Slowing The Pace

Within easy reach of the major cities, the rolling Ochils offer a gentle reminder of the small but mighty delights to be found on our doorstep

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FTER half a century of climbing Scotland's hills and exploring its wildest regions I have a confession to make: I have rarely visited the Ochils. I've no idea how many times I've seen their familiar bulk beyond the Wallace Monument, or how many times I've promised myself a visit to wander their high, rolling tops. To top it all, my good wife comes from Stirling so the Ochils are her local hills.

I had a short taster of these hills many years ago when my good friend and fellow hillwalker Roger Smith lived in Alva, but that was really only a short, after-lunch excursion up the Alva Glen. It was the recommendation of another hillwalking pal, Peter Evans, who lived in Dollar, that set me off on a very pleasant seven-mile hike over some of the area's higher tops, on a day when the highland hills were swathed in cloud and rain.

We began in the lovely Dollar Glen, the geological features of which has put it under the care of the National Trust for Scotland. I must admit that with Gloom Hill on my right and the course of the bubbling Burn of Sorrow in front of me I wondered just what kind of a region I was heading into.

Beyond the impressive Castle Campbell we took a path to Bank Hill with views towards the Lomond Hills of Fife. We climbed gently, above the sad burn and over the grassy crest of King's Seat Hill. Easy slopes took us down to the headwaters of the Gannet Burn and the nine-mile right of way footpath that runs between Blackford in the north and Tilicoutry in the south.

I'm afraid I've no idea who Andrew Gannel was but his eponymous hill is an eastern outlier of the Ochils' highest point, the summit of Ben Cleuch, and we felt rather content with ourselves as we strolled to the summit and direction indicator. Everything to the north was shrouded in a heavy curtain of grey. In contrast, the low winter sun illuminated the hillfoot towns below us.