Isle of Arran Tested...

Arran Jumpers... where is it?

There's always something about a voyage on a boat that makes a trip that bit more special, and the ferry from Androssan to Brodick, on the Isle of Arran, has many of the qualities to make it so. It was great to be up on deck "at the sharp end" of the boat, as our limited nautical vocabulary had it. Slowly the white painted houses which nestled snugly into the hillsides of Brodick grew larger, along with the island's range of mountains, hills, corries and glens.

Our group consisted of 11 members of the Royal Air Force of differing ages and mountain experience, encouraged by the offer of a week off work for free. We had been offered the chance to sleep under canvas in tents, however we wisely declined, given it was the height of the "Scottish Flying Piranha" (a.k.a. midge) season. We took up residence in Corrie Village Hall, a newly refurbished luxury pad right on the beach with the massive bulk of Goat Fell, Arran's highest peak to its rear. That first evening we poured over maps and guidebooks, slavering over the ridges and peaks that lay before us, before adjourning to the nearest hostelry to indulge in a little local culture!

Ben Nose, Ben Tarzan, and Ben Chilblains

Day one dawned bright and clear, and by 8:30 am we were all booted and spurred to hit the hills. We had chosen a horseshoe of ridges just off Glen Rosa, with three peaks to bag along our way; Beinn Nuis, Beinn Tarsuinn and Beinn Chliabhain. With no idea how to even attempt to pronounce these tongue-twisters they became, Ben Nose, Ben Tarzan, and Ben Chilblains respectively (apologies to Gaelic speakers everywhere).

The long walk along the Glen was dull, but all of a sudden we were faced with a very quick ascent of some 450m in less than 1km. Out came assorted walking poles and our first summit was made at a humble, yet respectable, 792m by 11am. Our highest point of the day was to be 826m and the route up to it at Ben Tarzan lay in front, whilst all around lay spectacular views of the island. (A note to Monroe-baggers…there is nothing for you on the little island of Arran, the highest peak is 874m) All the better was the fact that we were alone, these were our hills and these views were ours.

The fascinating geology of Arran was on display with huge slabs of granite arrayed for our play. Some chose the path to aim for the peak, whilst others clambered and scrambled their way to the top. Nonetheless we all reached our goal by noon, and delved deep into our butty bags, overdosing on cheese and ham (with mayo) buns and flasks of tea.

With such a clear day and a great vantage point, discussions over the name of the landmass to the west of the island began. Jura, Mull and even Skye were mentioned before the voice of reason came back with Kintyre. A chorus of "Mull of Kintyre" followed, and when one person started to impersonate bagpipes, it was clear that it was time to move on.

More scrambling, a fantastic descent over the stickiest granite ever encountered, led us to Ben Chilblains at 653m. Finally there was the long walk back down to the glen, taking in Cnoc Breac (a pimple at 401m), and a drudging trek through the swarms of midges along Glen Rosa to the van. Day one over, all senses of humour intact, no injuries and almost 3000' of climbing done, a good day had by all!

Pete's Bondage Trousers...

Day two dawned wet with the forecast of more rain. The party split to allow the climbers to recce the crags for later in the week, and the walkers to tackle Goatfell. This was to be an 'easy' walk from our "house" along the path signposted Goatfell from Corrie village. Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas and once we had set foot outside the door the downpour became torrential.

The one highlight of the day was Pete's bondage gear waterproofs. Before this trip I didn't know that they made crotchless waterproof over-trousers, and to be brutally honest I'd rather still not know. Our route had planned for a crossing of Corrie Burn, however, the deluge meant that it would be a nightmare for the less experienced members of our party. We decided to continue uphill, following the route planned for our descent.

I learnt three valuable lessons that day. Lesson one: DON'T use trekking poles for an ascent in torrential rain. Despite every attempt to stop it, the rain entered my sleeve and collected at my elbow, continuing its journey to my body core every time I raised my arm, having first enjoyed itself in my armpits.

After several hours of Arran water torture, we gained the ridge just short of North Goatfell. The more adventurous of us aimed for the summit, but the sense of humour of the rest had gone, and we knew we must turn back. Words cannot describe the rain and wet that we were experiencing. Visibility was appalling, with the same views as available from inside a steam room (but none of the heat). The ground was sodden, hence lesson two: DON'T trust Brasher Boots to be waterproof. There was I, happy and warm in my Karrimor's but those three wearing Brashers were sloshing along with soaked feet - cue another sense of humour failure (times three).

Down To The River

I say I was dry, one the way down, Andy B sensed Stu and I were disappointed at an unfulfilled day. "How about a river crossing?" he said. We instantly agreed and at the appointed place (Corrie Burn Ford) we got wet. Using the Edmund Hillary excuse ("cos it was there"), and Andy's brief but concise instructions, with a walking pole and rope we forded the Burn, the torrent of water up to our waists, whist the assembled others sat drinking tea, shaking their heads. The crossing made no difference to our clothes which were sodden anyway, and Karrimor can no longer claim that their boots are completely waterproof. Alright, I don't think that they ever said they could cope with water three feet deep, but they make such claims nowadays.

Finally, lesson number three: don't rely on a Co-op carrier bag to protect your camera in torrential rain, especially when you have some soft fruit sweeties in the same bag. The water got in, the camera drowned, and the film duly ruined. Mind you, although the camera is history, at least it smells good!

On Your Bike...

Day three was meant to be a rest day to allow wet kit to dry, however several of us had ideas of a bike ride. Andy B. and Pete, two braver souls, decided to complete a circumnavigation of the island following the coast road, some 55 miles, whilst four of us (myself, Alex A. Debbi and Alison) wanted something shorter but more exciting. This was a quick 15 miles around the bottom half of the island, along road and forest track. The first mile of this was pure hell, with a huge climb, however, for every up there is a down, and in this case it lasted about 7 miles and included several "hairy" hair-pins. A plethora of whoops and hollers were to be heard as I speeded down the hill. The faces of a couple in a camper van were a picture as I whizzed past them at the bottom of as hill, but then I'm sure mine was several minutes later when they powered past me going up yet another rise as I fought with the gears of my hired bike.

The afternoon held the prospect of a dedicated cycle-route offering many speedy down-hill sections. This didn't disappoint, and incidentally, if you do go there, have a look for my water bottle which made a desperate bid for freedom down on such a hill. I felt it go, but by the time my brakes brought me to a stop I was quarter of a mile away from the place of the escape and had no intention of climbing back uphill for it! My advice is to make sure you have a bike with suspension, as I ended up with a form of Vibration White Finger by the end of the route.

The ride ended us up in Lamlash, a small village nestling in a broad bay opposite Holy Island, a lump sticking out of the sea frequented by Buddhists as a meditation retreat. Our meditation was in a pub where far too many pints of locally brewed Arran beer were drunk. When we got "home" we found that Andy W, Steve, Stu and Dave had taken in A'Chir ridge, a fantastic 'moderate climb' between Ben Tarzan and Cir Mhor.

This ridge has been described as one of the best in Scotland, and all those who did not "do" it were instantly jealous. Indeed Craig, was rather 'unhappy' to have missed out on doing the ridge, the four "breaking" him the day before on their climbing recce yomp around Glen Sannox's hills, and he is still quite sensitive when it's name is mentioned. To be honest, I'd like to return and have a go at it myself. Hearing Steve and Andy's descriptions of the climb made my mouth water with anticipation.

The other highlight of the day was a fantastic meal made by Alison and Debbi. Not only did they produce the miracle three different of pasta bakes (thankfully for myself, two without tuna), but they created a fantastic Blackberry and Apple crumble after gathering the blackberries from the bushes over the road. Where and how they produced the crumble from is a mystery to many of us who were there, but a mystery that we are happy to live with.

Maiden's Breasts

Day four, and more scrambling, again aiming for Goatfell. However our route was to be far different from that planned on Day 2. We were heading out from Sannox, climbing the unpronounceable Ciroch co h Oighe following the ridge south to Goatfell before dropping off taking in Meall Breac, then following Corrie Burn back to the village hall. We later learned that Ciroch co h Oighe means "Maiden's Breasts", a fact we could plainly see looking down on its twin peaks from higher on the ridge.

This was real scrambling. So much so that Pete, used to the Lakeland motorways, retorted that someone had "put a mountain in the way of the path". Nevertheless the unpronounceable double peak was ascended but then a delay was encountered whilst the rest of the party caught up with those of us who had raced ahead for the summit. Cloud bubbled and swayed about us and we waited for the "Helly-Hansen" moment of clouds parting on summit day. The bloke upstairs obliged and we were treated to the vista of the whole of the Goatfell range before us. Sheer drops gave way to pleasant glen; with craggy granite cliffs up high and gentle pasture down below. Best of all, again we were alone on the ridge. It felt like we had hired the hills for the day and were being treated to views that are difficult to do justice to with mere words.

We bounded along the ridge, now scrambling, now rambling, until we finally reached the highest point on Arran; Goatfell at 874m. I made the trig point and became the king of Arran as I climbed the artificial concrete monolith and sat there waiting for the rest of my group to catch up. At that moment the clouds came in and all views were lost (including allegedly Skiddaw some 105miles away). But we cared not. We came, we climbed, we sweated, we enjoyed. The weather had beaten us before, but now the moment and the summit were ours. We all became kings of the island as we all grouped around the trig point.

'We all became kings of the island as we clustered around the trig point'

We quickly packed up and moved away from the summit, suddenly aware that other people existed and they were forcing their way into our little world. Our descent was quick and quiet, with none of the euphoria that had followed day one's adventures. These other walkers had reminded us that the hills were not ours, that this adventure was nearly over, and soon we would be returning to the real world. One the way down, however, more of our nautical knowledge was displayed when, on looking across at the ferry entering port in Brodick bay, Alex A said "Look, they are parking the ship!"

Reality Bites

Then reality hit us. Winds whipped up, and visibility dropped further. The climb had been hard and the sweat that ran down my back chilled me to the bone. I dropped off my vantage point, and donned layers of fleece and Gore-Tex (thank the Lord for Berghaus). Butty boxes and flasks were cracked open. Toasts to the climb and adventures on the island were made. But then more walkers joined us, having taken the tourist route from Brodick.

The final day was intended to be climbing day, but the lure of the hills was too much. Andy B, Pete and I wanted to ascend Cir Mhor and Caisteal Abhail, Arran's second highest peak (at 859m). We split from the rest of the party as they went south to crawl over rock. Although I was over 12 miles away even I heard Alison as she attempted her first ever climb, swearing her way to the top of the 60-metre sheer cliff face.

Meanwhile, we plodded along Glen Sannox, aiming for the ridge named "The Saddle". Then disaster struck. Andy B, our leader, who had been nursing a dodgy right knee all week, announced that he was in real pain. There was no point in going on. Realistically another 800m of "due up" and 850m of "due down" would have been impossible without the aid of the Big Yellow Taxi's flown by our colleagues with the Search and Rescue helicopters of 202 or 22 Squadron. We took onboard tea and Mars bars, only to be enveloped by what seemed like every midge in Scotland. We ran for it, retracing our steps out along the river. The gods of Glen Sannox chased us away, bringing down cloud and rain, taunting us as we left, daring us to return at our peril.

Tourist Transformation

Instead of the mountains, we transformed into tourists and "did" the island. The distillery tour was a particular highlight (free tastings!!!), and it felt like we went into every shop in Brodick (although this wouldn't be difficult).

For our final evening we feasted in Brodick, as I vainly searched for the Nottingham Forest football score, before we returned to Corrie to enjoy the ambience of the Hotel Public Bar. We indulged in whiskey drinking and pool playing, all singing "Mull of Kintyre" whilst the landlord rubbed his hands at the amount of cash pouring in his direction over the bar.

Daylight came quickly for it was late when the bar emptied. We packed our bags and bade our farewells to the Isle of Arran as angry cloud skirted the peak of Goatfell. Its magnificent peaks may not have had the altitude of mainland Scottish mountains but crammed into a ridiculously small area, they had captured our imagination. Its people, living a way of life which scoffed at the pace of our own, had humbled us. Every one of us vowed to return to finish what we had started on this trip, having only scratched the surface of what this isle has to offer. We boarded the ferry for the 55-minute return trip to the mainland and a reality we all could do without, back to the rat race of trouble, stress and petrol crisis.

Alex Ford

I'd like to take the opportunity to thank Craig Coulson and Andy Wond for organising this trip, and providing myself and the rest of us with such great adventure and fun for the week.

Photographs © Andy Wond, Craig Coulson and Alex Ford.

Fact File Access: Arran is probably the easiest Scottish island to get to, nestling in the Firth of Clyde, 55 minutes sailing time from the port of Androssan in Ayr. In the summer you can also get from Claonaig to Lochranza. For a standard car the ferry fare is about £50, contact Caledonia Mac Bray Ferries, Tel 08705 650000 Accomodation The Corrie Village Hall easily accommodated 11, of mixed sexes. It cost just £3.50 per person per night. Other Bunk-Barns exist, there are numerous campsites and more B and B's and hotels than you can shake a stick at. Contact Brodick Tourist Information Center, Tel 01770 302140 Bike hire: if you haggle a bit and you may find you get a discount (especially if you go in a group). Tourers or mountain bikes can be hired for about £8.50 a day, or by the hour if you only want a short trip out. Contact Brodick Golf and Bike Hire, Tel 01770 302272 Places of interest: include Arran Distillery, a tour of which costs just £3.50 (with tastings after). Arran Brewery, Brodick Castle, and the Kings Cave's at Tomore are also worth a visit. If you want to spoil your walking by playing golf, there are plenty of courses all around the coast of the island. Arran also has many stone circles and standing stones dotted about, as well as a plethora of waterfalls to look at and say "aaaaaahhh". Maps: I recommend the OS Outdoor Leisure 41 (Arran), this showed up many paths which the others didn't although OS Landranger 69 is good. I don't recommend Harvey's Superwalker Arran North/Arran South as they don't show up the boulders and cragginess of some of the paths around Goatfell, which would have influenced choices of routes. Kit: If you are going between May and October take insect repellent (at least 55% Deet). This didn't stop the Scottish Flying Piranha from clouding round me but did stop the buggers biting! They are found everywhere up to about 600m altitude, and especially love feeding at dusk after a wet day, but they do hate warm sunny days. The weather can change very quickly so always carry full waterproofs. Arran sits on the end of the Gulf Stream and so is quite mild all year round, so snow is rare, even up high, but if you go in winter be prepared for it. As it is on the Gulf Stream wind is ever present at altitude so have plenty of layers available. Facilities: For self-caterers Brodick has two supermarkets for basic supplies, however southerners, don't expect to be able to get sun-dried tomatoes or gazpatchio. The plus side is all mobile phones get a good signal on the island, even up on the peaks, so you'll be able to check in at the office as you sit smugly 874m high. If eating out is your bag, you can eat very well on the island. All tastes and pockets are covered, Brodick even has a chip shop serving very good Haddock and Chips (£2.20). Take a look at the menu as it also has deep fried haggis and artery clogging deep fried black pudding in batter! Wildlife: Be on the look out for golden eagles and red deer whilst on the hills and seals on the coast (we saw all of the above including some magnificent Stags). Geologists of all levels are drawn to Arran due to its variety of rock available to study. The north is predominantly sticky granite on which it is almost impossible to slip, whilst the south is mainly sandstone. Cash: Brodick has two cash points provided by the Bank of Scotland and the Royal Bank of Scotland. The biggest shock to our party was that all car parking on the island is free! (we are from Yorkshire) Unfortunately, petrol is hideously expensive, but the island is so small you should be able to fill up on the mainland and run about for days without refuelling. Healthcare: Arran has its own small hospital, as well as doctors and dentists, and its own Mountain Rescue team if you run in to trouble. I am told Brodick has a good vets should Fido get poorly. Entertainment: The locals are very friendly, and many people retire to the island, so the most common accent is actually English, but this does mean that the average age on the island is about 50. Enjoy the pubs but don't expect a banging nightclub scene. One does not go to Arran to 'big it up'. Those born on the island do have a lovely soft Scottish accent, which is very attractive in the female half of the population (just don't tell my wife I said that). There are several bars in Brodick, personal recommendations include Duncan's Bar, and the Brodick Bar and Restaurant. Prices are steep for us northerners, but similar to those which southern shandy drinkers pay (around £2.10 a pint). The local brew Arran Ale is good, but try Arran Blond (at 5%), it really does pack a punch and tastes good too. Arran Single Malt is very, very good (and surprisingly doesn't produce much of a hangover!) but all good Scotches are available, and the local bar staff are always happy to help the untutored learn about the differing flavours and tastes of the Scottish national drink. Jumpers: Finally, don't expect to find any white woolly jumpers, they are made on the Irish isle of the same name. Some of the local locals are quite touchy about this so you have been warned. Web Links: Caleonia MacBrayne Ferries www.calmac.co.uk General Arran Pages www.arran.uk.com www.arran-online.co.uk www.umu.man.ac.uk/hiking/hikedest/arran Photo pages www.hanslope.demon.co.uk/Kilbride/arran.htm http://ds.dial.pipex.com/mcinroy/arran.htm Weather (for Lochranza) www.accuweather.com/adcbin/intlocal_index?wxcity2=LOCHRANZA&wxcountry=EU;UK Geology www.brixworth.demon.co.uk/geography/arran.htm