Sunday 31 March 2013
Testing Backpacking Stoves
Testing backpacking gear usually means taking it out into its environment - the outdoors. However with some products it's worthwhile also using them together in a more controlled situation. Yesterday I spent several hours doing this with camping stoves for an upcoming feature in Spring issue of The Great Outdoors magazine (I must remember to call it now that it's changed back from TGO). Although it was a sunny day I chose a shaded spot as I didn't want the warmth of the sunshine to affect the test. As it was, the shade temperature was just 7 C. The water, from my kitchen tap, was 6 C.
Testing the stoves involves finding out how easy it is to set them up with cold fingers, how quickly they boil a set amount of water and how much fuel they use in doing so. I also tried a few stoves with pots with and without heat exchangers to see how difference this made, if any. I'm now writing up the results.
Tuesday 26 March 2013
After the Storm, A Quiet Day: Cairngorms In Winter
Terry filming beside Loch Morlich |
Following the excitement and effort of the stormy days when
we failed to cross the Lairig Ghru (see last post) I had a much more relaxed
day’s filming with Terry Abraham beside Loch Morlich. The clouds were still
racing past high above and the highest tops were mostly hidden but down in the
forest there was no more than a chill breeze. High up conditions were still
severe though with signs announcing that the Cairngorm ski resort was closed
again while snow ploughs tried to clear the access road.
Loch Morlich shimmering in the sun |
Down at the loch sunshine came and went, though any heat was
whipped away by the wind and the temperature remained below freezing.
Oystercatchers flew low over the water piping loudly then ran along the golden
sandy beach that curves round the head of the loch. There were pied wagtails
too and mallard ducks out on the water. Across the loch the snow-covered hills
of Meall a’Bhuachaille and Creagan Mor shone in the bright light.
Creagan Mor and Meall a'Bhuachaille |
The wind was too noisy to record my voice out in the open so
we retreated into the shelter of the pines with a view over the Allt Mor, the
main feeder for the loch and here a slow, placid and dark stream very different
from the raging mountain torrent it is for most of its length. Dippers bobbed
on the branches of fallen trees out in the water. Under the trees the air was
very cold and I was glad to finish the recording and finish and head off for a
warming mug of hot chocolate in the nearby Glenmore Café from whose windows we
watched chaffinches and coal tits and, just once, a crested tit feeding on the
many peanut-covered tables. There were no red squirrels on show though, unlike
the last time we had been here.
A welcome refuge |
Warmed and refreshed we ended our quiet day at the far end
of the loch filming the Cairngorms rising above the woods and water.
Terry filming at the end of the day |
Saturday 23 March 2013
Retreat from the Lairig Ghru: Cairngorms In Winter
Terry beside the Allt Druidh |
The big storm came in hard and fast, with the winds
increasing earlier than forecast. I went out anyway as I’d arranged to meet
Terry Abraham for more work on the Cairngorms in Winter film and he was already
in the hills. However the Sugar Bowl car park on the Cairngorm Ski Road, where I’d planned on
starting, was blocked with snow – I nearly got stuck on the edge of the road
turning the car round – so I ended up walking in from much lower down and
farther away. Terry would have to wait a while.
Walking through Rothiemurchus
Forest I admired the
pines, which down here were shining in the sunlight. I couldn’t feel the wind
but I could see white clouds racing across the sky. There was only a thin
covering of snow at first but as I climbed towards the mouth of the Lairig Ghru
pass, where I was to meet Terry, the snow grew deeper and I stopped to put on
my snowshoes. Even wearing these I was occasionally sinking in knee deep as the
fresh snow was dry and unconsolidated.
Snowshoe tracks |
As the trees thinned out the wind hit me, cold and sharp.
Ahead I could see dark clouds filling the big defile of the Lairig Ghru though
to either side the hills were still in sunshine. This is often the case here,
the high narrow pass acting as a funnel for winds and clouds.
The Lairig Ghru |
By the time I joined Terry the wind was even stronger. Clouds
of spindrift were hurled into the air, whirling and swirling in spinning
columns or racing across the ground in shimmering sheets. We headed on towards
the stormbound Lairig Ghru, though my confidence in reaching it was rapidly
dwindling. On the snowshoes I made good progress through the thick snow and was
soon beside the half-frozen Allt Druidh stream right in the jaws of the pass.
Terry had no snowshoes though and was finding the going slow and arduous.
Terry filming beside the Allt Druidh |
A quick discussion and we decided retreat was a sensible
option. The wind was now bitterly cold and the lashing spindrift painful. There
was still over two hundred metres of ascent to the top of the pass. The wind
would be stronger there and the snow deeper. We’d be in the cloud too. And the
storm was forecast to grow in strength the next day.
Spindrift |
With relief we turned our backs to the wind and descended to
the shelter of the trees. Our upward tracks had already disappeared in the
blown snow. Terry did short bits of filming, made difficult by the wind and the
spindrift, which kept covering his lens even when the camera was pointed away
from the growing storm.
Once down in the trees we found a good campsite on grassy
ground in a grove of magnificent and massive ancient pines. Situated in a
shallow wooded bowl it seemed sheltered. When we pitched the tents there was
only the occasional gust of wind though we could it roaring high above.
A sheltered site? |
Late in the evening though the wind began to increase,
buffeting the tent. As the night went on so the wind grew stronger, blasting
down in great gusts that shook the tent. I could hear the roaring as the wind
approached before each wave hit. Light snow began to fall too; cold, dry snow
that was picked up by the wind and blown through the tent’s mesh vents and
under the edge of the flysheet. Soon most of my gear was covered in white. I
dozed and slept fitfully, repeatedly woken by the noise of the wind.
Terry sheltering from the wind and spindrift |
Come dawn and it was as windy in camp as it had been in the
mouth of the Lairig Ghru. I ventured out to see the rear of Terry’s tent
flattening in each gust then springing back up. The wind was still growing in
power, one gust sending me staggering sideways.
Back in my tent I was packing my gear when a really
ferocious blast hit the tent. Three pegs ripped out of the ground on one side
and the fabric tried to take off. As it did so the pole bent. Before the whole
tent collapsed on me I managed to replace one of the pegs and adjust the pole.
I was very glad this had not happened in the night or before I was dressed and
up.
In this storm we were not venturing back up into the hills.
Instead we walked out to Loch Morlich and a welcome second breakfast in the
Glenmore Café. The trip was over a day early. But that’s winter in the
Cairngorms. Sometimes it’s just not wise to continue.
Wednesday 20 March 2013
The Cairngorms in Winter - filming continues
Terry on the Cairngorm Plateau |
Monday 18 March 2013
Far Distant Hills
A few days ago I was surprised to receive an email from hillwalker and photographer Bryan James, who I had not had any contact with before, with one of my images attached. The picture was taken from this blog post and annotated with the names of distant hills that Bryan had identified. I didn't know these hills were visible in the picture and I'm delighted that Bryan has taken the trouble to locate them. I hadn't realised such detail was visible. I should maybe look at my photographs more closely!
The hills of the far North-West picked out by Bryan are a favourite area of his, as can be seen from his Flickr album, which features quite a few photos taken in the area, including a lovely shot of Arkle at sunset.
Photo info: For those interested the image was taken from the northern edge of the Cairngorm Plateau on November 7th, 2011, at 17.30 with a Sony NEX 5 camera and Sony E 18-55 lens at 55mm, handheld with manual exposure. Settings were 1/40@f5.6 and ISO 400. The online image Bryan used to identify the distant hills is a 320kb JPEG converted in Lightroom from a 13.93mb raw file.
Sunday 17 March 2013
Out of Doors Interview Online
The interview about Walking the Scottish Watershed that I did for BBC Radio Scotland's Out of Doors programme is now online. It's available for the next six days. I haven't listened to it myself so I can't tell you where in the broadcast it appears!
Next week I'll be on the programme again, talking about the Cairngorms National Park along with others on its 10th anniversary.
Next week I'll be on the programme again, talking about the Cairngorms National Park along with others on its 10th anniversary.
Saturday 16 March 2013
The Cairngorms At Dusk
The hills have been mostly hidden in the clouds for many days now. Here in the glen rain has been falling, rain with touches of sleet and snow in it. Higher up it must be snowing. Next week I shall go and see. Until then here's a photograph of Bynack More and Beinn Mheadhoin taken just after sunset in February.
Friday 15 March 2013
Interview on BBC Radio Scotland Out of Doors about Walking the Scottish Watershed
A few weeks ago I spent a few hours wandering in Glenmore Forest with Mark Stephen on BBC Radio Scotland's Out of Doors programme. We recorded a number of items including one about my forthcoming Scottish Watershed walk. I've just heard that this will be broadcast during tomorrow's programme (March 16), which starts at 6.30 a.m.
When the programme's available on Listen Again I'll post a link.
When the programme's available on Listen Again I'll post a link.
Thursday 14 March 2013
Interviewed by Keith Foskett
Recently I was interviewed, via the wonders of the internet, by long distance hiker and outdoor writer Keith Foskett. That interview is now online on Keith's blog here.
Keith has hiked the El Camino de Santiago in Spain, the Pacific Crest Trail and the Appalachian Trail. He's currently planning on hiking the Continental Divide Trail. His blog is full of good stuff about his walks and plans plus there are details of his two books, The Journey in Between about the El Camino and The Last Englishman about the Pacific Crest Trail. I've read the first of these and it's very entertaining. I'm looking forward to reading the second.
Keith has hiked the El Camino de Santiago in Spain, the Pacific Crest Trail and the Appalachian Trail. He's currently planning on hiking the Continental Divide Trail. His blog is full of good stuff about his walks and plans plus there are details of his two books, The Journey in Between about the El Camino and The Last Englishman about the Pacific Crest Trail. I've read the first of these and it's very entertaining. I'm looking forward to reading the second.
Sunday 10 March 2013
Amongst the Clouds
Dawn, Stob a'Ghrianain |
The last week has been cloudy and misty with the hills mostly hidden. Watching the clouds drifting past I thought I'd post the following piece, originally written for TGO magazine. Clouds and mist can be glorious!
Amongst the Clouds
The air was damp and chill and thick with mist. With
visibility down to a few metres I wondered whether to go on climbing. Was there
any point when I could see nothing? But above there were hints of brightness
and a blue sheen to the greyness. Maybe up there the sun was shining. I climbed
on and the mists did indeed begin to dissipate as a cool breeze blew and a
watery sun appeared high above. Soon the mists were gone, the last tattered
shreds speeding away on the strengthening wind and dissolving in the now
dazzling sunlight. The world exploded outwards from a few hazy boulders and the
patch of damp grass at my feet to a startling vista of ranks of mountains
fading into the far horizons, mountains that floated in space for below them
was the rippling blanket of white cloud that I’d climbed through. I sat on the
summit and stared out across the land. Everything above 700 metres or so was
sharp and clear, everything below that height hidden. The visibility was
superb; the clarity unreal.
Cloud inversions like this are one of the joys of our humid
climate and a particular pleasure of camping high in the hills. A few years ago
I camped on the snow-covered summit of Ben Nevis.
There was a lovely sunset with just a little cloud out to the west and the
night looked like being clear and frosty. However I woke to find the first grey
light filtering through thin mist that drifted round my camp. Out to the east a
pale insipid sun was just visible on the horizon. Slowly the sun rose through
the clouds, putting out more heat and power, and the mist faded and sank down
the mountain’s flanks, leaving a bright world with tremendous views of the
hills all around. Below the glens were thick with cloud. Above ranks of cumulus
clouds drifted across the sky, covering and then revealing the sun. The world
felt fantastically alive, almost unreal in its mobility and sharpness.
Sgurr a' Mhaim from Ben Nevis |
Dawn is often the best time to see such atmospheric
delights, before the sun’s heat dispels the clouds; an advantage of high level
camps. Sometimes, as on Ben Nevis, the
cloud-filled glens are unexpected, sometimes the mist can be seen forming at
sunset. Once I camped just below the summit of Glas Maol above Glen Shee on a
dull cloudy evening. As I lay in the tent I watched fingers of mist slowly
creeping up from the glen below and crawling across the slopes towards the
tent. They reached me just as I was falling asleep and I felt the first touch
of dampness on my face and saw the first drops of condensation forming on the
tent. I closed my eyes thinking that the next day could be one of compass
navigation in the clouds. But I was woken by brightness and heat. A newly risen
sun was shining straight into the tent door. The mist was shrinking back into
the glens, which were still thick with cloud. For a few hours I walked over dew
soaked grass watching the clouds gradually thin and fade until the glens too
were shining in the sun.
Against the days of magic and wonder must be set those when
the mist doesn’t clear. Particularly frustrating are those times when it feels
as though the thin cloud could disappear at any minute and there are
tantalising hints of blue just above and glimpses of sunshine. Often it seems
that if only the hill was just a few metres higher you would be in clear air.
On other occasions the mist thickens and rain falls and it’s quickly apparent
that there will be no clearance. I experienced this on a camp on Beinn Eighe
(which has surprisingly large areas of smooth, flat turf for a Torridon hill).
The forecast was good and there had been a lovely sunset with a deep red sky. I
woke once in the dark to find the open tent full of damp mist and drips falling
from the roof. By dawn it was raining heavily and the cloud was thick. I
abandoned my intended traverse of the mountain and set off down to the glen. By
the time I was off the mountain the burns were foaming with water and the rain
was lashing down.
Beinn a'Bheithir |
Then there are those days of playing cat and mouse with the
cloud, dipping in and out as it hangs on the side of the hills, occasionally
sneaking across a col or drifting over a summit. I traversed Beinn a’Bheithir
above Ballachulish and Loch Leven in
conditions like this, sometimes in bright sunshine with views stretching many
miles, sometimes in dense cloud with visibility just a few metres. To the south
the cloud wall never wavered, thick and white and implacable. Rising up the
side of the mountain it broke on the ridge, spiralling up into the sky and
breaking into ragged tendrils. Each time I was enveloped I wondered if the mist
would stay but then I would suddenly walk out of it and the world would be
revealed.
Perhaps the most unusual and magical night above the clouds
was on Stob a’Ghrianain above Glen Loy. In the evening I’d watched a huge
orange moon rising over the Great Glen and the darkening bulk of Ben Nevis
towering above the sparkling lights of Fort William.
Then dawn came with a fiery red sky as the sun lit up thickening clouds. Below
this dramatic sky all the long lochs to the south and west were totally covered
by thick mist, tinted pink by the sunrise, but the dark land was clear with the
silhouetted peaks purple in the early light. The powerful lighting lasted an
hour or so and then began to weaken along with the clearing mist over the
lochs. Only those who spend their night high in the hills would have seen the
red sky and the mist-covered lochs. Perhaps I was the only one.
Friday 8 March 2013
Latest TGO: Long Distance Walks In Scotland, Boots, Down Gear and Cairngorms in Winter
Cairngorms In Winter: Sunset at the camp on Mullach Clach a'Bhlair |
There's a double-page spread on the Cairngorms In Winter film with photos from Terry Abraham, including a superb dawn shot from the summit of Cairn Gorm.
Elsewhere in the magazine I'm delighted to see a big feature by David Lintern on his traverse of the Haute Route in the Pyrenees. There's also a look at how to keep the costs of walking trips down with Hanna Lindon having a weekend in the Peak District from London for under £50. Of course one way to save money is by wild camping. It's also a way to escape the crowds as Daniel Neilson discovers on a trip to Snowdonia. Over in Lancashire John Manning goes on a history expedition to walk the Clarion House Way and find out about Clarion House itself and the socialists who spawned an outdoor movement in the early twentieth century. In the same social history vein though a bit later in the century Jim Perrin praises Eric Byne's and Geoff Sutton's High Peak, the story of walking and climbing in the Peak District, a book I remember from when I lived in Manchester and Bleaklow and Kinder Scout were the hills I walked on regularly.
Thursday 7 March 2013
Wednesday 6 March 2013
Exclusive Clip: Cairngorms In Winter
Camp on Mullach Clach a'Bhlair, Terry preparing to film |
Terry Abraham has been working on the Cairngorms In Winter film and has released a clip, which you can see on YouTube. It shows some of the filming we did on Mullach Clach a'Bhlair last week.
Sunday 3 March 2013
Cultural Interlude: Richard Thompson, Vikings & Cloud Atlas
Straight after my days in the hills with Terry Abraham
working on the Cairngorms in Winter film I took the train to Edinburgh for a quick visit during which I attended
a concert, an exhibition and a film in less than 24 hours, an urban cultural
interlude.
The concert was by Richard Thompson, arguably Britain’s greatest
living songwriter and guitarist. He played with a band, unlike last summer when
I also saw him in Edinburgh,
and the emphasis was on electric guitar, to go along with his new album
Electric, from which he played half a dozen songs. He also went through a
selection from his now vast back catalogue and threw in a superb version of
Hendrix’s Hey Joe as a nod to sixties power trios. The songs, with Thompson’s
witty, thought-provoking and sometimes downright disturbing lyrics, were all
excellent but it was the musicianship that stood out with Thompson playing some
astounding guitar and the drummer and base player adding flair and skill of
their own. There are still some UK
dates left – I really recommend going if you can.
The exhibition was Vikings at the National Museum of
Scotland, which features over 500 objects from the Swedish
History Museum
in Stockholm.
This well-laid out and designed exhibition tells the story of the Vikings and
their explorations and shows that they were far more than just raiders and
fighters (though they were definitely these). I found the exhibition
fascinating, with the displays really bringing the artefacts to life. Some
particularly stood-out. One was a tiny Buddha from Northern India, excavated
from a Viking site in Sweden.
This really spoke of the connectedness of that world of over a thousand years
ago and the trade that linked Scandinavia and India. On the outdoors side I was
intrigued by the little spikes the Vikings used to get grip on ice and hard
snow. Micro spikes are not new! There was no mention of skiing though, which
was used for travel over snow in Viking times.
The film was Cloud Atlas, based on the novel by David
Mitchell, which I had read and enjoyed last year. The film has had mixed
reviews. I think it is superb. However as it consists of six stories set in six
different periods, two of them in the future, and the actors play several roles
each, appearing in each story in a different guise, it does require some
concentration. The novel has different literary styles for each story.
Reflecting this, the film has different cinematic styles for the stories and
jumps rapidly from seafaring sagas through slapstick comedy to dystopian
sci-fi. I picked up many film references and probably missed many more. One of
those I did get was Bladerunner and like that film I think that Cloud Atlas will take
time to be a success but will eventually become a highly-respected cult film.
It’s beautifully filmed and acted – I
reckon the actors must have really enjoyed playing so many different parts in
one film – and a real visual delight (there is some good outdoors footage too, shot
on Majorca). I’m looking forward to seeing it again. I’ll reread the book soon
too.
Saturday 2 March 2013
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