More Rain In Glen Feshie

Beasts in the glen

Not long after the stormy trip through Glen Feshie and over the Lairig Ghru with Tony Hobbs, as described in this post, I was back in Glen Feshie with Wolfgang Petter and his friend Stefan. The original plan, as with Tony, had been a walk in the NW Highlands but the weather forecast had us changing that to an overnight trip in Glen Feshie. Not that the forecast for the Cairngorms was good but Glen Feshie should be sheltered from the storms forecast for the hills.

River Feshie in the rain

We certainly had shelter from the wind. There was barely a breeze as we walked up the glen. But not from the rain, which fell much of the time. High above the tops were hidden in thick grey cloud. The wetness had one benefit though. The autumn colours glowed.

Stefan viewing the River Feshie and the Allt Garbhlach

The river surged and roared. Stream crossings required care to keep feet dry. The vegetation was wet though and at times pushing through it unavoidable.

Impressive horns!

Shaggy and wet, Highland cattle, introduced into the glen to break up the ground so that more varied vegetation can grow, stared at us from damp meadows. Some were on the track at a stream crossing, unbothered at our passing by.

Wolfgang outside his tent

We made camp on some reasonably flat ground not far from the river, or at least one of the many channels it formed. The rain continued and we were soon undercover, making hot drinks and food.

Dawn view

Rain fell most of the night, or at least it was doing so the few times I woke, and the tent was soaked in the morning. There was much condensation inside the flysheet too. Given that the air and the ground were saturated this wasn't surprising. I was warm and dry in the inner tent anyway.

Wolfgang admiring a patch of blue sky

Dawn came with drifting mists and swirling high clouds. There were patches of blue at times though and the rain had stopped. With no need to leave early as we were just walking back down the glen we wandered about admiring the clouds, the mist, the river, the forest, the wildness. Peaceful, magical, perfect.

Early morning clouds & mist

The walk back along the glen was uneventful. It didn't rain. The cattle had moved on. The streams were already lower than the previous day. There were masses of fungi in the damp forest.

River Feshie channel near camp

Wolfgang made a video of the trip which should appear later in the years on his McPetter's Schottland YouTube Channel. He has already posted a video of the trip to Craig bothy he and Stefan had made the week before our trip.

There were fungi everywhere

Ten Years Ago: The Strangest Last Day Of A Long Walk - wake up in Death Valley, go to sleep in Las Vegas.

Death Valley camp, morning, October 23, 2016

On October 23, 2016, I had the strangest end to a long-distance walk I've ever experienced. It was the last day of a month-long walk from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley in California. I woke up in the wilderness with mountains behind me, desert in front of me. No sign of humanity. I went to sleep in a hotel room in downtown Las Vegas. No mountains. No desert. Just the bright, noisy city.

Hotel corridor, Las Vegas, evening, October 23, 2016

Las Vegas felt surreal, an aberration. The real world was mountains, deserts, trees, rivers, lakes, wildlife. Las Vegas was bright lights, crammed-together tall buildings, traffic, and endless advertisements for casinos and shows. What strange reality was this? 

I wandered into the Grand Hotel where I'd booked a room. To reach it I had to walk through a vast hall of slot machines. In my room a huge television offfere money off the first few bets and told me I could spend my time in Las Vegas gambling without ever leaving my room. That's why the room in this luxurious hotel was so cheap. Money came from accommodation was to lure you in.

My hotel.

Ignoring the gambling lures (I don't gamble so it wasn't hard) I headed out for something I did need: a meal. The hotel didn't offer this. Why eat when you could bet? Outside it was pouring with rain, something I was told never happens here. I wore my waterproof jacket, the first time it had come out of my pack since I set off on the walk. At least there was something natural here. Rain.

To cope with the strange unreality of Las Vegas my mind switched into detached observer mode. I was not part of this world, I was here simply to watch, to experience a place I never intended visiting again. 

I posted some commentary and some different still pictures on my YouTube channel.

The year after the walk I wrote a piece about it for The Great Outdoors magazine which is available here. I also wrote a piece on the gear I used.

Autumn Storms in the Cairngorms on a four-night trip

Approaching Bod an Deamhain 

We should have been in Torridon. At least, that was the plan. A forecast of stormy weather had us deciding to shift the trip a few days forwards. The forecast shifted with us. Maybe Torridon wasn’t a good idea. The forecast looked a little less stormy in the Cairngorms. Also, there we had options for more sheltered routes than in Torridon, with more trees, more long glens. The Cairngorms it would be.

This was Tony Hobb’s annual autumn trip to the Highlands. Stormy weather was not unusual on these ventures though the previous year we’d had fairly benign conditions in Glen Affric. Two years before that however Storm Agnes caught us in the Eastern Cairngorms.

By the time we were setting off on this trip the forecast looked stormier in the Cairngorms. We weren’t going to escape it. Summits and plateaux seemed unwise. I planned a glens and passes route that would give us two nights out of the four in forests.

First camp, Glen Feshie

The walk down Glen Feshie was uneventful. It was early October and the autumn colours were just beginning. The glen was lovely and peaceful. We found a good site deep in the woods and had a pleasant first camp.

Glen Feshie

The next day we continued up the glen as the sky grew darker and the wind began to strengthen. The first spots of rain fell as we left the last trees. Jacket hoods went up and down as showers came and went. Autumn colours glowed. The twin waterfalls on the River Eidart, one wide, one thin, looked superb.

Eidart Bridge & Falls

Then it was onto the shallow watershed between the River Feshie and the Geldie Burn. This is bleak wide-open moorland with no shelter. The rain was hammering down now, stinging bare skin. Hoods stayed up. The strong gusty wind was hitting us from the side. We were thankful not to be walking into it. I felt tired but plodded on. There was nowhere for a comfortable camp.

Colour in the storm

A brief break in the clouds gave a brilliant rainbow, the only colour for several hours. The Geldie began to gently descend with slopes closing in on either side. We found a good, fairly sheltered site right by the burn. Exhausted I was soon out of wet clothes and into my sleeping bag. During the night I woke with a streaming nose and a headache. A cold! Damn! That explained my weariness.

Early morning at camp by the River Geldie

Dawn came with golden light and a feeling of warmth. The land glowed. The sun shone. Briefly. Within an hour the clouds had thickened and the glorious brightness had faded. 

Sunrise, River Geldie

We debated what to do. Crossing the high Lairig Ghru pass was still the shortest way back to the start so we decided to take the most direct route there rather than the longer one we’d originally planned. Commitments meant we hadn’t a spare day for me to sit out my cold here, something I would have done otherwise. I did not feel like walking far, or even at all.

In Glen Dee

Instead, we had a relatively short day and walked to the River Dee and then followed it into the mouth of the Lairig Ghru. The clouds raced overhead and swirled round the mountains. There were showers but no prolonged rain. The landscape became more dramatic as the mountains closed in, the great crags and slabs of Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point) dominating the view. Tony found a couple of patches of grass Just big enough for the tents amongst the bogs, heather and tussocks. They made comfortable sites.

Camp in Glen Dee

Still feeling rough the next day I was slow to get ready and we had a late start. I was slow plodding up the path to the Lairig Ghru too. We passed the dark Pools of Dee in their stark boulder fields and reached the 835-metre summit of the pass just before dusk. The wind was gusty but not too strong and any showers were brief. We had, we thought, done the hardest part of the day. Now we just had to follow the path slowly down into the forest and find a sheltered camp site.

Braeriach from Glen Dee

We were wrong. The wind was ferocious, blasting down, funnelled through the narrow gap of the pass. Without trekking pole we’d have been knocked over, often. At times all we could do was brace ourselves with the poles and try and keep our feet until a gust eased. We were walking by headlamp with Tony’s dog Bella, who had no problem finding the path, leading the way. The terrain here is rocky. Being blown over was not a good idea. Caution and slowness were the only safe way to proceed.

Beside one of the Pools of Dee

Eventually we came out of the narrow gap and onto a better path. The wind was now merely fierce. It continued so down into the forest and we went further than we’d hoped before camping on a site we’d used before where the wind was a little less powerful. We were in fact only a few kilometres from the road. But there was no point going on. We needed to sleep before driving. It had been an exciting trip, a memorable trip, one to talk about in future. But I was glad it was over.

A Look At The November Issue Of The Great Outdoors

In this issue I look at new items of gear that caught my eye at this year's Outdoor Trade Show. In reviews Kirsty Pallas and James Roddie each try out three pairs of hiking boots. In the Gear Opinion piece James Forrest gives a realistic assessment of waterproofs and what you can actually expect from them. Also on the always relevant matter of coping with rain Will Renwick describes how he deals with wet weather.

The main theme of the issue is bothies, which, of course, are good places to shelter from the rain. A long piece looks at the story of bothies and the sub-culture that goes with them through the eyes of those who know them best, including pieces from authors Kat Hill and John Burns, who have both written books on bothies.  And in her Uphill Struggles column Mountain Bothies Association trustee Juls Stodel gives advice on what to do about snorers.

The Wild Walks pages cover bothies too. In Scotland James Roddie visits the tiny Lairig Leachach bothy in the Grey Corries, Simon Stokes climbs Suilven via Suileag bothy, and Alex Roddie Ben Lomond via Rowchoish bothy. In the North Pennines Vivienne Crow visits Greg's Hut enroute to Cross Fell. Not far away in the Lake District Norman Hadley finds Mosedale Cottage a welcome overnight stop on a long walk on the Far Eastern Fells. In Eryri/Snowdonia Andrew Galloway finds refuge in Penrhos Isaf bothy deep in the woods of Coed-y-Brenin. Further south in Wales in the Cambrian Mountains Carys Rees stays in the Lluest-cwm-bach bothy in the Elan Valley.

This is also the annual TGO Challenge issue and there's a selection of stories from this year's event.

Away from bothies and rain Francesca Donovan and Stew Hume embark on a piecemeal approach to Glyndwr's Way in Mid Wales and David Myers has a winter walk on the GR131, which links all seven Canary Islands.

The opening spread is a splendid photo by Alan Novelli of Duncansby Head and Sea Stacks on the far north-east tip of the Scottish mainland.

In a moving piece RSPB Scotland's peatland project manager Sally Berry writes about the wildfire that devastated parts of the RSPB's Abernethy reserve in the summer and the incredible response of the local community.

In her nature column Nadia Shaikh falls for the tiny, cute but aggressive goldcrest.

Francesca Donovan reviews Alastair Humphrey's latest book Unwilded - Finding Our Way Back To Nature and finds it calming and inspiring.

Jim Perrin's Mountain Portrait is Win Hill in the Peak District which he says is the best sunset bivouac site in Britain.

Queues to reach the summit of Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) were in the news again last summer. Carys Rees discusses this phenomenon with her mountain rescue and ultra-running colleague Rob Smith, who is also a professor of sociology. 

Ten Years Ago: Yosemite Valley to Death Valley

On September 26, 2016, I was on the fourth day of a walk from Yosemite Valley to Death Valley. This spectacular trip is one of my favourites. I crossed the magnificent High Sierra, climbed Mount Whitney, then crossed Owens Valley to the Inyo and Panamint Mountains where I climbed Telescope Peak before descending to Death Valley itself.

The first part of the trip was very hot and sunny. The pictures here are from the first four days.

I wrote a feature for The Great Outdoors about the trip. You can read it here.

And for those interested I also write a piece about the gear I used which you can find here. 

Two videos on a new Fire Maple stove and whether pot sleeves are worth having.

 

Two recent videos on bits of gear I find interesting. I hope some of you do too!

Grant's Fort, The Legend of the Highland Skull, and an autumn walk in Clais an Dunain

The steep slopes of Clais an Dunain below Grant's Fort

Two years ago an exhibition at our excellent local museum had a sketch map of Iron Age hill forts in the area, one of which lay hidden in some woods not far from home so one autumn day I set out to visit it and see if I could make out any of the hill fort amongst the trees. I wrote about that trip here.

The hill fort is called Grant’s Fort but I couldn’t find out why. I know the answer now due to another exhibition at the Grantown-on-Spey Museum called the Legend of the Highland Skull. Recently I went to the launch of this fascinating story at the museum and discovered that an event that might be historical or might not and which might relate to the skull or might not took place at Grant’s Fort. This was in the 13^th century and explains why this ancient hill fort is called Grant’s Fort.

There is far more about the story and the skull on the museum website, including links to a series of excellent podcasts. This is local history at its best. If you’re in Grantown it’s well worth a visit.

Grant's Fort

Having heard this much more modern story about the hill fort (compared to the iron age anyway) I decided to visit it again and try and imagine the events that are said to have taken place there. The tale tells of how a young Grant man and the daughter of the Chief of the MacGregors fell in love. But the Grants were not powerful and the MacGregors were. There was no way the MacGregor Chief would accept his daughter marrying someone so far beneath him. So the young lovers fled and ended up with some followers at Grant’s Fort. MacGregor pursued them and the two sides met in the deep ravine below the fort called Clais an Dunain, a place I know well.

I had come across the story before but in a version that says the lovers hid in Huntly’s Cave and met the MacGregors there. Grant’s Fort isn’t mentioned. However the Grantown Museum story has them going from Huntly’s Cave to Grant’s Fort, which makes sense as the fort, on a ridge with steep slopes either side would be far easier to defend than a cave in a ravine. That applies to whichever Huntly’s Cave the story refers to as there are two in the area, just four kilometres apart. I wrote about them here.

In Clais an Dunain violence was avoided by the Grant man suggesting that he and MacGregor should join forces and launch an attack on the local Clan Comyn chieftain. The Comyns were a powerful clan and a victory over them would be a boost for both the MacGregors and the Grants. Their base was at Freuchie Castle, which lies between Huntly’s Cave and Clais an Dunain. The Comyns were defeated and the castle taken over by the Grants and later renamed Castle Grant.

Wandering amongst the peaceful woods in the Clais an Dunain I imagined it full of armed Highlanders on a moonlit night holding their meeting and agreeing to attack a neighbour rather than each other. I climbed up to Grant’s Fort and made a guess as to what it might have looked like when it actually was a fortress. I could see where ramparts might have been and I could see how the ridge on which it lies could have been easily defended.

Bracken

Today in the Clais the bracken was turning rusty orange and there were red berries on the rowans. The first aspen leaves were starting to change to their brilliant autumn yellow and cherry tree leaves to their brilliant autumn red.

An ageing rowan in the fields above the Clais

Then I wandered over to the huge old willow that’s a favourite local tree. A dead branch that poked high above the living parts of the tree had fallen since I last visited and the tree is now more horizontal than vertical. A rowan that is growing out of the willow’s trunk is now quite a substantial tree itself and was red with berries.  

The old willow

The willow is only a few hundred metres from Clais an Dunain. It would have to be exceptionally old for a willow to have been there when the Grants and MacGregors passed however so it almost certainly wasn’t. But maybe an ancestor was.

The old willow