Outdoor Discoveries

A first encounter with Kerrera and Loch Etive

While writing a recent missive recalling a weekend spent around Oban in August 2014, I got to think that some retrospective postings on even earlier trips might be in order while details can be recalled from my memory. The last few years have been testing and such stress and strain is sure to affect what gets embedded in one’s memory. Also, life is such that some memories overwrite others. Since I do not keep a diary, writing things down on here is a way of preserving things for my own personal posterity if nothing else. It would be a bonus if others enjoyed reading them too.

With the above in mind, I started to mull over what could be added from the time before this blog existed. Various tours around Scotland from the early years of this century (even now that that feels strange to read back to myself but so much is changing at the moment) came to mind. There also is a June 2005 trip to Lorn and Mull that could be related, and this entry takes us back to November 2002 when I spent a grey weekend around Oban that took in both Kerrera and Loch Etive.

The weekend was pre-planned and I was asked to come along with four or five others. When I got to survey the weather forecast in the days prior to our escapade, I was prompted to ask if we still were proceeding with the trip. In normal circumstances, any sighting prospect of a storm would have me staying at home. In this case, other minds were made up so we were going, come what may.

2002-11-01

Having got as far as Edinburgh the day before, there was an early start to get to Oban by train. This was my first introduction to that part of the West Highland railway and it was not showing at its best. Rail had closed in any views and it was to take until the August 2003 before I saw the surrounding scenery at anything approaching its best.

When we reached Oban, we made for Jeremy Inglis Hostel in the town centre where we left most of our belongings. This was to be our base for the next three nights and we left it to explore Kerrera on our first afternoon. We walked from Oban to the ferry crossing point near Gallanach. Once there, we needed to turn a board around, so its white side was showing to summon the ferry because the ferryman lived on the island. In the summer, such action is not needed as I found on my return in 2008.

The boat soon came to pick us up and we got across the Sound of Kerrera without any drama. Once there, we largely had the place to ourselves apart from year round residents and a few folk marking out a hill running course. After crossing the island, we followed a track toward the island’s southern point. Views towards Mull were limited by the weather though it remained largely dry. The walk was pleasant and we got as far as the ruins of Gylen Castle before we began to shadow the Sound of Kerrera. There was a café stop too so we were not that hurried. It did nothing to stop us reaching the ferry crossing point again.

The weather failed when we reached the mainland again and one of the biggest soakings of my life was set in train as we returned to Oban. No one escaped and even the sailing gear worn by one of our number was not enough to ward off the onslaught. The group that reached the hostel need the services of a drying room but I cannot there being one and we improvised anyway. Still, it did not stop us enjoying a meal at a nearby restaurant that night.

2002-11-02

After the previous day’s soaking, it was a relief to enjoy a dry if persistently grey day. Again, there was an early start since we were after the first train departure of the day from Oban. The selected route was one of my own devising and did nothing overly dramatic at the request of other members of the group. They seemed to reckon that my developing hill wandering habit might involve many steep-sided and high hills, an overestimation if ever there was one.

When we got to Taynuilt, we pottered on towards its Roman Catholic church before going along a lane that passed Bonawe Ironworks, an Historic Scotland site. We continued towards the train line only to pick up a path leading to Inverawe House. That was my first encounter with a scary bridge over the River Awe and we dawdled about the smokery before joining the road for a little while.

Then, we got on to a forestry track that was to lead us to the shore of Loch Etive and it would have done so more directly if a misunderstanding had not caused me to lead us in the wrong direction for a while. The clue was in the fact that we were going uphill, so there was nothing for it but to turn back and correct our course. That someone had a grumpy knee made the choice more inevitable.

Once on the correct track, we set off as far as Glennoe before we decided to turn back after stalling for a while. What stunned us was the speed at which our man with the dodgy knee was travelling. It seemed as if the joint had only two speeds, stopped and fast walking pace. It all meant that we were back in Taynuilt with time to spare. A visit to a café resulted, and the train was not missed. That night, we enjoyed a wonderful meal at The Gathering restaurant before retiring to bed for the night.

2002-11-03

The next morning started well so I was lured out of the hostel to make a few photos in the sunshine. Seeing Kerrera in the winter sunshine was a compensation for the previous few days and I pottered up to MacCaig’s Tower too before I returned to take some breakfast. Though others had designs on hiring bikes for an afternoon cycle, I needed to leave around midday to start my journey south. Before that, there was more time for strolling around by the Corran Esplanade before we stopped for tea at either the Oban Bay Hotel or The Lancaster Hotel. My recollection of how the entrance looked makes it more likely to have been the latter but I cannot be sure.

From there, I left to catch a coach to Glasgow. All the while, the weather had been changing for the worse and it was to be a gloomy afternoon in Oban. With only one train departure that day, the others had to wait until around 18:00 and they found the time long. With November being in the low season in Scotland, there was no place to hire a bike that Sunday anyway and it was just as well with the weather that arrived.

The places that I had seen were to lure me back time and again. Now, I wonder if a longer stay is in order. July 2003 saw a visit to Scotland that was divided between Oban and Fort William. Only for well-founded doubts about the weather and the vagaries of arranging accommodation, I should have stayed in Oban for the whole trip. Now, I can see that another visit to Kerrera is in order and travelling to Cuan or Ellenabeich would allow for respective ferry crossings to Seil, Luing or Easedale. Sometimes, looking back can take you forward.

Travel Arrangements

Train journey from Macclesfield to Edinburgh on Thursday. Train journey from Edinburgh to Oban with a change at Glasgow Queen Street on Friday morning. Local passenger ferry to and from Kerrera on Friday afternoon. Return train journey between Oban and Taynuilt on Saturday. Scottish Citylink service 976 from Oban to Glasgow followed by train journey from Glasgow to Macclesfield on Sunday. (It was the year of Operation Princess when Virgin introduced its Voyager trains and they got overfilled at the outset because they were too small for how we all used them. On this journey, there was need to leave one for another at Stockport because of how full it got and I met a work colleague in a vestibule of the second Voyager and that ironically had started from Edinburgh. Those teething troubles are just a memory now.)

A weekend for revisiting old haunts

Since I came over to Britain from Ireland, Oban has seen me a good times. Many of these have been recounted in a posting on here dating from 2008. There was to be another during July 2011, but work meant that it had to be abandoned and I ended up dividing what was left of the weekend between Northumberland and the Scottish Borders instead. So, the return that came to pass around the Summer Bank Holiday weekend in August 2014 was not before time.

My choice of extending a bank holiday weekend to ensure a getaway happened more than once in 2016 and the reasons for doing so in 2014 were little different. Then, my father was still with us, so my limited allocation of annual leave needed careful management so I got over to Ireland often enough. In 2016, it was the work pertaining to the deceased man’s estate that needed oversight, so the restrictions were similar.

Often, bank holiday weekend weather can be a let-down though it can come good too. In 2003, a trip to Lochaber over the equivalent weekend made up for the disappointing week split between there and Lorn at the end of the preceding July. A hike along the West Highland Way between Kinlochleven and Fort William was enjoyed in stunning weather and the following day saw one between Spean Bridge and Fort William via the Commando Memorial, Gairlochy, Loch Arkaig, the Caledonian Canal and Banavie. The one in 2007 saw me walk along the Rob Roy Way between Drymen and Callander with an overnight stop in Aberfoyle. Then, I based myself in Aberdeen for the one in 2010 and got the most from uneven weather with even a visit to Braemar included.

The trip to Lorn took place with even more mixed weather in the forecasts. Even so, the need for a getaway must have trumped any concerns about experiencing a washout. The portents were not good with there being a heavy rain shower in Glasgow and similar bursts of the same further north. Still, Oban was rain-free when I arrived, so the walk from the train station to the hotel where I was staying was a dry one.

2014-08-30

It might seem very odd to some but it is often when I go somewhere that I start planning what I am going to do there. The cause this time was the variability in the predicted weather situation. Figuring which from Saturday or Sunday was the better day to go for a longer hike proved challenging. According to forecasts, Saturday was to be better, but Sunday offered more. Such is the trouble with the changeability of our maritime weather that one thing can be expected while another comes to pass in reality. It reminds me of a summertime bank holiday weekend in Ireland when everyone was teased with the prospect of a sunny few days only for a stormy deluge to arrive. Even with modern weather system modelling, conditions continue to turn out differently from what we thought they were going to be.

Coming to the conclusion that it was Saturday that was to offer more dry weather, I was tempted to try doing too much. Thoughts of a short walk to the top of Beinn Lora proved a tempting prelude to a later out and back walk along the shore of Loch Etive. Though sorely tempted, better sense prevailed and I stuck with the Loch Etive stroll. Having to cut down ambitions due to time limitations became a familiar refrain in 2016 too because adding an extra day to my Austrian and Norwegian trips would have allowed for so much additional satisfaction.

As it happened, the day in question got a damp start so it was just as well that I had curtailed my plans. It was raining well while I awaited boarding time for the train that would carry me to Taynuilt. This was to be a busy departure and it was easy to think that this was the end of the summer season in Scotland as the train was full of holidaymakers returning to their homes. Hopefully, they got a lot from their respective getaways.

It was at a quiet Taynuilt that I disembarked. In my experience, this is the sort of sleepy place where you never see any sign of excitement and the season of the year does not change that. You might expect the quiet of a grey if dry day in November and it was thus in 2002 when I first passed here with some friends from Edinburgh. The lack of sunshine did nothing to dispel the scenic magic thanks to the bright autumnal foliage that was on display. Nevertheless, I fancied the idea of seeing the place in bright sunshine so much that another visit followed in July 2003.

It was the latter trot that I reprised in August 2014 and I made sure that I had enough storage for any photos. The encounter in 2003 was blighted by my not bringing enough colour film with me so I certainly was not going to skimp on SD cards. There may have been a changeover from analogue to digital in the world of photography, but some lessons remain as relevant as ever. Having enough battery life is even more important these days given how computerised cameras have become.

Even with year round peace and quiet, there was what felt like an end of season feel to the occasion. It all might have been in my head after seeing so many leaving Oban on the train, but the presence of occasional rain added to whatever melancholy was in my mind.

The route from the train station was one that I knew well. It took me past the Historic Scotland managed Bonawe Iron Works and I left the track after Bonawe House to cross fields and a scary bridge over the River Awe to reach Inverawe House, where there is a smokery. That was left behind me for a while as I joined the old military road. Between this and the turn-off onto a forestry track, I made a phone call to my father to clear that task out of the way for a few days.

Once on the forestry track, a little care was needed because I led my friends astray on that November 2002 outing. Greater familiarity has its uses, so no navigational blunder resulted. The grey skies ensured that photography was stalled for it was the stretch of track leading to Glennoe where I made the error of using up too much colour film.

Beyond Glennoe, the scenery grew more interesting as the weather improved enough to allow photos to be made. The hills still were shrouded under heavy skies as I passed Inverliver and its bay. Inverkinglass was next and the improvement continued. This was as far as I was going so I took a little break for a spot of lunch before retracing my steps. In 2003, I had done so just beyond Ardmaddy and a lad outside one of the huts there probably wondered why I turned to go back on myself. Aside from needing to get back to Oban again, it seemed too adventurous to continue as far as Glen Etive.

That was just as well because I foolishly undertook a walk in June 2005 that was to end with my arriving at Taynuilt Hotel ten minutes before closing time and looking for the phone number of a taxi firm. The main folly was starting out from Loch Awe train station too late in the day for a hike that took me up Glen Strae to reach Lairig Dhoireann before dropping into Glen Kinglass and heading for the familiar shores of Loch Etive. A bunch of lads in a Land Rover that saw me wandering along the track asked me if was all right and one lady around Glennoe asked me if I really was OK. Any prospect of reaching Taynuilt in time for catching a train or bus back to Oban had to be discounted and it was just as well that I had long hours of daylight. Nevertheless, there were compensations from walking on a glorious evening and I got to my lodgings without much incident aside from the taxi meeting with a deer coming against us. Defusing a grumpy father the next day was another price of my adventurous episode and I never rang on the same day of the week again afterwards; always phoning on a Sunday causes trouble on the one occasion that you cannot do so.

There was no such drama in 2014 and the weather had improved so much that I was left looking behind me much of the time. Beinn Trilleachan was catching the light much better than Ben Starav or the hills around Glen Etive. It was enough to make the sight an entrancing one as I drew myself away. The return to Taynuilt was a timely, peaceful and pleasant affair. There was no need to call on the services of a taxi this time around though I cannot recall with confidence if it was a bus or a train got me back to Oban again, such have been the travails of life. Faded recollections appear to suggest that it was by train, though you have to watch for mixing of memories between different trips.

2014-08-31

When Sunday morning came, sunlit blue skies reigned over Oban. This looked like it would become the better day of the weekend and the walk from my hotel to the Caledonian Macbrayne ferry terminal granted me delightful views of Oban Bay, Kerrera and more distant hills of Mull. Others had the same idea, so the first sailing of the day from Oban to Mull was not an underused affair. Staying on deck granted me sunlit views all the way and the scenery of the island of Lismore, up Loch Linnhe and along the steep coast of Morvern.

Mull looked a cloudier place so I was left wondering if my choice was misguided. Nevertheless, sunshine was to visit the island and I was not to be left feeling forlorn. When we docked, there were buses waiting to ferry folk around the island. Tobermory and Fionnphort were among the available island destinations. Some, no doubt would have had designs on a visit to Iona like I did with my brother in 1999.

What I had in mind was something less taxing than even that. The inspiration also came from 1999 when I undertook a day trip to Mull from Edinburgh. Then, my stroll passed Torosay Castle while on the way to Duart Point. That not only has magical views along the Sound of Mull and up Loch Linnhe but it also is the site of a restored castle that has been known to star in the occasional feature film, possibly because of its fairytale appearance. Though I left the mainland under cloudy skies, things were to cheer up on Mull to the point that some photos were made with my Ricoh compact camera.

Like its forbear, this walk also took along the road through Craignure and it was not far to the track leading to Torosay Castle that gave me respite from road walking. The little railway that shadows the track no longer runs like it did on the day of my first visit. All was peaceful with the sun breaking through to liven up any views of the Sound of Mull. Passing the castle, I got to the road again and struck on for the junction where I would meet with the minor road leading to Duart Castle. While on that single track road, views across Duart Bay opened out as much as those leading the eye towards Morvern. The way to the castle felt longer than it was and it was plain that part of it was surrounded by scaffolding, the closer I came.

Unlike the previous visit, I did not rush away from Duart Point. In fact, I dallied quite a while and could do so thanks to my having more time than on that day trip from Edinburgh. With the way that the sun was ducking behind clouds, it was just as well for the hoped-for photos would need patience. The scaffolding meant that I would have to choose any vantage point carefully and there was one by the coastline that did the job perfectly when the sun shone. There were clear views towards Lismore island and its nearby lighthouse with Loch Linnhe stretching into the distance surrounded by an array of lofty mountains. All was idyllic, exactly the antidote to the frenzy of modern living.

On my return to Craignure, I simply retraced my steps like I did the day before. Though I did wonder whether to go around by Torosay Castle again, reversing a walk grants you different sights and more photo opportunities. Something that does not catch your eye on a first pass could get its chance on a second. Being able to relax helps too and I was in Craignure well before my return ferry crossing. Though it might have been tempting to stay longer, clouds were gathering as if to draw the curtains on what had delighted me. Its takeover of the sky had its uses for I could get something to eat on the boat without feeling guilty that I was rejecting any chances to be further delighted. The cloud was carrying rain in any case, as I found after I had returned to the hotel for the evening. That late arrival made for quite a special day.

Future Possibilities

Trips away often don’t end after their return journey. This one was recalled for how quiet the train from Oban to Glasgow was, a complete contrast to the equivalent departure only two days earlier. That is how I remember the journey for the way south from Glasgow scarcely registers at all. It must have been fairly routine then.

Recollections of pleasant experiences often allow a momentary escape from present travails. The ones described here make me wonder if I should write up that November 2002 trip before it falls prey to overwriting by something else life puts my way. The same probably applies to its counterpart from June 2005 and more, especially because it features a cautionary tale that ought to be explored in more depth.

Pleasant memories of old are all well and good but there needs to be a constant supply of new ones as well. That often inspires me to plan new trips. Beinn Lora should be worth exploring and there also is Lismore. Walking all the way from Taynuilt to Glen Etive and even Glen Coe is another idea. A (very) long day should allow its completion in one go and I was left wondering if the Mountain Bothies Association had a bothy at the head of Loch Etive but it seems that they do not. There is one at Cadderlie on the opposite side of the loch from where I usually thread in case that route takes my fancy. If I really get adventurous, there is a hill track that would take you from Bridge of Orchy to Inverkinglass. Having already learned a lesson or two from a previous long hike in the area, this might be one for better planning and even some wild camping. A longer stint on Mull also appeals and I have been known to ponder staying overnight on the island to savour more of what is there. This is a part of the world where I should try to spend more time in spite of other distractions. Possibilities await.

Travel Arrangements

Return train journey between Macclesfield and Oban. Train journey from Oban to Taynuilt followed by a return on Scottish Citylink coach service 976. Return sailing from Oban to Mull.

A day spent around Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste

My first memory of passing through Glen Coe dates from May 1998. It was Scottish Cup Final day and Heart of Midlothian won the match. My mind was on other things and I was making my first-ever trip to Fort William. It was not the sight of Rannoch Moor that stays with but that of seeing mountains emerge from the surrounding near level ground. At the time, it both gobsmacked and mesmerised me with the splendid sunshine falling on these marvels. In all my years in Ireland, I had not come across anything like this sight and I likened up to an upside egg carton. The analogy still remains with me now and my experience was a powerful next step from occasional incursions into Highland Perthshire that exposed me to what lies around Loch Tay. The way that the Tarmachan ridge extends and the shape of Ben Lawers were nothing like their western counterparts. In fact, they were more like MacGillycuddy’s Reeks in profile and I had glimpsed those a good few times thanks to my parents’ escapades.

For all the wonder of Glen Coe, it is striking that my visits to this part of Scotland have not been as frequent as those to other places. That now seems a travesty when I come to think just how many times that I passed along the A82 that goes right along the glen. Maybe it has been a payback that I did not have so much look whenever walking trips did take me there on foot. The first of these was a trot south from Kinlochleven along the West Highland Way on a day in August 2002 when clouds gradually hijacked the sky. The evening before had been spent in Glen Nevis so I was not offering any complaint.

It amazes me now to think that I played with the idea of going from Kingshouse Hotel to Kinlochleven via Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste on a day that was as warm as the one on which I was planning a walk from the head of Glen Coe; this was during July 2013 when a heatwave came our way. However, there was another person who alighted near Kingshouse Hotel who had it in mind to walk from there to Glencoe village. It certainly would make for a lovely walk if it existed, apart perhaps from any hubbub of road traffic along the A82. As things stand, the National Trust for Scotland has been improving things near the aforementioned village so it might be a thought for the future.

It did not take long for the few of us who got off the coach to disperse and go our separate ways. My choice of route was to ensure that there was plenty of undisturbed peace coming my way for the rest of the day. Some may find the expanse of Scotland’s Highlands intimidating but they do offer plenty of spaces where life’s hustle and bustle can feel very far away indeed and that is what makes them so special for me. Even on the walk in from the A82 to Kingshouse Hotel did not feel so crowded and this was along a snippet of the West Highland Way too. That left me with plenty of opportunities to stop and take in the views that surrounded me and Buachaille Etiive Mor especially drew my photographic attention even though I had seen it loads of times in other people’s photos.  Sometimes, there is never any harm in having a memento of your own to have afterwards and everyone gets different weather and lighting too.

Later, I left the West Highland Way after me beyond the hotel, and made my day even quieter than it had been up to then. In fact, it was to be a good few hours spent with hardly a soul going my way and a bit of peace and quiet immersed in glorious scenery was just the tonic for me. First, I went a little along the track towards the Black Corries Lodge before leaving it to follow Allt a’ Bhalaich uphill towards Coire Bhalaich. Though the steep south-western slopes of Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste would have offered a way up to its summit, I chose to continue towards the bealach between it and nearby Meall Bhalach. Though the day was growing even hotter, there was a cooling breeze that counteracted the growing heat, so my slow steady progress over trackless ground was pleasant enough. Of course, the surrounding views helped too.

There was no let up on the gradient for the last stretch onto the bealach and I ended up a little higher than the 629-metre-high saddle point too. In the clear conditions, this more freestyle approach to navigation was no trouble and it further opened up views over Blackwater Reservoir too. Poring over maps afterwards, I came to the conclusion that I was being granted views of all sorts of hills to the north of me. Even the Grey Corries were within sight and I reckon that both Stob Coire Easain and Stob a’ Choire Mheadoin appear above too and these are found beyond Loch Treig! One Mayday bank holiday weekend saw me traipse from Corrour train station to Spean Bridge underneath these and that gives me at least a little sense of how this crumpled landscape fits together.

The distance from the bealach to the top of Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste felt longer than I had expected and I now reckon that my less direct approach had added at least a kilometre to my walking distance. As I picked my towards the trig point at the summit, there were plenty of northward views to keep me busy, even if my photographic efforts were bedevilled by heat haze though lens flare could have been a factor too. To see if I could make the results appear more like what I thought I was seeing in reality, I resorted to a Photoshop plugin and the above photo looking over the dam of Blackwater Reservoir has been produced using this. The main bulk of the Grey Corries are to be seen in the far distance with members of the Mamores such as Sgór Eilde Beag and Sgùrr Eilde Mòr to their left.

The additional height around the top of Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste allowed me to do better with working out what I had been seeing on previous trots along the West Highland Way between Kinlochleven and Glen Coe. For one thing, the looming rocky dome of Ben Nevis could be picked out as well as the nearby pinnacle of Carn Mòr Dearg to its right in the above photo. With the position of Britain’s highest mountain established, you can start picking members of the Mamores like Na Gruaigaichean, An Garbanach, An Gearanach, Stob Coire a’ Chàirn, Am Bodach, Sgùrr an Iubhar and others. Even some of these may be tentative, but that, and the prospect of getting images unblemished by blue heat haze, can be another excuse to return to a fabulous part of the world.

Getting to the top of anywhere is one thing but getting back down again proves that any ascent is only part of the job. This so proved to be the case with Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste even though the initial descent was down gentler gradients with additional views of what lay on the other side of Glen Coe. It was now that Buachaille Etive Mor and the Black Mount began to come back into view as I made my way to Stob Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste with some boggy stretches still not dessicated by the summer heatwave. Things really got steep, with rough sections underfoot, on the way off Stob Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste and I lost any cooling breeze too. Taking things slow and steady was the order of the moment with progress being frustratingly slow at times; nevertheless, it always is better not to become a mountain rescue statistic. As it happens, I have seen one route description for Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste that started up the slopes that I was descending, and the author may have had a point in getting these out of the way early for even the descent took a lot out of me and I was glad to be by the side of the A82 again afterwards.

If my designs on getting to Kinlochleven were firm, they could have been behind time after yomping over Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste. There still was a long summer evening ahead and I decided to have a go before letting discretion take the greater part of valour and returned to the roadside to catch a coach back to Fort William. The blue heat haze may not have dissipated anyway and I have got a lot from the day, so extending the walk might have been greedy of me. Nevertheless, staying with the route of the West Highland Way on a day as bright as the one that I got would be a delight and cooler temperatures would enhance the experience; it can await another opportunity. Other stunning sections of the trail such as that between Kinlochleven and Fort William or from Bridge of Orchy to the head of Glen Coe remaining tempting reprises too. There may be more hill wandering around here yet.

Transport arrangements:

Return Scottish Citylink coach journey between Fort William and Glen Coe.

Hot weather escapades with views of Ben Nevis

Some may adore sunshine holidays in destinations where scorching temperatures are commonplace, but that is not my preference. Childhood memories of the summers of 1983 and 1984 feature sweaty journeys across fields on afternoons with sweltering temperatures and this was Ireland’s south-western corner. Strangely, the higher temperatures of around 30° C experienced around Saint Malo on a school trip in 1989 have no such associations in my memory and I am left to wonder if the coastal location with its sea breezes had anything to do with it. Nevertheless, it is those sultry inland days that have convinced me earlier that cooler days were more to be my liking.

In spite of that thinking, there are times when the desire to go for a walk in summer sunshine gets the better of me; there was a time when a heatwave was a time when I scotched the idea of embarking on a walking excursion. Much of the time, this has me out in temperatures hovering around 20° C, but there are times when those in excess of this are overlooked. The trouble with physical activity on warm days is that staying well hydrated becomes more of a concern. It is all too easy to let yourself go to the point that headaches and other symptoms start to strike so you never can be too careful.

The summers of 2013 and 2014 brought a good share of warm sunny weather to Britain after winters that were either long and cold (2013) or wet and stormy (2014). In some ways, they were not so unlike those from thirty years earlier. Even so, I so needed a getaway after the events of springtime 2013 that I booked in an extended weekend during July that I used to head to Fort William. It was one of those “come what may” bookings and it was hot sunny weather that I got.

Travel days were Friday and Monday, so Saturday and Sunday were available for spots of exploration. Friday was so hot that train and coach air conditioning could not be but relished. The stifling heat around Glasgow was all the more unmissable as I trotted from Glasgow Central train station to Glasgow Buchanan bus station and Fort William felt similar. Things must have a cooled a little as I wandered out on an after dinner stroll before retiring to bed for the night.

With that in mind, I am not surprised that I went for light strolling around Glenfinnan on the Sunday. Then, I walked a little of the shore of Loch Shiel to reprise a walk that I had done of a Saturday in January 2011. Skies were clearer the second time around and enjoyed the views before taking a break from the sun in the café at the National Trust for Scotland visitor centre. After that, I went up the small hill behind it and lingered to take in what I could see from the vantage point. That was not all, since I stumbled on a walk that dropped from Glenfinnan’s train station down under the scenic railway viaduct that features in many photos and in the Harry Potter films too. Temperatures must have cooled because I only have pleasant memories of these and others were out savouring the surroundings too.

It was the preceding Saturday that saw me being more adventurous. It is something that I ponder with amazement now but the idea of walking from Kingshouse Hotel to Kinlochleven with a diversion to the top of Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste somehow trumped what now looks like my better reason. Thankfully, there was a cooling breeze assisting the ascent and views opened up all around me. What also became apparent was the amount of heat haze that abounded on more distant hills. The Mamores and the White Corries were most affected and I have been experimenting with the Neutralhazer plugin in Photoshop to see what it can do for me. Of course, a day with less challenging lighting would be better and Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste is such a place that a return is worthwhile.

On the day, the hill forestalled my plans to go all the way to Kinlochleven. That is not to say that I did not try myself out before going the way of reason. Now that I think of it, the lost golden evening may not have got me much more than I had anyway. The day had been a good one and looking over things now opens up more possible escapades like walking from Rannoch train station to Kingshouse Hotel or even an out and back hike from Glencoe village to the top of Meall Ligiche. The more modest height of the latter could afford some stirring views of higher eminences too, so the TGO route idea could be a goer. Repeating sections of the West Highland Way north of Bridge of Orchy also tempts me, so Glen Coe may not be see me deserting the place just yet when there is so much more to see.

What I have not done either is say all that I can do about those walks for what was intended to be a single entry has turned into a three part series. Next up is the piece on Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste with that on Glenfinnan set to follow that. Hopefully, those should not be the last you hear of my exploring these areas. After all, there is much left to savour since I barely have scratched the surface and that is after numerous visits over the years.

Travel arrangements:

Return train journey from Macclesfield to Glasgow and return Scottish Citylink coach journey between there and Fort William. Return Scottish Citylink coach journey between Fort William and Glen Coe. Return train journey between Fort William and Glenfinnan.

Released?

As anyone with elderly parents should know, life can be a roller coaster ride when their health declines. It certainly has felt that way over the last few years for my family and I. However, escaping out into the countryside has helped in its own way when dealing with life’s rougher moments. Getting through December 2012 certainly called for those head clearing escapes, be they into Tatton Park near Knutsford in Cheshire or along Irish country lanes. Both of my parents were frail then with my mother having been shook up by a hospital visit and my father’s strength in free fall since the summer. By Christmas, he really needed to be in a nursing home but mentioning the subject only resulted in angry exchanges. It took a brush with death due to a kidney infection for the matter to be forced and the issue to get resolved as it needed to be. He still was not intent on staying where he needed to be, and it was a nice place too, so no one could relax and a walk along the Macclesfield Canal between Congleton and Macclesfield as well as a shorter stroll around Buxton were well needed.

What really changed everything was my mother’s passing away not so long before what would have been her eighty first birthday and the loss was a raw one that not only resulted in next to daily evening walks by the River Bollin but also had me venturing further afield is search of a spot of solace. April 2013 saw me make two trips to Derbyshire and the area was to see me more than any other in that year. The of those April visits had me encountering banks of snow left over from a late winter as I hiked from Hayfield to Glossop, rounding Kinder Scout from below as I did so. The weather was much milder later in the month when I embarked on a circular yomp from Bakewell that took in both Ashford-in-the-Water and Monsal Dale. These were followed in June by a walk from Bamford to Edale that took in the southern edge of the Kinder Scout plateau and a walk from Monyash to Bakewell via Lathkill Dale. That last big walk of the year had me passing swollen rivers too; it had been a month of heavy rain and much flooding. A July escape to Fort William that took in Glen Coe and Glenfinnan could not have been more different with its sweltering temperatures and dry sunny weather. There also were sunlit walks from the Cat and Fiddle Inn back to my home that took in Shining Tor and Lamaload Reservoir. The first of these took me onto Rainow and Bollington while I passed close to Shutlingsloe on the second.

The combination of the scare that began 2013 and the loss of our mother meant that I tended to be more precious about my father and I suspect that my brother probably felt the same. The sense was that we could lose him sooner rather than later and it pervaded most of 2013. It sounds churlish to say it now but I started to wonder in the light of my father living longer than we might have expected if it was not before time to abandon any putting of my life on hold that there might have been. That is not to say that there was any sense of abandonment because, if anything, my visits to Ireland became more frequent. For much of 2014, I crossed the Irish Sea on a monthly basis.

In between those though, I began to get out and about again and last summer saw me make three visits to the Lake District. The first was to Buttermere when I crossed the top of Haystacks while the second facilitated a walk from Patterdale to Grasmere that went over the top of St. Sunday Crag and the last revisited Orrest Head and Loughrigg Fell. January and November saw me spend time around Llantysilio Mountain near Llangollen with the first trip enjoying bright sunshine all day and the weather disintegrating to spells of rain while I was up high. That makes an excuse for another return sometime though I did get more than a little compensation from spending some time by the Mawddach estuary near Barmouth the next day. There were more Welsh visits though with a summer solstice one that visited Sgyryd Fawr and Sugar Loaf near Abergavenny and a September retracing of steps between Rhossili and Port-Eynon in glorious weather. Yorkshire too saw a visit before the Tour de France did and that took in Pateley Bridge and Brimham Rocks in Nidderdale on a largely grey day. Northumberland was paid a visit during October with the delights of the coastline around Bamburgh being sampled on a day that felt more like it belonged to summer. Local trots around Macclesfield were not neglected either with Alderley Edge and Hare Hill seeing two visits. A pesky Jack Russell terrier took a set on my left leg the first time around so a hospital visit was advised and no such intrusion was experienced the second time around though I could have done with more sun.

There was more to my normalisation with a bike trainer being put to good use to see if my fitness could be bettered. The second half of 2014 also had my father see a good run of health that lasted until last month. There was a smaller scare in February 2014 but things steadied after that and I felt in the need of all that walking. Still, he was growing weaker as I found during last Christmas and I returned to Britain before New Year sensing that we might be on the cusp of a big change of some sort. In fact, I also wondered to myself how he would fare if he caught an infection. That question was about to get an answer only weeks later. A heavy chest infection was to confine him to bed after a traumatic experience when the nursing home thought him strong enough to sit up in a chair for a while. With that in mind, I made what I thought was a flying weekend visit in case there were to any further developments. Much of Saturday was spent with him and my brother was there too. When we left, he was comfortable and we thought that a peaceful night was in store. That changed after midnight and we dashed to the home. By the time that we got there, he had breathed his last only minutes before. Some would find that heartbreaking but the final peace is what I recall. His suffering was over and that nearly was more important than we might have felt.

A word said during one of the many conversations we had with others over the ensuing days remains with me: release. My brother and I felt it while nearby neighbours were stunned by our father’s departure; they surely felt it more than we did and some were crying on the phone to us. There may be another factor: we both had our homes and our lives while they see breakage in a continuity that they held dear. Also, the period with our father allowed us to come to terms with where things were going and have a partial glimpse of where things would go after he went. Of course, there are ups and downs as well as twists and turns of which we know nothing yet. The turbulence within me after my mother’s passing has not come after my father’s and there are times when I wonder why though that is not to see that there was no weeping or no jabs of the heartstrings. Maybe it’s that sense of release again.

There are matters that need attending yet but my mind also is starting to explore possibilities too. Visits to Ireland are sure to continue but not at the same frequency and certainly not with the same purposes as before though you hardly can abandon your relatives or former neighbours. There may be opportunities to visit places in Connemara, Mayo, Donegal or Wicklow that I have yet to see. That would be continuing something that they did after their own parents were deceased and there was many trip to Kerry and West Cork. Some of those gave me the love of hill country scenery that has taken me around so much of Britain and the Isle of Man. Over the past weekend, I was strolling around old haunts in Edinburgh like Blackford Hill, Bruntsfield Links and The Meadows before crossing over to newer haunts like Dean Village and Edinburgh’s Botanic Gardens. Except for the occasional incursion of rogue clouds, there was sun shining on me throughout and I pondered the possibility of spending a week in the city sometime. Even in a place like Edinburgh, there was much opportunity to wander down memory lane (I graduated from one of the city’s universities) and have time and space to yourself if you needed it. Nearer destinations will remain attractive in a new life situation.

Speaking of memories, there is one that returns to my mind when I mention Edinburgh for I gained a research degree in a science subject while there. My parents were hoping that I would find a job in Ireland afterwards but the world of science is an international one, especially if you fancy a career in academic research. Some of my contemporaries gained post-doctoral jobs in the U.S. and that option did appeal to me not a little. The phrase “seeing the world” came to my notice and sharing it while on a trip back to Ireland must have tugged rather too strongly on parental heartstrings for I was asked to leave such designs until after they were gone. Now, youthful naivety has been displaced by realism so I now am amazed at the sorts of thoughts that went through my mind back then, especially when after experiencing more of the delights of Britain and Ireland.

Even so, that is not to say that I am not tempted by foreign destinations. The likes of the mountains of Canada or New Zealand or the American Rockies may not be what I have in mind but other spots in Europe have a certain allure. For instance, business trips to Sweden appear to cultivated a soft spot from Scandinavian destinations such as Norway, Sweden, Denmark or Iceland. There are areas of hill country in three of those and any photos of Norwegian fjords that I have seen look stunning. The Faroe Islands also have detained my attention and it helps that they are compact too. Going there would build on a 2008 escapade that to Scotland’s Western Isles and the islands of Orkney and Shetland have not missed my attention either. To return to the European theme though, you cannot overlook the Alps or the Pyrenees and they are but some of the mountainous regions on the continent that get mentioned in walking magazines from time to time.

None of this means that responsibilities are about to be overlooked and it can feel that you are able to make new obstacles for yourself too. The ones that appear of their own accord are enough for anyone and a life after my parents will bring its ups and downs will come soon enough. In between, pondering those other destinations may bring its own comfort while realising that short visits only uncover so much. After all, I lived in Edinburgh for over four years and still have parts of it to see anew along with those nooks and crannies that I continue to revisit. As ever, only time will reveal what comes to pass and what adventures may be had yet.