Landscapes in Space and Time

Last weekend was spent celebrating another decade of life passing by. Ten years ago a group of friends gathered in the hills of the Lake District for my fiftieth birthday. This year we went to one of the flattest places in northern England, the seaside resort of Southport on the Lancashire coast. I was brought up near here at Formby and my mother and one of my brothers and his family still live in the area. It was so that my mother could be present that I went to Southport. Saturday we gathered in a function room in a pub – the Blundell Arms – for talking, drinking and eating. Many of my old friends had not seen each other for many years and the air was thick with reminiscing. Ten years previously we had been in the Old Dungeon Ghyll in Langdale. And the next day some of us had headed up onto the fells. This year the only hills within many miles were the little sand dunes abutting the wide flat expanse of the vast beach that spreads from Southport to Liverpool. It was to the beach we went, to Crosby where the 100 iron men of Anthony Gormley’s Another Place are dotted over the sand from high to low water. Once identical these figures are showing the slow effects of time in changes wrought by the weather and the sea. The iron is rusting, barnacles cover those parts more in water than air, seaweed crawls up legs and twists round feet, faces lose definition and become spooky and alien. Wind blown sand has started to bury some of the figures while with others the wind has scoured away the sand revealing the plinths on which they stand. Beyond the motionless, rigid, dark figures giant pale wind turbines rise out of the sea, slightly hazy, slightly ghostly. These too were still, despite a breeze. Beyond the turbines to the north the sand and sea spreads out to the sky and the simple trilogy of golden rippled sand, dark wave streaked water and paler cloud streaked air is vast, fading into the distance without ending. Turning south the landscape changes and becomes jumbled, complicated, a mass of confusing shapes that are all angles and hard lines. This is Liverpool and the shapes are cranes, cathedrals, sky scrapers and more wind turbines, these ones turning. It’s a much more intense, closed-in landscape than the spaciousness of the sea and skyscape. Turning from one to the other was turning from the freedom and wildness of nature to the restrictions and confinements of the city, both available at a glance. The first is where I live in my head and where I have spent much of my life but I would not be without the second. My friends and family had come together from all over Britain, some travelling long distances. I am aware that modern urban civilisation had made this possible. Reconciling the urban with the wild is a never ending, never completed task, a constant balancing of desires and dislikes as I move through both landscapes in time as well as space.

Photo info: Iron Men & Wind Turbines, Crosby Beach. Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55 IS@55mm, 1/640 @ f5.6, ISO 100, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4.

New (little) book - Classic Munros: Ben Nevis & the Mamores

Just out is a new little volume in the Classic Munros guidebook series. This one, Ben Nevis & the Mamores, covers 17 Munros in the area, with Aonach Mor and Aonach Beag and the Grey Corries as well as the hills of the title. It's illustrated with photographs by Colin Baxter (also the publisher), Alan Gordon and myself plus maps by Wendy Price. For those who wonder what constitutes a "classic" Munro (the series won't cover every Munro) the answer is that I decide (well, someone has to) and I base my decision both on my opinion of the hill and the quality of possible routes. The previous volumes in the series covered Glen Coe and the Cairngorms. Future ones will cover Skye next spring and the Southern Highlands next summer.

Munro Changes

So the great Munro revision has happened, and Sgurr nan Ceannaichean, a pleasant if not that distinctive hill rising above Glen Carron, has been found to miss the all important 914.4 metre (3,000 feet) altitude by one metre and so is reclassified as a Corbett. The other hills surveyed - Munro Beinn Teallach above Loch Lagan, Munro Ben Vane above Loch Lomond and Corbett Sgurr a'Choire-bheithe in Knoydart - all retain their current status, though only by 0.2 metres in the case of the first. The last misses Munro status by just under a metre. All this has been discoverd by The Munro Society in field surveys carried out earlier this year. The reason is to have accurate lists - and not to sell more guidebooks and maps, as some cynics have suspected. The Munro Society doesn't sell anything and its members spent their money and time to do the surveys - and will do so again next year to check other hills near the magic cut-off altitude. Of course the Munro and Corbett guidebooks are all out of date now but one page inserts should do to explain the new position at least until the Munro Society has finished its surveys. Then will be the time for new editions.

Does all this matter? Of course not. Except as part of the game of collecting summits. The hills don't change and I would argue strongly that the finest and wildest of the four hills resurveyed is the lowest. It`s certainly the remotest and hardest to climb. Having lists sets targets and can act as an inspiration to go out in poor weather - which in itself can result in some wonderful days as well as some miserable ones. Changes in the lists are not that important. Since I started climbing the Scottish hills over thirty years ago there have been several changes to both the Munros and Corbetts lists. And none has made any significant difference. Of course if you just dash up to the top by the shortest route and the tick in the book is all then one or two hills more or less might seem to matter. But ticking off the hills should only be the superficial reason for climbing them. Exploration, beauty, adventure, nature, wildness, freedom are all far, far more important. So don`t forget Sgurr nan Ceannaichean. It's just as worth climbing as it was two days ago when it was a metre higher.

Photo info: Sgurr a’Choire-bheithe. Canon EOS 300D, Canon EF-S 18-55@55mm, 1/125 @ f5.6, ISO 100, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4.

Mountaineering Council of Scotland Gathering & The Northern Corries

The weekend just gone saw the annual Mountaineering Council of Scotland AGM and Gathering at Glenmore Lodge in the Cairngorms. As President I attended five meetings at which much business was done involving resolutions and motions and other unexciting sounding but essential stuff. There was some voting and an election too. The result is that we have a new streamlined and more flexible structure that should prove more efficient and simpler to run than the old one. In between the meetings I went to an excellent presentation by Geoff Monks of the Mountain Weather Information service, who answered a series of questions with detailed explanations (but not too technical for none meteorologists) that showed just how difficult it is to predict mountain weather when one glen can be dry and the one just a few miles away wet due to the complex nature of the interaction of terrain and air movement. After the AGM leading Scottish climber Dave Macleod gave a very interesting talk about his motivations for climbing and his latest project, a 500 metre route on the sea cliffs of Hoy in Orkney. This climb is still to be completed and Dave is reporting on it on his blog. The scenery looks spectacular, the climbing terrifying and the whole venture exciting and committing. Just descending to the base down wet, slimy and slippery looking rocks and vegetation looks hazardous enough. And then there are the fulmars on the cliffs vomiting up fish oil at you, just to add another element of wild nature.

Sunday morning saw more meetings while outside the clouds were low over the hills and drizzle filled the air. Once the business was over I wanted to go up into the hills to shake my head free of paperwork and organisational details and to remind myself just why the indoor stuff is necessary. The forecast was for a clearance in the afternoon, though with winds strengthening later. Watching and waiting for this to occur I had an early lunch/late breakfast (fried egg roll and coffee) in the Glenmore Café, from where I could watch the red squirrels and birds on the network of feeders and ropes just outside and look up at the grey clouds sweeping over Cairn Gorm. Inevitably other MCoS members drifted in and discussion of the AGM and the future continued.

Then, as the drizzle died away, the clouds rose above the summits and the sky showed bits of blue and touches of sun I headed across the mouths of Coire an t-Sneachda and Coire an Lochain. The burns running out of these great rock-backed bowls were white water torrents, foaming and splashing down the rocks, heavy with the recent rains. A rough path led up the side of Coire an Lochain and onto its parent peak Cairn Lochan. A strong and cold south-west wind swept over the stony expanse of the broad summit. All the hills to the west and the south were still thick with cloud. Only those to the east were clear and beyond them the sky lightened and shone. I guess it was a lovely sunny day on the coast. The wind and the cloud turned me away from my idea of heading for Ben Macdui and I turned east, along the tops of the corries, gazing down gullies to the little blue lochans far below. That these were full showed the wetness of the summer. Often at this time of year they are shrunken and diminished. Rock climbers were edging up the top of an arête on Stob Coire an t-Sneachda. A scattering of walkers, most clad in hats, gloves and waterproof jackets, dotted the slopes. The sun strengthened again and with the promise of late good light I ambled up Cairn Gorm but by the time I reached the summit the clouds had regained dominance and all was dull and flat. So I ambled back down again and descended the Fiacaill a’Choire Chais. These familiar hills, visited many times every year, had worked their magic again, as they always do. It is to protect them, to ensure they are there in the future for others to enjoy as well as for us now that the meetings and papers and discussions are needed.

Photo info: Looking down into Coire an Lochain from Cairn Lochan. Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55 IS@29mm, 1/250 @ f5.6, ISO 400, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4.

Floods

The rains finally eased during the morning of September 4 though showers continued throughout the day and the clouds remained low and threatening. Only after dark did the sky start to clear. A bright moon appeared to shine down on the sodden land. All day the radio reported the aftermath of the rain – people evacuated, some rescued by boat, cars swept away, streets awash, bridges and trees swept away, highways and railways closed as the rivers Lossie and Spey burst their banks. The towns of Fochabers and Rothes and the city of Elgin were inundated. In Aberdeen a month’s rainfall fell in 24 hours, the wettest single day on record. As the day ended there were still flood warnings in force for the River Lossie at Elgin and the River Spey from Fochabers to Spey Bay.

In Strathspey there was less rain than further east with 31mm falling yesterday (76mm feel at Lossiemouth) but the River Spey in Grantown-on-Spey was still 5’ 6” above the usual summer level. I walked along the banks watching the surging brown wave-capped waters rushing seawards. In many places the path was under several feet of water and I had to clamber up the bank to the nearby road. Trees and bushes swayed and quivered as the water swirled round them. A few ducks swam up unaccustomed channels pecking at vegetation usually well above the water line. The forecast is for dry weather, at least until late into the next day, when rain may again fall. Then more stormy weather is predicted for next week. This wet summer is not over yet.

Photo info: The River Spey at Grantown-on-Spey, September 4, 3.30pm. Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55@18mm, 1/200 @ f5.6, ISO 200, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4.

Rain, rain & rain

It has been raining for over 24 hours. Steady constant rain keeps up a rhythmic pattering on the windows. Hard tracks and paths are ribbons of water, soft ones muddy quagmires. Venturing out I wore waterproof socks with my sandals and put my camera in a waterproof housing through which I could take photographs. Wearing a thin waterproof jacket over a long sleeved base layer I was just warm enough while walking but soon felt chilly when stopping to take photographs, watch the swirling water in the burns or look at the slimy, rotting fungi in the damp woods. Back home the outdoor thermometer reached a high of only 10ºC. Dense dark clouds hung low on the hills. I had lights on in the house all day. The woods smelt fresh and sharp in the wetness though and the air felt clean and pure. Walking tracks through field and forest was quite exhilarating. I would not like to have been high in the hills however.

This was one of the wettest days of a wet summer. July was the wettest month in the records of Strathspey Weather, which date back to 2001. August was the second wettest month this year and September has had over half August’s rainfall in the first three days. There are reports of flooding from the Borders to Inverness. The East Coast rail line and the A1 trunk road were both closed due to floods and many roads are reported just passable with care. There are 21 flood watches in force across Scotland and five flood warnings, including local rivers the Spey and the Findhorn. Living at 1,000 feet near the top of a hill I am not concerned about floods affecting my house but I know many people will spend the night either dealing with floods or worrying about them occurring, especially as the forecast is for heavy rain overnight and well into tomorrow.

Photo info: Strathspey in the rain. Canon EOS 450D, Canon EF-S 18-55@53mm, 1/60 @ f5.6, ISO 100, Aquapac waterproof SLR case, raw file converted to JPEG in Lightroom 2.4.

Pacific Crest Trail & Bivi Bags: October TGO

The October issue of TGO is out this week (my copy arrived in the post today). My backpacking column is about the Pacific Crest Trail, which I hiked in 1982 and which I think is the ultimate backpacking trail. Of all the long walks I have done it’s the one I would most like to repeat. In gear I review 15 bivi bags from companies like Rab, PHD, Mountain Equipment, Alpkit and Terra Nova.

This is also the TGO Challenge issue with the application form for 2010, reminiscences of the 2009 Challenge, Roger Smith on 30 years of the Challenge and John Manning on the gear he used this year.

Elsewhere in the magazine Jim Perrin has a powerful piece, one of his best, on who are the real environmentalists (hint: it’s not those calling for windfarms in wild places); Emily Rodway spends a day with artist Andy Goldsworthy; Andy Stothert walks the Wasdale fells midweek and finds few people; photographer Keith Brame describes spending 2009 taking pictures of the John Muir Trust’s spectacular Scottish estates (and shows some of his splendid images); Graham Forbes gives 50 tongue-in-cheek rules for hillwalking; Steve Razetti looks at the changing face of the trekking business and John Manning looks at gear for trekking.

Photo info: Camp in the Palisades Basin, High Sierra, on a return visit in 2002, 20 years after my Pacific Crest Trail hike. Canon EOS 300 SLR, Sigma 24-70 lens, Fujichrome 100 film. Processed in Lightroom 2.4.