The Moray Way: second of three videos, the Moray Coast Trail

 

Fifty years ago I was on the Pennine Way, my first long-distance walk

Below Rakes Rocks. My first camp on the Pennine Way, April 7

On April 7^th, 1976, I set out on my first long-distance walk, a journey that was to set the pattern for the rest of my life. In the previous few years I had done plenty of day walks in the hills and a few one or two night backpacking trips. Now I wanted to find out what a longer trip felt like and whether I could complete one. I chose the Pennine Way, England’s first official long-distance path, which had opened eleven years earlier, probably because it was well-known, and also because it’s 270 miles/435 kilometres seemed the right length for a two-week trip. Stretching from the Peak District National Park up the chain of the Pennine hills and into the Cheviots before finishing just across the border in Scotland it promised a variety of landscapes and interesting walking, much of it in places I’d never been before.

My journal

I had no idea if I could do the walk or if I would enjoy it. On the train to Edale at the southern end of the trail I started my journal of the trip: “The doubts. Is the pack too heavy? Can I do it in 15 days? Am I healthy enough? Most important can I mentally cope?”. Only the answer to the first one was negative. Yes, the pack was too heavy. But otherwise the trip was a huge success. At the finish I wrote “this is definitely the way to live! I expect I’ll do it again and lots of different other walks – what a future. This is not really the end, this is just the beginning”. And what a future it has been!

I’d enjoyed the walk despite the generally wet and misty weather. My journal again: “Biggest disappointment I think was the fact that all the land traversed above 2,000 feet was in thick mist and I had no distant views at all. I think the atmosphere of being so close to nature for days on end matters as much as views”.

The guidebook I carried the whole way

Fifty years ago the world was very different of course. This was long before mobile phones or the internet. Away from roads and villages there was no means of communicating with the outside world. When you were alone in the hills you really were alone. Calling for help or advice was not an option. Navigation required careful use of map and compass. There were Pennine Way guidebooks though and I carried Wainwright’s Pennine Way Companion the whole way, poring over it eagerly in the tent every night and writing notes in the log section.

Log pages 

My one regret now is that I didn’t take photography seriously back then. I just carried a simple point-and-shoot Instamatic compact camera which produced small square photos. Due to the weather I didn’t take many pictures and most are blurred or out of focus, due, I think, to the poor quality of the camera, and my lack of ability. I have no pictures of myself on the walk.

High Force, April 15. The wet weather meant the waterfalls along the way were all splendid. The wet weather and poor light was also a bit much for my camera!

I don’t know what the pack weighed but looking at my equipment list I can see why it was too heavy. Apart from coated waterproofs (non-breathable back then) my clothing was all cotton – string vest, t-shirt, cord jeans, windproof jacket – and wool – thin sweater, thick sweater, shirt, trousers, socks, gloves, balaclava – but why did I take so much of it? I don’t know but I did note at the end that I only needed to wear one pair of socks at a time (two was standard) and that I should find something lighter than corduroy jeans for warmer weather. Of course a clothing revolution was coming in fast and the next few years would see the arrival of breathable waterproofs and synthetic replacements for cotton and wool that were lighter and more compact. But overall my clothing and equipment worked fine. I never got very cold or very wet and the camping went well.

Camp at Top Withens, April 9

I have one item of equipment left from that trip, the Trangia stove. It still works too and goes on the occasional outing. The tent – a Saunders Backpacker II – was excellent. Long after the walk and after a fair bit more usage the coating cracked and began to flake off and the nylon flysheet became brittle. But it was as good as there was then. The down sleeping bag was wonderful too. I’d borrowed it as the only one I had was a thin summer one that I knew wasn’t warm enough for April. Having to return it at the end was a blow!

My pack was my pride and joy, an American Camp Trails external frame model that cost what seemed like a fortune and which was very comfortable. However, I wasn’t so impressed with it when I had to sit on a damp hillside repairing the hipbelt which had torn off. But otherwise it carried the load well.

I resupplied with food along the way and seem from my notes to have eaten a great deal of malt loaf, cheese, and chocolate biscuits. I had muesli for breakfast and packet soups and dehydrated meals in the evening. A few of the latter were Springlow specialist camping meals, which you could get in outdoor shops. From memory they were horrible! Not having thought about them for decades I did an online search but all that turned up was an antiques site offering a “Vintage 1950's Unopened Tin of Springlow Cabbage with original contents”! The logo is the one I remember though. Mostly I dined on Batchelors Savoury Rice in different flavours, which was all that stores along the way had that was suitable.  

Fifty years on that Pennine Way walk is a distant happy memory. I can just about recognise the young man who set out on that adventure. I can see how he became the person I am now. I am so glad I did that walk.

Here’s my gear list as written in my notebook – in several different places for some reason!

Fifteen Years Ago I Set Out On The Pacific Northwest Trail

 

At the trailhead, day 1, July 20, 2010

On July 20, 2010, I started out to walk from the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains to the Pacific Ocean on the Pacific Northwest Trail, inspired by writer and backpacker Ron Strickland, who'd come up with the idea for the trail and wirtten the first guidebook. Thank you Ron! It was a wonderful, beautiful, exciting walk.

The trail wasn't as developed as it is now, thanks to the work of the Pacific Northwest Trail Association, but I had Ron's guidebook, which I ripped up and sent to resupply points in sections, and a line on a map to follow. There was much off-trail navigation to deal with though - luckily I love this! 

The Belly River, Glacier National Park

That first day I hiked trails in the spectacular Glacier National Park, a tremendous start to the walk. I marvelled at the huge forests and snow-streaked mountains, revelling in the wild glory and vastness.

First camp

Hiking in Glacier National Park is constrained though. Permits are needed and you have to camp at designated backcountry campgrounds. The first camp of the walk was on the Mokowanis Junction Campground. It would be another three days before I left the national park and permits, campgrounds and trail signs (sometimes the trails themselves) would disappear.

The guidebook after the walk

A first on this walk was a smartphone. The iPhone had been launched just three years earlier. I chose an Android phone though, for the sole reason that it had an interchangeable battery so I could carry spares. Good lightweight battery packs were in the future. So was satellite communications. I only had a phone signal in or near towns. I mostly used it for navigation as it had GPS and I'd downloaded maps. I did take some photos which I sent back to The Great Outdoors magazine along with updates typed on the tiny keyboard. 

My cameras were all digital. I'd given up film several years earlier. An advantage of digital is that advances in processing means I can now get better results from the images than I could at the time. I'm glad I shot raw files so I can do this.

Back home I wrote a book about the walk. It's out of print but I expect there are secondhand copies around. 

Twenty years ago today I began the GR20 in Corsica

 

The terrain gets tough

Midday on June 26, 2005 and I set off on the GR20 long-distance path in Corsica with Cameron McNeish. It was a mistake. Not hiking the GR20 or being with Cameron. The noon start. Straight from the Scottish Highlands we felt the heat instantly. The sun was blazing down from an unreal blue sky. From the little town of Calenzana the trail climbed through sun burnt fields towards distant mountains. There was little shade. We'd soon drunk all our water. The first spring was incredibly welcome.

The trail starts.

We did acclimatise, eventually. But a predawn or evening start would have been sensible. So would starting at the southern end of the trail. By starting in the north we had the steepest, toughest sections first. I'd never been on a waymarked trail with so much exposure and scrambling. Overall it was a wonderful trip though.

Welcome shade! There wasn't enough.

These pictures were all taken on that first day. I used a 6 megapixel Canon EOS 300D DSLR with a Canon EF-S 18-55mm lens, my first digital camera setup.

Looking back to Calenzana.

Water, delicious water!

Goats, trees, mountains. 

First camp.

Forty years ago I was on the Continental Divide Trail

At the border

On May 30 1985, excited and nervous, I was at the US/Canada border ready to begin the Continental Divide Trail, a 3100 mile walk that would take me from the snowbound Northern Rockies to the deserts of New Mexico and a finish at the border with Mexico.

The Chinese Wall, Bob Marshall Wilderness, Montana

En route I encountered deep snow, searing heat, floods, droughts, forest fires, blizzards and thunderstorms. I saw bears, moose, mountain goats, bald eagles, rattlesnakes and much more. I camped out on 149 nights, often in the most spectacular places. It was a wonderful, glorious wilderness walk, the longest I have ever done.

In the Scapegoat Wilderness, Montana

Back then the internet didn’t exist. There were no smartphones or satellite communicators. When I disappeared into the mountains I really did vanish, especially as the CDT was more of an idea than an actual trail. I was often going cross-country or following faint, little-used trails. Few people had heard of the CDT and even fewer hiked it. There were no CDT trail signs.

Lost Trail Pass, Idaho/Montana border, where I sat out a huge forest fire. Photo by my cousin Kris Gravette who visited me from her home in Wyoming. A now-faded colour print.

Except in popular areas like Yellowstone National Park I didn’t meet many people, often seeing no-one for several days at a time.

The Bitteroot Mountains, Montana

I did have companion for the first 500 miles, Scott Steiner who I’d met on the Pacific Crest Trail three years earlier. After that I was on my own.  

In the Bridger-Teton National Forest, Wyoming

The walk was a real immersion in the wilderness, six months living mostly in nature and moving at walking pace. It was tough but immensely fulfilling.

Squaretop Mountain, Wind River Range, Wyoming

When I reached a town I sent postcards home so friends and family knew where I’d got to, though of course by the time they arrived I was many days further along the trail.

Camp on Vista Pass, Bridger Wilderness, Wind River Range, Wyoming

I also sent hand-written reports and my exposed films back to Footloose, the UK outdoor magazine I was writing for (now long-gone). The staff of the magazine saw my photos long before I did.

Lost Ranger Peak, Mount Zirkel Wilderness, Colorado

Camp in the Never Summer Wilderness after a blizzard, Colorado

The Front Range, Colorado

My highest camp at 12,550 feet (3825 metres) on the slopes of James Peak, Colorado

Desert camp, New Mexico

Last day

Photography note: the pictures are scans from Kodachrome 64 transparencies and Ilford FP4 black-and-white film prints. My camera was a Pentax MX SLR with 35-70 and 75-150 zoom lenses with an Olympus 35mm compact camera with 35mm lens as a backup.

Twenty-five years ago I was on the Arizona Trail

In the White Canyon Wilderness

Journal entry. 6.00 a.m. March 29, 2000.

“A calm, starry night. Woke to a myriad bird calls. A thick crescent moon hangs over a red sandstone rock peak. To the north-west a slanting wall of coloured rock ends in a sharp cliff. The wall is split by just one steep gully. The rock is red-brown in various shades with cream bands. A similar wall lies to the east, this one double-tiered with a sloping band of desert plants between the two. Cacti are everywhere & the ‘trees’ visible high on ledges & ridges are mostly saguaro, occasionally cholla. This is a beautiful & spectacular place – the finest camp of the walk so far”.

The camp was in the White Canyon Wilderness and the walk was the Arizona Trail. This was day 21 of my 800-mile (round figure, could be less, probably more) 53-day walk from the Mexican border to Utah.

The Grand Canyon

Several years earlier I’d spent a few weeks walking in the Grand Canyon. From the North Rim I’d looked south over a sea of trees to distant mountains, the San Francisco Peaks, and wondered what a walk to them would be like.

The San Francisco Peaks

Some time later I discovered a trail was being developed that ran south-north through the centre of Arizona that included the San Francisco Peaks and the Grand Canyon. I couldn’t resist and began making plans. I really wanted to spend a couple of months in the desert.

First camp!

At least I thought it would all be in the desert. It wasn’t. The first night I found myself camped on snow on a mountaintop. Then there were forests, rivers, more mountains - a far more varied landscape than I’d expected. Of course there was a great deal of desert but even this was much more diverse than I’d assumed.

A typical camp

The walking was a delight, even if I was hot and thirsty at times, but even better were the many nights I spent sleeping out under the stars. I just loved waking to watch the world coming to life as the sun rose. When it was windy or, just once, rainy I pitched a tarp that still gave me extensive views but more often I just threw my mat and sleeping bag down and called that camp for the night.

A tarp to keep off the breeze in an aspen grove in the San Francisco Peaks

Twenty-five years later I can still close my eyes and be back on the Arizona Trail. The heat of the rocks, the sharpness of the air, the blue of the sky, the clarity of the light, the grandeur of the landscape, the gloriousness of it all. It all returns. It was a wonderful experience.

Back on snow in the San Francisco Peaks

Back home I wrote a book about it, called Crossing Arizona. It’s published by Countryman Press and is still in print

Photo note: these images were taken on the Arizona Trail on a Ricoh RDC-5000 2.3 megapixel compact camera with a 38-86 35mm equivalent zoom lens. This was the first time I’d used a digital camera on a long walk. However my main camera was a Canon EOS 300 35mm SLR film camera with a 28-70mm zoom lens with which I took fifty rolls of 36-shot slide film. The film images are far higher quality than the digital ones, unsurprisingly, but I haven’t scanned any of them yet. I must get round to it! I also had a Ricoh GR1s film compact as backup to the Canon. I took half a dozen rolls of print film with this and again the results are better than the digital ones. I should digitise some of those too.

High Summer in The Great Outdoors

The latest issue of The Great Outdoors has an eight-page feature by me about what has changed in the world of long-distance hiking since I walked the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988. It's illustrated with photos from the new edition of High Summer, my book on the walk, which has just been published by Enchanted Rock Press. This is the first time these photos have appeared in a magazine. The book has dozens more photos that have never been published before.

It's Publication Day For High Summer!

 

I'm delighted and thrilled that my book on my walk the length of the Canadian Rockies is available again in a brand new edition packed with photos that have never been published before. I'm amazed too. I never thought this long out-of-print book about a walk thirty-six years ago would ever reappear. For that I have to thank publisher Andrew Terrill. 

Here are a few of the photos. 

Going through my old slides and working on the book meant reliving what was a grand adventure. I loved doing that. I hope readers will enjoy my story too.