Our Western Hills: How to reach them; And the Views from their Summits / By a Glasgow Pedestrian

by Anonymous

BEN LEDI.

The most popular excursion in Scotland, both with ourselves and with strangers from all parts of the world, is that which takes us to, and through, the Trossachs. But it is somewhat unfortunate that the idea exists in the public mind that it is an impossible excursion to any but rich people on account of its expense. We propose to-day to lead any who are willing to follow us to one of our Scottish mountains which more than any other may feel proud of its surroundings, which is, so to speak, at the very gate of the Trossachs, and to reach and climb which demands no great expenditure of time or of money although we can scarcely add strength, for Ben Ledi is not one of the easiest of our western hills to climb.

And yet it was not till Sir Walter Scott threw the spell of his genius over this district that it was regarded as anything else than a desolate, cut-throat country, into which no decent folk could venture.

Our route of course is via Stirling, with its rock and Castle and history; Dunblane, and its ancient cathedral with memories of good Bishop Leighton, and its window facing us, which Ruskin has pronounced the finest of its kind in the country; Doune, with its mills and old castle, to Callander, lying about 256 feet above the level of the sea, on the banks of the river Teith. Here we get our first view of the Ben 4½ miles to the north-west, and prepare to take our walk for the day.

When it is remembered that with the exception of the episode at Stirling Castle, the whole scenes of the Lady of the Lake lie within the parish which gives its name to and has its centre in the town of Callander, it will be at once seen that it would be superfluous on our part to describe the scenery en route to the base of Ben Ledi. The best guide book here is the Lady of the Lake, “every step and every scene being made classic in the beautiful and vivid word-painting of that poem.”

The ascent can be best made from Portnanellen about 2¾ miles from Callander, in the immediate vicinity of Coilantogle Ford. This was “Clan Alpine’s outmost guard,” the place where Roderick Dhu stood vantageless before Fitz James; “but it has lost its romance by the erection of a huge sluice of the Glasgow waterworks.” So thinks a writer in the latest Ordnance Gazetteer. However, as we make for it, crossing the Leny, pattering along its stony bed, after it has come down one of the prettiest passes either in this or any other country, as we admire the hollies thickly covered with berries, and think what an added beauty they will have from the first snows of winter, and as we get a foretaste or two of the mountains and the floods that we are to see before the day is done, we have neither the time nor the mind to be disturbed by thoughts of Glasgow and her waterworks.

The best and usual route of ascent can be best learned on the spot before starting. When a beginning is made the way opens up gradually, and as we have so much more that is readable to say, we will dispense with a detailed account of how each of the 3875 feet of the “Mountain of God” is to be covered.

The Gaelic name read commonly as beinn-le-dia is more correctly beinn schleibhte or schleibtean. According to this latter reading the Ben is not the “Mountain of God,” but the “Mountain of Mountains,” or “Mountain girt with sloping Hills.” And this corresponds with its size and surroundings. It rises from a base of about 11 miles in circuit; in fact it occupies most of the space between Loch Lubnaig on the east, Loch Vennachar on the south, and Glenfinlas on the west. The fact that it has sometimes been called the “Mountain of God” is not due to the shape or size of the hill itself, but to this, that Druidical worship lingered on its summit after it had disappeared from the rest of Scotland.

One of the chief dangers, and one of the principal causes of discomfort, in climbing Ben Ledi is its liability to mists, and the number of bogs that surround its base. It is not every stout-legged counter-jumper who buys a return ticket to Callander, or every pretty lass who thinks to put colour in her cheeks by the toilsome walk, shall be allowed to treat the “Mountain of Mountains” with the contempt begotten of familiarity. They may struggle to the top, only to be knocked about by “air rending tempests,” or to find that the Ben has put on the fleecy mantle which the clouds seem ever ready to invest him with on the shortest notice. They may ascend voluble, expectant, and dry, but descend much more briskly, sad, sodden, and woefully disappointed. But even before they get well started, if the weather has been wet, and they are not careful, they may get occasionally up to the ankle, and if not, have to struggle at least with some sopping ground.