Book Review: Between the Sunset and the Sea by Simon Ingram

Everyone’s favourite mountains are different. Many factors come into the choices, some of them very personal. Trail magazine editor Simon Ingram’s selection in this book, subtitled A View of 16 British Mountains, is quite unusual but there are reasons behind his choices. In part it’s to illustrate different aspects of mountain culture in its widest sense – geology, history, science, art, adventure – and in part it’s to tell the stories of his own experiences on these hills. The book ranges from the Northwest Highlands to the Brecon Beacons by way of the Pennines, Lake District and Snowdonia. It’s divided into seasons but, more significantly, into single word topics such as space, weather, science, art, sport, with a hill for each one. Some are obvious – Schiehallion for science, Cross Fell for weather. Others are more esoteric – Ben Loyal for light, Ben Macdui for terror. Whatever the topic and mountain the author ties together his ascents and stories about the mountain well. There’s a great deal of information packed into the book in way that makes absorbing it easy. Subjects include the history of the Ordnance Survey, slate mining in Snowdonia, the beginning of rock climbing as a sport, the weight of the earth, art in the Lake District, mountain legends and many more. 

The author’s own experiences, whilst at times seemingly more fraught than necessary, help the disparate topics hang together to give an enticing picture of the wealth of Britain’s mountain culture. By describing his adventures Simon Ingram gives life to the factual information, entwining it with the mountains themselves so it enhances them. The mix is well done and the book is very readable. I enjoyed it greatly and will undoubtedly read it again.

The title comes from a poem by Geoffrey Winthrop Young by the way and there are many other literary references from a wide variety of writers – George Borrow, Ursula K Le Guin, Samuel Johnson, Margaret Mead, Daniel Defoe, Robert Louis Stevenson, Edmund Burke amongst them. This is a very erudite book. 

Trees & Traps & Sunshine: A Stroll Up A Local Hill

The Hills of Cromdale

Local hills can easily be neglected and it was with surprise that I realised it was two years since I’d been up Tom Mor just across the glen from my house. So on a recent cold but sunny afternoon two of us set off to visit this little 484 metre summit, actually the terminus of a long finger of moorland jutting out from an undulating heathery plateau in the north-east corner of the Cairngorms National Park. Tom Mor is a heavily managed hill, the slopes are used for sheep grazing and grouse shooting, and are covered with the scars of heather burning, There’s a forestry plantation on one flank too and a communications mast near the summit. I don’t often see much wildlife on Tom Mor other than red grouse and the vegetation is rather minimal, mostly heather and more heather. The reason for climbing the hill is for the views, which are extensive in all directions.

At least this is how it was. Now the hill is changing. There was little sign of this as we began to walk up the rough vehicle track that curves round its flanks, almost reaching the summit. Indeed the only visible additions to the landscape were rather dispiriting. On each of the little burns that ran across the track there were logs with spring traps in cages on them, five in total. None of the traps were set and they all looked pretty rusty. The logs showed that they had been placed fairly recently. 

Higher up, as the first patches of snow that remained from the thaw of a few days previously appeared, the changes were much more uplifting. Little pines were poking up through the heather, lots of them, the beginnings of a new forest. There must be fewer sheep on the hill, far fewer. As we climbed so the trees increased in number. The broad summit was covered with them. If left alone this will be a wooded hill in a few decades.

Young trees on the summit

For now the only shelter on the summit is provided by two large well-built cairns and as a bitter wind was sweeping out of the north we took cover behind one of these while we donned extra clothing. Across Strathspey the Hills of Cromdale were still snow-spattered while to the south the bright line of the River Spey led the eye through forests and fields to where the hazy, cloud-capped Cairngorms hung white against the blue sky. A waxing moon stood high in the sky and the wispy streaks of cloud began to turn pink and orange as the sun sank into thicker clouds far to the west.

Strathspey

The colour began to fade from the sky as we left the summit for a direct descent down rough tussocky slopes to the dark shadows of the pine plantation. Like the slopes above this wood has been left alone and is now slowly reverting to a more natural state. Once inside the trees it didn’t feel like being in a plantation. Or on an even hillside. Whilst from outside the forest looks like it’s on a uniform slope it’s not and inside there are valleys and hills and twists and turns. The contrast is great, and the wood is far more interesting than it appears. 

Below the wood a double somewhat rotten fence required careful negotiation before boggy fields led to the road. I looked back at the silhouette of the hill. Tom Mor may only be an over-managed little hill but those young trees will draw me back soon. Higher

BBC Countryfile features on wild camping gear & the Cairngorms in winter

I've chosen a selection of gear for wild camping for the March issue of BBC Countryfile magazine, which is just out. I'll be interested to hear what people think of my selection! A version of the feature with fewer items is online here.



















This is my second piece for Countryfile. The first one was about the Cairngorms in winter and appeared in the January issue.

An Igloo & Ski Tour in the Glen Affric hills

Igloo building under way

Last year the only igloo I built was indoors in Glasgow during a heatwave in July (see this post). Less than six weeks into this year and I’ve helped build one where it belongs, in the snowy hills, and spent the night inside. This took place last weekend when I set off into the Glen Affric hills with fellow skiers Andy, Graham and Chris from the Inverness BackcountrySnowsports Club. The forecast was for cold stormy weather, perhaps not so good for skiing but probably excellent for igloo living.

Climbing to the snow

 

There was little snow in the bottom of the glen or on the lower slopes and we had to carry our skis a fair distance, an arduous task when climbing through bogs and tussocky heather on steep slopes. It was a relief to reach fuller snow cover and be able to continue up the slopes of Toll Creagach,  the easternmost of the high Glen Affric hills, with our skis on our feet not our backs. 

On skis at last

 

A cold wind was blowing and bits of sleet and snow occasionally came with it. The summits were in thick cloud and the world was grey and white. A fairly sheltered spot below a gentle bank looked promising as an igloo site. Prodding the snow with my ski pole I found it came almost up to the handle. We’d build the igloo here. Igloo Ed’s Icebox was unstrapped from Andy’s pack and soon the first circle was well under way. Below a few inches of powder the snow was dense and solid and easily formed into solid blocks. 

The igloo begins

 

Nearing completion

Not long after dark the final snow was heaped onto the top of our home for the night and we could move in, marvelling as always at how quiet and still it was inside. Andy had organised the food and was soon heating up pasta and a tasty sauce. As usual it was cosy in the igloo, while outside the wind strengthened and a mix of sleet and snow with occasional rain fell.

 

Cosy inside

Dawn came with pale light slowly filtering into the igloo. No brightness, no sunshine. But then we hadn’t expected any. Hot drinks and pancakes warmed us up for venturing outside. Here a touch of hazy sunshine and patches of blue sky encouraged us to go for a ski before packing up so with light packs we headed further up Toll Creagach. The suggestion of clearing skies quickly faded and eventually we reached the edge of the cloud and the light became flat and hazy. Above us a stony, heathery broad ridge only partially snow-covered led into the mist. This was far enough we decided. Time to remove the climbing skins and ski back down. 

In the morning

The snow was reasonable but the light poor for the descent. My muscles soon made me aware that I hadn’t done any skiing for a long time. Still it was fun to link turns down the slope, even if some of them were rather wobbly and certainly not elegant. By the time we reached the igloo the wind and snow were becoming heavier. After more hot drinks we packed up and headed down, the skiing more awkward now with big packs and on wetter less consistent snow. Soon there were heather clumps to avoid too and eventually not enough snow patches to link together. Down here the snow had turned to rain too and it was a wet walk out to the cars.

Winter backpacking, floods, ice axes & crampons, portable rechargers: the March issue of The Great Outdoors

The latest issue of The Great Outdoors is in the shops now with a theme of Scotland in Winter. With that in mind my backpacking column is about winter backpacking in the Highlands and I review five ice axes and five pairs of crampons.

Continuing the Scottish winter theme David Lintern describes a three-day, tough-sounding, snowy trip in the Highlands, illustrated with some dramatic pictures; and Will Copestake tells of the even tougher challenges of the Cairngorms in winter during his amazing self-propelled year-long journey round Scotland.

Also snowy though not Scottish are Stewart Smith on photographing a Lake District winter with, of course, some wonderful images, and Hilary Sharp describing snowshoe trips in the Alps. The Hill Skills pages are devoted to the serious topic of avalanches - essential reading for any snowy hills.

Elsewhere in this issue I write about the devastating floods earlier in the winter and how we can find out about the damage they did to bridges and paths and how we can support the communities involved; Karen Lloyd describes a walk to Piel Island off the coast of Cumbria; Carey Davies goes far from the snow to India's Western Ghats; Roger Smith thinks about the importance of trees and reviews the latest edition of Hugh Westacott's The Walker's Handbook; and Jim Perrin is moved by The Great Soul of Siberia by Sooyong Park. In the gear pages I review five portable rechargers and Will Renwick has a First Look at the Rab Nebula insulated jacket.