IME for Meall nan Tarmachan (1043m) and a hike along the mountain ridge which guards Killin at the west end of Loch Tay. Whilst walking her dog, the ''manager'' had checked out the weather report on a board in the window of the Outdoor Centre, although Hareton is not really a dog, more of a Yorkshire terrier.

According to the report, conditions looked good for three cautious hill walkers: clear skies, no snow and a temperature above freezing point on the high tops - a fine morning to say hello to ''the hill of ptarmigan''. Killin is an ideal base for exploring the area. There is enough easy and not-so-easy walking nearby to last several lifetimes, let alone the sparse week which we had managed steal from the hubub of routine. Our base was a warm cottage linked to the Killin Hotel; comfortable and conviently close to the bar for apres-tramp refreshment. Hareton particularly appreciated the hair-drier which was perfect for unmatting his brown, tangled strands after a hard day in the hills. Usually, he just can't do a thing with it.

Clutching OS Map 51, Loch Tay, Second Series, Scale 1:50,000 we set off; past the Ben Lawers Visitor centre to the car park at Gd Ref: 599389 south of the bleak dam which impounds the waters Lochan na Lairige. Why do these dams always look so threatening, as though they had been designed by a manic-depressive failed-architect recovering from a bad night out in Barlinnie? Still, the sun was shining and the sight of the Tarmachan ridge ahead was far too inviting to harbour dark thoughts.

The Tarmachan ridge, although highly user-friendly, is narrow in places and you must be able to cope with the prospect of a sheer drop a couple of yards to the left of your route. There is a well-marked track most of the way, but the descent from some of the peaks, particularly from Meall Garbh (Gd Ref: 577383), unnamed on the OS Map, requires caution in misty conditions. You should be experienced in these matters. In bad weather, stay away. Remember the golden rule: if in doubt, don't.

A step along the landrover track from the car park brings you to a pile of stones on your right: the way up. On our May morning the air was full of bird-song, larks and meadow pipits, twittering loudly as though there wasn't a nasty song-bird-slaughtering raptor for miles. Strange, I mused, Scotland's lairds would have us believe these little birds had been all but wiped out by cruel, hooked-beaked, grouse-eating buzzards and hen harriers. Surely they can't be mistaken?

After rain the going is soggy, but once on the shoulder of Meal nan Tarmachan, the ground becomes firmer. My partner and her faithful hound soon disappeared over the first ridge. From the top of the second knowe, I paused for breath and a peer back down to Loch Tay. A speedboat trailed a long white wake. Sailing boats had come out to play from Milton Morenish and looked like tiny swans on the surface of the loch. Killin was a toy-town of neat buildings, smoke drifting lazily from a hundred lums.

I caught up with the advance party on the plateau before the final ascent. She was admiring the delicate flowers of purple saxifrage. He was sniffing deer-dung. The last 100 feet is steep, up the line of a stream, but we reached coffee time in good order by the cairn at the top (Gd Ref: 585389). The way ahead is obvious, by a group of small lochans which were still ice-covered when we passed. The track is bordered by Victorian relics, phallic-symbol fence posts, black, tapering, five-ringed with a knob on top. The path now steepens and climbs to the narrow ridge on Meall Garbh, the most dramatic part of the walk.

We lunched on Meall Garbh. ''If this is supposed to be the 'hill of the ptarmigan', then where are they?'' I demanded of my wife. On cue, a bird coughed, discreetly, nearby, as though to say, ''You called?''. It was a ptarmigan, resplendent in winter-white apparel. Before rocketing off, he watched us negotiate the narrow ridge and begin a careful descent. We tramped on, over Beinn nan Echan (Gd Ref: 572383 to the last peak, Creag na Caillich (Gd Ref: 563376); dropping down Coire Fionn Lairige (Gd Ref: 565378) to the concrete ruin and the start of the landrover track leading back home (Gd Ref: 574372).

The larks were still singing.