Outdoor Discoveries

A look back at 2008 Part 2: Until Midsummer

While 2009 has yet to see its first proper hill outing of the year for me, I have to say that anyone who doesn’t make the most of the first half of any year is missing out on something special. It is nice to think that everything is on the up and your next outing could be more wonderful than the last. You are less likely to be overrun by hoards too and there’s much to admire from the skeletal forms of the trees to the way that fine landscape is enlivened by the gentler light. I can see some being put out by such things as the shortness of the days or the lingering feel of winter but I see wonder in these too and it allows one to be ready for the annual crescendo that is April, May and even June. After that, I feel that the year passes its peak and regard the traditional summer holiday months of July and August as being ill-timed but that means that we are more likely to have things to ourselves, never a bad thing. Here’s how the first half of 2008 fared.

January

Casting my mind back to January, I remember expressing an inclination to stay home when the weather wasn’t so inviting. What had been a tactical device for ensuring that necessary life chores got done had developed a less than desirable side effect: being too choosy about when to go walking among those wonderful hills. A sunny Sunday at the start of the month drew me out on a cycle between Macclesfield and Leek with a diversion round by the Roaches on the way back. It was a good start to the year and I followed it up by strengthening my resolve in order to head to Leek for a circular walk through Staffordshire’s muddy moorlands (encountering clay was rather apt given the county’s fame for pottery production) that took me over Hen Cloud. The need for inner strength was prompted by greyness of skies earlier in the day but that soon evaporated to uncloak blue skies and unleash the sun to do its magic, a sort of reward for my endeavours.

February

That "get out there regardless of everything but personal safety and other much more important things" mentality was to serve me well in February. When a dusting of snow presented itself, I was off to Northumberland to explore more of the hills near Wooler. There was an ample coating of powder dry snow about and that both enlivened the views and brought out a little of the inner child in mind as I bobbed downhill on my return to Wooler. The middle of the month saw that replaced by a settle spell of glorious if nippy weather that allowed me to narrow the gap between Haworth and Gargrave in my Pennine Way hiking project. In line with the "bag-of-nails" approach that I have been adapting, a southbound walk from Gargrave to Lothersdale came first with a northbound hike from Haworth to Ickornshaw following it. The narrow gap between Ickornshaw and Lothersdale remains a possible irritation but it’s also another excuse to revisit those parts, even if public footpath signposting isn’t what it might be. The end of the month saw me undertake my visit outing of the year in Scotland with a wander through the countryside by Tarbet and Arrochar. I needed my new found resolve as the showers started to gang up on me with the ageing of the day; it was certainly good weather for any frogs that I saw.

March

In contrast to February, March was a much quieter month when it came to exploring the outdoors. A heavy flu was partly to blame for that but I felt a need to clear out some physical and mental clutter too, an activity that kept me busy over the early and white Easter. The latter fact should have drawn me out because a good walk is often good for garbage clearance but I ended up looking out at the Maxonian (that’s to Macclesfield what Mancunian is to Manchester) hills instead.

April

April’s two excursions mean that I was among hills instead of looking at them from afar. The first of these saw me traipse along part of the Offa’s Dyke Path near Knighton on a day that had me frequenting both Powys in Wales and Shropshire in England. I even dropped in on Church Stretton on the way home for a short sortie that preceded a heavy shower. Another weekend trip to Scotland followed with my exploring around the villages of Glencoe and Kinlochleven. The weather couldn’t have been better and snow still lay on the mountain tops though I remained at lower levels. On the way home, I began to feel that I had seen enough of the pervading browns of the hills for one sitting.

May

May made another good month for wandering through open hill country and its being topped and tailed by bank holidays surely helped. The first of these saw me exploring Teesdale on a grey if dry day with sun struggling to make any headway through the cloud cover. Even so, I got taken along another part of the Pennine Way and it made for a good day out. The next day was a damp affair so my next trip took advantage of the fact that normal weekday train services run on a bank holiday to get to Bethesda in North Wales for what turned out to be a linear hike to Bangor by way of the foothills of the Carneddau and the North Wales Path. Cloud broke to release the sun even if sea fog somewhat curtailed the sunshine later on in my walk. Another Welsh outing followed with my planned walk near Dolwyddelan being displaced by an out and back hike from Dolgarrog to Llyn Eigiau due to transport misinformation. It didn’t matter because a good day of walking followed anyway. Scotland surprised me with perfect weather for the second bank holiday weekend of the month, so much so that I was barely ready to take full advantage of what was offer and I left for home with a certain amount of regret. That’s not to say that a good tramp from Inverarnan to Dalmally or a few hours spent on Kerrera wasted the time that I had but I would have preferred more extensive planning than was done. If I had known what was ahead of me, I might have booked some time off from work and made a longer weekend of it. Having Monday would have avoided the bank holiday traffic and allowed for some very enjoyable walking too. Maybe the weather forecasters were so taken up by what was coming to England that they forgot Scotland…

June

June started well with a walk along the Cumbria Way through Langstrath on my way from Borrowdale into Great Langdale. Though I had glimpsed the Langdale Pikes from afar, this was to be my first visit to Great Langdale and, though cloud got to obscure the sun as the day wore on, a return to these wondrous parts remains in order. A primarily social visit to Ireland followed with my only snatching short strolls on a visit to Killarney on a damp day. Nevertheless, the sight of Torc waterfall retained its appeal and I was sorely tempted by the idea of going further along the Kerry Way.

When a certain ring of familiarity attracts your attention

The name "Allt Coire Chaorach" probably doesn’t mean that much to most people. When I saw mention of it in a BBC news item concerning the recent approval of a hydroelectric scheme, I just had to investigate. That search for further information led me to the Scottish Government’s website where the fuller details are for all to see.

It was the inclusion of the word "Chaorach" that got up my curiosity because there was a faint possibility that I may have passed it on my travels through Scottish hills. In fact, it was my passing through Gleann nan Caorann whilst on a trek from Inverarnan to Dalmally at the end of May that proved to be the trigger. However, in Gaelic, caorann is the word for a rowan tree while caora is the word for sheep. So my wandering took me by glens and burns named after the rowan rather than sheep or ewes like how it appears for Allt Coire Chaorach. It’s amazing how appearances can deceive when it comes to languages of which you don’t have a detailed knowledge.

However, Allt Coire Chaorach isn’t that far from Inverarnan since it starts out on the eastern slopes of Ben More and Stob Binnein before plunging to the floor of Glen Dochart to join the river that gives that glen its name; that river itself goes on to feed Loch Tay, from which emanates the river of the same name that reaches the sea near Dundee. Apparently, this is also a site of special scientific interest and the Scottish Government seems to be continuing on its course of not entirely respecting SSSI’s if the approval of the hydroelectric scheme is any useful indicator. It’s also located within the bounds of the Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park so the trend seems a little too consistent. Let’s hope that the construction works are as sympathetic as they can be.

Incursion of modernity into our beloved hill country often attracts furious disapproval; just look what surrounds the subjects of wind farms and electricity supply lines. Anything that is already done doesn’t trouble me so much since removing it might cause even more disruption than leaving things as they are. However, any proposed changes do rouse my misgivings and I hope that the powers that be do leave us with sufficient wild country to explore and so escape the pressures and demands of modern life. Getting corralled into busy honeypots would be no fun; while National Parks have their own multitude of quieter corners, making one’s way through the hordes to get to them isn’t as nice as the unimpeded access to them in lesser frequented parts.

Saying all of the above, the new hydroelectric scheme may not be that intrusive in the visual sense. From the side of the A85, it should be hidden behind forestry but it will take some time to blend in with its surroundings so that it doesn’t look so obvious from the heady heights of the likes of Ben More and Stob Binnein. For those who might like a wilder feel, now might be a good time to explore these and other summits before any changes take place. The rest of us might be comforted by the thoughts as to how quickly nature can reclaim the land from our worst attentions. Just visit the North Pennines, once a bastion of lead mining, and other parts where such activities were once prevalent and now long gone. Visiting the quarry-scarred hillsides of Gwynedd might not be the best idea when seeking solace from our disregard for the landscape with which we have been gifted is what’s in order.

Crossing a watershed between Ardlui and Butterbridge

Over the weekend, I was lured north to Scotland by thoughts of seeing its magnificent countryside lying resplendent in bright sunshine, however fleeting that might have been. However, that halcyon dream was merely just that because the predicted continual improvement in the weather on Saturday proved to be more gradual than had been predicted by the forecasters, so much so that it could have been called an illusion. That mountains can make their own weather may not have helped my cause either.

The weather that I did encounter was more reminiscent of that which I got while out walking around Arrochar and Tarbet in February or March. Then, I got heavy showers that got more progressively slow moving and frequent as the day wore on until they grew into the sort of irritant that made me glad that I was leaving when I did. On that day though, there was some good sunshine at times to make up for all the wetness, but my last excursion was bereft of any such succour, even if holes in cloud did allow glimpses of blue sky and the sun did make feeble attempts to get through. It wasn’t to be a day for photography, particularly since making pictures of wide vistas was utterly out of the question.

When I got off a coach at Ardlui, there were grey skies but it was dry after a passing shower. I then made my way down a wet A82 to Garristuck cottage, a little south of Ardlui train station. After a short spell along a track that passed two houses, I was into a field and making my way up the hillside. The path that I was following may have been faint, but that was sufficient to steady any navigational waywardness. The plan was to reach a coll between Stob an Fhithich and Stob nan Connich Bhacain and then drop down to reach a path that was to take me over paths and dams to a 4×4 track that would land me on the A83 near Butterbridge, between Cairndow and Rest and Be Thankful. However, the sight of the crags of Stob an Fhithich resulted in a change of direction and I went around to the other side of that hill to traverse gentler slopes. The gradient may have been manageable, but gentleness wouldn’t be a quality that I would ascribe to the terrain that I was crossing. It was waterlogged and grassy with occasional crags, bracken and scrub encountered before I dropped into Srath Dubh-uisge, looking very much part of the catchment area for Loch Sloy. For a while, this was to be the type of walking that could be a more effective workout of the leg muscles than any gym and in much more interesting surroundings.

Picking up that informal path (a wonderful description that I found in Walking World Ireland and it was used to describe something similar) needed a bit of searching to locate it, even with the sights of dam railings and such like; it was merely a line of trampled grass that soon enough brought me onto a good track. Up to this point, I only had one passing shower during the hike, but things were to intensify on the weather front while the walking actually got easier. It was just as well that I was by now well on the way to Butterbridge. Even with the greyness, the murk, the heavy rain and strong winds, the colours of the countryside showed themselves. All the while, my waterproofs and my boots very usefully kept out the dampness while I proved that I too could cope with the conditions as well as my gear did.

I continued my way down Glen Kinglass regardless and started to encounter the only fellow walkers that I’d met all day. Any wonderment as to where they might be headed was partially answered by a sign for a track to Ben Vane that I was to see later on. Because of the conditions, I could only imagine how my surroundings might look at their best as weak sunshine attempted to brighten things up while I made out the road up to Rest and Be Thankful. The A83 came soon enough and I awaited my coach back to civilisation while among high hills that need to be surveyed on a more suitable day. I reckon that I was out among them a day too early and, annoying as that might be, it’ll take another visit to see them at their very best and I might even cross that coll between Stob an Fhithich and Stob nan Connich Bhacain too. I may not have left with wonderful photos but I have something equally valuable: more ideas for future outings. Those hills won’t go away anytime soon so I hope to be able to stage a return at some suitable juncture.

A weekend around Argyll: Part 3

Sometimes, it’s just very hard to get oneself home from a very beautiful location and, if the weather’s being very exceptional, then it’s so much harder. That’s how it felt on leaving Oban to head south again on the bank holiday Monday. Add to that the feeling that I had I had not made the most of what had been granted to me and a certain heaviness of heart results. I did have some good walking in that tramp from Inverarnan to Dalmally and the views that I encountered on my Sunday ambling were superb but it’s amazing what perfect weather does to you.

That maelstrom going on in my mind caused me to leave Oban early to allow a stop in Taynuilt to savour a bit more of the area before I completely left it. I planned a two hour stopover and a stroll in the general direction of Glen Noe on the shore of Loch Etive got me as far as Inverawe Country Park. If I had allotted more time, then I might have reached Glen Noe and made the journey to Glasgow smoother than was the case.

My plan was to go to Glasgow via Tyndrum and that’s what I did. A change of coach was needed in Tyndrum and it’s here where things started to unravel; the onward connection was full and couldn’t carry me. It’s being the 11:00 from Fort William on a sunny bank holiday easily explained what happened and I suppose that I should have thought of that. That left me with next to two hours to spend and I didn’t waste a minute by wandering over and back along the West Highland Way. The Crianlarich hills appeared so beguiling that they thwarted any notions of catching the 14:00 train to Glasgow Queen Street.

Like a cat with nine lives, I was left with other options. Chief among these was the 14:20 Citylink service but that didn’t arrive because of a problem with the vehicle. It was cutting things a bit fine but the 15:20 would have conveyed me to Glasgow with plenty of time left to catch the first train on a southbound railway relay that would have got me to Macclesfield at a not insensible time. However, the bank holiday jinx struck again with heavy traffic on the A82 north of the Balloch roundabout putting paid to that idea. It is little wonder that a campaign to upgrade the said road is under way.

Nevertheless, I discovered a late evening service that would get me all of the way to Manchester. There was a wait before it departed so I enjoyed the evening sunshine in George Square before setting off. Once in Manchester, I made my way to its airport and picked up a reasonably priced taxi home from there. My arrival time was much later than intended but I was home anyway and enjoyed some snatched opportunities to savour more of Scotland’s wilder country at its best. I had left wanting more, never a bad thing.

All in all, this was a return journey that was anything but smooth. It was almost as if Scotland was using everything in its power to hang onto me: fantastic weather, wonderful countryside and a busy transport system. I have been left wondering if a better plan for any bank holiday excursion to Scotland would be to add a day off to the break and use that to return home. The traffic should be lighter and I might even enjoy an extra day’s walking in brilliant sunshine while everyone else is stuck in the traffic.

A weekend around Argyll: Part 1

It’s been a while coming, so here’s the first instalment of the description of my trip to Scotland over the Spring Bank Holiday weekend. The outing itself turned out to be planned at the last minute because the overall tenor of the weather forecast hadn’t been the most promising. As it happened, I gleaned that heading north was best, and that’s why I tried Scotland. I was far from wrong: the weather in Scotland couldn’t have been better, and I ended up kicking myself that I hadn’t taken a day off from work to spend a little more time up there.

Of course, I had gone for a spot of walking among hills and my first day, the main subject of this post, was spent making my way along a hill track from Inverarnan to Dalmally. The idea originally came to mind a while back when pondering improvements to the route of the West Highland Way. The route that I took was encapsulated by road walking, first along the A82 from The Drovers Inn to Glen Falloch farm and latterly on the A85 until I reached Dalmally. In between, progress was over good tracks and pathless moor in open country, albeit with a line of pylons stalking their way through the glen and over the bealach. Navigation was non too taxing for the most part, even if a spot of forestry track building needed rather more thought than would have been desired.

The route came from Scotways’ Scottish Hill Tracks, a good source of ideas, even if caution is needed when following them on the ground. Don’t expect nice clear tracks because they may not exist, and I followed enough of them to know. In fact, anyone following Mick and Gayle’s LEJOG might know that their following another of those hill tracks involved negotiating loads of fallen trees; it almost reminds of my WHW hike along the shores of Loch Lomond last year. There’s a certain caveat emptor to the whole business, so it’s best to be prepared, as the old scout mantra goes.

Anyway, to the day itself. It began under cloudy skies with the sun struggling to make its way through as I made my way up the A82; some blue sky made its appearance a little later only to disappear again. As I know well from my WHW tramp from Inverarnan to Crianlarich last August, this is a busy road that creates an unpleasant amount of noise. At 08:00 in the morning, it was quieter, but there was no pleasure in plying along its margin watching out for traffic and keeping in from approaching vehicles. I was happy to be rid of it when I picked up a clear track that took me up the slopes around Troisgeach Bheag. I crossed a bridge over the West Highland railway just as a rail tour passed beneath me, and took in views over Loch Lomond on the ascent.

All the while, the hubbub grew all the weaker. It wasn’t intrusive like that day last August, but I like my wild country without that racket. I also rather it without pylons, but that was not to be as I flew along the track up Gleann nan Caorann. Though clouds filled the sky, the sun managed to light up the summits of Ben Oss, Ben Lui and Ben a’ Chleibh, at least when I first glimpsed them. It didn’t stay that way for long, and the sun continued to fight a losing battle with the clouds until I crested the bealach between Ben a’ Chleibh and Meall nan Tighearn. The track stayed with me for most of the journey into a landscape that was boggy and crossed by a myriad of watercourses. Losing the track as it reached its terminus, a shieling, meant I was in for a schlep through and over what was a watershed. I followed whatever vague track took me where I wanted to go for a lot of the time, but some freestyle wandering was needed too, and that line of pylons served as an excellent handrail. As I continued on a lung and leg busting ascent, a good view of the many lines etched into the terrain across it opened up.

Other views opened on making the crest of the bealach, and the sun came out to enliven them too; it was to remain thus for the rest of the day. I could see now beyond the glens occupied by the Orchy and Lochy rivers towards Ben Cruachan and such like. Such an arresting vista demanded a stop for its appreciation, and I took the opportunity to have some food too. After that, my nigh on pathless course continued as I started on my descent, confident that I was to reach Oban, where I was going to be staying on this visit.

Pylons were being painted, so a myriad of rough ATV tracks abounded, and I picked my way down to the entrance to the forestry plantation that lay between me and the A85. That entrance wasn’t a welcoming one, with its rickety wooden gate and the need to dodge water and mud to get in. In hindsight, it could have been seen as a portent of what was to come. I made my way down the firebreak with no sign of the path shown on my map, but a track to the left soon offered itself. That took onto another track, a well-made affair that clearly had received recent attention and lorries were making their way along it. Navigating forestry tracks can be a confounding experience, but all seemed well for now; new tracks can appear, and the OS might not be able to keep up with a path turning into a track. However, I don’t know whether I missed a left turn due to an episode of reverie or what happened, but I started to feel that something was not quite right about where I was going. Trees had been cleared, so I could see the A85 below me and I opted to use my right to roam for a more direct approach to reach it, even if it meant crossing the railway and the River Lochy, a perfectly traversable affair. It was not the most dignified route, yet I got to the A85 and turned left for the tarmac tramp to Dalmally.

Walking along a busy road like the A85 is hardly the best, yet it can cure all sense of navigational uncertainty. The road margin was generously proportioned, but that did not excise the need for being ever watchful of cars and other vehicles; it was a constant necessity. The day was by now glorious and hotter than I would have liked, but I made Dalmally in good time. I wasn’t timely enough to make the 17:03 to Oban, the base for my visit, but the 19:08 was easily made, and I got a good rest too. While I suppose that I could have gone and walked about a bit, it had been a long day of walking and the heat made relaxation the better option. I was soon enough in Oban and, rather than me plotting out the next day’s wandering, the need for a good night’s rest took over. Sunday was another day…