Ben Vorliched

This is Ben Vorlich, north of Callendar. It is a Munro: Robin and I have just returned from it. From the time of this post, you may deduce that either we did Ben Vorlich in sharp time, or we didn't do it at all. I'm afraid it was the latter.

After a perfectly reasonable walk-in to the snowline, a blizzard set in (above). It was the sort of blizzard in which your trousers develop a rigid ice sheath on one side. Nothing daunted, we carried on, trudging through the snow. At least false summits are hidden from you in such a snowstorm.
Eventually, the blizzard dissipated (above) and we found ourselves on a shoulder of the hill with great views to the north and east. We also caught up with a group of older walkers, one of whom kindly offered, in a Home Counties accent, to take the picture below .

We continued on up, but now our enemy was the wind. It was blowing the spin-drift fiercely over the ridge, making walking quite difficult. However, we could see the top and all the country around; the stage seemed set for a windy, tiring, but ultimately do-able summit bid.

It was not long after this that we reached our high point, and it was not the top of the hill. Views from this high point are shown below. You can see the group we overtook approaching our stance.

Why couldn't we get any further? Why was making that next single step so hard? You might think that by taking it one step at a time, you could get up just about anything. Several factors contributed to our failure. Firstly, I forgot to bring a pair of gloves, so we had to split Robin's pair between us. Secondly, Robin's trousers didn't seem to provide him with any warmth and got very cold. However, the critical factor was lack of crampons (below).


We had made it to the last hump, but what the photos don't show so well is that the entire rock field was covered with ice, and all the snow was blasted off by the gale force winds that didn't let up and chilled an ungloved or unpocketed hand in an instant. The group we had over-taken soon caught up with us as we stood there about to go down. They had no problems, cramponing on up, whereas our boots were skimming off everything. I'm sure that this situation is nothing compared to Everest or the Antarctic, but we have been reminded how nasty Scottish hills can be in winter sunshine.

Of course, the walk down was quite straightforward once we were off the icy bit, and looking back up the hill in the breaking sunlight it looked quite benign. But we were done, off to enjoy our sandwiches in the car.