I'd always known there were big stones on Ben Donich - it's typical of Arrochar rock architecture with split schist crags and chasms and jumbles of scree giants in corries - but I'd never gone up for a proper scout. So, with the forecast promising sun in between hail and snow, I squelched up the speedy north east ridge to the summit in under an hour, then backed down the craggy east flank towards the Brack, stalking the boulder clusters, giving sheep the odd adrenaline-shock. Arrochar schist is not impressive in the wet of midwinter, its lichen coat soaking up slime and soaked heather-bunnets dripping down cracklines. Nevertheless, finding such a bloc as this bodes well for summer projects and those who like solitude and king lines topping out at 8m over, for a change, reasonable landings...
With the new guide to Glasgow Bouldering forthcoming, and with the last two years spent scouring our local landscapes for vertical diversion, many of us discovered a closer, more nuanced appreciation of climbing and how it helps maintain mental wellbeing as much as physical. The big mountains and wilderness landscapes were for the first time excluded from access and our pandemic taught us all to appreciate the landscapes on our doorstep. Even the urban world has its own small wildernesses and landscapes to immerse ourselves in for a while. For me, the daily walk in lockdown occasionally became a hunt for an esoteric piece of rock spied on the OS map or Google Earth. Rumours of boulders and mythologies of obscure rock were hunted down to help feed a hunger for the vertical. Even Dumbarton Rock was out of range, lying outside of the Glasgow City boundary. It's a venue which famously makes the blood run cold, with fiercely exposed overhanging routes, highball boulder problems and cl...