Ben Lomond – Ptarmigan – The Hard Way

“So I’ve got a great idea!” I said to Marky Mark’s voicemail somewhat enthusiastically. “Ptarmigan off Ben Lomond. Walked it several times years ago. It’s a bit scrambly near the summit but the weather for tomorrow looks ace and it would be rude not to!”. Five mins later and he was on the phone and a plan was hatched. A relaxed start time was the order of the day with a carry up the lesser travelled Ptarmigan footpath on the western flank of the Ben. If the weather turned to shit, we had the option of turning tail while the route up would allow us to check out what we would be riding down later in the day.

Arriving at the main car park at Rowardennan, an icy wind blew in across the loch as we set up bikes and bags for ride. Being a munro in winter with snow on the high peaks all around us, our bags were almost groaning under the weight of the spare kit that was stuffed into them. Despite it only being a 20 litre bag, my ever reliable Alpkit Gourdon somehow swallowed up my waterproof jacket and trousers, duvet jacket, Gilet, spare hat, spare gloves, flexible crampons (hey, it is winter!), first aid kit and a whole host of other of those just in case bits that inevitably get taken if space permits. I think I packed less when I did the three day hut to hut Tour of Mont Blanc last September! Still, better to have something and not need it than forget it and regret not having it.

The warm up was a gentle spin of a couple of hundred metres of fireroad past the Youth Hostel to get us to the start of the track. A lack of signage and an out of date OS map meant that we missed the less than obvious trail head at first though soon found it. Riding through the trees beside with the quintessential babbling brook to our right, we must have travelled all of 20 metres before getting off and having to shoulder our bikes. We were heading up and wouldn’t be properly riding anything for the next couple of hours.

The tree line quickly dropped away beneath us opening up terrific views in every direction. Ahead of us lay the trail snaking it’s way ever upward past a waterfall and out of sight. Across the loch lay the hills above Luss, somewhere neither Mark and I have ever explored but perhaps one for the future. At the head of the Loch, the Arrochar Alps were resplendent in their full winter finery, the icy peaks in sharp relief against an increasingly ominous backdrop of heavy cloud. The bad weather was going to hit us at some point, the constant wind ensuring that but for now, we were enjoying the sunshine and the sense of being on a proper adventure.

Without the challenge of concentrating on riding, we reflected on all manner of drivel from future peaks to be tackled on what is rapidly becoming a bit of a mission for the year for both of us to restoring Kubbelwagons and Tiger tanks (don’t ask!), plans for riding in the Alps in the summer through to Doug’s Photos from Basque MTB and how they always seem to be taken on dry and dusty trails even in bloody January! Jammy git! Then of course there was the scenery that was doing it’s best to distract us.

Moving ever upward with almost obligatory stops for photos, every section of trail was committed to memory for the return journey. Deeply rutted switchbacks, steep sections of stone pitched trail, exposed section of off camber bedrock – it was shaping up to be a technical test piece. Cresting onto the lower summit that is Ptarmigan, the wind was making it’s presence felt, a constant thrum of wind against fabric reminding us that we weren’t just out for a ride on local trails but in an environment that had consequences if we got things wrong. Below us, the whirr of rotor blades from a Sea King from HMS Gannet which we saw following the shore line could be heard, ramming home the point.

With the weather turning on a sixpence from sunny to cloudy, we pressed on for the final push to the summit. Small drifts of snow impeded our progress only momentarily as the path reared up ahead of us. Having seen Dr Jons pictures of his ride on Ptarmigan from the week before, I knew to expect ice the closer we got to the summit. Fortunately, the thaw over the intervening week meant that we were able to pick our line up with relative ease before making the call to abandon the bikes 200 feet from the top. On a dry day in the Spring without the wind to contend with, both Mark and I agreed that we would ride more near the summit. However, the combination of wind, ice and wet rock meant that common sense and experience were to the fore. The summit itself was shrouded in cloud when we reached the trig point. After the briefest of stops for photos, we headed back down the way we came, negotiating the two short scrambly sections in the process.

Back at the bikes, Mark produced a welcome pack of Jelly Babies and unlike on Ben Chonzie two weekends ago, managed not to scatter them to the four winds this time. Chewing on frozen jelly babies, we reflected on Dr Jon doing the ride solo the previous weekend. Given the additional ice that he had to contend with and the challenging scramble off the summit with his bike, we were both impressed that he had managed it without incident or serious mishap. Check out www.drjonswanderings.blogspot.com for his take on the ride.

Dropping saddles and padding up, the first section of the descent was an on off affair. Steep stone pitching that would be challenging but fun to ride in the dry verged on scary as the wind whipped in and the rock went from grippy to slippy in an instant with no warning. Heck, even my Gravity Dropper didn’t drop enough for this kind of riding! However, as we headed downwards, the wind became less of a factor as we reached more sheltered sections of the trail meaning we could concentrate on the task in hand. We’ll, we would have except Mark’s hands were giving him serious grief as the cold had taken hold. This was getting serious! “How can he take pictures of me with frozen fingers?” I thought. A rummage in my bag revealed that I had remembered to pack my Pearl Izumi overgloves. Hurrah! Donning them and adopting the standing up demented swimmer arm swing meant that Mark was soon back in business.

What followed was an unrelentingly technical descent that had us at it’s mercy. We had to be at the very top of our game to get down in one piece with a couple of short sections where we admitted defeat and got off as the water on the rock meant that we might as well call mountain rescue before we attempted them as we would be needing them after! At no point could we let go of the brakes and let it just flow unlike the main tourist path. This was proper mountain trail riding and today the mountain was reminding us who was the boss! If it sounds like it was frustrating, it wasn’t. The descent is a gloriously technical slow speed affair and the fact that there were sections we didn’t ride had gotten us psyched and planning for a return trip in the Spring. When we eventually reached the shore line, we were both elated and just a little bit drained by what had been a proper adventure on our doorstep. Two weekends ago, we had battled storm force winds, snow and ice on Ben Chonzie when parts of the ride would have been better suited to ski mountaineering than bikes and had come home with a sense of achievement from having ridden a genuine epic. Looking back on the pictures from this ride, though shorter and not as tough, it definitely earned its place alongside Chonzie. As Lyndsey always says, “Good days!”

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2 Comments

  1. sweeeeet! Thanks for taking the time to post up the ride report. And top David Bailey action from Mark as usual!

    So it’s slower, less flowy than the main route – having ridden the main route down how much more difficult is this one? I could be up for the return visit in Spring but don’t want to kill myself in the process. 🙂

  2. sannyatsingletrackworld

    I suspect that for those who don’t like slow speed steep tech, the descent wouldn’t be on their list of favourite rides. As for difficulty compared to the main route, I reckon I need to go back for a crack at it in the dry before making the call. It is definitely harder but how much harder is really down to the individual rider.

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