The Disappointing Munro ~ Carn a'Chlamain

I was the first person to park in the Forest Lodge car park at Blair Athol, subsequently I had the early morning trail to myself and it was only as I was descending back from the Munro’s summit that I met another walker who exclaimed “I’m a bit disappointed with this Munro!” I felt quite sorry for the chap, I’d had a fantastic morning out and my mind was full of the things I’d already seen. I left him with a “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever found a boring Munro yet, you just have to look for different things” and he carried on with his route march towards the summit.

The track exits from the woods onto open wilderness

After very heavy rain the day before the morning sky promised good things. I cycled away from the car park and up through glades of beech, sycamore, larch and pine. Beneath my tyres was a carpet of bronzed beech leaves with brilliant yellow sycamore leaves in stark contrast. The sound of my bike flushed a woodcock out of the undergrowth and I watched it fly up the hill. Once on the open moorland track, I felt a sense of awe at the huge open space of heathland stretching out in front of me. It was all uphill, but with a steady gradient and on a good surface of compacted gravel and hard earth. This was such a contrast to the outing that I’d had the previous week to Am Bastier on Skye: there were no terrifying and vertiginous drops, no need for total concentration where a careless step and subsequent slip would without doubt have been fatal. Bleak heather clad moors of Athol’s hills replaced bleak rock and knife-edge ridges of Skye’s Cuillin Mountains. Here, a sense of solitude and an engagement with nature was easy to realise.

Uphill for a few miles with remote but easy cycling

The track stretched out in front and to my left the burn, still full of white water, rushed downwards. There were plenty of red grouse around and I was constantly being scolded. The sunlight played it’s symphony of light on the land and white clouds still hung to areas of higher ground. After approximately 5 miles, the track rounded a corner and there before me was a large herd of red deer. I counted at least 40 animals then gave up as I began to see more and more against the dark vegetation. Stags were both up and down the hill and the glen reverberated with the deep, from the pit of their stomach roars. The deer, having been spooked by my presence moved swiftly across the extremely deep heather to a safer place from where they could monitor my much slower progress.

Allt Scheicheachan bothy, a mile of rougher track still to cycle

I soon reached the bothy at Allt Scheicheachan and stopped to have a nose around. It was very tidy, with stone flagged floors, a cast iron hearth, tables and bunks. It was a diminutive building amidst a wild landscape. This was supposed to be where I should leave the bike, but after a dash through a rather deep ford and having still maintaining dry feet, I continued to cycle up alongside the burn almost to the head of the glen from whence I proceeded on foot. There had been a thickening of the cloud and the bright sunshine was showing less and less. As I reached the plateau, a golden eagle flying low and almost dawdling flew right over the top of me. As it enjoyed a couple of typical "tumbles" through the air I could clearly see by it’s wing markings that it was an adolescent. I watched it make way over the mountain and out of sight.

The deep heathers were soon replaced by sub-arctic tundra type dwarf varieties, only a couple of inches high, interspersed by incredibly clean looking lichens, and amongst the short ochre grasses, bright green, yellow and brilliant red mosses. It was truly wonderful tapestry of colours and textures. As I neared the summit, which by now was veiled by thin cloud, the rock changed to rounded granite boulders and the path was typically Cairngorm type grit. A mountain hare, upright on it’s hind legs watched me approach then made off though the boulders. A large group of ptarmigan, whistling as they do, casually moved along close by, virtually indistinguishable by means of their plumage against the grey rocks.

Lunchtime view, dull weather but a myriad of subtle hues and tones

After a quick look at the summit’s shelter cairn I descended back out of the cloud and found a good rock upon which to sit whilst I ate my lunch. The views south, west and north over the Highlands were superb as the low light levels revealed the landscape as subtle tones of greys, browns and mauves. I heard a loud rattling sound across the moor and there was another herd of deer with two stags locking antlers, one of them soon distancing itself from the other who proceeded to roar for some time.

After unlocking my bike I set off back to the bothy. A hen harrier rose up out of the heather and as I rounded each bend we had a game of chase with the bird perching then flying on a bit further. It was an easy ride back along the track as I hardly had to press on the pedals, the sun had gone for good but the cloud had risen again and I felt smug about having enjoyed the best of the day. When I got back to the car I realised that my rear light had fallen off somewhere along the way. I hope “Mr Disappointed” found it, I’m sure it would have made his day!

Glenelg Cycle Ride

Our holiday cottage amidst the backdrop of the Isle Of Skye

During the first week of our Scottish holiday we stopped in Glenelg. Our cottage was located on the shore of Glenelg Bay, at the head of the Sound of Sleet and the fierce tidal currents of the Kyle Rhea straits. Today Glenelg is a remote Highland crofting community but was once an important place to cross over to the Isle of Skye. It's spectacular surroundings, tranquility and remote nature belie the fact that this was once an area of intensive industry. It's hard to realise that there was once a pervading stink of rotting fish at Arnisdale and an industrial smog at Glenelg due to herring fishing and the burning of seaweed for chemicals destined for the glass industry. The area would have also been an important stopping off point for travellers, tinkers and cattle drovers all who would have served to increase trade.

I set off on my bike and past the Bernera Barracks, built by the English Hanovorian government in the early 1700s to house up to 200 soldiers in order to help suppress the Scottish Jacobites. The officers were housed in cottages that still stand on the 'main' road that passes through Glenelg. The austere barracks are now in a dangerous state of ruin but are still imposing and impressive.

I was soon making my way past the crofts and along the edge of the Sound of Sleet. As in many Scottish communities, there is a large memorial built in memory to the fallen in the two great wars. The loss of local men had a huge impact on these areas and for small villages, the Scottish memorials are often much more elaborate than the simple crosses and plaques found in English locations.

After turning off the Arnisdale road and up into Glen Beag, views of the sea loch disappeared and were replaced by a typical crofting landscape comprising of small areas of land cleared for grazing and then the higher mountain terrain. Soon I came to the first and largest of the three brochs in the glen. These prehistoric buildings are stone roundhouses and date from around 2,300 to 1,900 years ago. The one shown in the above picture, Dun Telve, is the second highest surviving Scottish broch and the best on the mainland. It stands at just over 11m high but was partly demolished in the 18th century when the stone was used by the English to build the Bernera Barracks. With their intricate internal passages and fine stone masonry, these structures are very impressive and worth a visit.

Mountain ash

A couple of miles further on, the road runs out, becomes a rough track, and soon starts to climb up the head of Glen Beag, over into wilder terrain and down to Glen More. After some overnight rain there were the sights and sounds of waterfalls all around.

Directions in the middle of nowhere!

The tarmac surfaced roads in Scotland are often of much more recent origin. Rights of way such as this trail really are ancient. The old Scots didn't tend to use vehicles, preferring to travel fast over the mountainous terrain by more direct routes. This was a problem for the English with their carts, who when seeking military control, simply couldn't transport their munitions and provisions quickly enough.

The head of Glen More is rugged, however the track is still good and provides fine views of Beinn Sgritheall. This is a mountain of Munro status that Shirley and I had climbed the previous day. It provided a relentless ascent from the beach at Arnisdale on it's other side. We even wet the soles of our boots in the sea water to say that we'd completely climbed it! After sitting on a heathery knoll to eat some cake and to drink in the surroundings, I set off once again.

Suardalan, an old croft

A little further on, the track degrades somewhat and the isolated remains of a croft come into view. This would have been a truly remote place to live demanding a high degree of self sufficiency.

The house was built in the 1870s and last inhabited in the 1920s was made weatherproof once again in the 1970s for anyone to use as an overnight shelter. It is quite a cosy, well appointed bothy, with a wood burner, bunks and the usual bothy utensils.

After the bothy, the ground becomes very rough and necessitates a couple of miles of "ride a few metres walk a few metres" as the settlement of Moyle and the river are reached. Eventually I joined up with the military road which is today's only route by car into Glenelg, excepting the Kyle Rhea ferry from Skye which only operates during the summer month. The ferry has operated since the 1600s and is a turbulent sea water crossing. The road takes in several hairpin bends and climbs from sea level to 1100ft over the Ratagan Pass and was constructed by the English to link the Bernera Barracks to Glen Sheil. From Moyle it was an easy ride back down to Glenelg Bay to end an enjoyable and interesting trip out.

Am Bhasteir

Am Bhasteir, nestled in the middle of the ridge

Am Bhastier, an intimidating blade of rock and a peak of Munro status sits in the middle of the north facing section of the Cuillin Ridge on the Isle Of Skye. It was one of two remaining Cuillin Munros that I still had to climb and it was with some trepidation that I set off from the Slichagan Inn. My guide books described the climb as a scramble (one book grades it as a category 4 scramble, the other a grade 1 rock climb) with a bad downwards step part way along it's crest, but other sources claimed that a rockfall had resulted in it being classed as a 3 metre climb or abseil. Some climbers report on traversing along south facing ledges in order to avoid the step, but my experience of this type of manoeuvre in the Cuillins is of loose gravel underfoot, narrow ledges and considerable exposure. Only a couple of weeks ago, there had been reports of a someone breaking his leg and having to be rescued. I set off armed with my climbing harness, a length of rope, my Petzl Zyper and a couple of slings and karabiners. I reasoned that if there was a place to belay, I would be able to climb down the step with some protection. Failing that, I'd turn back!

It was a gift of an October day, warm with sunshine, very calm and dry. Perfect for the Cuillins! I've climbed here in the rain and mist before. It wasn't pleasant, the gabbro rock is great, but basalt becomes very greasy when wet. Route finding in the mist is difficult as well, especially on a dull autumn afternoon when trying to descend. There are very few escape routes and one has to be sure of the way in order not to be suddenly confronted with a huge drop.

Imposing and living up to it's Gaelic name of "The Executioner"

I didn't seem long before I was climbing up over the arm that extends down from Pinnacle Ridge. The cliffs to my left plunged down into the Basteir Gorge and a feint path made it's way up to the bottom of the first pinnacle. I was amidst awesome surroundings, with high cliffs rising to my left, steep scree and boulders both in front and dropping down below me to Coire a'Bhasteir where a delightful stream spilt over the lip of the corrie into the gorge. I was now in the shadow of the surrounding rock faces and the vertical blade of rock that forms Am Basteir towered imposingly above. It was very hard work traversing around and up to the bealach and the start of the final 300m of scrambling.

I reached the bealach at the same time as two other climbers who had come up from the other side of the corrie. The more experienced of the two said that he had attempted the ascent in August but had "chickened out". This time, he too had returned with a rope! We were joined by another by another couple who were accompanied with a guide who I remembered from a number of years ago when I climbed the Inaccessible Pinnacle. She had been leading a group just before I made my ascent and I had been impressed with her sure footed movements and agility. She advised against using the south facing ledges saying that she "hated them", they were covered with loose debris and were no place for a slip!

The belay and view down the bad step

The final climb to the summit

After a bite to eat, my new found companions and I made off up the first section to the bad step. The scrambling was easy, but with considerable exposure to the north. Before long we had reached the "notch" and had scrambled down to a safer ledge above the bad step. It really is exposed and requires that you launch yourself out backwards over the edge whilst trying to find footholds. However, there is a very conveniently shaped lump of rock at the top where a sling can be safely placed without fear of it easily being dislodged. This was good news. We roped up and took turns to descend which was so much better done against the tension of a safety rope!

"Cuillinesque" scenery

With heart pounding and with a HUGE adrenaline rush we scrambled up over the final metres, along the airy crest of the ridge and to the summit. It is a spectacular setting, with only enough room for a small party and one where you need to keep continual concentration. After gathering our ourselves, we commenced the descent, this time keeping just to the north side of the actual ridge. Being able to hold onto rocks to the left has helpful, but the ledges under our feet had loose gravel and sloped away both in front and to our right into an abyss of open space. It is an unnerving place and I found myself keeping low down in a few places and gingerly inching my way downwards. The rock climb back up and over the back step was easier than it's descent, though I can't say that it was very elegantly done and before long we were back at the bealach.

The bad step, to the left is nothing, only vertical cliffs

Not wanting to leave such a wonderful setting too soon, I sat down in the sunshine, recomposed myself and enjoyed some more food. My companions said their goodbyes and we agreed to having been glad of each others company. The descent back to Slichagan was extremely pleasant and I felt extremely lucky to have had such good weather conditions. Just one more Cuillin Munro to do, Sgurr Mhic Coinnich and another good day will be required.

Glad to be at the top!

Veiw out over Coire Basteir

A day of incredible views that have never failed to fill me with awe and wonder

Summer's Distractions Are Over!

September Afternoon's Sky Over Croft Hill

As always, as far as photography is concerned I go into hibernation during the summer months. I've been totally immersed in competitive cycle racing and have just had one of my best seasons ever. A couple of weeks ago, in my last event of the year, I won the E class (over 50 year old masters) gold medal in the British Time Trial Championships and I can now wear the champion's jersey for a year! Time spent training will now reduce to around 8 hours a week (just ticking over until next season) and I have begun to get fit for some adventures into the hills again. Short walks to start with and gradually adding in some ascent. Despite being extremely fit for cycling, if I don't go about preparing for fell walking carefully I end up with crippling muscle soreness. So, it's back to Croft Hill again, laps around the nature reserve and ascents of the hill itself. I'm up to 5 miles and 1000ft of ascent already; give me another couple of weeks and I'll be ready for anything!

I'm looking forward to my photography season. I never find late summer particularly inspiring, everything takes on a rather drab green, the light is harsh and this year it's been quite windy too. I've bought myself a nice second hand Contax 35mm Carl Zeiss lens to play with on my 5D. This compact lens suddenly changes the camera to something more like the Mamiya 7 that used to have: hyperfocal focusing is something I've always missed with the Canon zoom lenses. I've got an adapter with a focus confirmation chip and it works very well, infinity focusing and metering is spot on. From the trials I've done so far, the lens is extremely sharp. I'm looking forward to using it on longer mountain hikes.

Stonehavon War Memorial

Peaceful and proudly positioned on Black Hill just to the south of Stonehavon, this war memorial was built by the people of Stonehavon in 1923. It's unfinished and apparent state of disrepair was intentional and symbolised incomplete lives. Shirley and I spent some time at this place, soaking up it's ambiance on a sunny and warm May afternoon. Yesterday's news of the death of the last survivor of the WW1 trenches, Harry Patch at 111 years of age motivated me to finally make a print of this image.

Thicket, Croft Hill

Late evening on the hill. The sun still seemed quite high in the sky but it was loosing it's strength quite rapidly. Another image made with my 17-40mm lens, this time at the 17mm end, it copes remarkably well for a zoom that's pointed straight into the light and I find it to be very sharp from centre to corner.

Finally, A Good Evening!

My Croft Hill project has slowed down during the last few weeks as I've only made a couple of visits. It hasn't been a lack of enthusiasm, rather that good photographic conditions and free evenings or time at the weekends just haven't coincided ~ very frustrating! I always find it difficult to make pictures at this time of the year, the fullness of spring is over and things are not only a rather dull green, but they are also starting to look a bit drab and tired too. On the other side of the coin I get grumpy about time passing me by whilst I don't make any progress. I'm thinking about letting this project last longer than just a year: there is so much that I miss in terms of seasonal change even when I do make frequent visits ~ and I'm enjoying to it much too!

Last night however, the clouds broke up and we had some sun. There was a persistent breeze but I managed to find some spots where it was quite still and made some nice images on the hill itself. It was an "everything looks good with the wide angle lens night" and my 17-40 zoom hardly got took off my camera. It's strange how sometimes you are tuned into a particular perspective but when it happens you just have to go along with the flow. I felt a bit rusty for the first 30 minutes but then I kept seeing compositions in a pretty small area. I completely lost myself for an hour and was quite absorbed in picture making ~ most enjoyable.

I like to use a spirit level clipped onto the flash shoe of my camera and I lost it twice. Fortunately, despite it being green I managed to find it in the grass. A little project for this weekend is to stop it falling off!