Sometimes the woods .....

I was almost in Aviemore when I heard the word 'thunder' on the radio. I was planning on a walk high in the Cairngorms, up on those bare, open, exposed slopes. But the forecast seemed to have changed. I stopped and checked . Rain and maybe thunder. Suddenly a walk in the woods seemed very attractive. I've had enough close calls with lightning, most recently in the Colorado Rockies last year, not to want any more.

Plan changed I went to Loch an Eilein. As I set off round the loch the hills were fading into thickening clouds. Spots of rain fell. By the time I was opposite the ruined castle on its little island the dark sky was dramatic and ominous.

The forest though was lovely, midsummer rich and verdant. I took the narrow path round reedy Loch Gamhna, soaking my trousers as I pushed through the vegetation.

Halfway round this second loch the rain started, dappling the water. The shelter of the trees gave some protection. It wasn't cold anyway and the dampness on my head was refreshing. The air felt alive, sharp and invigorating.

Up in the hills, on a long walk, or if camping out I would probably have pulled on waterproofs, not wanting my other clothes to get wet, but I was only out for a few hours. A little rain wouldn't hurt.

By the time I was completing the circuit of the two lochs it was more than a little rain. There were big puddles on the road back to Aviemore. I stopped to buy food and sat in the supermarket car park wondering whether to put my waterproof on for the dash across the open space to the door. I didn't bother and got wetter than I had in the woods.

I never heard any thunder. I didn't mind. The woods and the rain and the dramatic clouds were enough. If I'd gone up high I'd have had that word 'thunder' at the back of my mind, hurrying me on, keeping me on edge. The woods were a better choice.

Loch an Eilein and the Argyll Stone: a Cairngorms walk

The heatwave in the Highlands has decayed. Rain and wind have cooled the hills. Warmth comes in bursts now rather than blasting heat all day long. Loch an Eilein at the end of July was surging with windswept waves. Low clouds streaked across the sky, bringing distant squalls. The air felt heavy and sticky. Brooding.

There hasn't been that much rain though and the effects of the heatwave can still be seen. Above is a dried up pool in the forest. This is what it looked like a year ago.

The old steep overgrown path up Coire Follais is strenuous and rough but the rewards are the glorious forest, the rugged crags, and the tumbling burn, still rushing down despite the heatwave. This is a wonderful wild and secretive place.

In open areas there are views back over Loch an Eilein. The forest feels vast. It's easy to imagine it stretching out across the Highlands, mile after mile after mile. If only. At least we have this remnant. And it is slowly expanding.

As the trees began to fade as I climbed higher the heather took over, turning purple now. There were bilberries, deliciously sweet, but also a cold wind that kept me moving, my sweat-soaked clothes feeling chilly now.

Once I reached the long ridge separating Glen Feshie and Gleann Einich the wind battered me. Here I was just below the clouds. The higher hills were hidden. Patches of blue sky came and went, as did grey squalls of rain. Streaks of rainbows appeared and faded. I felt a touch of rain, no more. Soon I was heading down steep rough pathless slopes into the shelter of the trees.

Loch an Eilein revisited: how's the damaged forest?

In March last year I visited Loch an Eilein in Rothiemurchus Forest in the Cairngorms and was appalled at some logging that was taking place. I wrote about that here. Following that piece I was invited by the estate to come and talk to them. I did so and was given assurances that the logging was for conservation, that it was to open up the forest to more undergrowth and provide a better habitat for conservation. I was unconvinced. I still am. I can see no justification to damaging pristine pine forest.

On the last day of July this year I returned to Loch an Eilein to see what the logged area looks like now. I'd been told it would be tidied up and the signs of logging would soon start to disappear. Sixteen months later there's not much sign of that, as these photos show. It's still an ugly mess, an eyesore.

The damage will fade over the decades of course, though those vehicle tracks will remain scars for a very long time, but this should never have been done in one of the last remnants of natural Caledonian pine forest.

Meanwhile the estate is still asking walkers to stay on signed paths and saying 'we all care'. This sign is on the gate leading to the logged area. How long would it take walkers wandering off the paths to do this damage?

Last year I walked through the logged area at the start of my walk - I didn't know it was there - and it shook me. I thought about it most of the day. This time I did the same walk but went round the other side of Loch an Eilein so as to avoid the area until the end of the walk so the sight of it didn't spoil my day. I'll share some pictures and describe the walk in my next post.

Wild Forest, Wild Hills : A Quiet Corner of the Cairngorms

The forest at dusk

Remoteness, wildness, solitude, time to be alone with nature. These are not hard to find if you're prepared to wander away from paths and popular summits. I wanted a challenging walk that would thrust me deep into the natural world after a week of intense desk work. The word forest recurred in my mind.

Loch an Eilein

I began at Loch an Eilein, my first visit since being shocked at the felling back in March (see this post). As expected there were many people wandering round the loch. As soon as I left the main path and headed off beside little Loch Gamhna the others vanished though. A couple of mountain bikers passed me then I was alone. At the Allt Coire Follais I turned off the path and headed up into the forest. There is an old path here, half-buried in vegetation and hard to follow. Few come this way. Often a depression in the hillside is the only sign of it. The walking was hard now. Steeply up over tussocks and stones hidden in deep heather and bracken.

A forest pool

The beauty and power of the forest held me entranced though. I didn't mind the tough terrain. This was raw nature. Soon the trees began to thin. The dense vegetation didn't though, the ground just grew boggier. Looking back I could see the shining line of Loch an Eilein far below.

Looking back

Out onto open moorland I revelled in the summer colour. From afar these slopes look brown and green, tinged with the purple of heather. Close to they shimmer with a mosaic of colour. The yellow-green grasses red-tipped, the bright yellow stars of bog asphodel rising through them.

Summer colour

Finally the vegetation thinned and the walking became easier. Then I was on a broad ridge, views opening up all around. Across Gleann Einich Cairn Gorm, Cairn Lochan and Braeriach were a long line of corrie-bitten hills. A cold wind swept the stony slopes, drying my sweat-soaked clothes and causing me to shiver and zip up my jacket.

Cairngorm hills

Ahead rose the granite tor of Clach Mhic Cailein (The Argyll Stone), an important landmark on this featureless ridge. Today it provided shelter for a snack before I continued on northwards, the wind behind me, over Creag Dhubh to Cadha Mor.

Clach Mhic Cailein

The first trees appeared, tiny Scots Pine almost prostrate on the slope, stuggling to exist in the thin soil and the cold windswept terrain. Outliers far above the forest.

Scots pine

I plunged down boggy slopes, skidding on moss-covered stones. The descent was steep. Soon I was back in the dense heather and grass, wading waist-deep at times through greenery. I stumbled into holes and tripped over roots. Loch an Eilein grew closer.

Loch an Eilein

Down in the trees at dusk as the sky darkened and shafts of late sunlight, the most of the day, cut through the clouds. The walk hadn't been long, six hours or so, but the submersion in the forest and the moor had been intense, a far different experience from walking a path. Hot, sweaty, and scratched I emerged from the trees onto the track back to the car park. For a while the world had been wild.

Forest destruction at Loch an Eilein: Is this conservation?

Recently I visited Loch an Eilein in Rothiemurchus Forest for a relaxing walk in natural woodland. Loch an Eilein is, rightly, a popular spot as you can drive there and the walk round it is on good tracks and paths. I intended extending the walk a little by also going round smaller Loch Gamhna which is linked to Loch an Eilein by a very short stream. The path round Loch Gamhna is much rougher and fewer people go this way.

 

Arriving at the loch shore I found signs warning of felling taking place. Felling? Here? At Loch an Eilein, a jewel in the forest? Heading clockwise round the loch I soon came upon the first cut trees. This is native pine forest with rich ground vegetation beneath the trees and many open areas, some marshy, some where trees have been blown down by the wind. It’s as far from a plantation of closely-spaced identical rows of trees with no vegetation underneath as can be imagined. Why is this forest destruction, for that is what it is, taking place?

 

There were signs to enlighten me.  ‘We love trees’, one said, followed by ‘thinning and regeneration felling allows trees and ground vegetation to grow back’. Really? How about not destroying them in the first place so they don’t have to grow back? ‘Some trees and branches are left in the forest to provide deadwood for insects and fungi’. Note the ‘some’. The rest I presume is sold. The forest is full of deadwood anyway. 

 

The signs claimed the felling will ‘improve’ the forest. Like hell it will. Apparently Scottish Natural Heritage helped with the planning. It should be ashamed. There's no mention of the Cairngorms National Park in which Loch an Eilein lies. Does it have an opinion? Does it know?

‘If the area is not disturbed or trampled, heather and blaeberries will grow back and wildlife will move into this area’ – wildlife that has been driven out by the felling and heather and blaeberries that have been trashed by it. 

 

To add to the insults there was also a request to stay on maintained paths to help the wildlife. I guess heavy machinery destroying their habitat doesn’t harm them.

I’m sure Rothiemurchus Estate can come up with more justifications for this logging. I’m sure too that they will all be spurious. A natural forest has been badly damaged by the people who are supposed to care for it. There was no need for this. It’s just vandalism. This forest should be left alone. There is no need to ‘manage’ or ‘improve’ it.

 

Having passed through the extensive desolation I felt angry and tense. So much for a relaxing walk. It took some time before the beauty of the rest of the area calmed me down and I could enjoy being here. I won’t forget though.

March 27. Nick Kempe has posted an excellent follow-up to my post on ParksWatch Scotland that goes into the details behind this felling. It's well worth reading.

Shadows & Reflections

Loch an Eilein

The last week has been misty and mild and damp with layers of clouds draped over the hills and filling the sky. Grey is the prevalent colour with little sign of the brightness of spring. In these conditions water often brings life to the landscape so with that in mind I headed for Loch an Eilein, a lovely little loch set in the ancient pines of Rothiemurchus Forest. The sky was banded with thin bright clouds through which the sun almost broke interspersed with much thicker, heavier and darker clouds. The forest was sombre and the hills mostly silhouettes. But the water was full of reflections and shadows, echoing the sky above and giving the landscape a subtle beauty.

Loch of the Island

I wandered along the shore looking out at the ruined castle on the island that gives the loch its name. In the distance white snowfields hung below the ragged edge of the clouds. All was calm in the trees. Out on the water ducks - goldeneye, mallard - paddled and dived. Two geese - greylags I think - disturbed the loch with a wing-flapping, honking, water thrashing landing. The woods rang with bird song, the only real sign of spring. 

Braeriach & Sgoran Dubh Mor

 

Passing little Loch Gamhna I climbed steeply up through the pines beside the rushing snowmelt-filled Allt Coire Follais. As the trees thinned the first snow patches appeared, soft and wet. The last snow bridges, just inches thick, spanned the stream. Above the stony hillside was mostly snow free with just the bulky tor of Clach Mhic Cailein (The Argyll Stone) breaking the long flat horizon. On reaching the broad ridge I was met by a cool southerly wind. Time, finally, for a jacket. To the south Braeriach and Sgoran Dubh Mor were cloud-capped and snow-streaked, dark under the brooding sky. Walking that way didn't look attractive so I turned my back to the wind and followed the ridge slowly downwards to Cadha Mor and a steep pathless descent back to the forest.

Loch an Eilein from Cadha Mor