Christine's walking & birds blog

Mount Keen

This is the most easterly of the Munros (height 939m) and one of the most popular. The start at Invermark had a leafy, farmed, prosperous feel to it, contrasting sharply with the bare moorland aspect of our hill-walks in the north-west.



A spotted flycatcher in the bright morning sunshine was a good beginning for the day's bird list.


Following the Water of Mark through the trees, we encountered two guinea fowl on the shady bank; and then the view ahead opened up, the far side of the river showing the change from green pastures to moorland and crags. From somewhere on the sloping parkland came the call of a cuckoo, while a pair of buzzards soared overhead.


This track would lead practically all the way to the top! It's actually the Mounth Road, a right-of-way leading past Mount Keen just below its summit dome and through to Glen Tanar or to Ballater. On the right-hand side, just beyond the nearer hill, can be seen a distant small cone; I think this is the false summit of Mount Keen rather than the real one which is hidden behind, but anyway, that's where we're headed.


Near the house called Glenmark on the map, ring ouzels foraged on sheep-grazed turf for insects to feed their young; or had a quick preen on the tumbled wall.



As we began to climb the steep path high above the Ladder Burn, a small pearl-bordered fritillary went dancing over the bracken, eventually settling in an awkward position low down and worth recording as it was our first fritillary on a hill-walk.


A golden-ringed dragonfly perched a bit further off, green tiger beetles fluttered along the path, and a solitary black ant was seen among rocks - looking larger than black garden ants. A small heath butterfly landed on the path and a lovely tawny moth that tantalisingly careered away out of sight was probably either an oak or northern eggar (a caterpillar of one of these species was seen on the way down). Sacks of game-bird feed at the side of the track were a reminder that here in the Angus glens you are in the middle of serious grouse-shooting country (something you don't encounter much in our neck of the woods). Two red grouse made us jump as they suddenly started up in the thick heather and then ran away; perhaps they're so used to people, they don't bother to fly.

The track became increasingly rough towards the top, making it unwise to walk and bird-watch at the same time, with large sharp stones to trip you up and gritty, eroded stuff to make you slip. There were many mountain bikers around, and one fell off as he negotiated a flight of stone steps on his way down. Fortunately he was okay, and greeted us cheerfully if a bit sheepishly as we passed. But a bit later another biker walking his bike down asked us if we had first-aid training - and held up his little finger, which was bent out of shape and swollen. We felt sorry for him, but I'm not really sure what someone with training in first aid could have done.

Having plodded hopefully up to what looked like the top, we realised it was a false summit and that the real one was still a stiff pull away. Typical! But soon we could actually see the trig point. Yippee!


And then after a warm, sunny (if breezy) morning, we were greeted by a terrific wind from the south-west. Greger looks as though he's wearing a heavily quilted jacket, but it's just his cagoule getting ballooned out by the wind. (Trig point FB no. S7047)


I didn't bother to zip mine up, and it flapped up and over my head, the wind catching it like a sail and nearly knocking me off the top. Meanwhile, Greger's rather manky old baseball cap (which he'd worn to shade him from the hot sun we'd been promised) flew clean off his head and down into the midst of three cheerful Scotsmen having their lunch in the stone shelter just below the trig point. We made our way back down past them and Greger retrieved his cap amid much hilarity; and then we hunkered down out of the wind and had our own lunch. Other walkers - some with dogs - had now reached the top, and it was becoming quite busy. As I looked down the path to see yet more walkers arriving, several mountain hares went running across it. I managed a poor shot when one went back, loping down the eastern flank of the hill.


There was no point lingering on the top with such a strong wind, and we set off back down the path. Bit by bit it would become less windy and we were able to strip off a layer or two.


But before that happened we met quite a few walkers on the way up, including a number of young women in shorts and T-shirts who looked alarmingly tanned and toned - just the sort of thing you need to see when you're feeling your age, your joints are creaky, and you're wearing your daft woolly hat with the bobble on because it was blooming freezing at the top!

Way over on Carlochy, on a terrace just above the river, Greger spotted a whooper swan.



The ring ouzels were still hunting in the grass and bracken.


One of the juveniles:


We took a well-marked short-cut through the heather to visit the Queen's Well - not that I'm much interested in anything to do with queens, past or present. But I liked the idea of a well; and a plaque on the wall informs you that Queen Victoria and Albert refreshed themselves with a drink here in 1861.


Either they were less fussy then, or things have deteriorated since - because the water in the well was slimy and green, and definitely "non-potable".

The bird list reached 22 species with curlews, common sandpipers, and oystercatchers being of note. On the 15-mile drive back to the main road, I caught a glimpse of a redstart flying up from the ground. Shame I couldn't get that on the hill list! Still, can't complain: and as Greger drove us home I spotted, near Slochd summit on the A9, another ring ouzel on the verge, just feet away from speeding traffic. Making up for last year when I saw hardly any ring ouzels - and none at all on a hill-walk.