Primus OmniLite Ti stove review

Recently I've been testing the new Primus OmniLite Ti multi-fuel stove, a lightweight version of the excellent OmniFuel. My review appears on the TGO website here.

Snow on the Cairngorms, Excitement on Facebook

Yesterday I looked out on a grey day, with rain falling and a cold wind. The hills were hidden. Hours later I glanced out of the window to see the cloud had risen slightly and the edges of the Cairngorms could be seen, white with new snow. Grabbing a camera with telephoto lens I had time to take two quick shots through the closed window before the clouds descended again. Thinking someone might be interested I posted the above picture on Facebook. To my surprise 4o people liked it and there were 6 shares and 12 comments - which is far more than my Facebook posts usually receive. Clearly there is great interest in snow and the coming winter!

Book of the Year: MyOutdoors

On the first anniversary of its publication World Mountain Ranges: Scotland has been chosen by MyOutdoors.co.uk, also celebrating its first anniversary, as Book of the Year. I am delighted!

Trekking in Nepal

The trekking season is just beginning in Nepal, where caravans of trekkers, porters and Sherpas will be heading out towards the high peaks. I've been treking in Nepal three times and it is a wonderful experience. Here's a piece I wrote for TGO after my first trek many years ago. The photos were taken on my second trek, which was to Makalu Base Camp.

LIFE ON TREK

“Tea,sahib!”

6.00am.The cheerful voice of the Sherpa wakes you from a drowsy half-sleep. Fumbling with the tent zip in the darkness you eventually manage to pull it open. A shiver of cold air slices in through the slot of the open zip. Outside the sky is clear and black with bright stars and the thin pale crescent of a waning moon. The silhouettes of black jagged mountains line the horizon. Much closer to hand a large mug of sweet tea steams. The bed tea, as it’s called, wakes and warms you. There’s also a bowl of warm water so you can splash the sleep out of your face. Another day on trek has begun.

Half an hour after waking you stumble, swathed in warm clothing to ward off the still freezing air, to the outdoor breakfast table where you join the other trekkers. A flicker of orange marks the rising sun. Soon the bright harsh light reaches the camp but it’s still too early for it to have much warmth. As breakfast is eaten porters and Sherpas bustle about taking down tents and packing gear. Soon a long line of laden porters snakes its way up the trail .Most are carrying dokos - cone-shaped cane baskets -loaded with all sorts of items. A few have unusual loads; a sack of cauliflowers almost as big as the porter, the huge folded canvas of a large tent. All the loads are supported by straps around the porters’ heads.

After breakfast you pack the gear you’ll need during the day into your pack and the rest into your kitbag, which is quickly whisked away by a porter who also dismantles your tent. As the last porters head up the trail you set off after them. At times you walk with other trekkers, at others alone, sometimes with no one else in sight. There’s always a Sherpa at the back of the group in case anyone falls behind though and when any potential difficulty appears – a steep exposed section where the path climbs over a rock spur, a stream that has to be forded – there are Sherpas to provide help if necessary.

After an hour or so some of the porters are passed, resting and having their first foodof the day. A couple of hours more and you see a large groundsheet spread out near the path. Close by the cook crew, who shoot off as soon as they have prepared breakfast each morning, have set up a kitchen from which the wonderful smells of fresh baking are wafting. A porter brings over a jug of hot fruit juice that has a wonderfully restorative effect. The leisurely lunch lasts an hour or more and while you eat, drink and rest the porters pass by and disappear into the distance. High above large birds of prey – eagles? vultures?– circle above the snowy peaks.

After an hour and a half the leisurely lunch is over. You continue along the trail,watching the snow-capped mountains, the streams, the rocks, the clouds, the flowers, the birds and the rest of the wild nature you have come to see and be part of. Occasionally a massive hairy yak lumbers into view, then another and another, each one loaded with goods for these trails are the highways of this country, the trade routes and market roads. The traders and other locals passing between villages are friendly. “Namaste”, they say, bowing slightly with their hands held as in prayer. You return the traditional greeting –“Namaste – Greetings to the God within you”

On passes long thin strands of prayer flags flutter from rock cairns, spreading good wishes on the wind. As you approach a village other signs of the Buddhist beliefs of the local people appear – stone mani (prayer) walls, chortens (stone monuments) and then an ancient gompa (monastery) high on the hillside above the flat-roofed stonehouses of the village. Flocks of sheep and goats graze, guarded by small children. Other children wander around collecting yak dung for fires. The caravan of porters, Sherpas and trekkers winds through the tiny dusty stone-walled fields around the village. On a flat rise beyond the houses the sirdar – the head Sherpa – stops. This is tonight’s campsite. It is seven hours since setting off in the morning. The timing has gone to plan and the porters arrive at the same time as the trekkers and start setting up camp. That’s one reason for the long lunch. It means you don’t have to wait, perhaps in the cold, for the porters, who need more frequent rest stops due to their heavier loads, to catch up. From the moment a porter picks up your kitbag in the morning until he reaches the next camp it’s impossible to get at its contents. All you have is what you are carrying in your pack. It’s wise to keep a warm top in there.

Camp is soon set up and the large cook tent is soon throbbing with the roar of paraffin burners. Those trekkers still with some energy explore round the camp,others lie in their tents and read or doze or gather together and discuss the days trek. Soon the sun has set and the temperature is falling as it grows rapidly dark. The porters light a fire for warmth and the flickering flames throw tree shadows on the rock face behind them. Dinner is called and you gather in the large mess tent for a tasty and filling meal of curry and dhal. As you eat the trek leader and the Sirdar discuss the plans for the next day and go over the experiences so far. Then it’s back to the warmth of tent and sleeping bag,leaving the mess tent for the porters to sleep in, and dreams of the mountains and more days trekking through spectacular landscapes.

Such is a typical day on a trek. It sounds relaxing and it is. But it can also be quite arduous. Most treks climb many thousands of feet to altitudes we aren’t used to, altitudes that slow us down, make our breath come in short pants and our limbs feel heavy. To acclimatise to these altitudes trekkers should climb slowly, no more than 1,000 feet/900 metres a day once above 12 to 14,000feet/3600 to 4200 metres. Paths can be rough and rocky and steep, climbing seemingly endlessly to distant passes. Slowly you put one foot in front of the other, concentrating on the dramatic scenery rather than the effort of walking. At other times you drift along gentle trails beside swirling torrents and through majestic forests. At some camps you stay for two nights allowing time to rest or explore local villages and valleys.

Whatever the nature of a trek it is a wonderful opportunity to enjoy the culture and landscape of very different countries. Go with an open mind and respect for the local people and trekking can be an enlightening, inspiring experience.

Pacific Northwest Trail Talk

On October 20th I'm giving an illustrated talk on my Pacific Northwest Trail walk for Tiso's in Inverness. The talk is at the Millburn Academy at 7.30 and tickets are £8. Profits go to local mountain rescue teams. Details here.

The picture was taken in Glacier National Park not far from the start of the trail.

A Wild, Wild Camp

Sometimes trusting the weather forecast works, sometimes it doesn’t. Last night it didn’t. Eventually. A window between gales was suggested, clearing evening skies then a starry night before the next storm blew in and the winds began to rise the next day. The forecast was six or seven hours out. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. Most people would have been asleep when the weather changed. As I was. Except that I was also in a tent in the mountains at 700 metres.

The trip had begun as expected. I set off up Glen Feshie in the Northern Cairngorms on a cloudy afternoon. After a short while I left the main path and cut across tussocks and heather to a great cleft in the hillside, the mouth of Coire Garbhlach, a twisting, secretive valley that cuts deep into the Moine Mhor plateau. This is a curious place for the Cairngorms where corries are usually wide open and spacious. As you follow the stream on a series of rough, faint deer tracks there is a feeling of entering another world, a narrow canyon with steep walls and shattered rock towers high on its sides, the sky just a slash of pale light far above. Soon the mouth has vanished and nowhere else seems to exist. Long and thin, the corrie keeps going, the stream crashing down in waterslides, falls and cascades.

Eventually the slopes became steeper and stonier and I realised I was unlikely to find a camp site anywhere ahead. Some slightly sloping tussocks would have to do. As I pitched the tent a gentle breeze wafted up the corrie while high above blue sky appeared and sunlight lit the upper slopes. Leaving camp I clambered up loose scree and greasy vegetation to view the big final waterfall, hidden in a narrow ravine. The light was fading as I descended back to camp, finding the slippery terrain more awkward than in ascent. Stars began to appear in the darkening sky and I sat in the tent door way eating supper and staring out at the wild world. Then I fell asleep gazing out at the Plough hanging above the hillside.

1 a.m. and the world began to change. I was woken by cold air hitting my face and the tent door flapping noisily. I zipped it shut and lay back down, aware that the wind was coming down the corrie in great roaring gusts that I heard seconds before they shook the tent. I slept again though as it was 4 a.m. when I next glanced at my watch and wondered if the tent would hold. Half-waking, half-sleeping I slipped uneasily through the next two hours. Then the wind strengthened and the tent shook more, hitting me in the face. The pole was bending alarmingly. Time to pack up. Not bothering with careful packing I bundled everything into the pack inside the tent so nothing blew away then ventured outside. A rush of wind nearly took my legs from under me. I’d thought maybe a tent peg or two had pulled out but they were all firm. Instead some guylines had slackened off, allowing the fabric to flap wildly. The tent looked solid though. It was my carbon fibre trekking pole holding it up that concerned me. Soon I had the tent down and crammed into the top of the pack. All this was done by headlamp as the night was black and the sky now overcast. With the wind behind me I stumbled and lurched through the rocks and tussocks, down and out of that wild, wild place as the sky slowly lightened, with just an edge of dirty red to some clouds to show the sun was there. Down in the glen the trees were thrashing in the wind. I was back at my car less than seventeen hours after setting off. It felt longer. Soon, though, I was eating breakfast in an Aviemore café, watching the leaves blowing and rattling down the street. A gust of 75mph was recorded on Cairn Gorm, ferries were cancelled and travel disrupted. It was not a day for the hills.

Out Now: The Backpacker's Handbook Fourth Edition

This autumn sees the publication of the fourth edition of The Backpacker’s Handbook. The first edition came out in 1991 so the book, to my surprise, is now twenty years old. I’ve extensively updated it for this new edition with information on new fabrics like cuben fibre and new developments like heat exchanger stoves, wood burning stoves and modern airbeds. The digital revolution is in there too with computer mapping, smartphones, GPS and digital photography plus social networking and blogs, none of which existed twenty years ago, or even, for much of it, six years ago when the third edition came out. When I wrote the first edition much more that we now take for granted didn’t exist either – flipping through it I see there was no merino wool, no Paramo or eVent waterproofs, no Primaloft, no quilts, no titanium gear, no LED lights, no GPS, no digital anything. Silnylon almost creeps in with just one mention of “elastomer silicone-coated” flysheets and Gore-Tex and Therm-A-Rest were well established though.

Of course whilst gear has changed enormously backpacking itself hasn’t. Gear is still the means not the end, or should be. When I think back to backpacking trips it’s not the sleeping bag or stove I used that first comes to mind but the wild land and nature and the pleasure in being out there. The purpose of my book is to enable others to enjoy this by finding equipment and techniques that work well so they can ignore them and get on with enjoying what it’s really about.

The Backpacker’s Handbook is published by Ragged Mountain Press. 

November 1st. The book is out and in the shops now.