DREAD NOUGHT ON AUCHNAFREE AND BEN VENUE
16-17 Nov 2024
Across 35 years, I have driven often past the Dreadnought Hotel in Callander, but never put my head inside. Finally, we were in Crieff searching for somewhere to sleep, and this came up. We also got some good bar meals, an open party in the bar, and a passable rock group.
That day, Paul and I had walked along upper Glen Almond to Auchnafree. As neither of us has been in thrall to “The List” for many years, we enjoyed the flexibility of seeing a bit of the Highlands new to us, (fairly rare) and choosing a Corbett to adapt to predicted rough weather further north.
The major hazard was this footbridge, slippery and with lots of movement (but nowhere near the state of the Glen Shiel bridge which sank into the river).
Our plan worked out well, as the 789-metre Auchnafree Hill remained clear, although the Munro Ben Chonzie next door did not.
The high grouse moors displayed a quiet magnificence, and with only occasional boggy bits, were quite good to walk on. We circled eastwards following a few scattered fence posts to get down into the next side valley
A “shelter” marked by the OS turned out to be three glacial erratics, left millennia since. Better off in the Dreadnought.
“Were there any Dreadnoughts inside ?” was the first question Keith asked when he arrived from Edinburgh on Sunday morning. “Nah !” I replied. “Loads of pictures, but all Monarch of the Glen stuff !!”. I have since learnt the error of my ways. Contrary to our assumptions, it turns out that this old building was once the headquarters of Clan MacNab, whose motto was “Dread Nought”.
A short drive took us to Loch Katrine. Up through forestry and an open curving coire onto Ben Venue. The head of the coire is steep, and from here onward, the upper parts of the mountain are craggy with a scattering of “hands-on” moments.
A popular hill, this. And as sunshine began to stream through the wreaths of thin mist, it was easy to see why, as mountains and lochs opened out in every direction. Rob Roy country.
With the bad weather north of us, we had nought to dread and quite a lot to see.
Finally back down, we felt confident that the chocolate cake in the cafe had been well earned, as we examined the large poster of a Victorian steamship on the Loch. Still not a Dreadnought, though.
I cannot come to terms with the loss of my preconceptions over 35 years. And if I were in charge at Callander, I'd certainly get some different pictures, and ask Glasgow Transport Museum just down the road, for loan of one of their stupendous model Dreadnoughts. .
Failing that, in the interests of editorial balance, here is HMS Barham, my uncle's first ship. a real Dreadnought.
ANDREW
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