Category: Outdoor Activities
Testing a puncture repair
16th December 2009 Last Saturday, I had designs on going further afield for a day away but they didn't happen. That allowed some time to address something that has been looking back at me reprovingly for a while: a flat front tyre on my bike. The cause was a long thorn (around a centimetre or so in length) that had inveigled itself into the tyre to hole the inner tube. It illustrates the trouble with country cycling in the autumn months when many a hedgerow custodian is cutting it down to size after the summer, littering the road with the sorts of things that penetrate even thick mountain bike tyres. Thinner racing bicycle equivalents must be giving grief then.
For whatever reason, the repairing of punctures is a task that causes me to procrastinate. While it is true to say that various attempts at the chore have ended up being so messy as to necessitate the buying of new tubes and tyres, I should be a bit more competent at it these days but it's never a thing to go rushing. In fact, I find that it's undoubtedly the kind of activity for which the saying about haste slowing down speed is most apt.
Once that front wheel was put back together again and the tyre well inflated with a double-barrel foot pump (possibly meant for car tyres really but it does the job so well for my tyres that it must put a stop to braces of punctures like those that blighted my innings with a Carlton racer) from Halfords, it was time for some road testing. By the time that I was ready to leave the house, the sun had got to hiding behind big wads of clouds, but my mind was decided on a departure, even one that might have involved walking a bicycle home after a failed repair.
For the jaunt, I followed a usual route of mine that goes around by places such as Gawsworth, North Rode and Bosley, though without actually going through any of these places. The fact that I hadn't been out for more than a month was brought home to me by the absence of leaves on next to every tree, hedge and bush. Then there were all the well manicured hedges with their reminders of thorns sprayed all over a road after a hedge cutter. What was also evident was how well November's tempests had swept away any of that. It's amazing where fixing a puncture can send your thoughts.
As Croker Hill and its radio tower loomed ever larger in my sights, both were catching more and more of the sun and much more than anywhere else. It looked like the sun was finding a momentary hole in the clouds, but there was a bigger clearance to come from the east. That was to be the lure and reward for my diverting away from the A523 and into nearby hills. The initial reasoning might have been the avoidance of football traffic around Moss Rose, but that doesn't explain why I would go around by Coalpit Lane, Broadcar Road and Old Buxton Road. All of this may have been on a SUSTRANS cycle route but I'd advise of the need for strong legs and decent physical fitness before giving this one a try. Seeing the steepness of the gradients, I chose to walk them with breaks for photographic capture of the by now well lit surroundings. For that, I should have had fully charged batteries rather than resorting to sticking dying ones in pockets to make an exposure or two. Even so, I came away with enough images to ward off any recourse to self reproach.
After that short satisfying blast of hill country, it was mostly downhill until I got home with tyres still inflated and untroubled by an underpass littered with broken beer bottles; carriage of one's means of travel was the cure for that and the council has been informed of the state of the footway. Puncture repair testing was successful and a good spell of fresh air was enjoyed too without my bringing more trouble home with me in the form of new punctures. There are some things that really don't deserve the practice.
It wasn’t all sunshine
14th December 2009 From Friday's weather, hopes for clear blue skies, unimpeded sunshine and crisp frosty air were building, but a look at weather maps confounded those aspirations somewhat. The lesson is that an anticyclone's ability to pull in cloud should not be underestimated and it was to come quite far west too. In circumstances like these, it is too easy to let the effect of realities on dreams stymie enthusiasm for outdoor activities but, not being in a mood to waste whatever the weekend might offer, I was out and about in Cheshire and Derbyshire.
In truth, I did play with the notion of heading to Wales, but that wasn't to be and I stayed local on Saturday to mend a bicycle wheel puncture and then test it out. You may be thinking that puncture repair testing wouldn't take me far but I was out for a few hours with the fallback that there were enough hours of daylight to walk the thing home if needed. There was some walking along the way, but the cause was a diversion over steep hills and not my failing to remove a thorn or a similarly undesirable object from a tyre. There was a reward for my risk taking in the form of the dissipation of cloud cover to reveal pleasingly lit hill country. It was just as well that I was out to enjoy it, then.
Sunday was to see me spend an afternoon walking from Edale to Hope, a station to station yomp over the Great Ridge from Mam Tor to Lose Hill (or Losehill Pike as the National Trust names it on their signs; there's also the label of Ward's Piece too but I am as yet unsure of the origins of that name). With Sunday having a verbatim start to Saturday, I was displaying signs of cold feet about the planned venture but lured myself out anyway. As it turned out, I would have been forgiven for having those doubts given that my Derbyshire amble was set to meet with rain. By then, my hand was turned to the proverbial plough so I got on with enjoying the walk, a task that was helped by there being some spotty sunshine before the rain that had brought some photographic satisfaction my way. All felt good.
Went a week too early?
11th December 2009 Spending a weekend in Scotland just before the arrival of a sustained spell of settled weather sounds like unfortunate luck but stuff like that just happens. Still, it is the sort of thing that makes for wistful thinking and the only thing for it is to get out among well lit hills and that's what I plan on doing. Imaginings of how wonderful Ardgour and Loch Linnhe could have appeared can only drive one to snatch opportunities when they come the way. Then, there are visions like those of Glenfinnan, Loch Shiel, Loch Eilt, Morar and much more that cause the making of mental notes on the staging of returns. It may be ironic to see good coming of what should be an annoyance but it's thoughts like these that drive you out of any indoors bound rut into which you have fallen and make your way into the outdoors again, no bad thing at all.
There is another way of looking at my luck with the weather. On a near perfect weekend, it may not have been so easy to choose where to spend the time because of nagging doubts as to whether you are in the best spot and making the most of it. That's how it felt after a Spring Bank Holiday visit to Argyll when the weather surprised me with its gorgeous side. Knowing that everywhere is cloudy and being glad of any dryness does put questions like that out of commission.
When travelling south from Fort William on my way home, the situation was that I was coming away satisfied with my lot rather than being frustrated with a lack of sun. As my coach plied the A82, Ardgour's hills were lit up by the morning sun as if it was invitation to the onlooker for either a first or a return visit. Further along, it was the turn of the Black Mount to remind me that I had passed that way too often without stopping either. The angular contrasty light that those hills were catching certainly was a feast for the eyes and etched the idea on following up a hike from Kingshouse to Bridge of Orchy with more. You could say that there was a light show going on in order to draw back whoever was leaving. If anything, it just shows that you are never in a position to say that you are done with anywhere and life would be dull if that ever were possible.
Returning to the present, I plan not to waste the weekend that seems to be coming our way. There are plans and ideas in flux but the hope is that they are turned to good use. Even if it's a matter of blooming where you are planted, something can be made of crisp clear sunny winter days other than dreaming about how those far away hills might be looking. If my efforts reward me with some pleasing photos and some quality quiet time away from the pre-Christmas rush, they'll have been worthwhile.
A day when the sun was elsewhere
10th December 2009 If I was a sun seeker, I wouldn't have been crossing Loch Linnhe for my first visit to Ardgour on the day after my ambling around Morar. In retrospect, I'd have been better off staying on the eastern side and confined my attentions to the western end of Glen Coe because that is what seemed to be catching the sun that afternoon. Sometimes, going for a walk means foregoing some sun.
However, with the unsteadiness of the forecast ahead of my trip up north, I was more than glad to have the weather staying as dry as did. In the end, someone seemed to have hit the rain by night switch, as Rob McElwee put it on the BBC weather bulletins that I caught while up there, but they also seem to have knocked against the one for extensive dark clouds too. As it turned out later in the day of my Ardgour tramp, they made sunshine very spotty and there was very little where I was even though there were plenty of blue holes in the sky.
The grey layer that lay over Loch Linnhe as I crossed on the Corran Ferry was without a crack though. Being a foot passenger, I had nothing to pay and was on and off again without fuss. The cloud cover stayed next to impervious as I shortened the A861 on the way to Sallachan at the foot of Glen Gour with a diversion around by Clovullin. Mercifully, traffic was limited to infrequent bunches of cars going towards and from the ferry but the road walking was its usual self from the point of view of my feet. Though they weren't to be seen at their best, distractions abounded with the hills at end of Glen Coe showing off snowy tops when the clag left them. Casting an eye down Loch Linnhe revealed some brightness in the sky if not what lay beneath it.
It took me just over an hour to reach the end of a right of way leading to Strontian. That wasn't where I was bound though and I contented myself with an out and back hike beside Loch nan Gabhar and the River Gour in Glen Gour. A stony track replete with many puddles was what lay underfoot with the waterproofing of my boots really being put to the test. Given the torrents that the month of November brought to us, this hardly was a surprise so I just got on with my walk, avoiding any sections of water that looked too deep.
If quiet immersion in hill country is what you are after, then Glen Gour offers it in spades at this time of year but I cannot see it ever getting crowded, to be honest. The prevailing lack of sun meant that I left imagining the possibilities as I passed the loch and gazed into the hills beyond while wondering if they were attracting dampness. As I was to discover, they were but it was no heavy downpour, more a consequence of mixing hills and unstable air. At the time that I met the damp air, I was pondering the idea of turning around because I wanted to leave some time in Fort William for attending to a few matters that evening. That dampness wouldn't have stopped me going the full twelve miles to Strontian but I had no such ambitions on a day when darkness was due around 15:45. That is not to say that it wouldn't be an idea for later because I'd like to see these parts on a sunnier day anyway.
It was when I was retracing my steps to tarmac that I spotted those blue breaks in the grey cloud and that parts around Glen Coe were being spotlit. There were some attempts made at capturing these with my Pentax DSLR but they don't seem to pass muster now that I look at them. It's always worth having a go but I prefer to share photos that I think others will enjoy. By the time that I was crossing the River Gour at Sallachan, those bright spots had gone and I was left spying the red glow from further south as I trod the A861 between occasional short bursts of traffic and caught the ferry back in good time.
Having gotten annoying hefty soakings on walks in Argyll, I wasn't too mournful about the lack of sun and was only too happy to be introduced to Ardgour on a largely dry day. Saying that, I'd like to experience the area on a day with more sun and would be more than happy to make a longer visit of it. That only would be fair after all the times that I passed it while journeying up and down the A82 on the other side of Loch Linnhe. Now, why have I done that for so long?
Travel details:
Stagcoach Highlands service 44 from Fort William to Corran Ferry and back.
A frosty start can give way to cloudy skies
9th December 2009 A freezing drenching is the last thing that's going to put you in the mood for a trip away but, when plans have been set in place and you feel the need for a getaway, train tickets do tend to get collected from ticket machines at local train stations. Those tickets were for an overnight ride on the Caledonian Sleeper from Crewe to Fort William and I booked a berth this time around to increase the chances of getting some sleep; I needed a lie down after my overnight return journey from Aviemore in August, so the matter was higher up my list of priorities than it otherwise might have been.
After an imperfect night's sleep, I arose just north of Bridge of Orchy and opened the window to be greeted by the sight of snow-topped hills and clear skies. In that respect, it was to be very different to a similar journey that I made in January 2006 when snow was a very rare sight. With the sun struggling to get over the tops this time around, there was little scope for photography from a moving train, though I did try some experiments when things got brighter, more for my own information than anything else.
Though a change in the weather was forecast, my arrival in Fort William was greeted by a certain chill in the air. It was a classic frosty morning with clear blue skies and the unmistakable signs of an overnight ground frost. The plan for the day was to pop over to Morar for a brief visit, but there was some time to go before the midday train and I used it to stock up on necessities and to make use of the photographic opportunities offered by the well lit hills surrounding Loch Linnhe.
Mist and low cloud did fill some of the glens and a bank of grey cloud approached from the south-west until it was on the point of blocking out the sun when I got on the train that was bound for Mallaig. Before I got to Morar, that train was to pass through fog as it passed Loch Eil before gaining height to allow views over Glenfinnan and Loch Shiel under cloudy skies. After that, it was onto the empty wilds surrounding Loch Eilt before meeting the coast again at Lochailort and shadowing it loosely until my stopping point. This wasn't countryside through which I never had passed before but it's enough years ago that my memory of travelling from Mallaig to Fort William with a stop in Glenfinnan on a grey August day. The experience of the smokiness of the Jacobite steam train that took the first part of the way is ingrained in my mind, but the continuation on a ScotRail diesel must have been unremarkable because I haven't much recollection of that at all.
There were some remnants of blue sky remaining when I alighted at Morar's train station, but the breaks weren't sufficient to allow for anything more than hazy sunshine and the cloudy barrage was to be completely effective within an hour of my arrival. In the month of December, it is difficult to see how the village could be anything other than a quiet backwater, even if there is a hotel here that was closed for the winter. Having limited time, I constrained my ambitions to an out and back stroll by Loch Morar. Before that, I popped upon a minor summit possessing a cross as well as fine panoramic views over both Morar Bay and Loch Morar. On the day, I might not have seen either at their best, yet what I saw was good enough to bring me back again should a suitable opportunity arise.
Eventually, I brought myself down from that unnamed hummock to continue my way to Bracara on the northern shore of Loch Morar. Though it would not be my usual choice, road walking was to be how I was going to spend those few hours around Morar. There was a tempting track that would have taken me away from tarmac and on to Loch a' Bhada Dharaich by the banks of Allt an Loin but cursory investigation had me stymied by an old Land Rover Discovery dumped on the track next to a dwelling house and on what seemed an appealing route up to that point. A winter's afternoon might not have made the best timing for further poking and I stuck with following the banks of Loch Morar as far as the mood would take me. One of the necessities acquired in Fort William was a Petzl head torch and the possibility of extending the walk with a return in darkness did entertain me, but sense took hold (saying that, thoughts of encountering Morag, the monster reputedly dwelling in Britain's second-deepest loch, weren't the deciding factor, but thoughts of rain needn't have deterred me) and I was back in Morar for the 16:11 train to Fort William, where I was to be based for the weekend. That was after taking a deviation from the outward route that took me around by the River Morar, Britain's shortest river.
While awaiting that train, a spot of sign reading was doable in the declining light and walking ideas are shared like this too. All that I did on my short outing was to make my acquaintance with the area and there's much more to explore. Less adventurous wandering is on offer by the lochs between Morar and Mallaig with deeper immersion available beyond Brecorina on the shores of Loch Morar. All in all, it makes a fertile hunting ground for walking ideas without recourse to day outings to places further afield.
While I was mulling over the option of a week based in Mallaig this past summer, my mind was fanning out to such spots as Knoydart, Glenfinnan and the Small Isles. After my short outing to Morar, I see no need to spread myself far and wide like that and it might be better too because spreading yourself too thin can dissatisfy too. Even if the future is impossible to predict, I cannot rule out the possibility of a return. Who knows where that longer summer break that tends to happen every year might take me?
Travel details:
Arriva service 38 from Macclesfield to Crewe and ScotRail Caledonian Sleeper from there to Fort William. Return train journey from Fort William to Morar.
