Category: Scotland
2024: A year of Celtic trails and French summits
31st December 2024 There once was a time when every year would get a retrospective review at the end, or not long afterwards. That has slipped for various reasons. However, this piece reinstates that for this year. Whatever happens in coming years cannot be known; we only know the present, and our recollections of the past are prone to the ravages of time, though some have better memories than others.
Highland Rambles to Start a Year
For me, this year began in Aviemore after the preceding disruption of storm Gerrit. New Year's Day was spent hiking around Rothiemurchus, with many wishing Happy New Year to each other. Lochan Mor, Loch an Eilein, Loch Gamhna and Loch Morlich all featured as landmarks on an amble on a crisp sunny winter's day. The volume of traffic along the road between Aviemore and Glen More was more akin to a motorway than a thoroughfare in a protected part of Scotland. With no public transport in operation, private transport possibly was the only realistic option for getting around.
The next day saw a return to Inverness for a hike from there to the shores of Loch Ness at Lochend. The paths by the River Ness and the Caledonian Canal were pleasant, though sunshine was scarce. The same could not be said for walking along the side of the A82, yet seeds were sown for future rambles that use Inverness as a base. Walking back from Drumnadrochit to Inverness along part of the Great Glen Way is among these, as is a circuit through the hills near Achnashellach train station in Scotland's more remote northwest. South Loch Ness Trail is another option that appeals. If other things had not intruded, these ideas may have been used sometime this year. For now, they remain in my catalogue of ideas for the future.
February's Fresh Start In Cork
The rest of January was occupied with many handover sessions in advance of a work contract coming to an end. This was a process that took its toll on me, setting some of the scene for the start of February. Nevertheless, property hunting took me to Cork for around two weeks. That was complemented by strolls along the disjointed sections of the Cork Harbour Greenway along with some pottering around Crosshaven, Fota and Cobh. A day trip to Killarney saw me reprise part of a route taken during the first full day of my stay there in August 2022; the initial idea was to head to Glengarriff, but the bus ticket machine would not sell me a day return ticket and I took that as a sign that it might be best left for another time. The deviation around by Torc Waterfall made for a late return to Killarney bus station; it was as well that later services operate on a Sunday, or my incaution might have left me marooned. There was a circuit of Muckross Lake too, which might have made the day a little too long in hindsight.
March in Aberystwyth: Coastal Walks and Windy Summits
In March, there was a return visit to Aberystwyth to follow up on a stay there the preceding September. A good weather window was what prompted me, and I got in some coastal walking on the first full day there. The main stretch was part of the Wales Coast Path that returned me to Aberystwyth from Borth after some pottering around Aberystwyth. Pumlumon Fawr got an ascent on a bracing day with a cold gusty wind reducing the time spent on the said summit. It might have been better not to have gone up there at all, but for my stubbornness. Lower level hiking was less affected by the wind and I wandered about by Bwlch Nant-yr-Arian before continuing to Ponterwyd. The tale of my day made a bus driver laugh when I said it was the wind that was the greatest challenge.
April Escapades: From Stirling to the Tops and Lochs of Central Scotland
Eastertide house decluttering and a run of uninspiring weather meant that it was the end of April when I next got out and about. This time, I based myself in Stirling. The preceding November saw me making an impromptu incursion into the Ochil Hills by following a track while wearing trail shoes. That act eliminated those eminences from my attention, so it was the need to experience a hike around Ben Ledi with more sunshine that became the main motivation. Before that, I enjoyed a delightful stroll around Stirling in the pleasant evening sunshine, even if it wearied me a bit for the main ascent.
The route to Ben Ledi went along that of the Rob Roy Way from Callander before deviating onto a forestry track that carried me around Boschastle Hill. That saved some steep ascent at the beginning, only for more height gain to try my legs on the way up to the summit. With sunlit views like I never saw them before, there were ample excuses for rest breaks to ease the burden. Once over the summit, I descended below Bealach nan Crop into Stank Glen from where I reached the shore of Loch Lubnaig, where I loitered a while before dropping into a Forest Holidays shop for some refreshments. The way back to Callander from there was swifter than I had expected, allowing me to use an earlier bus for the return to Stirling.
The next day saw me back in Callander for what became a hike to Aberfoyle along the southern shore of Loch Venachar before a diversion to Brig o' Turk prompted by curiosity and Loch Achray. Concerns about making the last bus of the day and the growing heat persuaded me not to visit Loch Katrine, so I hotfooted the rest of the way on forestry tracks, only to find that my fears were unfounded. The initial plan had been to do a circuit of Loch Venachar until distances and the heat caused a change of mind. Very weary legs were rested in Aberfoyle before that bus appeared, and the stop also allowed a chance to imbibe some refreshments.
May: Revisiting the Trails around Aviemore, Rothiemurchus and Kingussie
The start of May was graced with a repeat visit to Aviemore. The main motivation might have been an out and back hike to Loch Eanaich after high water halted the errand the previous December. That was just as well since there still was a stream crossing without a bridge that got me wet feet and boots. This was the sort of thing that perhaps was best left for the last day of a stay instead of the first. Nevertheless, I got where I fancied going. Ronald Turnbull has published a route leading this way to Carn Ban Mor and other nearby hills. It does not look like a day hike to me unless you make use of a mountain bike. Backpacking might be the better approach after some strength training to cope with your load. The next day saw me reprise a hike from Kingussie to Aviemore with variations to the route. This included closer proximity to Glen Feshie and a more direct if muddier route from Moor of Feshie to Loch Gamhna. Otherwise, it was good to redo this with longer hours of daylight.
June: West Highland Retrospectives and French Forays
The West Highland Way got some repeat attention at the start of June during a stay in Fort William. First up was the section between Fort William and Kinlochleven after a deviation around by Cow Hill near the start. Though used by many more people on the day, it was great to revisit a trail that I had not walked for more than twenty years, even if it took a toll on me because of a rush to catch a bus at a reasonable hour. That was not how things worked out for me between Glen Coe and Bridge of Orchy. Though wintry showers peppered the day, there were periods of bright sunshine that may up for these and a shorter route with better public transport connections made for a more relaxing hike. All was settled gain, even if the numbers heading north made me wonder about overtourism. My recollection of passing the same way around twenty years before was that things were much quieter back then.
This also was a year with two trips to France. A passport bungle meant that I could not use a booked ferry trip, so I rearranged it for later. The stay in Paris still went ahead in May. Rennes and Versailles were the object of side trips during a getaway that featured mixed weather and extensive urban walking. The summer solstice was when I used the ferry booking between Portsmouth and Saint-Malo, where there was the only episode of mixed weather. Otherwise, there was no shortage of sunshine in Paris or Versailles, even if restrictions were becoming more intrusive ahead of the Olympic and Paralympic Games. Grenoble became my main base, allowing plenty of hiking to happen. The routes took me to Mont Rachais, the Desert de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Charvet, Sassenage, Mont-Saint-Martin and along the River Isère. While tongue-tied by my grasp of French at times, much was to be enjoyed, too. All was accomplished by surface travel, which was even better in these days of climate crisis. That may set up some excursions in times to come.
A Southern Irish Summer: Traversing Hilltops, Coastlines and Peninsulas
Somewhat like 2010, 2024 feels like a year of two halves after I acquired a new Irish base in Cork city. Thus, July and August saw a lot of Irish traipsing in between attending to other matters that have been in the offing for a while. Killarney saw two back to back day trips, the second saw me reach the summit of Mangerton after being stymied by going around by Knockreer and Ross Castle on the first day. A full day was spent traversing the Ballyhoura Mountains from Ballyhea to Seefin and back. The three Atlantic peninsulas of West Cork, Mizen, Beara and Sheep's Head, all got visits. The first involved hiking from Schull to Ballydehob and the last allowed me to go from Kilcrohane to Ahakista via the top of Seefin (the name pops up in a few places on this evidence). Glengarriff's Nature Trails were a lure to the Beara Peninsula early in August, only to be followed with possibly the soggiest and wettest hike in my life along the Beara Way from Adrigole to Glengarriff. Other summertime forays took me to Cashel and Cahir, as well as the Knockmealdown Mountain foothills on a saunter from Cappoquin to Lismore.
A Subsequent Lull
The summer wanderings were followed by a lull in August. Fatigue and other distractions like testing out Generative AI curtailed things in the autumn before the weather fell into a rut uncongenial to hill wandering. There still was a loop around Great Island in Cork Harbour as well as more local forays to known spots until thing perked up more recently with visits to Blarney, Ballincollig and Kinsale.
Ideas for an Open Book
2025 remains an open book at this stage, though there are some ideas that are readily to hand. One is a sojourn in Inverness, while a transatlantic escapade cannot be ruled out either. Given recent political developments, Canada looks more likely than its southern neighbour. The need to use Virgin points may encourage me to go to Canada yet. Toronto could be a base for what surrounds it, and Galway could act in a similar fashion in Ireland. Business matters need added attention, so I do not have a free hand in all of this. Only time will tell what happens next.
In need of some tidal awareness
23rd September 2024 Recent Irish rambles have brought home to me an important lesson to which I hardly devoted much attention before. It may be because I have spent much of my life inland and that I am attracted to a variety of hill country. The subject pertains to tides.
It is true that I made my over and back from the tidal Cramond Island near Edinburgh without incident. That perhaps was because the tide tables were posted on signs nearby. Then, I could assess if such a crossing was feasible so as now to get marooned. That is one of the few, if not the only tidal island that I recall visiting.
Otherwise, risk averseness has its part to play. Worms Head near Rhossili on the Gower in Wales comes to mind. The sight of others did little to encourage me out there. Knowing that I was without important knowledge was enough to stop me needing the services of the Coastguard. No rescue is needed when the risk is not taken.
The same applied to a visit to Galway where I did make my way out and back from Illaunafamona, near Salthill, without getting stranded on there. However, the encroaching tide forced me to go through a caravan park to get back on the return route to Galway to catch a coach back to Cork. Leaving later would have been better but for having made an advance booking; the evening was brightening, so it would have been worthwhile. Still, I got to the Coach Station with minutes to spare. My trespassing nearly cost me that too, and landowners may not have been impressed with a stranding on an island that they owned if it were to happen. The caravan park owners did not intercept me either, yet it is not something that I plan to repeat.
A stroll around Crosshaven was nowhere as dramatic. However, the tide was in, which meant that the absence of a cliff path sent me on a circuit that I had not planned. Given the other delights that were encountered, I do not feel short-changed. There had been a walk along the Greenway from Carrigaline in good autumn sunshine, and all else was favourable until I had to alter my route. In fact, I had the sun at my back, a favourable position for photographic exploits.
My having acquired a new base in Cork means that I now am nearer the coast than I ever have been and for longer too. That means that I get to notice the coming and going of the tides more than I ever have. A walking route that goes along the shore of Lough Mahon assures that. The mudflats that low tide exposes attracts its share of bird life too, so a set of binoculars has its uses here.
The subject of tides also cropped up on a circuit of Cork Harbour's Great Island that started and ended in Cobh. A narrow road along the north side of the island was seeing some encroachment through the very drainage culverts that ought to drain it. There were no such issues around Marloag Point and any other place that I passed, yet I did not delay. The hour of day ensured that as much as the chances of getting wet feet.
The cumulative effect of these encounters with sections of coastline is that I need to add checks of tide times to weather, transport and other things. Recalling the speed of tides on the island of Jersey accentuates this. It is little wonder that the U.K.'s Met Office includes this kind of information with its coastal location forecasts. It builds out the picture, especially when seas are roughened by gales.
Last hurrahs
29th August 2024 These days, this time of year makes me wistful at the passing of summer. However, it was not always so. This also is the season when academic years start, so there are beginnings as well as endings. Even then, the decline in hours of daylight and dropping temperatures brought any attempts to hang onto a sense of summer to an unyielding halt.
Towards the end of my secondary schooling, the purchase of a new bicycle meant cycling it home. That was not only a sixteen-kilometre distance but a frustrating struggle against autumnal winds. That which was plausible in the summer months had become less easy away from them. There were a few more years of summertime cycling, building up distance with the passage of time, that not only met shortening evenings but also the commencing of studies again. That was broken when I moved to Edinburgh, meaning that my time in Ireland was much more limited.
With the end of my university years, the association of autumn with beginnings was broken. It all ended with a job search that preceded by a tour of the Scottish highlands and islands with my brother before a quick trip to Ireland. In truth, the continuity of a research degree throughout the year had faded the sense of autumnal beginnings anyway.
My career saw me move to England, where I had much more time for exploring than I ever did. Without the ebb and flow of academic life, it was all too tempting to try overlooking the seasons, especially when moving south took up so much of spring and summer. August was when the hills of Cheshire and Derbyshire still any prospects of exploring hill country by bike. Walking became the way forward. As the month ended, I made my first trip to Wales in mixed weather that was hinting that overlooking seasons was not an option.
In ensuing years, the range of experiences broadened. A few saw me returning to Edinburgh in August to note how autumnal the place could feel at that time of year. Academic pressures and lack of experience meant that I had been overlooking this. That even included a week of conference attendance in Aberdeen during my research degree. The sense was there yet not prioritised.
Sometimes, autumn can make amends for a less satisfying summer. Being soaked around Lorn and Lochaber during a week at the end of July was enough to send me north again. Numerous visits to the Lake District in August had not healed wounds that only a weekend visit to Lochaber at the end of August could do. The year after was wet for much of the time, and I moved house too. Thus, a muddy November hike from the Cat and Fiddle Inn to Rushton Spencer marked something of a beginning.
September is a month with its illusions too. There can be a lot of sun, so it is easy to think of endless summer. That certainly fitted a sunny weekend around Moffat, crowned by a stunning walk along the Southern Upland Way. The changing colours and closure of businesses at the end of the busy tourist season countermand this. The latter hit me while on a September visit to Gougane Barra with my parents. Still, autumn can offer its chances for partial continuity with local hikes through October, November and into December. There have been a few years of that too.
Seasons are not the only transitions that we meet in life. A change of employer once became a major career event for me, Before the turmoil that led to this, there were contrasting trips to Yorkshire, one in September and another in October. The first was to a sunny Wharfedale, while an often grey Ingleton became my lot for the second. After the changeover, my energy for walking trips was curtailed, yet there was an October stroll along the High Peak Trail and a November excursion to Church Stretton. Though work pressures grew after that, the wandering was much needed and happened more often than not. When even that was halted, local cycles and walks often provided release.
Family ageing, infirmity and bereavement took hold of a few years after that. Grieving continued through spring, beyond summer and into autumn. Nothing could stop an October hike from the Cat and Fiddle inn to Whaley Bridge, such were my needs at the time. The real end of August feel pervaded a weekend divided between Durham and York. This may have been the Summer Bank Holiday one in England, but it often just feels too late for it. As it happens, the same complaint can be levelled at the timing of the British Spring Bank Holiday weekend.
Feelings eased by the next autumn, though a weekend spent in mixed weather around Oban reflected a sense of political tumult that only got more intense in ensuing years. Eventually, a sense of release emerged to allow a memorable September Swiss escapade. Bern and Kleine Scheidegg were grey under autumn clouds, yet Geneva, Zermatt and Grindelwald continued the sunny theme. Inheritance matters lay ahead, but not before a November interlude around Warwick, Stratford-upon-Avon and Bath.
International travel was getting going for me, and dotted the year for a few weeks. An end-of-August trip to sunny Oslo and rainy Bergen bookended the summer the year after the Swiss trip. Inheritance matters were coming to a head to show that office work need not note the passing of seasons, unlike outdoor activities. They were to cause exhaustion, so a later autumn would see decompression at the start of a much-needed career break. That year, there was continuity of a sort from a week in Sweden in August to October day hikes in the Peak District and South Pennines.
Before the pandemic years, my freelancing faced an autumnal challenge that got addressed before the onset of restrictions. In September, there were visits to Oxford and Bath following a summer in British Columbia. The autumnal atmosphere of those, even if people were dressed in period costume around Bath for an event, reflected my mood at the time, for more things were ending than starting in that year.
The pandemic did nothing to halt hiking and, in 2020, even caused a resurgence of cycling. Getting outdoors then was much needed, resulting in a surprisingly rich year of day trips. That more or less ended at the end of September on a day that turned from sunny to grey as I walked from Hayfield to Chapel en le Frith. In the subsequent twelve months, things became less restricted, perhaps too quickly for my sensibilities. That made the discovery of Combs Moss near Buxton an uncrowded godsend during August and September that year. More were to be found when a new variant brought more restrictions around the end of the year.
Since then, the last few years have been about changing what I own. Some is being sold, and I now have a base in Cork that I can use. Manageability is what I am trying to improve now. More time has been spent in the outdoors as well, especially in Ireland. When it comes to the ending of summer, that does not feature so much, though. In the year before last, August was ended with a sunny ascent of Helvellyn followed by less satisfying trips to the Ochil Hills and Trossachs, extending activities into September.
Last year, a longstanding personal matter got attention and progress has felt rather miraculous. That started in August of last year and was got helped by numerous hill walks in Wales in August and September, a trip to Guernsey at the end of August, and a satisfying October encounter with the Ochil Hills from Stirling. While there was a sense of curtailment as the year wore on and other matters intruded, it still is remarkable to note what was happening then in any case.
This year has seen numerous walking trips in various places. Wales, Scotland, France and Ireland all provide the locations. Irish responsibilities continue to be reduced alongside these, and I am looking to progress other work activities as well. Autumn this year is about looking forward more than looking back during a period of letting go of things.
Autumn can feel quiet, yet it is often busy. Places can feel less thronged, giving a sense of new beginning that gets thwarted by the increasing sense of approaching winter. Even so, the working lives of many become more busy, as do places of learning. The latter can be filled with hubris that then is vanquished by academic pressures. This is an odd time of year, looking forward with anticipation, but also looking back with poignancy. Maybe, that is what transition brings. Nevertheless, spring is more to my liking and likely will remain thus.
Pondering past trends
22nd August 2024 Some years feature multiple visits to a single area, or a sign of a developing theme. Going back in time, 2001 was the year of the Peak District, while it was the turn of the Yorkshire Dales in 2002. 2003 then became a year for the Lake District.
Other places were visited too as I began my hill wandering journey in those years. After all, the first decade of the century saw ever deeper incursions into Scotland, while Wales did not get neglected either. The mention of Wales brings me to 2005, when I spent a good deal of time around Denbighshire and Gwynedd.
2007 was a year for a single theme: long-distance trails. Both the West Highland Way and the Gritstone were completed then using a section hiking approach. That has not been the end of long-distance trail walking for me, partly because it is difficult to avoid them if you want something more established than making your own way.
Some years have not offered any meaningful trend. 2004 was one of those, and not a year best remembered for its weather. House moving also limited movements. 2008 is remembered for recovering from a mental travail as much as its most dramatic foray: spending some time around Skye and the Western Isles. 2009 did get me to the Cairngorms, but only twice before career travails overtook me.
A new job limited things from 2010 before family bereavements then dominated things. After that, international travel took over for a while from 2015 onward. Even so, 2014 can be remembered for multiple visits to the Lake District, offering a much-needed respite from what was happening at the time.
A developing taste for overseas explorations was set back with the onset of the pandemic. Before that, destinations of a Scandinavian or Alpine feel were attracting my attention, and there was a first leisure trip to North America that took me to British Columbia. Local hill country across the Peak District then became a godsend in both 2020 and 2021, though I also got to Shropshire and the Llandudno during 2020.
2022 not only marked the start of my returning to travelling farther away from home, but it also became the first year with numerous incursions into Irish hill country. The moors around Marsden also got some of my attention, as did some Lakeland fells and Scottish hills, and Wales was not excluded either. Even so, the Irish excursions in the counties of Dublin, Limerick, Clare, Tipperary, Kerry and Cork were the big feature of the year. It was as if I were moving beyond the pandemic more in my native country than anywhere else.
The Irish explorations were fewer in 2023, while Wales got much of my attention, and there was a longer distance escapade to the San Francisco Bay Area. The Channel Islands became the subject of two visits too, with the first of these allowing a day excursion to Saint-Malo in France.
Thus far, 2024 has become another year with numerous Irish explorations. The counties of Cork, Kerry, Limerick and Waterford all featured. However, it also has been a year with numerous Scottish incursions, reaching the Trossachs, Strathspey and Lochaber. Other business has deflected explorations from Inverness that would take in more around Loch Ness, as well as getting a hike in from Achnasheen. Much like a mooted trip to the American Pacific Northwest, these will need to wait. Having unused ideas cannot be a source of criticism. France also featured on two itineraries that took in its capital city, Brittany and Grenoble. They may not end explorations of a country that I scarcely had probed, but some extra reflection and learning needs to precede such things.
An eventual completion of the Glen Sax horseshoe
17th May 2024 A previous account on here described a Holy Saturday ramble around the Pentland Hills in 2019. What you find here is what I did the next day, Easter Sunday.
Prior Encounters
Completing a round of the Glen Sax hills lay in my mind for what felt like too long. The first encouragement came on a glorious sunny evening in June 2002. While there was a grey start to the day, I still ventured as far as Peebles and tentatively continued along the Cross Borders Drove Road. As I gained heights, the views opened all around me, with everything looking resplendent. Ultimately, the late start and a need to return to Edinburgh to meet with friends all curtailed things and I truncated the trot with a steep descent to the floor of the glen before returning to Peebles for a bus ride back to Edinburgh. The others were left in a little wonderment as to when I might turn up; that is the trouble when an evening turns out so well.
While the first encounter may have been a tentative affair, the same could not be said for the designs that I was having the next time around. That was on what I recall as a hot, sunny Saturday in June 2006. The original idea had been to explore some Northumberland hill country, only for a lack of accommodation availability to scupper this design. A one night stopover in Berwick-upon-Tweed allowed for a bus journey from there to Galashiels, where I dropped off part of my load at the Abbotsford Arms Hotel before continuing to Peebles.
Once there, I reprised a hike along the Cross Borders Drove Road. That took me over both Kailzie Hill and Kirkhope Law. While there was a useful, if strong, breeze, something stopped me from completing the rest of the round. Maybe, it might have been the later start and seeing how long the route can be. In hindsight, it looks as if I lost heart, especially give my later experience. Instead, I decided to descend towards Glen House to meet with a minor road beyond there, after making use of Scotland's Right to Roam on the way. Road walking then took me past Traquair to reach Innerleithen, where I awaited a bus back to Galashiels.
After that, we come to Easter Sunday in 2017. Since that curtailed escapade has been recounted elsewhere on here, I direct you there for a fuller account. In summary, my mood was forlorn and the weather obliged with some pathetic fallacy. There had been some hope for an improvement that never arrived. Even so, I persevered past Kailzie Hill, Kirkhope Law, Birkscairn Hill and Stake Law. It was not the soggy conditions underfoot that stymied me, but the lack of visibility over what were set to be somewhat featureless hummocks. Depending on a fence as a navigational handrail is all well and good as long it does not cease to continue on you. Given that, I thought it to be best to return to the saddle between Stake Law and Birkscairn Hill to commence a zigzag descent down some steep slopes. Once on the floor of the glen, there was a crossing of Glensax Burn to reach the sheep pens before I could join the track leading back towards Peebles. From there on, progress was swift in drying conditions until I back at the stop for the next bus to Edinburgh.
The Day Itself
By this stage, it might feel as if there has been a lot of rethreading of old steps. In some ways, that probably was just as well, given how much haze was lurking on Easter Sunday, 2019. To ensure that I had enough time, I caught the first bus of the day from Edinburgh to Peebles. While a long day was envisaged, it did not turn out to be as long as that. There may have been extensions in the contributed route profiles that I read in magazines and books.
While I continued to use my camera, the open views from the way to Stake Law were troubled by the aforementioned haze. Beyond documenting my whereabouts for an account like this, I now wonder why I bothered. Accordingly, they have been omitted, though some have found their way into the Southern Uplands & Borders album that you find elsewhere on the website.
The hills that I was traipsing were more brown and yellow than green. That was not such a surprise to me, given that I was familiar with the photographic work of Colin Prior and my own explorations of Scotland in its low season. Conditions were dry underfoot, which made faster progress than otherwise may have been the case. Much like the previous day around the Pentland Hills, ascents and descents appear to have been taken in their stride. In part, that might be the rose-tinting of memory as much as the more rounded profile of what I was traipsing.
Beyond Stake Law or even before it, OS maps do not help you very much with any paths on the ground. Still, finding one's way onto Dun Rig was no puzzle in the bright, sunny conditions. Fences did change locations, but this was no impediment. Also, the neck of land linking Dun Rig to Glenrath Heights felt broader than the map made it look.
Steady progress took me over Strummeadow Hill and Middle Hill. After Broom Hill came Scawd Law in Hundleshope Heights. From there, it was all downhill to the floor of the glen. Gradients were more human-friendly in the main, except perhaps for the descent from Dead End, where contour lines contract a little.
It was along that last stretch of the hike that the location of the sun in the sky and where I was on the ground came together to allow the capture of pleasing images. The flanks that lay before me were those that I had traipsed earlier in the day. With more distant sights now hidden from view, everything worked better. There are times when photographic composition is about what you subtract from a scene rather than what you add, and this was one of those occasions.
If there was another perturbation to the day to complement those haze-laden hillsides, it was awkward meetings with some that I may have known years before. The passage of time made the encounters non-workable, with uncertainty and unexpectedness being the drivers of this. Recalling that hurts a little now (I hate the idea of my upsetting or insulting others), even if the passage of twenty years may be too much for any accidental reunion. Add in daydreaming and a desire for solitude, and everything really can sunder.
Even with that, the day had been a satisfying one. For those wider views, a return visit could be a possibility. However, other places call out more loudly now. Nothing takes away from my completing the round after so long.
What Came Next
The next day brought more sunshine and more traipsing, this time around Edinburgh. A circuit taking in Princes Street Gardens, Calton Hill, Holyrood Park and Craigmillar Castle was another photographic escapade that suffered no intrusion, allowing some healing after any awkwardness experienced during the previous day.
Afterwards, there was one photographic composition that irritated me, bringing about a return journey to Scotland's capital on the weekend of the Mayday bank holiday. That addressed the overly tight framing that was on my mind while also seeing me visit Edinburgh's Botanic Gardens before getting as far as Corstorphine Hill with its own Rest and Be Thankful, a spot with Robert Louis Stephenson associations and the siting of the final parting of characters in his novel Kidnapped. The skies had completed clouded by then (clouds had been intruding on photographic exertions in any case), encouraging yet another Scottish trip the next weekend.
While Stirling was my actual final destination then, it did little to stop me rambling around Edinburgh first. Corstorphine Hill was a port of call, even if the clouds in the sky curtailed lighting of what lay around me. There was some time spent in Princes Street Gardens and around The Royal Mile as well. When I did get to Stirling, it was the castle that drew me out for an evening stroll with some photographic exertions, even if there was scaffolding intruding on the views at that point. More photography followed the next day, around both Stirling and Linlithgow. Some roguish youths may have perturbed the journey between the two places for me, but that is in the past now.
My home country wanderings were coming to a close for the year anyway. The Spring Bank Holiday saw a trip to Cardiff, where revellers were focussed on a Spice Girls concert and I felt the need to get away from all the cyclists that were speeding along multi-use trails. That was found too, and some photos of Cardiff Castle got made as well.
Things were attenuated after that, not least by what lay on my mind regarding a first transatlantic leisure escapade. A week in Vancouver was in the offing to get me over any trepidations of long haul flying and hiking in places where bears may be encountered. Those were overcome, and then it was the turn of my freelancing to suffer an upheaval, with the background travails of Brexit thrown into the mix. Even then, city trips to London, Oxford and Bath came to pass.
No one could see what would come our way in 2020, so looking back on all of this is like looking back on the end of an era. With that in mind, it was just as well that my Easter trip to Edinburgh went the way that it did. Loose ends were resolved, old demons were laid to rest and life could take a new direction.
Travel Arrangements
Return bus journey between Edinburgh and Peebles on route X62.
