Autumn Storms in the Cairngorms on a four-night trip

Approaching Bod an Deamhain 

We should have been in Torridon. At least, that was the plan. A forecast of stormy weather had us deciding to shift the trip a few days forwards. The forecast shifted with us. Maybe Torridon wasn’t a good idea. The forecast looked a little less stormy in the Cairngorms. Also, there we had options for more sheltered routes than in Torridon, with more trees, more long glens. The Cairngorms it would be.

This was Tony Hobb’s annual autumn trip to the Highlands. Stormy weather was not unusual on these ventures though the previous year we’d had fairly benign conditions in Glen Affric. Two years before that however Storm Agnes caught us in the Eastern Cairngorms.

By the time we were setting off on this trip the forecast looked stormier in the Cairngorms. We weren’t going to escape it. Summits and plateaux seemed unwise. I planned a glens and passes route that would give us two nights out of the four in forests.

First camp, Glen Feshie

The walk down Glen Feshie was uneventful. It was early October and the autumn colours were just beginning. The glen was lovely and peaceful. We found a good site deep in the woods and had a pleasant first camp.

Glen Feshie

The next day we continued up the glen as the sky grew darker and the wind began to strengthen. The first spots of rain fell as we left the last trees. Jacket hoods went up and down as showers came and went. Autumn colours glowed. The twin waterfalls on the River Eidart, one wide, one thin, looked superb.

Eidart Bridge & Falls

Then it was onto the shallow watershed between the River Feshie and the Geldie Burn. This is bleak wide-open moorland with no shelter. The rain was hammering down now, stinging bare skin. Hoods stayed up. The strong gusty wind was hitting us from the side. We were thankful not to be walking into it. I felt tired but plodded on. There was nowhere for a comfortable camp.

Colour in the storm

A brief break in the clouds gave a brilliant rainbow, the only colour for several hours. The Geldie began to gently descend with slopes closing in on either side. We found a good, fairly sheltered site right by the burn. Exhausted I was soon out of wet clothes and into my sleeping bag. During the night I woke with a streaming nose and a headache. A cold! Damn! That explained my weariness.

Early morning at camp by the River Geldie

Dawn came with golden light and a feeling of warmth. The land glowed. The sun shone. Briefly. Within an hour the clouds had thickened and the glorious brightness had faded. 

Sunrise, River Geldie

We debated what to do. Crossing the high Lairig Ghru pass was still the shortest way back to the start so we decided to take the most direct route there rather than the longer one we’d originally planned. Commitments meant we hadn’t a spare day for me to sit out my cold here, something I would have done otherwise. I did not feel like walking far, or even at all.

In Glen Dee

Instead, we had a relatively short day and walked to the River Dee and then followed it into the mouth of the Lairig Ghru. The clouds raced overhead and swirled round the mountains. There were showers but no prolonged rain. The landscape became more dramatic as the mountains closed in, the great crags and slabs of Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point) dominating the view. Tony found a couple of patches of grass Just big enough for the tents amongst the bogs, heather and tussocks. They made comfortable sites.

Camp in Glen Dee

Still feeling rough the next day I was slow to get ready and we had a late start. I was slow plodding up the path to the Lairig Ghru too. We passed the dark Pools of Dee in their stark boulder fields and reached the 835-metre summit of the pass just before dusk. The wind was gusty but not too strong and any showers were brief. We had, we thought, done the hardest part of the day. Now we just had to follow the path slowly down into the forest and find a sheltered camp site.

Braeriach from Glen Dee

We were wrong. The wind was ferocious, blasting down, funnelled through the narrow gap of the pass. Without trekking pole we’d have been knocked over, often. At times all we could do was brace ourselves with the poles and try and keep our feet until a gust eased. We were walking by headlamp with Tony’s dog Bella, who had no problem finding the path, leading the way. The terrain here is rocky. Being blown over was not a good idea. Caution and slowness were the only safe way to proceed.

Beside one of the Pools of Dee

Eventually we came out of the narrow gap and onto a better path. The wind was now merely fierce. It continued so down into the forest and we went further than we’d hoped before camping on a site we’d used before where the wind was a little less powerful. We were in fact only a few kilometres from the road. But there was no point going on. We needed to sleep before driving. It had been an exciting trip, a memorable trip, one to talk about in future. But I was glad it was over.

Mostly Wildfires, plus a Cairngorms camp with torn trousers

The Abernethy-Ryvoan Fire Day1. View from Craigellachie

On July 15 I was driving to Aviemore when I saw smoke billowing up from behind Meall a’Bhuachaille. I was heading for Coire na Ciste and a walk on the long north ridge of Cairn Gorm, a favourite quiet place. Approaching Aviemore the smoke looked thicker. Stopping, I consulted the internet. A fire had broken out near Ryvoan Bothy. Going that way seemed unwise so I walked up Craigellachie above Aviemore instead. The wood shone in the sunshine. The sky was blue. It was a lovely day. Except that once out of the trees I could see the smoke again, more smoke now, filling the sky above the Ryvoan Pass. This looked bad, this looked serious. It was.

View of the smoke from home. Day 7.

Over the next few weeks whenever I looked out of my study window I could see the smoke. Every day I thought of all the people fighting the fire and felt thanks. Every day I felt sorrow, knowing that a place I love will not look the same the next time I visit, will be burnt, blackened, and scarred. I think of the wildlife that will have perished. And I think of climate change and of the fires burning all over the world and wonder what have we done?

Those weeks it was hard to concentrate on anything else. Every day I followed the story on social media and on the news. I’ve watched videos, looked at pictures, read reports.

Dava Moor after the fire.

A year ago it was the same. Then a much bigger fire, the biggest ever in the UK, burned Dava Moor to the north of Grantown-on-Spey. That fire was out of sight of home but much, much closer. We could smell the smoke and at times see it drifting low over the nearby forest. Not knowing how close it might come we made plans to evacuate quickly. It stopped five miles away. I wrote about it here.

Dava Moor detail.

Although far larger the Dava Fire didn’t attract the same attention as the Abernethy – Ryvoan fire. It wasn’t in a popular tourist area, it was mostly outside the Cairngorms National Park, although it did just cross the border (see map here), it didn’t threaten communities, though it came close. It was on low gently undulating moorland mostly used for grouse shooting and sheep grazing with some areas of planted forestry (it’s noteworthy that the areas of muirburn didn’t stop the fire). The main attraction for visitors is lovely Lochindorb with its ruined castle on an island and its birdlife.

Lochindorb with smoke from the Dava Moor fire

The Dava Fire was declared out after just four days. The Abernethy-Ryvoan Fire lasted over four weeks and even after that there were hotspots. Two months later and the core area of the fire is still closed to the public as dangerous trees and debris are cleared. Looking at the map it’s easy to see why the much bigger fire could be dealt with so much faster. Dava Moor is almost flat open terrain. Much of the Abernethy-Ryvoan fire was on steep slopes and narrow valleys covered in dense forest or heather and rocks.  As I know, this is difficult ground to move over away from paths. Fighting a fire here must have been extremely difficult.

The much greater attention given to the Abernethy-Ryvoan Fire means that much discussion is being given to what needs to be done to reduce the likelihood of future fires – and there will be future fires as the effects of climate change grow – being so devastating. Plans are being drawn up which I hope will actually lead to action. This should really have been done after the Dava Fire but nobody outside the area was much interested in that. I’ve talked to a surprising number of people since who hadn’t even heard of if but knew about the Abernethy-Ryvoan Fire.

Cotton grass on Dava Moor a year after the fire.

In May this year I walked the Dava Way from Grantown-on-Spey to Forres as part of the Moray Way (see this post). This took me through the area of the fire. Whilst there was much blackened ground and many burnt trees I was heartened to see that much of the open moor was white with one of the most extensive areas of cotton grass I've ever seen. Life was returning.

Two months after the Abernethy-Ryvoan Fire I returned to the area. Until then I’d walkd in other areas of the Cairngorms. (Despite what some news reports said the fire was only in a very small part of the national park). Part of me was reluctant to go back. The pictures were horrific enough. I couldn’t go into the fire area itself. This was still closed. But I could go up Meall a’ Bhuachaille, right on its edge, and look across it. I took camping gear, deciding to combine the visit with a night out in the hills.

View back down to Loch Morlich

The sky was cloudy, the forest stuffy and humid. I was glad to feel a breeze as I left the trees. There were many fungi lining the path. The heather was a brilliant purple, at the height of its summer display. Across Loch Morlich dark clouds tore across the hills. Soon I could look across the forest to blackened slopes around Coire Laogh Mor. The burnt area stretched up to the Coire na Ciste car park. Higher up it stopped at the path up the ridge on the east side of the corrie. The fire must have been weakening here for a narrow footpath to block it.

View from Meall a' Bhuachaille to Coire na Ciste

From the blustery summit of Meall a’Bhuachaille I could see more of the extent of the fire, how it had spread across Strath Nethy to the lower slopes of Bynack Beg and east into Abernethy Forest. I knew it had burned in the Ryvoan Pass, on the eastern side of Meall a’ Bhuachaille, and along Strath Nethy but these were hidden from the summit. Notices on the path down to Ryvoan Bothy said that way was closed. The view was sobering but not unexpected. The year before I’d seen the aftermath of the Dava Moor fire. This looked the same, just on steep slopes.

View from Meall a'Bhuachaille to the edge of Abernethy Forest

I’ve been up Meall a’ Bhuachaille many, many times over the years. This was the first time I hadn’t gone up or down via Ryvoan though. I turned away from the devastation and headed down the hill. A couple of runners passed me. A lone backpacker with a dog was sitting in the heather. “I think they’re crazy, they think we’re crazy” she said, seeing my big pack. This, she told me, would be only her second night wild camping. Before I dropped off the wide ridge I could see her pitching a green tent high on the hillside.

With the wind picking up I was looking for a more sheltered site. Finding one was not as easy as I hoped. The tussocky heather high up I expected. Not far down though I came across an area that had been clear-cut so many years earlier that the tree stumps and whitened dead branches were half-buried in thick heather and long grass. Crunching through these was slow and arduous.

A somewhat sheltered, somewhat flat camp.

When I reached the burn that would be my camp water supply I was still in the felled debris. I had to descend a fair way before I came to actual living trees and a small patch of not too bumpy ground that would just do for the tent. Down here it was now calm and rain was starting to fall. As soon as I stopped the midges came out so I was inside with the doors closed as quickly as possible, especially as I was showing rather a large amount of bare leg, my admittedly ancient trousers having split almost from waist to knee as I pitched the tent.

Oops!

The trousers were clearly unrepairable, or at least well beyond skills. My only spare ones were my waterproof overtrousers so I’d have to wear these. I was glad I’d had to come further down the hill to find a site as this meant a shorter walk the next day. I was also, for once, hoping it would rain. At least I was comfortable in camp.

It did rain too, most of the night, but it stopped soon after dawn. However a gusty wind had sprung up which kept off the midges and which I hoped wouldn’t make the overtrousers too unbearable. The trousers did have full-length side zips and leaving these open from thigh to knee kept my legs cool. In fact the trousers were quite comfortable, though I expect they wouldn’t have been if it had been calmer and warmer.

Fly Agaric.

The walk back to the car through the forest was uneventful. Near the camp there were some sizeable deciduous trees still in cracked and splitting plastic tubes that should really have been removed long ago. The trees, mostly willow, seemed healthy enough though. Lower down more fungi, especially Fly Agaric, decorated the sides of the forest track. It was peaceful down here. I relaxed, forgetting for a short while fires and the future.

I made a video of the trip, mostly about the camping.

A Familiar Walk With A Difference: Sgor Gaoith & Meall Tionail

Meall Tionail with Meall Buidhe to the left

Sometimes revisiting a familiar place can bring something new, something that makes you think maybe you didn’t know the place as well as you thought after all. Such was the case on a late August walk from Glen Feshie to Sgor Gaoith. I’ve done this many times over the years. It’s one of my favourite Cairngorm walks and Sgor Gaoith one of my favourite Munros. I wasn’t expecting anything different.

Heather, pines, path

The heather on the lower slopes was startlingly bright, beautiful, rich and purple. The sky was overcast, the air was warm and humid. I was soon hot and sweat-soaked. It was a relief to leave the last trees and feel a slight breeze.

The sun breaks through

A late start had me arriving on the tops just before sunset. For a brief moment the sun broke through the clouds and cast pink rays over the land. Then the greyness returned and thickened as mist enshrouded me.

The mist was wet so I quickly pitched the tent on a site I knew well, collected water, and settled in for the night. Very soon the flysheet was dripping with condensation.

Camp

In the early hours the weather changed. I was woken by a breeze rustling the flysheet and flicking drops of moisture on my face. It felt cooler and I closed the inner tent door. Dawn came with a blue sky and a gusty wind.

The Allt Fuaran Diotach

Not far from camp the Allt Fuaran Diotach began its dramatic plunge down to Loch Eanaich far below. I took the narrow path that runs along the edge of the broken cliffs above the loch. This is a fine route with tremendous views of Sgor Gaoith ahead and across the loch to the massive bulk of Braeriach. 

View down to Loch Eanaich

The wind was very strong here, rushing up from the glen. It was pushing me away from the drop or I’d have moved to gentler terrain.

Sgor Gaoith

I could see walkers on the sharp point of Sgor Gaoith and more coming along the main path, which lay not far away. I joined them as my path and theirs merged just below the top. The wind was now ferocious. I didn’t stop but dropped down to the east to find a lunch spot where my water bottle wouldn’t be whisked away by the wind as soon as I put it down.

The ridge I'd never noticed before. Meall Tionail on the left.

Sitting here gazing at the extensive view over Glen Feshie I noticed a graceful curving ridge running from Meall Buidhe, a subsidiary top of Sgor Gaoith, to a little bump called Meall Tionail. I must have looked at this ridge every time I’d come this way but it had never made an impression. I’d never really seen it, never wondered what it was like. I did now. I’d planned, as always, on going over Meall Buidhe and onto Geal Charn, another subsidiary top once classified as a Munro, and then descending down to Glen Feshie. Now though I decided I’d go to Meall Tionail and see what it was like.

There’s a bit of a path over the stony ground to Meall Buidhe but none from there to Meall Tionail. The ridge, as I’d expected, was actually quite broad.  The graceful curve was an illusion. The terrain was rocky but the walking easy. A cairn decorated the summit. I sat here a while looking back at Meall Buidhe and Sgor Gaoith.

The summit of Meall Tionail. Sgor Gaoith in the distance.

Meall Tionail is a pleasant summit, a gentle rise at the end of a spur from Meall Buidhe. I doubt anyone comes here very often as it doesn’t reach Munro height. Many traverse its lower slopes though, as I had done the previous day, as a well-used path to Sgor Gaoith curves round it. Now I’d been up it and added a little to my knowledge of the area. There’s always so much more to learn.

From the summit I headed down steep, heather-clad slopes to join that path just above the forest.

I made a little video of the trip with much more about my camp.

Glen Tromie & Meallach Mhor: a camp and a hill or four

Loch an t-Seilich from the slopes of Meallach Mhor

On the western side of the Cairngorms National Park is long Glen Tromie. It’s not as well-known or popular as the glens and passes to the east – Glen Feshie, Gleann Eanaich, the Lairig Ghru. No Munros rise above Glen Tromie, no cliff-girt corries. The hills are rolling and round heathery bumps, steep-sided but not dramatic. The glen has some fine native woodlands though and these are regenerating since the conservation organisation WildLand bought the estate several years to add to Glen Feshie which they already owned and began the process of rewilding.

Woodland in Glen Tromie

Not having been to Glen Tromie myself for many years, not since 2208 in fact when I walked through the glen in December with Cameron McNeish (as described in this old blog post), I thought it was time to go and see what it’s like now and go up into the hills from the glen.

The estate track in lower Glen Tromie

There is a Corbett rising above the glen, 769-metre Meallach Mhor. I went up this many years ago from the east but had never climbed it from Glen Tromie, to which it belongs. Guidebooks and websites mostly suggest cycling along the private estate track that runs up the glen to the base of the hill, climbing it, then cycling back down the glen. Whilst the ascent and descent routes can be varied this doesn’t spend much time actually on the hills. Most of the day is spent cycling. I decided I would walk up the glen, camp, climb Meallach Mhor the next day then follow the line of lower hills that parallels Glen Tromie. (This is a route described by Walk Highlands).

Meadowsweet, meadows, & forest in Glen Tromie

The weather was showery and cloudy with bursts of sunshine and a brisk wind as I set off from Tromie Bridge. The lower glen was lush, a mix of hay meadows and woodland. There were many wild flowers and many impressive alder trees by the river. Soon I could see young trees spreading out from the thickening forest. The walk up the glen grew more and more heartening as I saw more and more signs of regeneration.

I thought of camping by Bhran Cottage, where I’d camped with Cameron eighteen years before, but it was summer not winter and I wanted a breezier site to avoid the midges. Not much further was a little lochan, oddly situated above the track and the river. A long straight embankment along the western and northern sides showed that it was almost certainly artificial. I couldn’t find a name on any map.

Camp by the unnamed lochan

The bank was overgrown with deep heather and young rowan and birch trees. I had walked almost the whole length of it and was beginning to think I’d have to return to Bhran Cottage when I found a grassy patch just big enough for the tent. A breeze swept over the lochan, just strong enough to keep off the midges. It was a fine camp. There was rain overnight but the morning came with a touch of sunshine.

Meallach Mhor lay directly above, barely two kilometres away. The direct ascent was not easy though. The slope is steep in places but that wasn’t the reason. It was the deep, thick heather, which sometimes came up to my thighs. Relief came higher up when the angle and the heather finally lessened and I could walk normally rather than stagger and thrash.

Cairn on the ascent of Meallach Mhor

The views were excellent and dramatic though, giving a good excuse to stop frequently. There was no path but I did come upon a fine cairn that overlooked the unnamed lochan. 

Squalls in the distance

To the south and the west the clouds were low on the hills and I could see squalls scudding across the land. Further up Glen Tromie I could see Loch an t-Seilich filling a wide cleft between steep hills. Although there were dark clouds on three sides none of the rain reached me. The wind though was strong, buffeting me along.

The summit of Meallach Mhor, looking to Loch an t-Seilich

The stony summit of Meallach Mhor is flat, the high point marked by a small cairn. It’s not very distinctive but as a viewpoint it’s superb and the sense of space and vastness is exhilarating. To the east you look across waves of rolling hills to the Cairngorm giants Braeriach, Sgor an Lochain Uaine, and Cairn Toul, a magnificent view.

Braeriach, Sgor an Lochain Uaine, & Cairn Toul from Meallach Mhor

From the summit I descended to the col with Meallach Bheag on a rough intermittent path. An ORV track crosses the col and here I met the only other walkers I saw all trip, a party of four backpackers who’d come from Glen Feshie. They were leaving their packs while they went up and down Meallach Mhor then descending the track into Glen Tromie. That track probably is the easiest route from Glen Tromie to Meallach Mhor, longer but undoubtedly less strenuous than my head-on, heather-bashing climb.

Croidh-la. The high point is the tiny cairn on the horizon on the right

The hills and the fine views continued over long Clach-mheall to Croidh-la. This is the lowest but most distinctive of the four tops on the east side of Glen Tromie and the only one with a trig point, though this isn’t on the very highest point. The slopes running down to Glen Tromie are very steep with some little crags and probably not a good place to descend. There’s a rough path on the hill anyway that leads gently downwards to Cadha Giorraid where it turns westwards and descends to Glen Tromie through regenerating native woodland.

A Windy Tent Test In The Cairngorms

 

Last month I had a short trip in the Cairngorms with a tent I was testing for the first time. The weather was windy and cloudy with a few showers, which was good for the test but the reason I didn't go any further than my camp spot. 

I did make a video about the tent and the stove system I used - Robens Alta Via 1 UL and Primus Lite Ultra .

I didn't write a blog post but I did take some photos showing the ever-changing and dramatic skies so here are some of them. They don't show the wind (the video does that) or that I took most of them braced against rocks, sheltering behind boulders, or lying down. It wasn't as nice a day as it looks!

Camp in Coire an Lochain

The lochan in Coire an Lochain

Clouds swirling round the Cairn Lochan cliffs

The wind rippling the surface of the smaller lochan in the corrie

The cloud descends on Cairn Lochan

Clouds above and below. View to Meall a' Bhuachaille

As I left clouds filled the corrie

View to a cloud-filled Coire an t- Sneachda with the end of the Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda on the right

Looking up to the Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda