Category: Scotland
It all doesn’t end with a damp start
12th September 2009 Before I set off for Aviemore, a look at any forecast could leave you with only one conclusion: that it was going to be a mixed bag. It certainly was just that, but the other thing that was predicted was that Thursday was to be the best day of my stay. By the time that I got up on the said day, it wasn't looking that way. As if to prove that hill country microclimates can rubbish the very best weather forecasting, incessant light rain was what was visited upon Aviemore when I arose.
That was enough to inspire me that and staying indoors for a little while might have been a good idea so I undertook an out and back trip along the Strathspey Railway propelled by a steam locomotive named Braeriach. Because I was leaving on the Caledonian Sleeper that evening, I had everything with me, so having some respite from load carrying was no bad thing either. Having been put off the idea of steam train travel by a very smoky ride on the Jacobite steam train between Mallaig and Glenfinnan a few years back, this was a far better experience. The cause of all that smokiness was passage through tunnels and none occur on the course of the Strathspey Railway, so that must have been how the air remained clearer. The best part of the journey lay between Aviemore and Boat of Garten but it was pleasant and relaxing throughout with the rain clearing all the while.
That encroaching dryness was enough to send me on another bus back to Glenmore. Under largely grey if bright skies, I reprised Tuesday's walk over the Ryvoan Pass albeit continuing instead to Strath Nethy by following a Right of Way leading to Braemar. Starting later meant that I had to restrain myself so as not to overdo things and run out of time or energy, an important consideration when maps reveal places like Loch Avon, Bynack More and Bynack Beg. The weather was friendly to midges, so any stops had to be where there was a breeze so as not to get overrun by the blighters. As it happened, the sun was battling gamely with the cloud cover without much to show for it, so there was little chance of that driving away the incessant ones. Still, I was satisfied with my out and back hike that had me rounding Creag nan Gall, passing by Loch a' Gharbh Choire and beneath Stac na hIolaire. Even with my thinking head on, I was tempted to go further but I still stopped on the eastern side of the Nethy and lingered a while with An Lurg and Cairn Bheadhair looming ahead of me. Looking up along the glen brought my eyes upon the aforementioned Bynack Beg and Bynack More. Seeing a good path ahead of me sowed the seeds of a plan for using it to get to one of the two summits. That meant that there was an air of unfinished business about my venture as I pulled myself away again, but that air so pithily summarises the scope of my Cairngorms explorations so far.
It looked as if it were going to be a case of following a by now familiar track back through Glen More until I got near An Lochan Uaine again but I decided on a different route. Very soon, I got to chastise myself for not noting the gradients crossed by the narrow path that I had chosen, especially with what all that I had in tow. However, that is not to say that there weren't rewards when the sun finally broke through the clouds to give all abroad a blast of heat and the landscape a blast of life with some invigorating views of the mountain after which that steam locomotive had been named. Thankfully, these really opened out for me when kinder gradients allowed a chance for a restorative rest stop. The hard work along the lower slopes of Meall a' Bhuachaille were more than repaid. It was all downhill afterwards with the forestry track returning me to the Forestry Commission visitor centre where I considered my next steps.
One idea, maybe the more sensible one given the walking that I had been doing, was to the bus back to Aviemore but I chose to make my way back along the not too exhausting Old Logger's Way instead. In truth, there is nothing old about this new path/track that shadows the road out for much of its length. It is both cycle and walker friendly and anything has to be better than road walking. One thing that strikes me about Aviemore is how cyclist friendly the place is. In a way, this reminds me of Pitlochry, but there's more about the more northern stop on the Highland Line. Not only does the National Cycling Route 7 pass the way, yet there are plenty of opportunities around Rothiemurchus too. In time, I might even get to shorten distances on two wheels while parking them somewhere secure while exploring higher slopes. Given that my interest in cycling is resurgent these days, you never know what might come of thoughts like these. My progress along the Old Logger's Way was steady on an ever greying evening and there was some time for obtaining sustenance before catching the overnight train south.
With all of my wandering along Speyside and among the Cairngorms so far, all that I can say is that I have only nibbled at what is on offer. It's always the best state in which to be leaving anywhere, so any opportunity for a return could make use of ideas involving first Munros, cycle trails and the like. The mixture of weather left me with no complaints at all; anything's better than constant damp wetting greyness and I got in some good sunny spells. As it happened, I did have Mallaig in mind as a destination for a longer summer trip but decided that I'd rather not see what's about there in the less than ideal conditions that were predicted so I stayed east after the delights seen at Easter time. That proved to be the right call and my train journey home had a certain feeling of satisfaction about it.
A day when long heather tamed vaulting ambitions
10th September 2009 The chance of having a less laden rucksack for day two of my Aviemore escapade set my imagination to soaring when it came to walking possibilities. Thoughts of summits like Creag Dhubh and even a putative first Munro bagging all started to queue up for consideration. You would have thought that the efforts of the day before would have forestalled thinking like this but it simply wasn't so. In fact, what proved to stall the putting of such schemes into action was something lowly: a thick blanketing of shin-high woody heather that obscured any paths that the OS chose to depict on its Explorer map for the area. That there was other woody growth abounding only could help in the return of an until then unleashed imagination to earth. Now that I cast my mind back over the day, I reckon that the outcome was only wise.
The day itself was blessed by sunshine with only the occasional light shower, a definite improvement on the preceding day. I took myself off to revisit Rothiemurchus as I made for Loch an Eilean, following tracks and trails that I first met last April. Showers were visiting the hills ahead of me, but dry sunshine was my fare as I made my way around by Inverdruie and Lochan Mor. All of this remained familiar to me until I stayed with the shore of Loch an Eilean rather than reprising that Easter Monday hike. Relaxed progress got me to Loch Gamhna from where I stuck with the lower slopes of Creag Fhiaclach. I had it in mind to check out the path leading to higher slopes from Inshriach bothy and the line looked anything but clear so I decided not to go doing the fool with it. If the path had looked usable, it would have taken me up by Allt Coire Follais before pathless progress would be needed to make it onto the summit of Creag Dhubh. Instead, I continued to Inshriach forest from where I checked out another seemingly promising track until it ran out at what appeared to be a weather station. Not being in the mood for cross-country travel over low and not so low-level vegetation, I decided not to persevere with checking out potential routes to the heights and took in low-level views of them instead. Plenty of tempting targets lay before me with Munros like Geal-charn, Meall Buidhe, Sgòran Dubh Mor, Sgòr Gaoith, Carn Bàn Mòr and Meall Dubhag. Beyond a number of those lay Loch Eanaich, the cliffs that loom above it and other lofty summits such as Braeriach.
On walking back from Inshriach, I opted to round Loch Gamhna even though it was raining at the time. That rain wasn't to outstay its "welcome" and passed on soon enough and I had a dry weather amble along the western shores of Loch an Eilean with some spotlighting of the surrounding countryside by the sun. I even got to take some time out to stop and relax a little before leaving the loch to follow a different way back to Inverdruie in preference to the one that I had enjoyed earlier that day. The walk had been a good one for a subsequent visit to the area, but it does amaze how I managed to call it right on that Easter Monday visit; choosing vistas over heights certainly paid off in spades and it was just as well that I did.
After getting fed and watered in Aviemore, I decided to go investigating a short section of the Speyside Way only to find that its depiction on my map didn't fully correspond with that on the ground. This type of discrepancy would also appear to have afflicted those various routes to the heights that I explored that afternoon so I am left wondering if OS need to issue a new edition to include any changes since 2007, not at all that long ago. Still, the hills were coloured russet from the evening sun and I got to walking off any excess that I had taken on board so it would be very thankless of me to be grumbling. All in all, it wasn't a bad day at all.
Episodes of deceptive flattery and testing irritation
2nd September 2009 My recollections of day one of my Aviemore escapade contain more greyness and rain than was actually the case. The skies may have been grey with a certain cool feel pervading the air on my arrival at the place's train station on the Caledonian Sleeper, but it wasn't all thus. Awaiting the bus to Glenmore allowed me the time to both set myself up for a spot of hiking and feel any chilliness; the bus was a few minutes late, so a little more time was available than planned. After the five-mile bus journey, further organisation and orientation followed before I got to striking off up the road towards Glenmore Lodge.
Mercifully, the Forestry Commission saw fit to have a walking and cycling track shadowing the road, so any traffic going to or coming from Scotland's national outdoor training centre could not perturb me once I found the start of the thing. After some uneventful progress, I passed the said outdoor centre to reach Scotways' signage for rights of way to Nethy Bridge and Braemar. There were no plans in my head for going as far as either of those destinations on the day, though I was set for the Ryvoan Pass and would pass the bothy that's there. Being around at an early around meant that I was far from surrounded by hoards, with only a few fellow walkers going their merry way.
If you weren't aware of the forecast, you'd have been tempted to assume that the day was set to remain fair and even get better and better based on the appearances that being put on at the time. This certainly was how it was starting to look around An Lochan Uaine and the pass itself. With the pleasant conditions and lack of midges, I lingered around Ryvoan Bothy for a while and pondered the possibility of using it on an excursion at some unknown point in the future. I still have nothing definite in mind, but it's good what's there all the same.
From the bothy, I set off up the slopes of Meall a' Bhuachaille with things starting to become greyer again. The uphill path is well engineered, but there's nothing more that it can do to ease what is a hefty workout for any pair of legs, especially those carrying everything for a multi-day trip like mine was (a possible disadvantage of using an overnight service when some items cannot be dropped off somewhere). There was nothing for it but to take my time and go at a sensible and steady pace. Time often passes slower than you think on uphill stretches, and you have got to watch that it doesn't skew your judgement of height too. My ascent of Meall a' Bhuachaille had the same ingredients, so that was further encouragement not to go rushing at anything that might turn out to be a false summit. The real summit was to be reached in its own good time, so there was no need to hurry; allowing plenty of time is essential for this type of thing.
Thankfully, the gradients eased as I neared the summit cairn and I paused a while and noted the coming predicted dampness elsewhere around and, as it was soon to turn out to be the case, coming my way. On the descent, doubts were bubbling up regarding the inclusion of further summits on my trot. After having the 810 metres summit to myself, there were a few groups coming up against me, some clad in t-shirts and shorts or tracksuit bottoms, a definite contrast to what I normally use and possibly foolhardy with the weather predictions. After all, some passing dampness had frequented the hill while I was on it.
The path down Coire Chondlaich offered an escape route but, thinking that spells of lighter rain might be what we'd get, I continued to Creagan Gorm on a clear if rougher path. There were still views round about me to be had, with the rolling hills of Abernethy and Cromdale to my north, along with the more dramatic craggy affairs of Cairngorm and Braeriach to my south. After this point, the weather very definitely deteriorated, and I was glad of the waterproofs that I had with me. The wind-pelted rain was one matter, but the loss of visibility was another, and retention of one's wits was mandated by the conditions. One good thing was that the path remained clear, and I could see enough to avoid any calamity. The hills that I was traversing may have been humpy, but rolling or sliding down a steep slope in error does not appeal to me one bit. Patience was another necessity, with plenty of ups and downs that could so easily deceive, as I passed over Creag a' Chaillich on the way to Craiggowrie; there definitely seemed to be more summits than were on my usefully waterproofed Explorer map. The conditions that I met certainly weren't fair, and I hope that the lightly clad brigade made it down in time.
Craiggowrie identified itself both by a definite left-hand turn in the path and a clear if broken down fence. The loss of height helped to inspire confidence too, as did the improving visibility. Though conditions underfoot were understandably boggy, the forest that I intended to enter came into view and the transmitter-topped of Creag a' Ghreusaichie could be picked out from across An Slugan. The air remained damp, but the wetness was less windblown, and a sodden but not soggy Irishman made his way in among the trees.
From there on, continuous improvement was the order of things. Having been out for a few hours, with a goodly number of ups and downs along the way, fatigue was beginning to make its presence felt. Nevertheless, I was by now on good forestry tracks though forestry operations (a fellow walker had forewarned me of these when we met on high in the murk, and it was well signed in any case) meant that one's guard could not be dropped just yet. Though it may not have felt that way at the time, progress was steady with Badaguish Outdoor Centre being passed in good time with not much more time being needed to return to Glenmore from where I had started earlier in the day. The prospect of making my way back to Aviemore on foot did enter my mind, but the encountered wetness meant that it had no staying power.
The by then glorious conditions had me tempted with the idea of extending my walk but, even though it was only about 14:30, I decided to listen to my body and recognise my need for the services of a drying room. That had me returning to Aviemore by bus to book in at its SYHA. Somehow, the option of the SYHA in Glenmore never came to my attention until I went there this time around! It's an accommodation option that I'll be keeping in mind for a future visit.
Back in Aviemore, I duly tidied myself up and placed whatever needed drying into the drying room. After a spot of shopping and obtaining sustenance, I decided to potter into the Craigellachie NNR for a short wander that took me up high enough to gain me some decent views towards the Cairngorms on an otherwise sunny evening beset with light showers; two came upon me while I was out. Even so, it was a good way to walk off some of the evening meal, and I settled down for an early night. It had been a day when the weather both flattered to deceive and, at times, tested to the point of irritation. Only for the photos that I had made, I may well have recalled the discomfiture more clearly than the pleasant interludes, something that the day wouldn't have deserved.
Retracing old steps and making some new ones
31st August 2009 A weekend promising mixed weather saw me head north to Edinburgh. There is a quote somewhere about the place never truly leaving you, and that seems to be the way with me after living there for a few years before coming south to earn my crust. The Festival Fringe was coming to its annual close, but an old habit of mine is not to get too involved with it, and that seems to have been continued this turn. Saturday started with a mixture of sunshine and clouds and I got to wander about Holyrood Park until I passed through the heart of the city to catch a bus to the Pentland Hills, where I spent the afternoon before returning to reprise more old steps across Bruntsfield Links and the Meadows. There were showers around but also plenty of the sort of light that showed things at their finest, all thanks to the sun coming out between any wettings and the brisk breezy freshness of the day. The walking had been a mixture of urban landmark spotting, even reprising a few photographic opportunities in the spirit of that Cheshire project that I have going, and hill country savouring.
The previous day's exertions certainly led to some fatigue, so Sunday ended up being an easy Edinburgh day, the sort that I used to enjoy when I still lived there. Admittedly, the idea of popping down to Melrose to admire and ascend the nearby Eildon Hills cam to mind, but the weather forecast wasn't so inspiring, and I prefer to see things in the weather that best shows their charms. So, the Melrose option makes its way onto the ideas shelf for future reference. In fairness, yesterday started well and stayed dry until a spell of light rain turned up around 18:00 only to move away to leave a dry night and a bright, cheery start to today. Saying that, the rain didn't take long to come either, with it having arrived by the time of my early departure from Waverly station.
The reason for that early departure was that there were things that needed doing, and I would have wanted to get going before the southbound bank holiday rush really got going in earnest after an experience that I had last year. Speaking of things to do, I realise that I promised to say more about my Aviemore trip and I also want to expand on my Pentlands escapade too. For now, the real-world to-do list will be taking precedence, but I hope to get things moving again on the trip report front in the not too distant future.
If it were done when it were done…
20th August 2009 An alternative title for this piece would be "You always can return and perhaps even should...". It might be the dawning of a realisation as regards how much time has passed but my previously shared assertion that you can always find a different side to any location that you've already visited has been joined by the idea that it's never any harm seeing the same things again. The provocation for this course of thought has been the passing earlier this year of the tenth birthday of the online photo gallery that you find on here. That milestone, a perhaps sobering one for me, has had me casting my eye back over the photos contained therein with some ideas coming to light.
My early forays armed with a 35 mm Ricoh compact camera were made in search of things to see and places to go while also capturing whatever landmark came my way. Living in Edinburgh meant that there were plenty on my doorstep and Cheshire is not bereft of them either. In these DSLR-equipped days, it is immersion in countryside of varying wildness that has held my attention with (hopefully) pleasing landscape photos resulting from those efforts. However, looking at the older photos has been revealing to me how my appraisal of photographic quality has changed over time. A big factor in that is the digital onslaught and the shot in the arm that is the digital darkroom. While sceptical at first, I have been won over by the vibrancy of colours and the crispness of results though I continue to use film from time to time. Speaking of film, I never did make the jump from negative to slide film and so had to put up with printing decisions made by someone else unless I took to scanning negatives and any attempts at that endeavour did leave me dissatisfied; it might have been the technology that I was using. The appeal of the digital darkroom might be small wonder then with all of the control that is on offer.
The conclusion where all of this is leading is towards my engaging in something of a photography project that causes me to revisit old haunts and have another go at recreating some of those earlier images albeit with a spot more success. Cheshire comes to mind as an obvious place to start and that is opportune given that the nights are now drawing in ahead of the shorter days of winter when it is so easy to hibernate. Local escapades that either use my bike (the appeal of cycling is becoming more resurgent within me for some reason or other) or other means of transport sound like good ways to keep active when time for a longer excursion isn't always available. That never is to say that I will not be exploring wondrous countryside for its own sake but savouring the more pleasing examples of what humanity has built in the countryside is no bad thing either, for a bit of variety if nothing else.
