Friday, 8 May 2020

The TGO Challenge: In the Beginning


The TGO Challenge has been run every May since 1980. This year would have been the 41st. Covid 19 has seen to that though and for the first time there will be no Challenge. Having done the 40th last year (my 16th) I wasn't taking part this time. I had other plans, also cancelled of course. But whether I'm taking part or not May is always TGO Challenge month for me. This year I feel really sorry for those who would have been setting off this weekend. I hope they all will be next year.

Before the 40th Challenge I wrote a post about my first Challenge and my plans for last year, with photos of pages of my 1980 journal. I didn't say anything about the role of The Great Outdoors in promoting the event though. This year I've retrieved the issues of the magazine that launched the Ultimate Challenge (as it was then) from my archives (sounds better than the reality -piles of magazines in boxes).

The Challenge was launched without fanfare or even editorial comment in the January 1980 issue. There was just the rather discreet quarter page promotion pictured above. It was enough to excite me though and I wrote off for details, filled in the application form, and in May set off across the Highlands. 66 others took part of whom 56 finished. Today hundreds apply, there's a draw for places, and around 300 start. The Challenge has come a long way.


That autumn the Challenge began to assume its place as a significant part of The Great Outdoors. In the November issue it was the only cover line. The cover photograph by Nigel Lane was taken on the Challenge too. Inside there were accounts of the event from Challengers who'd entered a writing competition. I was one of them and came third in the Mountain Route category (early Challenges had high and low level routes, long ago scrapped). I remember I won an Ultimate Equipment synthetic gilet. My article wasn't published though and has long ago disappeared (which is probably a good thing).


In the same issue the details of the 1981 Challenge were published, with dates this time and a rather more distinguished appearance, though still only a quarter page. The event was up and running. However it would be many years before it became clear just what had started with that little promotion in a corner of The Great Outdoors.


Tuesday, 5 May 2020

Memorable Mountains 3: An Teallach


Third in this occasional series of mountains I'm thinking about during the lockdown is one I've traversed three times but not yet had a view from. An Teallach is a wonderful, tremendous mountain - complex, rugged, spectacular, really a mini mountain range with many summits including two Munros and a superb line of pinnacles, the Corrag Buidhe.

For me An Teallach also a frustrating mountain as whenever I go near it the heavens open. As well as my three ascents, all in dense mist and rain, I've camped on its flanks several times and gone no further due to the weather. I once spent a whole day sitting in Shenavall bothy whilst the rain and wind hammered down hoping the weather would clear the next day. It didn't. Any views I've had of An Teallach have been from a distance - the one above was taken from the Beinn Dearg range.

My first post-lockdown promise to myself is to climb An Teallach on a clear day!

Friday, 1 May 2020

May Day Memories: A Glorious Ski Tour in the Cairngorms

On Ben Macdui, May 1, 2012

Looking out of my window this May Day I can see big snow patches in the Cairngorms but much larger areas that are snow free. The lockdown means I can only look at the mountains and dream of traversing their wild slopes. Even if free to do so I wouldn't be able to have a ski tour like that I made on May Day in 2012, probably my most glorious May Day ever.

Late snow fell in April that year and the hills were white down to 600 metres. The snow was deep and the cover complete. I put my skis on in the Coire Cas car park and only removed them when I was back there.

View to Beinn Mheadhoin, Lochnagar in the distance on the right. Spot the skier!

The sun was warm and the surface of the snow softened enough to make skiing easy but not so much that the skis sank in too far. Once I'd reached the Cairngorm Plateau and removed my climbing skins the ski to Ben Macdui across the undulating terrain was fast and almost effortless, the skis skimming over the snow. The views were startlingly sharp and clear. In winter with the low sun the Cairngorms have an Arctic feel, a heaviness, a darkness, a sense of belonging to the far north. But on May Day the sun is high in the sky, the light much brighter, colours deeper. The feeling is light and free, more Alpine than Arctic.

Braeriach

Across the deep hidden trench of the Lairig Ghru Braeriach looked magnificent, dominating the view from the heart of the Plateau. On Ben Macdui's summit I sat in the sun for lunch before wandering over to the edge to gaze out along the Lairig Ghru, the snowline sharp on the hills, white above, brown below.

Looking along the Lairig Ghru

Further west one of my favourite views was even more majestic than usual. Cairn Toul rearing up out of the depths.

Cairn Toul

Returning from Ben Macdui I cut across the western flanks of Cairn Lochan and descended below its rocky north face. There were signs of avalanches below the cliffs. I wondered if there were any climbers up there.

Cairn Lochan

On my way home I stopped to look back to the Cairngorms over Loch Morlich. Down here winter was long gone. Up there it was different. I loved both.

Loch Morlich & the Cairngorms

Wednesday, 29 April 2020

Rewilding: More Thoughts

Beinn Eighe National Nature Reserve

Rewilding has become an emotive and controversial word in recent years. To some it is wonderfully positive, a call for the restoration of glory to wild places. To others it smacks of elitism, exclusion, a threat to countryside access and ways of life. What though does rewilding actually mean when applied to Britain and disentangled from overblown desires and overblown fears. In the mass media it’s often used to mean the reintroduction of big predators such as wolves and bears – nothing like a story about these to send a frisson of fear through people and provoke a strong reaction. This comes in part from its origins in the USA where it was first used by conservationist Dave Foreman, one of the founders of the interesting Wildlands Network, to mean the conservation and expansion of ecosystems big enough to support large predators. 

In the USA, though, there are still large wilderness areas, many already with bears, wolves and mountain lions. The situation is very different here, on a small quite heavily populated island with no real wilderness and only remnants of natural forest. For comparison California is over twice the size of mainland Britain but has only two-thirds the population, Alaska is over eight times the size with just 750,000 people. We have to think differently.

In Britain rewilding can only mean the restoration of natural processes to wild places, small and large. It is, I think, the final part of a conservation strategy. This begins with preservation – stopping the continuing destruction or degradation of an area – and continues with restoration – repairing damage. Then the renewal of the land can begin, which is really what rewilding means, allowing nature to restore itself. 

The result of rewilding should be a healthier environment with greater biodiversity, which benefits everybody. An increasing number of studies show how important nature is to people’s mental and physical health. Rewilding is not just for an elite, it’s for everyone. Indeed, we are part of nature, not apart from it, and the health of nature is our health.

In the Cascade Mountains

Sadly though, what many people regard as a healthy natural environment is actually quite damaged and degraded. The concept of shifting baseline syndrome explains this. Each generation tends to assume that the state of the natural world they grew up with is the norm. This can result in keeping places in a poor condition or even trying to return them to that condition. This is a natural reaction. I remember first visiting the Lake District as a boy and thinking of it as a huge natural wilderness, pristine and perfect. Then I discovered the Scottish Highlands and thought I’d found paradise (I sometimes still feel that!). Only after returning from half a year spent walking through the magnificent wild forests and mountains along the Pacific Crest Trail in the Western USA did I notice how bare the hills and glens were, how few trees grew in the British hills. Why weren’t they there? I’d read about the Caledonian forest in the writings of Frank Fraser Darling but only when I’d seen the glorious forests in the Sierra Nevada and Cascade mountains did I start to understand what we have lost. 

In the Sierra Nevada
 
Knowing how damaged much of our wild land is could be dispiriting. The great American conservationist Aldo Leopold in The Sand County Almanac, an important book published in 1949, decades before the term rewilding had been invented, said ‘ one of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds. Much of the damage inflicted on land is quite invisible to laymen’. Today I think we have more cause to hope than back in the 1940s. More people do understand the damage that has been done. Educating the others is a key task though. To support rewilding people need to understand why it’s necessary. Shifting baseline syndrome again. If you think the land is as it should be you’re not going to support moves to change it.

Glen Affric

In Britain I think rewilding starts with forest restoration. In this sense it’s only a new name for something that started many years ago. One of the key figures in this was the late Dick Balharry, former John Muir Trust Chair, when he was warden at Beinn Eighe, Britain’s first national nature reserve, in the 1960s (see Beinn Eighe: The Mountain Above The Wood). He continued this work in the 1980s at the Creag Meagaidh National Nature Reserve. In both places healthy regenerating forests can now be seen, which is very heartening. Since then forest restoration has increased in many areas such as the John Muir Trust’s Li and Coire Dhorrcail on Ladhar Bheinn in Knoydart, which won a Scotland’s Finest Woods Award in 2015, and other JMT estates like Ben Nevis, Quinag, and East Schiehallion.

Glen nevis
 
Elsewhere the  RSPB at places like Abernethy Forest in the Cairngorms, many Woodland Trust estates throughout the UK, and Wild Land Ltd's Glen Feshie all have flourishing forest regeneration. Then there’s the work of Trees for Life in places like GlenAffric and the Borders Forest Trust with the Carrifran Wildwood. Forest and Land Scotland (formerly the Forestry Commission), once a main cause of the destruction of natural forests, is now allowing some forests to recover such as Glenmore in the Cairngorms. Perhaps most encouraging of all is when organisations work together to the same ends. Cairngorms Connect is an encouraging exampled with its “bold and ambitious 200-year vision to enhance habitats, species and ecological processes across a vast area within the Cairngorms National Park.”

Glen Feshie

In the Lake District the Wild Ennerdale project is particularly interesting with its vision ‘to allow the evolution of Ennerdale as a wild valley for the benefit of people, relying more on natural processes to shape its landscape and ecology’. That last phrase could be a definition of rewilding. Like Cairngorms Connect Wild Ennerdale is also a partnership of different bodies, public and private, and local people. This is important. Rewilding needs the support of communities and a wide range of organisations. It should grow out of places rather than be imposed from outside. That means rewilding may be a slow process in some areas, but local support is essential if it’s to be successful in the long run so if it takes time to gain that we just have to be patient. 

Once forests start to regenerate and spread the richness of the fauna and flora rapidly increases. Walk through a new forest and see the wide variety of undergrowth and the number of birds then compare this with the bareness and silence of a treeless valley.  This was the case at Creag Meagaidh where sheep and deer had led to a bare degraded landscape. Since it became a nature reserve in 1986 and the over-grazing was ended the change has been startling as a healthy new forest emerges.  

Creag Meagaidh National Nature Reserve

With regeneration wildlife moves in, previously over-grazed vegetation flourishes. There is a problem in Britain though. And that is being an island. Animals already here -pine martens, red squirrels, badgers and more – will move into new forests. Birds can arrive from overseas, mammals can’t. On mainland Europe predators like wolves, bears and lynx are slowly increasing their territories. They can’t reach Britain though. Apex predators like these are not just important for directly controlling the numbers of grazing animals by hunting them but also by the effect they have on their behaviour, keeping them moving so they don’t over-graze an area, keeping them out of areas that could be seen as traps. This concept is known as a trophic cascade and was first described by Aldo Leopold when he noted overgrazing by deer after wolves were exterminated. 

Ryvoan Pass
 
We don’t have wolves, but we can mimic their behaviour. In popular areas this happens by accident. The paths through Glenmore Forest to the Ryvoan Pass are walked regularly, often by large numbers of people. I’ve never seen any deer or even signs of deer here. Forest regeneration is extensive. In the woods round my home there are roe deer. Until a decade or so ago our neighbours had dogs that often roamed free. Seeing deer was very rare and I never saw them outside the forest. Since the dogs went the deer have become bold and I often see them out in the fields far from the nearest trees even in the middle of the day. They’ve learnt it’s safe to do so.

Trees for Life has an interesting scheme at their Dundreggan Estate in the Scottish Highlands called Project Wolf. In this teams of volunteers walk through the woods in the evening, night and early morning to disturb the deer and give seedlings a better chance of survival. I think this is a fascinating idea that could be used elsewhere. 

Until the climate is right for the return of wolves, which I think is a long time in the future, culling deer, removal or reduction of sheep numbers, fencing woods, and schemes like Project Wolf are the only ways to ensure forest regeneration. This in Britain is rewilding. 

This is an edited version of a piece originally written for the John Muir Trust.

Sunday, 26 April 2020

Memorable Mountains 2: Ben Macdui

View across the Avon basin to Ben Macdui

Second in this series of memorable mountains I'm thinking about during the lockdown is one I've climbed well over a hundred times in all conditions at all times of the year. I've been up it in hot sunshine, torrential rain, blizzards and at night. I've been up it in sandals and on skis, snowshoes and crampons. I've camped high on its flanks.


Ben Macdui is the highest mountain in the Cairngorms and the second highest in Scotland and has been a 'local' hill for thirty years.  It's a great hulk of a hill that's not particularly distinctive and which doesn't stand out from afar. The best viewpoints in my opinion are across the trench of the Avon basin and across the Lairig Ghru from Braeriach.

Ben Macdui from Braeriach

Ben Macdui's glory doesn't lie in its shapely summit though but in its remote position on the southern edge of the Cairngorm Plateau and the sense of space and wildness all around. Reaching it always feels an achievement, especially in winter when the snow is deep and daylight hours short.


In summer the walk to the summit across the Plateau or by steeper routes from other directions is stony. This is a rock mountain, too high, too windswept, and too cold for much vegetation to survive.


In winter the mountain is transformed into an arctic-like wilderness. It's hard to believe it's the same place.

The Cairngorm Plateau and Braeriach

The summit is broad and gently sloping with a big cairn surmounted by a trig point. Views are foreshortened. For the best ones you need to walk a short distance south or west.



Summer or winter Ben Macdui is a favourite mountain and one on which I've had many great adventures and wonderful times. I'll be returning as soon as the lockdown is over.


Saturday, 25 April 2020

Crossing the Grand Canyon on the Arizona Trail twenty years ago

The Grand Canyon

On March 24, 2000, I reached the place that had led me to walk the Arizona Trail, the Grand Canyon, the most awe-inspiring landscape I have ever seen. This was my second visit and the effect was as overwhelming as ever. That evening I walked to the South Rim and stared into the black impentratable depths.

The Colorado River

The next day I descended into those depths, down the turning, twisting Bright Angel Trail as it cut through layers of rock, millions of years, to the Colorado River where the rocks are 1.8 billion years old. Down here I felt I was in deep time itself, the great cliffs rising thousands of feet to the present far above me.


That evening I walked out along a side trail and bivouaced under the stars. I woke as the first rays of the sun turned cliffs high above red and gold. A raven called harshly. From a yucca came the much sweeter song of a cactus wren. Otherwise I was alone amongst this vast beauty. It was one of the best camps of my life.

Early light on Zoroaster Temple

A long hot marvellous day ensued as I wound my way up the North Kaibab Trail some four and a half thousand feet to the North Rim. There I camped amongst big ponderosa pines and Douglas firs. I'd left the desert for the forest.

The North Kaibab Canyon

Four more days and I was at the Utah border and the Arizona Trail walk was over. It had been a tremendous trip, one of my favourites. And the highlight was the Grand Canyon, splendid, immense, unfathomable.

View from the North Rim

The full story of my walk is told in my book Crossing Arizona.


Thursday, 23 April 2020

Memorable Mountains 1: Mount Whitney

Mount Whitney & Timberline Lake, October 2016

During the lockdown many people are sharing favourite views, trips, campsites, mountains and more. I've joined in with reminiscences of my Arizona Trail hike. Today I'm starting a new occasional series about memorable mountains I've climbed. I find thinking about these trips and looking at my photographs a reassuring thing to do at this time.

The first mountain is far away in the High Sierra in California. It's one I've climbed twice, far apart in time and conditions. The first was in 1982 during my Pacific Crest Trail hike. The second was in 2016 during a walk from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley. Both trips are highlights of my outdoors life and Mount Whitney was the high point on both of them.


Mount Whitney is the highest mountain in the 48 contiguous States and the terminus of the John Muir and High Sierra Trails. As with all highest summits from Snowdon to Everest it is very popular and permits are required to climb it in order to control the numbers.

On the ascent, May 1982

Hiking the PCT in 1982 my permit for the trail included Whitney, not that there were any rangers on the mountain to check it. The High Sierra was still snowbound, the trail buried. I went through with three other hikers, feeling it was safer in a group. We took a day off to climb Whitney. Ice axe and crampins were needed throughout and in places the ascent was quite scary as we edged along narrow strips of snow with big drops to the side.

On the summit, May 1982

My second ascent was completely different. It was in October after a long dry summer. The mountain was barely recognisable from thirty-four years earlier. Instead of snow there was rock in vast quantities. My route was the same but this time there was a trail and other people, many other people.

The trail up Mount Whitney, October 2016

What didn't change were the vast views, the sense of wildness, the beauty of the landscape. Mount Whitney is a wonderful mountain in a wonderful place and remembering my two ascents always lifts my spirits.

On the summit, October 2016