OF ALL Scotland's hill and mountain areas, the region that I am probably most unfamiliar with is the Ochils, that lovely little hill range that rolls down from the highland line towards the north banks of the River Forth.
My good friend Rennie McOwan, who lives in nearby Stirling, has written extensively and fondly of the area, and is a real enthusiast for the broad tabled uplands and the narrow, northern ravines and gorges, the waters of which once powered the woollen mills in the hill-foot towns below. It was the recommendation of another hillwalking pal, Peter Evans, who once 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 an area I was heading into.
Beyond the impressive Castle Campbell, we took a path to Bank Hill, with views out towards the Lomond Hills of Fife. We climbed gently now, 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 Tillicoultry in the south.
I'm afraid I have no idea who Andrew Gannel was, but I know a man who probably does. I'll ask Rennie next time I see him Andrew's eponymous hill is in reality an eastern outlier of the Ochils' highest point, the summit of Ben Cleuch, and we felt rather content with ourselves as we strolled gently up to the summit and direction indicator. Everything to the north was shrouded in a heavy curtain of grey. In total contrast, the low autumn sun illuminated the hillfoot towns away below us.
Choosing to stay high for as long as possible, we trotted gently west, down onto a shallow col before an easy walk took us to Ben Ever, the high point of a rather attractive ridge that parallels the deepset Daiglen Burn. This ridge runs south for about half a mile or so before dropping gently down into Tillicoultry. We returned to Dollar via the course of an old railway line that nowadays is known as the Devon Way, a pleasant walk alongside the meandering River Devon.
I thoroughly enjoyed this gentle introduction to the Ochils, and as we wandered the high, grassy ridges and enjoyed the clear views, it struck me that this is a hill range that is within easy reach of the great conurbations of Glasgow and Edinburgh, the very place where youngsters, in particular, can easily find fresh air and exercise. Indeed, there are great similarities with the Campsie Fells close to Glasgow, where, as a youngster, I would often flee at weekends to learn the intricacies of navigation and hillcraft. Sadly, in the name of renewable energy, the Ochils are being irretrievably damaged.
The area is virtually under siege from proposed wind power station developers and the Beauly to Denny power line. The Ochils are but one example of the way multinational power companies, motivated by huge amounts of money, described by the chairman of the House of Commons Public Accounts as "an uncontrolled public subsidy", are determined to cover our land with these spinning monsters, technological giants that, according to a growing number of reports from Denmark, Germany, Spain and Portugal, do little to ease the burden of greenhouse gas emissions.
Ironically, it appears to be the sudden impact of the nearby Braes of Doune wind farm that is making people sit up and realise the landscapes of Scotland are under severe threat. Drive up the road from Stirling towards Dunblane, and the tree-covered banks on either side of the motorway provide a framework for the hideous scene that has destroyed what was, until recently, the first view that visitors to Scotland had of the Highland Line. It's now a sad sight indeed.
