When I got home from a wee trip in the Obney Hills and posted pictures on Facebook, several people commented that they had no idea where the Obney Hills were. And to be honest, if I’d not been staring at them on my Ordnance Survey map for a few weeks, I wouldn’t have known either. A cluster of small but well-defined little hills, they occupy the land to the west of Birnam Hill in Perthshire. On the map their tops of tight contours looked appealing as did an inviting path that cut right though the middle of their rocky outcrops. So, the rucksack was packed and a train ticket to Dunkeld booked.
On a freezing, winter afternoon, I set out from the train station up Birnam Hill. With a heavy winter pack and having climbed it several times before, I’d not planned to walk over Birnam Hill. But a line closure had delayed my train, leaving only three hours of light in the December day. So up and over the hill was the quickest route. It worked out well. The wooded slopes had a smattering of snow illuminated by golden beams from the low afternoon sun. Also, late in the day, I had the whole place to myself.
Once over the top, I left the path and picked my way down the hill through rugged woods and crags. It felt secretive here, as if nobody else had ever walked this way, and the thin covering of snow under the trees was untouched, save for a few animal tracks. This steep-sided descent levelled out at a small bealach before the land crumpled up again to become the Obney Hills. With a bit of hunting around, I found a small stream for water and a slate mound that provided a pitch for the tent. It didn’t hold the tent pegs very tightly though and I hoped the wind wouldn’t get up later. It didn’t and it was a beautiful, calm evening with a golden moon and a scatter of stars.
It was still calm next morning as I unzipped the tent to a couple of inches of fresh snow. I didn’t linger long in my sleeping bag but set off up Craig Obney. It was hard work in deep heather with a covering of snow but my efforts were rewarded as the sun cleared the surrounding hills. The landscape was transformed in the peachy, morning light which picked out the snow-covered tops of the bigger Perthshire hills. Down below, the fields lay under the finest veil of mist.
I soaked it all in then continued up on a mix of pathless terrain, vague track and finally a firm little path that took me to the top of the hill. The sun had disappeared behind cloud again so the landscape was now monochrome. Piling in from the west was another weather front and no sooner had I taken a couple of snaps at the top, than it was upon me. Big, fluffy flakes of snow engulfed the place and the cloud dropped below the tops of even these small hills.
I descended to pick up the footpath in Glenn Garr, the place that had looked so inviting on the map. I wasn’t disappointed. The glen that day was a winter wonderland and my own private Narnia. The bare birch trees looked so beautiful dressed in snow as the path, clearly an ancient route, meandered through the winter woods. At one point it was a shelf cut into the steep hillside and looked down on snow-covered pastures where two roe deer bounded across the fields.
I walked a while south, not with any intent other than to enjoy the place, before turning north again for my onward route. Gradually, I left the winter woods behind as the path entered a patchwork of fields, the snow-covered ground dissected by the black lines of stock walls. It was all so cold and bleak which I love. Crossing a main road pulled me briefly out of my magical, winter world and here were also the first people I’d seen since leaving the station the day before. But the magic quickly returned as I picked up a series of woodland paths by the roaring, peaty waters of the aptly named Rumbling Bridge.
The trail meandered down through the gorge of the Hermitage, at times clear and earthy where the snow hadn’t penetrated the pine trees but where there were bare, deciduous trees, these and the path were again plastered with snow. My route returned to civilisation at the pretty cottages of Inver. In the half dark afternoon, brightly coloured Christmas lights twinkled where people had hung them along fences or wrapped them around trees. The cosiness and colour were a contrast to the monochrome bleakness of the hills I’d just left.
Fact File
More photos on Flickr - click HERE
Start/finish: Dunkeld and Birnam train station
Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow trains to Inverness
My route: Out of the station, turned left at the bottom of the steps. Just after cottages the path up Birnam Hill leaves to the left. Descended a little way on the far side then left the path to descend south. There’s a bealach between Birnam Hill and the Obney Hills which only just worked as a decent camp spot. Next day continued southwest to top of Craig Obney. No path initially then bits of a track and then a good path on the final steep section. Descended northwest to pick up the path through Glen Garr. After a walk through the glen, walked north – track comes out on A822 and immediately opposite is a path through the trees to Rumbling Bridge. So no need to walk on the road. Crossed the bridge then turned right to follow paths through the Hermitage and onto Inver and Dunkeld.
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