Suddenly it feels like spring

The view from Craigellachie

Spring in the Cairngorms has been creeping in slowly this year. East winds and snow have kept a wintry feel to the landscape. Spring birds are arriving – curlews, lapwings, oystercatchers in the meadows – but the buds on the trees are only just showing signs of opening and there are few flowers. The land still has that faded look, shades of fawn, yellow and brown. The greening of spring is still to come.

In the Craigellachie woods

 

Yesterday though it suddenly felt like spring was here. I went up Craigellachie, that tree clad crag rising above Aviemore, and the air was warm. For the first time since late summer last year a sunhat and sunglasses were more important than warm clothing. I didn’t need even a light jacket let alone hat or gloves. On the summit I sat on a rock warmed by the sun and stared over the landscape. The hills faded into a distant haze. The air felt thick and heavy. The day before with the clouds low and dark and a bitter wind I thought it felt more like November than April. Today it felt more like August.

Craigellachie birch woods

Below the summit the birch woods were beautiful with that purple sheen that comes in late winter as the leaf buds expand and prepare to burst into life. There were no flowers, no fresh green, no bright colours yet but there was an expectancy, a sense that all was about to change. Spring has begun.

Hill fading away

Tents and tarps I've used for long-distance walking over the decades

In the Wintergear Voyager on the Continental Divide Trail in 1985

A few weeks ago I posted about the packs I've used on long-distance walks. As that proved popular here's a round-up of the various shelters I've chosen over the years.

Starting out with ridge tents I then went to domes and hoops as curved poles became standard and then back to ridge tents when designs arrived that could be pitched with trekking poles. Most recently I've abandoned tents altogether and gone for shaped tarps. The tents I used in the early days would still be fine now though. What's changed is the materials. Modern shelters weigh less for the same space whilst being tougher and more durable.

My first backpacking tent was a single-skin ridge tent with no vents and no porch. The condensation was horrendous! I never used it on more than two-night trips. Next came a Saunders Backpacker II sloping ridge tent which was double-skin and had a big porch. I took this on the Pennine Way in 1976. Whilst it performed okay the sides did bellow in and out in strong winds as they were unsupported.

The Ultimate Tramp on a winter camp in Snowdonia

Wanting a more stable tent for my first really long walk, Land's End to John O'Groats in 1978, I chose another sloping ridge tent but one with side guylines and an A-pole at the front, the Ultimate Tramp. This proved excellent. I wasn't a photographer when I did that walk - my cheap compact camera broke in the first few weeks - so I have no pictures of the Tramp from it. I did find the photo above in a box of old prints, taken a year later, by which time I'd acquired another camera.

Both those ridge tents weighed around 1.8kg and had polyurethane coated flysheets that weren't that durable. As I didn't think the Tramp would last another long walk I looked for something else for my next trip. I also admit to being seduced by the new flexible pole hoop and dome tents that arrived around 1980 and which gave more space for the weight and it was one of these that I chose for the Pacific Crest Trail in 1982.

Wintergear Eyrie, Pacific Crest Trail, 1982

The Wintergear Eyrie was a two pole dome tent with a third pole for the porch. It was also single-skin and made of Gore-Tex. In the dry conditions of most of the walk it worked really well but in rainy and snowy weather in the Cascade Mountains near the end of the walk there was rather too much condensation for comfort. It was quite heavy at 2.26kg but very roomy and easy to pitch. The tent didn't last much longer than the walk though as soon afterwards it leaked badly in a Scottish downpour. It was the only time I ever used a single-skin tent on a long walk.

Wintergear Voyager, Continental Divide Trail, 1985

I used another Wintergear tent, the Voyager (still available from Terra Nova), on the Continental Divide Trail. This three-pole semi-geodesic dome was very stable and roomy but also quite heavy at 2.7kg. For the first 500 miles it housed two of us as my friend from the PCT Scott Steiner accompanied me. After that I had to carry it myself. It was the first time I'd used a tent that pitched inner-first, which was useful on nights when I wanted shelter from bugs or a breeze but rain was unlikely. Using just the inner there was never any condensation.

The Phoenix Phreeranger, Canadian Rockies walk, 1988

For my next two long walks, the length of the Candian Rockies and the Yukon Territory south to north, I chose a tent from a new British company, Phoenix Mountaineering, the successor to Ultimate, whose Tramp I'd used a decade earlier. This was the first single hoop tent I'd used and I liked the space, the weight (1.8kg) and the stability, even if the nine guylines could get tangled. The Phreeranger is the only tent I've used on two long-distance walks. I really did like it!

Phoenix Phreeranger and all my gear, Yukon walk, 1990

After four North American walks I returned to Europe for my next one, the Scandinavian mountains from south to north. Appropriately I chose a Scandinavian tent for this, the Nallo 2 from Swedish company Hilleberg. This two-pole tunnel tent weighed 2.2kg and was very roomy and stable. It needed to be the latter as this was by far the stormiest long walk I'd done so far. (It was soon to be surpassed). Like other tunnel tents it was best pitched rear to the wind for stability. There was one night when the wind changed and started pushing the sides of the tent against me and flexing the poles alarmingly. I got out into the black wetness and turned the tent ninety degrees. The shaking stopped and I went back to sleep. The Nallo 2 was the first tent I used with a silicone nylon flysheet rather than a PU coated one. Every shelter I used after the Nallo 2 was made from this light durable material.

Hilleberg Nallo 2, Scandinavian Mountains walk, 1992

I loved the Nallo 2 and I was impressed with the quality but I did wish it weighed less. At the time it was the lightest tent Hilleberg made. However not long after my Scandinavian walk the company introduced a solo tent that has been one of my favourites ever since, the Akto. This single-hoop tent weighed 1.7kg (the current version is made from lighter materials and weighs a little less). I chose it for my walk over the Munros and Tops and really tested it as this was even stormier than the Scandinavian Mountains walk. The Akto came through fine and I've since used it on many Scottish walks, including several TGO Challenge coast-to-coast crossings of the Highlands.

Hilleberg Akto, Munros and Tops walk, 1996

After two wet and windy walks I wanted to go somewhere warm and dry for my next trip. I'd really enjoyed the desert sections on the PCT and CDT so a return to the SouthWest USA seemed a good idea. After the Munros and Tops walk I did a two-week trip in the Grand Canyon with the Akto and realised that excellent though this tent was it wasn't needed for a desert walk where rain was very unlikely and I could sleep under the stars most nights. Also, I was now using trekking poles regularly and wanted to use them as tent poles too to save some weight. Designers hadn't caught up with this idea yet. So when I decided to walk the Arizona Trail I looked for a tarp rather than a tent and ended up with a shaped one called the Kathmandu Trekking Basha-Tent, which could be pitched as a pyramid. With a groundsheet and pegs the weight was 1.2kg, far lighter than any tent I'd used yet it was also far roomier than any of them too. I used it to keep off the wind on quite a few nights, which it did very well, and just once some rain and wet snow.

Kathmandu Trekking Basha-Tent, Arizona Trail, 2000

Having enjoyed using a tarp I took another one on my next walk, a 500 mile circular walk through the High Sierra starting and finishing in Yosemite Valley. I didn't reckon I needed the space or stability of the Basha-Tent so I took an even lighter tarp, the GoLite Cave. The weight with pegs and a groundsheet was 794 grams. Most nights I slept under the stars but I did pitch the Cave a few times when it looked like rain.

GoLite Cave, High Sierra, 2004

Using trekking poles for pitching the tarp was a success so I was determined not to carry tent poles on future long walks. However my next long walk, the Pacific Northwest Trail, went through country where it could be wet and windy and where mosquitoes could be a problem. I wanted something with doors I could close so I went back to a tent, a sloping ridge tent in fact that looked very like the one I'd used on the Pennine Way over thirty years earlier. However because it was made of silnylon and could be pitched with trekking poles the GoLite Shangri-La 1 only weighed 963 grams.

GoLite Shangri-La 1, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010

The Shangri-La 1 had an inner, the Nest, that could be pitched on its own, which I did at camps where mosquitoes were biting but there was little chance of rain, the first time I'd had a tent that enabled me to do this since the Voyager on the CDT 25 years earlier. As the Nest was made of mesh rather than solid nylon it was even better than the Voyager inner as it meant I could see out whilst safe from the bugs.

GoLite Shangri-La Nest, Pacific Northwest Trail, 2010

I returned home for the next long walk, the Scottish Watershed. This high exposed route could be very wet and windy (it was) so I wanted a shelter that would stand up to big storms. I remembered how good the Basha-Tent had been in strong winds so I looked for something similar and found the Mountain Laurel Designs Trailstar, which is amazingly stormproof yet very light. Knowing midges were likely I paired it with an OookWorks mesh Nest, which could be hung inside. The total weight was 1.16kg and like the Basha-Tent the room was more than I needed. At times the weather was as wild as on any walk I'd done and I was very glad of the Trailstar's wind resistance.

Mountain Laurel Designs Trailstar, Scottish Watershed, 2013

After the storms of the Watershed I fancied another dry walk so my next one was from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley. I hoped to sleep under the stars most nights and I didn't really need a storm resistant shelter like the Trailstar. I took it anyway as it had become a favourite and it was so light. As I wasn't expecting mosquitoes I dispensed with the mesh inner and just took an ultralight Tyvek groundsheet. The total weight was just 801 grams. I did have some big winds in the desert that made the Trailstar worth carrying but overall I could have managed with an even lighter, smaller tarp like the GoLite Cave.

Mountain Laurel Designs Trailstar, Yosemite Valley to Death Valley, 2016

Whern I wrote this piece I ended it "my next walk? Probably the Trailstar again". It was, on the next two long walks in fact.

The first was 400 miles on the GR5 through the Alps from Lake Geneva to the Mediterranean Sea. Again I was expecting mosquitoes as it was another autumn walk and I took the same setup as on the Yosemite to Death Valley walk. The weather was wetter and windier than on that walk though and I used the Trailstar every night.

Trailstar on the GR5 after a thunderstorm, 2018

The second was another 400 mile walk, this time through the southern Colorado Rockies on the Continental Divide Trail, a section where I'd been forced to take a lower route by blizzards and deep snow on my CDT hike in 1985. I took the mesh inner because there were likely to be mosquitoes early on, as there were, but only for the first week.

Trailstar in the Colorado Rockies, again after a thunderstorm, hence the drying waterproofs, 2019

In today's post a beautiful new book on a controversial subject

The idea of reintroducing lynx is very controversial. I shared a mention of this new book from Scotland The Big Picture on social media and it sparked an immediate discussion. Those completely opposed to lynx being reintroduced leapt in ferociously. Others in favour responded. None I suspect had read the book as it's only just been published. In principle I'm in favour of reintrducing lynx but I haven't read much about it. This book should give me much more information.

It's the second book from Scotland The Big Picture. The first, The Red Squirrel, wasn't controversial. Everyone loves red squirrels! This book, The Lynx And Us, looks like attracting much more attention. So far I've just looked at the pictures, which are wonderful. I'll post a review once I've read it.

40 Years of The Great Outdoors

The Great Outdoors is 40! And to celebrate the Spring 2018 issue is a 40^th 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.

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.