Outdoor Discoveries

In times of plummeting mercury

It had to come as it often does at the start of November. Temperatures fell on a Sunday night after a fairly pleasant day that saw me fail to get out into the open air as I would have liked. What followed it was a day that mixed fine crisp winter sun and typical November misty murkiness. Some may say that it’s still autumn, but the weather feels like winter even if trees retain the last leaves after some stormy interludes. A lunchtime walk had me surveying what’s left of the golden shreds after the Indian summer that came to us in September and October.

Apart from the chill in the air, November brought us some unsettled weather too and that seems set to continue; we may be in the midst of a lull at the moment but something more dramatic lies ahead of us if forecasters are right, and they are far from infallible. Thus, it is somewhat timely that The New York Times has brought us an article concerned with the avoidance of hibernation. The activity at the heart of it may be running, but the same malady afflicts those who explore the outdoors world so it’s interesting to read another take on the subject, especially given November’s habit of bringing grey murky weather with it.

It is tempting to retreat to virtual explorations on one’s PC when it looks not so alluring out of doors. Nevertheless, that can have its place too and might even result in putting you out over your activation energy barrier to enjoy what abounds at this time of year. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up old members of my online photo gallery. The ones of Skye are as good as done until I get to add to that collection from a day’s walking over Ben Tianavaig last year. Lochaber has come next for a spot of improvement and Argyll hasn’t escaped either with an old print taken by the shores of Loch Etive seeing an attempt to better it with a new scan and subsequent Photoshop work; there’s a knack in keeping things realistic, a line on the wrong side of which I don’t want to find myself.

The trouble with all this tinkering with old photos and is that it consumes spare time like it’s going out of fashion, so a short session can gobble time that was set aside for other things. That’s what happened to me on Sunday but it has its benefits too. Looking at those old photos reminds you of places where you haven’t been for a while. For instance, I now think of that photo of Loch Etive as a less than sharp specimen and wonder about a return visit. In the past, I have played with the idea of a two-day walk from Taynuilt to Glen Coe or vice versa with an overnight stopover at a bothy. Nothing has come of it so far, but the idea of revisiting Loch Etive and passing along Glen Etive for the first time makes the notion attractive. If the weather was to play ball, then it would be even better.

While on the subject of a wandering mindset, there are places in Lochaber to revisit. Loch Treig and the Grey Corries fit in here and there’s what’s around Corrour too; the idea of disembarking from a Sleeper to walk to Fort William has come to mind from time to time. More civilised spots like Loch Lochy and Loch Arkaig also beckon. Mind you, a spot of bicycle hire might be an idea for the latter pair because progress along the Caledonian Canal as it rounds Meall Bhanabhie can seem so slow as to be infuriating. Still, this is a nice part of the world that should be traffic free and the distances involved make bicycle travel look the more useful. For long-distance travel on foot, there’s the Great Glen Way of which I have sampled only a little and it would take me by Loch Lochy on its way to parts that have yet to host my footfall.

Continuing the theme of exploring pastures new, there’s around Mallaig too with some introductory possibilities from Morar to gain a sense of what lies about there; it is remote country too, replete with possibilities around Loch Morar and Loch Arkaig for the more adventurous. It’s been a few years since I ventured around by these parts while en route from Skye to Oban and the only stops were Mallaig and Glenfinnan. With the options already described and others like Knoydart and the Small Isles within reach, it is perhaps small wonder that the summer excursion that eventually took me to Aviemore could have taken to towards Mallaig instead. In the end, I decided that it was better to try for a time when the weather would have been more suitable for showing off the landscape at its best. Nevertheless, it is good to have such a scheme in mind, for the sake of avoiding indecision if noting else.

Having skirted around it, I suppose that Skye well deserves a longer mention. That walk from Elgol to Sligachan may not get repeated after seeing my surroundings bathed in the sort of light that would have been in order for a week based in Mallaig. However, there are other paths to follow and other parts to savour. Glen Brittle is but one of these and a spot of cycling might be in order given that’s how I got about on my first visit to the island. It’s never any harm to see new sides to an old favourite.

With all of these, what really hits me is how well peering at old photos can act as a muse as well as being an uplifting distraction from any greyness that is about. It is tempting to say that shortening days curtail the possibilities but I am minded to convert the delights of afar into experiencing what lies on my doorstep. Making use of the latter may set me up for heading further afield yet. In a way, it’s amazing what indoor inspiration can achieve so long as you don’t spend all of your time lost in the reverie and fail to get out at all. After all, November isn’t always murky and December’s bright moments should not be missed either.

How far west?

One thing that is easy to forget is that the British mainland is not aligned along the Greenwich meridian but at an angle to it. One of the effects of that state of affairs is that Edinburgh and Manchester are nearly lined up in a straight north-south line, even if shadowing the coast and finding a line of least resistance through any hill country means that your route gains an elbow and that certainly is the case if you travel by train. Travel on the East Coast Mainline also veers away from what might be termed direct with the result that the journey time between Newcastle and Edinburgh is of the order of 90 minutes.

The cause of this being brought to my attention was my pondering a short getaway that arrests any decline into end of year torpor or, better still, punctuates it so much that it is stopped in its tracks. During these episodes of plotting, eyes are cast over maps and that's when it came home to me that I was next to immediately north of Donegal in Éire when I was on South Uist last year. What really made this plain were the similarities in the predicted weather for Wicklow and Mallaig for the coming weekend when I last looked on Metcheck. However, you do need a longitudinal west/east split to make this kind of thing plain, especially to make it dawn on you for the first time. Of course, a split can be north/south or any other combination too as the weather enjoyed on my trip to the Western Isles was to prove.

As regards my plotting, that is a work in progress so things are in a fluid state. The good thing about that is that I wouldn't be ruling out the possibility of a short Scottish escapade if it makes me an offer. After all, when you fancy rupturing a continuity that feels like a rut, taking yourself somewhere else for a little while is just the thing. If the everyday clutter can be left behind you and there is a chance of a fresh start, it works even better. For me, this is what the long break around Christmas and New Year does every year but once a year can never be enough. In fact, it is for that very reason that I want to disembark for while from the juggernaut that could land me on the doorstep of that much hyped season before I know it. Letting life carry you along is too easy so clearing some space and time to force a restart as well as allowing those batteries to be recharged only can be a good thing.

A route reprised in reverse to resolve a quandary

In light of the weather forecast, a trip to Scotland last weekend might have seemed an odd choice to make. After all, one other occasion where I set off north in search of consistent improvement over the course of a day had me arriving a day too early. However, I wasn’t so fussy and I set off regardless with the options of exploring around Loch Ericht near Dalwhinnie or reprise a part of the West Highland Way that I haven’t hiked for a number of years now.

In the event, I plumped for the latter and arrived at a rainy roadside at the head of Glen Coe. Buachaille Etive Mor was shrouded in low cloud and it might have been sensible to consider adjourning to the King’s House Hotel and awaiting the next bus north for a day of travelling in place of the planned walk. Duly equipped, I faced the dampness and all it took for things to dry out was the length of time that it takes to get from the A82 to the hotel along the West Highland Way. This change of affairs certainly put paid to any fears of having a long wet walk ahead of me.

Soon enough, the track of the WHW started to attract journeying types like myself and others doing the entire thing. With a well frequented track such as this, it is too easy to get your normal walking rhythm disturbed by the incompatible pace at which others are going. Though there were showers, the clearance continued as I shortened both the distance to Kinlochleven and the amount of time that I was to spend shadowing the A82. Thankfully, the road wasn’t too busy and road noise was none too intrusive. Even with the prospect of being passed by slowcoaches, I still took my chances to look across the glen to savour whatever brightness happened to spotlight the slopes. Making decent headway across the slopes of Beinn a’ Chrùlaiste ensured that Altnafeadh was reached soon enough.

After a short break, I took to the track up the Devil’s Staircase. Having passed the way once before, I knew that this was going to be hard leg work. That time, I was going the other way on a day that was cloudy but dry if reluctant to leave the sun out, a marked contrast to a sunny afternoon and evening spent in Glen Nevis the previous day. The descent down the Devil’s Staircase lingered in my memory but I had forgotten the ardour of the ascent from Kinlochleven and how long it took; that was something that I was set to discover later. Going at things in the opposite way to everyone else and during the afternoon too, almost guaranteed that my hike was my own and without intrusion from others. It was so different last Saturday with a human train trailing down the steep slope and with me at or near its head. Stops were in order on the ascent and I did get passed near the top by someone carrying no pack. My having one with all my weekend bits and bobs contained therein meant that I was unable to offer much of a contest anyway so I was far from bothered.

A well-earned break was taken where the gradient levelled off on the bealach between Beinn Bheag and Stob Mhic Mhartuin. Letting the hoards continue on their way, I noted the more friendly slopes round about me and got to picking up a clear track, boggy in parts, as I surmounted the lesser visited 616 metres high summit of Beinn Bheag. The reward was good panoramic views subject to low cloud and any rain showers staying away. Finding some shelter from the wind, I set to making sense of what lay about me and slaying any demons that beset me when looking at old photos. Being able to pinpoint my location became key to the task; it’s hard to work out what’s in a photo when you are unclear where it was taken. Setting the map with my compass helped again, although finding that two maps are needed for the exercise has its drawbacks.

After descending Beinn Bheag to the WHW again, I opted for Stob Mhic Mhartuin in the knowledge that I had time available with Kinlochleven being just a few hours away. My Harvey map showed a track marked leading up to the 707 metres high summit, a little surprising since it showed nothing on Beinn Bheag, though I suspect that this may be due to Stob Mhic Mhartuin being a possible stepping stone on a traverse of the Aonach Eagach. The slopes beyond Stob Mhic Mhartuin looking amenable but, inviting as they were, Sron a’ Choire Odhar-bhig and its neighbours were left for another time; one with more sun would be ideal for photographic pursuits in an area where they should be splendidly fruitful.

After a saunter about its top, I descended Stob Mhic Mhartuin to recommence my journey to Kinlochleven. The morning rush along the WHW has passed, so walking a busy old military road had become a far more relaxing prospect. That is not to say that there were no other folk going the way but the well scattered mix of fellow walkers and runners was a nicer one than feeling surrounded by bunched up groups. The threat of rain had nigh on completely receded, but cloudiness reigned unopposed with the occasional insurgency of sunlight. Any glance east revealed sunlit hummocks in the distance, an observation that cannot but cause one to wonder if they were in the right place but I was where I was and enjoying it anyway. In any event, the sun was greater headway as views over Blackwater Reservoir and Meall Bad a’ Bheithe opened out for fuller inspection.

Progress towards Kinlochleven was good but not sufficient to make the idea of catching the 15:40 bus to Fort William a reality. Saying that, I was well in time for the 16:40, so travel plans remained on course. The final descent into Kinlochleven was steep, steep enough that gambolling along wasn’t an option and especially so with all the twists and turns that were taken. Camera work was slowing things a little too because the sun was winning out over the clouds. In fact, warm sun was the order of things on the final approaches to Kinlochleven. My arrival into the village saw me leave the WHW for a more direct approach around by the Blackwater Hostel. After some time for ablutions and a little shopping, I set about awaiting the bus after what had been a good day out. It remains an area worthy of revisiting so I’ll continue to keep it in mind as a definite possibility; you always want to leave somewhere as scenic as this with a plausible reason for a return if the opportunity should ever offer itself.

Midsummer madness can be rewarded

The past weekend saw me set off on an incursion into Scotland. My arrival at the road end for the White Corries ski centre was in utterly unpromising conditions: continuous rain and low cloud obscuring the tops. Oddly undeterred, I stuck with my original plan to ply the West Highland Way all the way to Kinlochleven only to receive continual encouragement from a steady improvement in the weather; it dried up after King’s House Hotel with light showers continuing until the middle of the day and sun coming out from the clouds for a grand evening. From the top of the Devil’s Staircase, I popped up onto Beinn Bheag and Stob Mhic Martuin before carrying on towards Kinlochleven. Those ascents afforded opportunities to disentangle and put names to the various humps and bumps that surrounded me, a matter that has perplexed me every time that I get to look at photos taken when I was last this way a few years back. Ideas for future hikes have been planted in my mind, too, so the proverbial ideas shelf continues to be replenished.

Having been forewarned about a sailing event in Fort William, I opted for a night in Inverness instead. Saying that, Fort William didn’t look so overrun while I was there, but my plans were set, and I sat back to see the sights through the coach windows. A Sunday morning stroll changed my view of Inverness from a less than positive one to a more favourable standpoint. The cause of this change of heart was my discovery of the delights of walking by the River Ness and its islands in bright sunshine. My first visit to Inverness was on a cloudy dreich day prone to dampness, never good conditions to see anywhere, and I popped out to Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness without ever venturing around by the Ness islands in the city itself. In some respects, I am amazed by that omission, but it seems that the Great Glen Way isn’t routed that way for nothing. If anything, my time in Inverness on this occasion may have been overly short; after all, I did have a long train journey ahead of me. Even so, the delights of the city displayed themselves so well that they could be translated into the traditional Scottish phrase “Haste Ye Back”.

That may well set things in play for a mental distillation session ahead of my now habitual longer summer break. This year, there isn’t a single silver bullet like the Western Isles became last year and foul weather alternatives are in order too, even with the Met Office’s optimism. There’s nothing for it but to lay out all the possibilities somewhere and assemble something reasonable from them. In the meantime, though, that Lochaber hike commands a longer description, so my intention is that one will appear on here in due course.

To resolve a conundrum or two

Maybe I should note down what I have captured in photos, but there are occasions when I go looking at one and it takes some time to fathom what I have gone and captured on film or memory card. It doesn’t follow always that I resolve a query to my satisfaction while seated in the comfort of my own home, so my mind ends turning to the possibility of a return to an area. Such is the case with the section of the West Highland Way between Glen Coe and Kinlochleven, but there is another idea for the same area afoot too.

Perusal of the SMC’s The Corbetts & Other Scottish Hills has planted in my head the scheme of walking up Glas Bheinn. Given the name is the Gaelic for grey hill, it’s probably sensible to assume there are a few of these about so I suspect that a few words on its location wouldn’t go astray. The one that I have in my sights lies between Loch Eilde Mor and Blackwater Reservoir, in countryside that is rarely frequented if my walks along the former can be any guide. Assuming cooperation from the weather, that almost guarantees generous panoramas of the surrounding hill country with the rocky Mamores forming part of the fare. The gradients look none too frightening on a map so it might even be my type of hill and, if it puts paid to any questions about what is captured in my photos, then that makes it even better. I may not have a Scottish excursion in mind right now but it never hurts to have something on the ideas shelf for ready deployment in the event of an opportunity surprising you like Scotland has done to me on many an occasion.