Category: Times and Seasons
Going out with a bang
1st April 2010 March should start like a lion and leave like a lamb but it seems to have got that script wrong this year. You only have to hear the stories of trains being marooned in snow drifts to be reminded of the same sort of thing happening at the end of February. In its own way, it places into sharp relief the journey that I made to Aviemore a few weeks back. Then, snow seemed to be on the retreat though I was armed with my Kahtoola Microspikes in case I met anything harder than soft snow. Now, it seems that has been well replenished just in time for the Easter weekend. Of course, there's the ever present threat of avalanches (I took a quick peek at the Scottish Avalanche Information Service website and there is high risk up high in many of the hills up there) and the matter of travel too. Both of these matters are reminders of that coach crash tragedy in the south of Scotland and thoughts are the only things that I can offer to those affected.
A decade ago, the mention of the sort of conditions that have visited us more often than usual this winter would have sent anyone to their memory banks to see when they last happened. A few years back, I remember sitting in the Bridge of Orchy hotel enjoying an evening meal after a walk south along the West Highland Way from Glen Coe. What really struck me were all the photos of severe winter conditions of the sort that visited Scotland at the end of March and of February. They dated back to the 1980's and you would have been forgiven for thinking that those would never recur with the green winters that we were having and the prevailing debate on global warming. On a separate occasion, I was staying in Kettlewell and overheard a conversation at breakfast about sheep farming in much harder winters than the ones that were coming our way at that time. All the stories of deep snow covering were very far away in time and my upbringing in a more temperate maritime climate might have had something to do with it too.
In time, the wintry conditions that ended 2009 and stayed with us for so much of 2010 will be found in the same memory area as those in the 1980's and the 1960's. It is a reminder that, even with rising global temperatures (a contentious subject for some and one whose complexity is made all the more apparent when we get colder winters), we aren't going to be denied extreme winter like what came upon Scotland this week. With the milder winters that started the century, you might be forgiven for thinking that they were the start of a pattern but I have come to the conclusion that they were part of a one (El Niño and all that) that mixes mild and arctic as time goes on. We might know more about climate than we did but times like these are a reminder that there's always more to learn.
Here in Macclesfield, it isn't warm but we have no snow. Currently, it is drying up after a wintry shower that was more of rain than anything else. That's not to say that it mightn't have been sleety snow because I have been out in one of those week. April is noted for a mixture sun and showers and it cannot be said that it isn't living up to that stereotype. In fact, a quick look at the synoptic charts on the MWIS website confirm that Easter will be accompanied by a steady queue of low pressure areas. Let's see what can be done with it.
Approaching the end of a decade
20th December 2009 The first decade of the twenty-first century certainly has proved to contain plenty of talking points. It started with a euphoric opening and looks like ending with a more downbeat mood. Along the way, there has been contentious warfare and economic upheaval. Worries about the millennium computer bug and a debate about when the millennium actually began are but a distant concern now. The recession and global warming have replaced these. Big challenges lie ahead and the Copenhagen summit wasn't an end but one of a series, much to the disappointment of many. Computing has moved from the desktop into our pockets and digital photography has taken off in big way. We certainly are removed far from where we were ten years ago.
Back then, my association with hill country was of the occasional day trip variety. I even thought that hill walking was for more athletic types and contented myself with scratching the surface before a cycle from Macclesfield to Buxton on the A537 convinced me that it might be an idea to discover places on foot. Even so, it took a while for the hill wandering to really come together after that with knowledge and gear coming together in some sort of haphazard manner.
Though my explorations of Britain were equally unplanned, there were years when I saw a lot of a certain area. Not every year was like this but here are the ones that were:
2001: Peak District
2002: Yorkshire Dales
2003: Lake District
2005: North Wales
2008: Scottish Highlands
There are reasons for the gaps. After the superb year that was 2003, 2004 was a disappointment when it cam to exploring hill country. It's grey dampness made it a good one for moving house. 2006 was a year of expanding horizons with visits to Highland Perthshire, Pembrokeshire and Northumberland. Even so, it got me wondering if I was spreading myself too thin. After that, 2007 was a year for long distance trail walking and completion. I got to pondering the idea of multi-day backpacking but other things mean that hasn't gone too far forward.
What about 2009? The usual round up is to come but here are a few highlights. First, a proper Irish hill walking outing came to pass after having it on the to do list for so long. There needs to be more but the threshold has been crossed now. The Cairngorm mountains are no longer ones that I keep passing and there's even more to see. Another thing that the year has taught me is that, while there are convenient destinations, the ones that need more planning are worthwhile even if they are once in a while escapades. Then, there's the enduring lesson that there are destinations where I haven't been for a while that I could do with revisiting because you always can see a different side to a familiar location. It is that which has put the idea of photography-inspired returns that spruced up my Cheshire photo gallery on here. Who knows where this mix will take me next?
In times of plummeting mercury
12th November 2009 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.
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.
Signs of autumn
26th July 2009 July has been a quiet month for me on the hill wandering front. Between having other things that need to done and not being enticed by the current mix of damper weather, getting out of doors has tended to be a largely bicycle-borne affair. Thoughts of enduring endless power soakings have helped to turn my mind to other things but the opportunity offered yesterday by a dry sunny interlude from the water was too good to miss. Ambitions of heading to Cumbria for a trot from Grasmere through the fells to Borrowdale had been entering my mind. However, circumstances were such that the idea needed to be parked for another time and I opted for a more local stroll instead. That took me from Kidsgrove in Staffordshire to Wheelock in Staffordshire by a round the houses sort of route that I'll describe in another posting.
Suffice it to say for now that the sights of well berry-laden rowan trees (or mountain ash if you prefer) along with ripening corn in the fields is a reminder that autumn is at hand. The colours of the leaves may not be changing for a while yet but the fruits are ripening and blackberries are already there to be had along with other fruits that I cannot name because my knowledge of botany isn't what it might be. Seeing nature's larder becoming stocked to the level that I have seen it is a reminder of a country saying whose verity is hard to verify: masses of fruit on trees and bushes is a harbinger of there being a cold winter ahead. The logic behind this is that nature provides in plenty to tide birds and such like over a period of want. To my mind, it belongs in the same category as the forty days of rain following St. Swithin's day with there being some truth in that from a meteorological standpoint. Apparently, the weather can get locked into a pattern around this time of year, be it dry and sunny or, as we are having it, wet and rainy. To whose wishing their life away, the latter outcome is a distinct disappointment but others among us will realise that there is more to the year than the months of July and August. Of course, that's little comfort to those wandering to save the year's harvest even if a mixture of sunshine and showers does help with the ripening of corn; bringing in wet grain doesn't pay as well. We all can only hope for a drier interlude while making what we will of what we get.
