Saturday, 31 March 2018

40 Years of The Great Outdoors


The Great Outdoors is 40! And to celebrate the Spring 2018 issue is a 40th Birthday Collectors Edition and includes a supplement on Britain’s 40 Finest Mountains. The latter was compiled by fifteen writers and hikers including myself and it took a great deal of debate to come up with the final list – and we know that many people will disagree vehemently with it! There are descriptions and photos of all forty mountains. I’ve written about Ben Macdui, Creag Meagaidh, and Liathach.

Liathach
 
The first issue of The Great Outdoors was published just a month before I set off on my first long-distance walk, Land’s End to John O’Groats, and in this issue I’ve looked at that walk and how different the world  was then for long-distance walking – no internet, no smartphones, no access legislation, few long-distance paths, few guidebooks (none to LEJOG). I also discuss the gear I used back then and the gear I would use now.

I started writing for The Great Outdoors shortly after it was first published, contributing a few gear reviews and trip reports. Roger Smith, the first editor, encouraged me greatly and I’m very grateful to him for helping me get started as an outdoor writer. Having left to edit and write for other magazines I returned to The Great Outdoors in 1991 when Cameron McNeish became editor and asked me to write about gear. I’ve written for every issue ever since.

On The Great Outdoors Challenge in 2007

My other involvement with the magazine has been with The Great Outdoor Challenge, that brilliant event dreamed up by Hamish Brown, which I’ve now done sixteen times. I remember seeing the quarter page advertisement for the first one, then called the Ultimate Challenge after its first sponsor though still organised and run by The Great Outdoors. I thought it sounded really interesting so I applied and was accepted (I think we all were back then). I was doing my first round of the Munros at the time so I included as many as possible in the walk, which for the only time lasted three weeks (it’s been two ever since). After twenty-one days I walked into the Park Hotel in Montrose to find Roger Smith waiting patiently. All the others had finished many days earlier. The Park Hotel is still the finish and every time I walk in I remember all those other Challenges, all those other years, every one different, every one enjoyable.

The Park Hotel, Montrose, TGO Challenge 2008
 
I’m much too involved with The Great Outdoors to have an objective view but I do enjoy reading every issue. I’ve usually not seen anything other than my own stuff before each one appears, which means I can still feel the same interest and pleasure as I did back in 1978. 

For forty years The Great Outdoors has been part of my life. I can’t imagine it not being. I have learnt so much and enjoyed so much working with the editorial staff. It’s been great! So Roger Smith, Peter Evans, Cameron McNeish, Emily Rodway, John Manning, Daniel Neilson, Carey Davies, Will Renwick and Alex Roddie. Thanks to you all.

Friday, 30 March 2018

Impromptu guiding on Meall a'Bhuachaille, and some ducks

Loch Morlich & the Cairngorms from Meall a'Bhuachaille

A blustery day, showers of hail and snow, racing clouds. The High Cairngorms in cloud. A walk through Ryvoan Pass and over Meall a’Bhuachaille seemed a good choice in these conditions. It would be the first time this year for this favourite walk. 

Lochan Uaine
The woods were silent, the pines dark, the birches and willows still bare. Only traces of snow but no signs of spring yet. Lochan Uaine was blue-green, a breeze rippling the water. A couple of walkers asked me to take their photograph. One of them was laden with two cameras with big lenses but I was handed a smartphone. 

Hungry duck
 
Picture taken I looked over the lochan. A mallard drake was swimming rapidly towards the bank. I’ve rarely seen any water birds here so I noted this with interest. The duck looked very determined. We were on a viewing platform atop a steep bank. The duck raced up the slope – I didn’t know they could climb so fast – and stopped at our feet, clearly hoping to be fed. The two walkers threw him some scraps of food, which were quickly gobbled up. I wondered if other mallards would soon learn they could find food here. On big Loch Morlich not far away there’s a flock that’s fed regularly by visitors.

Bynack More from the ascent of Meall a'Bhuachaille

A splashing across the lochan had me wandering down through the pines to see what it was. A pair of goldeneye ducks chasing each other close to the far shore. I’d never seen these here before either. I watched awhile before heading on out of the trees to Ryvoan Bothy where I stopped to remove a layer before starting the steeper climb up Meall a’Bhuachaille. 

Squalls
 
My two duck-feeding companions arrived. One pointed on down the path to Abernethy Forest. ‘That’s the path that’ll take us back to the car park?’ I ascertained he meant the car park at the Glenmore Visitor Centre, back the way we’d all come. He did. ‘That path takes you miles away, with a long walk back or a taxi ride’, I explained. He looked nonplussed. ‘We were told there’s another path back to the car park’. ‘You could go over Meall a’Bhuachaille’. I pointed upwards. A confused look. I showed them on the map. I’m not sure it meant anything. They said they had a map but didn’t look at it. Could they come over Meall a’Bhuachaille with me? They were well-equipped so why not, I thought. ‘We’re fine on the uphills but not so good downhill’. I assured them the descent was easy.

The Cairngorms from Meall a'Bhuachaille

The sky changed constantly as we climbed to the summit. Squalls swept across the hills. Shafts of sunshine lit up summits briefly only to be snuffed out by rushing clouds. As we neared the top the edge of a dark storm caught us, bringing hail and light snow. By the time the summit cairn was reached the skies were clearing again and we had splendid views over Glenmore to Loch Morlich and the snowy Cairngorms. I was pleased that my companions – a Canadian couple from Montreal – could see this. Pointing at Loch Morlich one asked if that was Lochan Uaine. I began to suspect they really hadn’t got their bearings.

Snow on the descent
 
On the descent to the col with Creagan Gorm there were patches of soft snow to cross. As they’d intimated my companions were slow. At the paths junction at the col they again weren’t certain which was the right way. Down to the trees. I pointed. There were track junctions in the trees too so I stayed with them all the way back to the car park, telling them a little about the area and its history. I enjoyed the company. I hope they did.

They were off to Skye next. I hope they don’t get lost.

Saturday, 24 March 2018

Packs I've used for long-distance walking over the decades

The North Face Back Magic II on the Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

Recently I discovered a Facebook group with the unusual name Vintage backpacking using modern andvintage gear. The founder, Friar Rodney Burnap, says he started the group ‘because most of the other backpacking groups didn't want you posting about External frame backpacks’. On the site he’s posted many pictures of external frame packs and other old gear and initiated a number of discussions. If you’re interested in outdoor gear it’s a fascinating site. I’ve added a few comments and pictures (and discovered that Friar Burnap likes my work and is a big fan of Colin Fletcher, as I am).

GoLite Pinnacle, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010

Looking through the posts on that site started me thinking about the packs I’ve used over the years, especially on long-distance walks. Considering them I realised that the big change has been in capacity and weight – as gear in general has got more compact and lighter so have the packs I use. However despite all the developments in materials and designs the packs I used forty years ago would be fine today. Over the years I’ve gone from external frame to internal frame to, briefly, frameless and back to internal frame. Here’s a run-down of the key packs.

Berghaus Cyclops Scorpion on the Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

After a couple of poor choices when I started backpacking – a cheap external frame that broke and a better quality one with no hipbelt and a difficult to use packbag – my first good pack was the Camp Trails Ponderosa, which came with an external frame called the Astral Cruiser. I bought this because it was recommended in the first backpacking books I read, Teach Yourself Backpacking by Peter Lumley and The Backpacker’s Handbook by Derrick Booth (much later I pinched the last title for one of my books). The Ponderosa was a classic external frame pack of the time. In 1976 I used it on my first walk longer than a weekend, the Pennine Way, and found it a little unstable on rough terrain though very comfortable on good paths. However the hipbelt ripped off towards the end of the trip and I had to sew it back on. 

Karrimor Condor 60-100, Continental Divide Trail, 1985
 
That failure meant I wanted a new pack for my first really long walk two years later, Land’s End to John O’Groats. Berghaus, then still a fairly new company, had recently launched their internal frame Cyclops pack and they looked tough so I picked one of these, the 80 litre Serac. This proved comfortable and survived the walk so for my next long trip, the Pacific Crest Trail in 1982, I went for a bigger Cyclops model, the 100 litre Scorpion, reckoning I’d need the extra capacity. I did and could have done with more. At one point I carried my heaviest every load – 23 days supplies plus ice axe, crampons, snowshoes, and extra clothing. The pack almost disappeared under all the gear on the outside. 

The ridiculously heavy load, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982
 
The Scorpion performed well but after around 1500 miles the frame snapped – probably weakened when I let it bounce down a steep snowy pass in the High Sierra. As the frame was sewn-in to the padded back and was an unusual asymmetric X shape I couldn’t replace it. Unable to find an internal frame pack big enough I replaced it with an external frame one, The North Face Back Magic II. This had an equally unusual frame, an asymmetric hour-glass shape. It handled the last 1000 miles of the PCT fine but developed a slight bend in the frame on the airplane on the way home. I still have it. Maybe I’ll try it again soon.

The North Face Back Magic II, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

Next came my 1985 Continental Divide Trail walk. After the broken Cyclops frame I looked for a different internal frame one and ended up with the Karrimor Condor 60-100, another huge pack with the biggest side pockets I’ve ever seen. This lasted around 2000 miles and then one of the shoulder straps snapped. It had rubbed against the hard plastic reinforcement in the hipbelt and slowly weakened – if I’d spotted this I could have padded it. After that I checked packs more often. I replaced it with an even bigger 125 litre Gregory Cassin, bought because it was recommended by Colin Fletcher in the latest edition of The Complete Walker. It was very heavy but also the most comfortable pack I’d yet used.

Karrimor Condor 60-100, Continental Divide Trail, 1985

I went back to the Karrimor Condor 60-100 for my 1988 walk the length of the Canadian Rockies but the hipbelt design had changed and I couldn’t get it comfortable – I obviously hadn’t tested it at home adequately. By this time I was reviewing packs for magazines and so had quite a choice of models. Lowe Alpine, who’d invented the internal frame pack, had sent me a prototype for their first external frame model called the Holloflex. This had the most massive padded hipbelt I’d ever seen plus a plastic frame that was said to be extremely tough. With sore hips from the Condor I fancied that hipbelt and had the pack sent out to me. It did prove superbly comfortable but the hipbelt began to part from the frame towards the end of the walk and ended up being held on with duck tape. The Holloflex never went into production due to the costs. It was the last time I used an external frame on a long walk.

 
Gregory Cassin, Yukon Territory 1990

Two years later I returned to the Gregory Cassin for a walk the length of the Yukon Territory and again it was fine though by the end of that trek it was looking rather worn so I decided it wasn’t up to another long walk. By this time New Zealand company Macpac had arrived in the UK and their packs, made from a canvas like polyester/cotton fabric, looked really tough so I took the 90 litre Cascade on a 1992 walk the length of the Scandinavian mountains. Most of the way it was fine but towards the end of the walk the buckles on the hipbelt and shoulder straps started slipping annoyingly often.


Dana Designs Astralplane

During the 1990s I led many ski tours, including camping expeditions to places like Greenland, Spitsbergen, the Yukon Territory, and the High Sierra. For this I needed a monster pack that was very stable as well as comfortable. A bit of research and I discovered the 115 litre Dana Designs Astralplane. I bought one and it was superb, the most stable huge pack I’ve ever tried. It proved very tough too. Indeed, I still have it and it’s in fine condition. I’ve never used it on a long-distance walk however as it's also the heaviest pack I've ever had.

Aarn Natural Balance, Munros and Tops, 1996

The packs above all weighed in the 2.5 -3.5kg range. That’s heavy. The ultralight gear revolution had begun in the early 90s and there were now frameless packs that weighed less a kilo. I didn’t find them comfortable with more than a light load. For my next walk I did want a lighter pack though. Climbing all the Munros and Tops in one walk meant far more ascent than on any previous long-distance walk so I wanted to keep my load as light as possible whilst still being comfortable and functional. I tried a few of the new lighter packs but wasn't convinced by any of them. Then Aarn Tate asked me to try some prototype Natural Balance lightweight packs. As I’d be able to change packs quite easily this being a walk at home rather than abroad I agreed and ended up using several models in the 65-75 litre range. When these packs were being shuttled around I used a 70 litre Lowe Alpine Alpamayo, which was fine, or an Arc’teryx Bora 60, which was very comfortable but unstable when scrambling as I discovered on the Aonach Eagach. This was the only walk I intentionally planned on using several packs though as I’ve shown above having one pack last a whole walk was rare.

Gregory Shasta, Arizona Trail, 2000

Whilst the Aarn packs were good with medium loads I needed one that would handle much more for the Arizona Trail, which I walked in 2000, as I knew I’d be carrying large quantities of water at times. Still not convinced by lightweight packs I returned to Gregory and the 82 litre Shasta, which survived the walk and carried the weight well.

GoLite Pinnacle, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010
 
During the first decade of this century the development of lightweight packs moved fast and soon there was quite a choice of models that would handle quite heavy loads. Having used one of the lightest ones, the GoLite Pinnacle, on several two-week TGO Challenge crossings of the Scottish Highlands I decided on one of these for the Pacific Northwest Trail, which I walked in 2010. The 72 litre Pinnacle had no frame, just a lightly padded back, and a fairly minimalist hipbelt. However the curved shape meant it was surprisingly comfortable. The PNT was too much for it though. After three weeks the shoulder straps began to deform and feel uncomfortable. Holes started to appear in the fabric too. GoLite replaced it with the heavier though still lightweight Quest which had a frame and which was excellent for the rest of the walk. I reckon the Pinnacle was probably a rogue model that had slipped through quality control.

GoLite Quest in the rain, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010
    
Whatever the reason for the failure I decided that my experiment with frameless packs for long walks was over. The comfort of the Quest, which was still far lighter than the packs I’d been using not many years before, was a key factor in this. I decided that internal frame packs around the 1 to 1.5 kg were ideal and that's what I've used since. 

Lightwave Ultrahike, Scottish Watershed, 2013

In 2013 I chose the internal frame 60 litre Lightwave Ultrahike for the Scottish Watershed, partly because it was far more water-resistant than most packs and I thought the walk could be quite wet, as indeed it was. The Ultrahike was excellent but the shape wasn’t right for my next walk. In 2016 I walked from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley with an internal frame ULA Catalyst pack because I could fit a bear-resistant canister in the top, which I couldn’t do in the Ultrahike. I carried heavier loads than recommended in this pack – I had eleven litres of water at one point in the desert – and it was fine. 

ULA Catalyst, Yosemite to Death Valley, 2016
 
This summer I’m planning on another long walk – not a huge one but at least a month. Currently the Catalyst is the pack I’m most likely to use. 

ULA Catalyst, Yosemite to Death Valley, 2016