make no claim to being 'good-people', let alone approaching perfection, rather in contrast we would claim to be people who need the forgiveness of God for our faults. Indeed, many of us carry profound and deep regrets for sins committed in the past, and attitudes or desires with which we still wrestle. If our extended sporting-metaphor can be deployed again (without breaking!), we still make errors on the pitch, we sometimes score dreadful own-goals, and give away penalties to the opposition. However, pursuing those things is no longer part of our identity, our purpose, or intention; we are deeply committed to a new direction of play.

If the flaggelists have distorted repentance; we have equally been mislead by the assumption that repentance is essentially a great show of emotion. I suspect that as repentance is primarily a hidden thing, that undue attention is given to any outward signs that is has taken place - such as emotion. Now, repentance can be a very emotional thing indeed. It certainly was for me. C. John Miller's little book on the subject is out of date in only one aspect, namely it's title: "Repentance and Twentieth Century Man". If we were to overcome the obstacle of the title, or re-brand it 'Repentance in the 2stCentury", there is much in it of great benefit. In it, he takes exception to authors like Lewis Sperry Chafer who reduce repentance to a purely intellectual move; when for many of us it was more of a life-defining change of trajectory, undertaken with great feeling. I was an older teenager, wrestling with sin, doubt, and questions of purpose. What stung me into repentance was the strange realisation that despite my rule-keeping adherence, and desire to please, at a heart level I was not at peace with God. My 'religious activities' had neither compensated for my sins, nor changed my sinful desires, nor produced peace in this life, or the promise of hope for the next. Rather my outward 'christianity' was more like a facade than a matter of life-deep substance. Tears there were, but they were hardly the point. For high-profile academic Rosaria Butterfield, repentance was so profound, that she describes it in her memoir as being akin to a "train-wreck". 

Properly understood then, repentance is both required and life-giving. 

It is required, because Jesus demands it, in fact the very first words the New Testament records Jesus as preaching are 'Repent for the Kingdom of God is near"(2). Attempts to remove the notion of repentance from Christianity have been common throughout history; and continue to plague the church today. Some have wrongly thought that repentance is an affront to the idea that God saves us by his grace, not our efforts. They have suggested that saying that repentance is necessary is to put a form of human work in the place where only God's grace must be. This is fraught with problems, because the Bible makes it abundantly clear that while we are saved entirely by God's grace, if applied to us, that salvation changes us completely. The problem is tragically illustrated in one of America's most prominent Christian families. One of their members produced a book which sought to diminish the idea of repentance, creating a false-dichotomy between it and God's grace. The fact that not long after publishing it, he was found to have been committing long-term adultery, is as startling as it is revealing. Now, while there can of course, be free forgiveness and grace for this man; but a heartfelt-returning to God and His ways, must be part of both the path home, and the evidence that change has really taken place. Likewise, placing the subjective standards of our own feelings of what might be acceptable to God, with what the Bible reveals as His standards is a damaging dilution of Jesus' message. The trendy word for this is 'wiring'. The Bible, it is claimed, cannot contradict my 'wiring'. The problem with this is that it reduces everything to the subjective; and if my 'wiring' is itself damaged, then I am measuring everything with a faulty gauge. A deep-level recalibration of life in a godward direction; a complete change in the direction of play is essential.

Repentance is though, when grasped fully; life-giving. For me, the issue was that trying to manage my behaviour; without asking God to change my heart, and my soul, and giving me a new identity; was like the deliberately infuriating arcade game whack-a-mole. As anyone who has ever attempted to play the game will know; wherever you are ready to strike with the mallet, the mole will inevitable pop-up somewhere else! Adding a facade of religious behaviour over my sinfulness neither brought me peace, nor controlled my behaviour very well. In fact whenever I tried to control sin in one area, it infuriatingly popped-up somewhere else. Something deeper was required, something which allowed me to be honest about who I was, allowed me to have integrity, and brought me peace with God, and began the process of long-lasting change. Faith in Jesus Christ, was one side of the coin. The other was inviting him into my life, acknowledging his authority over it, and asking Him to begin changing me - from the inside out. This repentance meant heading back out onto the pitch, in new colours, and ready to begin to play for a different team. Repentance is then, the moment at which the love, grace, joy and transforming power of God flows into a person; and the business of making them more like Christ begins. As Chrislikeness is our aim, purpose and destiny, repentance is not some self-flaggelating ritual, nor an optional-extra; it is the departure-lounge for eternal life. 

Don't expect your former team-mates to welcome your change of loyalty though. It can be rough out on the pitch.

________

(1) Luke 9:26

(2) Matthew 4:11