Saturday 29 February 2020

Book Review: Red Sixty Seven

This is a lovely, sad and important book. It's a series of essays and paintings about the sixty-seven British birds on the UK Red List. These are Birds of Conservation Concern, a polite way of saying they are seriously threatened with being wiped out.

Each bird has it's own writer and artist so the book has a wealth of styles in both words and pictures. 
It's a wonderful book to browse, reading about favourite birds, admiring the beautiful paintings. Lest you forget the message it's there on every page though, with details of the BOCC Status and the Red-List Criteria - globally threatened, decline, decline, decline repeated over and over.

There are birds here that are little known but what's shocking is how many are very familiar - starling, song thrush, herring gull, cuckoo, puffin, house sparrow and many more. That these birds are disappearing shows just what an appalling state our countryside and wild places are in.

Red Sixty Seven is the brainchild of Kit Jewitt (aka YOLObirder) who introduces and curates the book. All the writers and artists gave their work for free and all moneys raised from sales goes to Red-listed species conservation projects run by the British Trust for Ornithology and the RSPB. The book is published by the BTO from whom it can be purchased for £19.99 + postage. It deserves to be a big success.

Thursday 27 February 2020

Sunshine, spindrift and snow: a walk over Meall a'Bhuachaille

View over Ryvoan Pass to the cloud-capped Cairngorms

Sunshine but high winds. The forecast was tempting and off-putting at the same time. I wanted to experience the heavy snowfalls of recent days, real winter conditions in the hills. An old favourite called. Meall a'Bhuachaille. Not as high as the Cairngorm Plateau, easy to retreat from, and much of the walking in the forest.

The snow was deep in the woods but the popular track through Ryvoan Pass was beaten flat, in fact hard and icy in places - microspikes or crampons might be advisable soon. An Lochan Uaine was part-frozen, the wind driving an arrowhead of open water into the ice.

I spent some time watching the interaction of the water and the ice. Edges are always fascinating but this one I find particularly so. The same substance existing in two different forms in conjunction at the same time. A wonder of nature.

Once out of the trees the wind was fierce. The path up the lower slopes of Meall a'Bhuachaille was a boot-made trench through the snow. Across Ryvoan Pass the Cairngorm Plateau was capped by fast-moving clouds.

Higher up the full force of the wind hit me. Spindrift raced across the slopes, sometimes spiralling up into head-high blasts. The path vanished. The steps of two descending walkers who'd passed me ten minutes earlier were gone. In some places the snow drifts were knee-deep, in others the wind had scoured the snow down to a thin icy covering.

The summit appeared, floating on a sea of spindrift. I wasn't sure if I was walking or wading. The rough stone walls round the cairn provided little shelter. My anenometer gave a steady wind speed of 24mph. Gusts were much stronger. The still air temperature was -3.5C. It felt very cold. I donned a down jacket, grabbed a quick selfie with my phone, then headed down.

Sunday 23 February 2020

A Stormy Walk on Craigellachie

Weeks of stormy weather. Snow, thaw, rain, snow. And worst of all wind, howling shrieking wind that roars through the tree tops and crashes down mountainsides, deafening disorientating wind that upsets the balance of body and mind. Day after day after day. 

Searching the forecasts, trying to second guess the next blast, hoping to seize any brief lull for a day in the hills that isn’t too much of a struggle. A week ago I managed this for an afternoon. A week later I didn’t. There was a suggestion of less stormy conditions for a few hours, at least on the lower hills. Meall a’Bhuachaille, I thought. Always good for a half day and the walk in and out is in the forest.

Blue sky and touches of sunshine looked promising on the drive to Aviemore. At first. The snow came in fast and hard, within seconds I was crawling through a blizzard, following the just visible taillights of the vehicle in front. 

In Aviemore I sat in a cafĂ© watching the snow swirling. Meall a’Bhuachaille didn’t seem attractive now. Neither did a longer drive. A shorter walk from here appealed. Craigellachie, that steep, wooded, craggy hill that rises above the town. Most of the walking would be in beautiful birch woods, sheltered from the wind.

I set off in driving snow, the air thick with flakes. The woods across a little lochan were hazy and half-hidden by the blizzard. The muddy path wound through the trees, a dark line between the snowy trees. 

Above the woods the path was snow-covered. The wind was fierce and harsh, stinging my face. On the summit I gazed onto a bleak arctic landscape, a different world to the town that lay not far below. I didn’t linger.

On the descent the snow eased briefly. Some hazy sunshine gave a touch of warmth to a rugged knoll. Back down in the forest the trees were silent, mysterious, encompassing, welcoming. 

Friday 21 February 2020

This rollercoaster winter, updated 27 February

February 9
Update: the last week of February the weather has calmed down and stayed wintry. There has been snow on the ground for three days. Maybe March will be a calmer month.

Two days ago it snowed heavily, the fields and and woods were white. Overnight the temperatures rose. Yesterday morning it rained heavily and the snow had gone. Overnight temperatures dropped and today there have been heavy snow showers. That pattern has been repeated over and over again this month, accompanied by near constant strong winds. I often take photographs looking towards the Cromdale Hills from my study window. Here are five taken this month, showing the rapid changes in snow cover.

Snow-thaw cycles are not unusual in Scottish winters. I can't remember them being so rapid in previous years though.

February 14

February 19

February 21
February 22
February 27

Thursday 20 February 2020

What I've Been Reading Online No 17: Outdoors - hillwalking, long-distance hiking, mountaineering

Winter Tree, February 10

The last few weeks I've found a fair amount of interesting stuff to read online so again I'm splitting the piece in two, starting with outdoors

The Quest in Scotland's Hills

John D Burns goes in search of a bothy in the Monadhliath. A tale in pursuit of a dream.

Why They Walked: Portraits of 2019 Appalachian Trail Thru-Hikers

Fascinating stories and photos of Appalachian Trail hikers as they near the finish.

Thoughts on hiking solo

Pacific Crest and Arizona Trail thru-hiker Joan West praises solo hiking and gives some advice. 

A Triple Crowner’s Advice for Following Through on Your Hiking Goals

Triple Crown (Pacific Crest Trail, Continental Divide Trail, Appalachian Trail) hiker Effie Drew gives some good advice on long-distance hiking.

Frozen In Time

Former President of the American Alpine Club Alison Osius describes the mountaineering disaster on Peak Lenin in 1974 in which fifteen people died.

What was Your First Ice Axe?

Mountain Rescue Expert Heavy Whalley looks at the development of ice axes in the 1970s. My first axe? In 1977. I can't remember the model.

The Future Is Female: Women in Ultralight Backpacking 

"As more people take to the trail, I’m calling for a quieter, less extreme version of ultralight." 

 Five Bad Days on the PCT and How I Got Through Them

On a long-distance walk every day can't be perfect. Some will be difficult.

10 Best Lightweight Backpacks

Some good packs in this review by sectionhiker. I'be used five of them and a larger version of one of the others.

Norway End-End 2018

Photo-blog by Tramplite. Inspiring photos and words, useful information.

The Trans-European Alpine Route

Description on how to hike this route, which is approximately 6250km long and which traverses 6 mountain ranges and passes through 16 countries and 16+ national parks.

Saturday 15 February 2020

Between the storms: a snowshoe walk in the Cairngorms

Storm Ciara fades away, Storm Dennis approaches. For one day the mountains are calm. Before the fury erupts again. Taking advantage of this brief lull I wandered across the foot of the Northern Corries of Cairn Gorm and up to Miadan Creag an Leth-choin. The snow brought by Ciara was deep, although many areas were wind-scoured, and I was on snowshoes all day. The air was chill but there was little wind and I never needed an outer jacket or even hat and gloves much of the time. 

Whilst the weather was quiet there were still great sheets of dark cloud drifting over the summits. Coire Cas was busy but once out of sight of the car park and ski area there were few people and those there were looked well prepared for winter. Walkers coming down were wearing crampons. Higher up I realised why as I encountered large areas of rippled, refrozen, icy snow. My snowshoes have metal edges and crude crampons underfoot and bit easily into the ice. 

I had planned on going to the top of Creag an Leth-choin for the view down the Lairig Ghru and across to Braeriach but as I neared the broad flat top of Miadan Creag an Leth-choin (the name means Meadow of the Lurcher’s Crag) the clouds swept in and I was quickly shrouded in mist. 

Leaving the summit cairn – if this slightly raised spot can be called a summit – I crunched northwards towards Creag an Leth-choin. This was familiar country but in this mist I could see very little, just rocks and snow and ice fading into nothingness and occasional brief glimpses of distant peaks. Above blue sky came and went but the mist stayed.

With steep slopes falling into the Lairig Ghru not far away I paused to check my exact location on my phone then took a compass bearing. It would have been easy to go astray here and wander round in circles. Standing still I felt the complete silence wrap round me. There was nothing but the mountain, nothing but snow and rock. Peaceful and hostile at the same time. A world of harshness and beauty.

A short descent took me to the head of Lurcher’s Gully. Ahead and not far above was Creag an Leth-choin. I turned away, seeing no point in ascending this oft-visited peak and seeing nothing. The snow in the broad gully was deep. I followed ski tracks down then cut out of the gully to head back to Coire Cas. 

As dusk fell the clouds on Cairn Lochan and Cairn Gorm began to lift and disperse. The mountains glowed pink then slowly turned blue and cold. Ahead Meall a’Bhuachaille was pale, floating, mist wreathed.