A Look At The May Issue Of The Great Outdoors

The May issue of TGO has a big feature on gear for wild camping. My contributions are reviews of four stoves - Fire Maple Petrel Titanium Ultralight, GSI Pinnacle Four Season, Alpkit MyTiBurner, & Robens Fire Wisp Solo Cook Set UL -, the Gregory Baltoro 65 pack, and the Alpkit Radiant sleeping mat. Another mat is reviewed by David Lintern - the Highlander Nap Pak Arctic.

Also in this section Fiona Russell and David Lintern review six two-person tents from Fjern, Big Agnes, Wechsel, Highlander, MSR, & Hilleberg with a first look at the updated Nemo OSMO Dragonfly.  Six three-season sleeping bags from Mont, Therm-A-Rest, Gruezi, Alpkit, Robens, & Big Agnes are tested by Steph Wetherell, David Lintern and Peter Macfarlane.

Four reviewers - Steph Wetherell, David Lintern, Peter Macfarlane and Juls Stodel - pick their favourite mini items of camping gear which range from a lantern and freeze-dried meals to tent pegs and a pump for inflating mats. There's also a first look at the Sigg Gemstone Food Jar and Steph Wetherell reviews the Charmast C2065 Power Bank.

Away from gear Hanna Lindon looks at ways to approach the National Three Peaks Challenge 100 years after it was first done, Louise Kenward explores the relationships disabled people can have with the outdoors, Minreet Kaur has a first wild camp in the Cairngorms, and Bella Falk goes on a Maasai-guided trek through Kenya's Loita Hills.

In shorter pieces Nadia Shaikh peers into pools for short crabs, Jon Moses of the Right to Roam campaign discusses the CRoW Act at 25, Jim Perrin looks at Ben Nevis for his Mountain Portrait, Vivienne Crow introduces the new Roof of England long-distance trail, and Juls Stodel considers where to go to be a hermit. The Skills section looks at new outdoor activities to try.

The theme of Wild Walks this month is big mountain challenges. Simon Stokes tackles the Cairngorms 4000s, James Forrest the Lakeland 3000s, Norman Hadley the Lakeland 800s, Richard Hartfield the Howgills 2000s, and Nike Werstroh the Surrey Three Peaks. Away from walks with numbers Ian Battersby undertakes the Durham Dales Challenge and Chiz Dakin the Nine Edges Challenge in the Peak District.

Fifty years ago I was on the Pennine Way, my first long-distance walk

Below Rakes Rocks. My first camp on the Pennine Way, April 7

On April 7^th, 1976, I set out on my first long-distance walk, a journey that was to set the pattern for the rest of my life. In the previous few years I had done plenty of day walks in the hills and a few one or two night backpacking trips. Now I wanted to find out what a longer trip felt like and whether I could complete one. I chose the Pennine Way, England’s first official long-distance path, which had opened eleven years earlier, probably because it was well-known, and also because it’s 270 miles/435 kilometres seemed the right length for a two-week trip. Stretching from the Peak District National Park up the chain of the Pennine hills and into the Cheviots before finishing just across the border in Scotland it promised a variety of landscapes and interesting walking, much of it in places I’d never been before.

My journal

I had no idea if I could do the walk or if I would enjoy it. On the train to Edale at the southern end of the trail I started my journal of the trip: “The doubts. Is the pack too heavy? Can I do it in 15 days? Am I healthy enough? Most important can I mentally cope?”. Only the answer to the first one was negative. Yes, the pack was too heavy. But otherwise the trip was a huge success. At the finish I wrote “this is definitely the way to live! I expect I’ll do it again and lots of different other walks – what a future. This is not really the end, this is just the beginning”. And what a future it has been!

I’d enjoyed the walk despite the generally wet and misty weather. My journal again: “Biggest disappointment I think was the fact that all the land traversed above 2,000 feet was in thick mist and I had no distant views at all. I think the atmosphere of being so close to nature for days on end matters as much as views”.

The guidebook I carried the whole way

Fifty years ago the world was very different of course. This was long before mobile phones or the internet. Away from roads and villages there was no means of communicating with the outside world. When you were alone in the hills you really were alone. Calling for help or advice was not an option. Navigation required careful use of map and compass. There were Pennine Way guidebooks though and I carried Wainwright’s Pennine Way Companion the whole way, poring over it eagerly in the tent every night and writing notes in the log section.

Log pages 

My one regret now is that I didn’t take photography seriously back then. I just carried a simple point-and-shoot Instamatic compact camera which produced small square photos. Due to the weather I didn’t take many pictures and most are blurred or out of focus, due, I think, to the poor quality of the camera, and my lack of ability. I have no pictures of myself on the walk.

High Force, April 15. The wet weather meant the waterfalls along the way were all splendid. The wet weather and poor light was also a bit much for my camera!

I don’t know what the pack weighed but looking at my equipment list I can see why it was too heavy. Apart from coated waterproofs (non-breathable back then) my clothing was all cotton – string vest, t-shirt, cord jeans, windproof jacket – and wool – thin sweater, thick sweater, shirt, trousers, socks, gloves, balaclava – but why did I take so much of it? I don’t know but I did note at the end that I only needed to wear one pair of socks at a time (two was standard) and that I should find something lighter than corduroy jeans for warmer weather. Of course a clothing revolution was coming in fast and the next few years would see the arrival of breathable waterproofs and synthetic replacements for cotton and wool that were lighter and more compact. But overall my clothing and equipment worked fine. I never got very cold or very wet and the camping went well.

Camp at Top Withens, April 9

I have one item of equipment left from that trip, the Trangia stove. It still works too and goes on the occasional outing. The tent – a Saunders Backpacker II – was excellent. Long after the walk and after a fair bit more usage the coating cracked and began to flake off and the nylon flysheet became brittle. But it was as good as there was then. The down sleeping bag was wonderful too. I’d borrowed it as the only one I had was a thin summer one that I knew wasn’t warm enough for April. Having to return it at the end was a blow!

My pack was my pride and joy, an American Camp Trails external frame model that cost what seemed like a fortune and which was very comfortable. However, I wasn’t so impressed with it when I had to sit on a damp hillside repairing the hipbelt which had torn off. But otherwise it carried the load well.

I resupplied with food along the way and seem from my notes to have eaten a great deal of malt loaf, cheese, and chocolate biscuits. I had muesli for breakfast and packet soups and dehydrated meals in the evening. A few of the latter were Springlow specialist camping meals, which you could get in outdoor shops. From memory they were horrible! Not having thought about them for decades I did an online search but all that turned up was an antiques site offering a “Vintage 1950's Unopened Tin of Springlow Cabbage with original contents”! The logo is the one I remember though. Mostly I dined on Batchelors Savoury Rice in different flavours, which was all that stores along the way had that was suitable.  

Fifty years on that Pennine Way walk is a distant happy memory. I can just about recognise the young man who set out on that adventure. I can see how he became the person I am now. I am so glad I did that walk.

Here’s my gear list as written in my notebook – in several different places for some reason!

A Local Walk & Camp In Stormy Weather

Camp in the forest

With a big storm approaching and unsettled weather already here venturing into the high mountains didn’t seem a good idea so I decided on an overnight trip in my local moorland hills. There were places I’d still never visited despite living here for over thirty years. This seemed a good time to go and see them.

The field of young pines with the Cromdale Hills in the background

For once I set off from the front gate and into the local woods. I soon left the dense forest, a mixed plantation of Scots pine, larch, and Sitka spruce that was thinned a few years ago (to make it more suitable for capercaillie the estate said) and passed by a fenced area full of young pines. When we first moved here this was a boggy field used for grazing sheep. That stopped many years ago and young trees started to appear, seeded from the nearby pine plantation. Since then the estate has planted some more pines and erected a stock fence, though this seems unnecessary as plenty of trees have sprung up outside it. Still, it’s good to see a new forest growing.

The Cairngorms

Beyond the trees I headed up onto rough heather moorland. The clouds cleared and the distant shining white Cairngorms appeared under a deep blue sky. The sun was warm and I thought about removing my hat. Dark clouds on the horizon suggested this might be unwise however. It would have been as soon sleet and then snow was driving in on a gusty wind. Instead of removing my hat I was struggling into waterproofs.

The weather changes

The storm continued as I climbed through a rugged area of small crags and ravines dotted with self-seeded trees and onto higher moors where there was no protection from the wind and the wet snow.

Wintry!

I was aiming for a little loch called the Black Loch at the head of one of the burns running down into Glen Tulchan. It looked an interesting situation, tucked into a very narrow little steep-sided glen just below a broad moorland ridge.

The Black Loch

The skies cleared and the sun shone again as I had my first sight of the loch. I’d thought I might camp by it but as soon as I looked down I knew that just reaching it would be difficult enough as steep heather-clad slopes dotted with little crags ran right down to the water. A careful traversing descent took me down to the foot of the lochan and the start of the winding defile of the Black Loch Burn.

The Black Loch Burn glen after a snow flurry

The floor of the glen was a boggy mass of reeds, tussocks and heather with the burn winding through it. The ground oozed. There was no path, the walking was tough, and camping here out of the question. It’s a lovely hidden little glen though and I enjoyed my rather stumbling walk along it. The weather changed again, another burst of snow arriving, but the sky was clear by the time I reached the estate track running down Glen Tulchan and the walking became easier.

The land was still boggy and tussocky until I reached some Caledonian pinewoods. Here I found a dry site in an area of dead bracken. The clouds were racing overhead but it was calm here. The pine forest was lovely but I spent the evening in the tent as there were more snow and sleet showers.

View from the tent at dawn

Dawn came with sunshine and a frost. There was frozen condensation on the tent walls. I lingered over breakfast, reluctant to leave this tranquil spot. And also reluctant to don my cold wet socks and boots, sodden from the bogs of the Black Loch Burn the day before. As always once on they didn’t feel too bad. The anticipation was worse than the reality.

One of the fords

There was a stream to ford just beyond camp and then another two further down the glen. I just splashed through. I was not going to have dry feet today. More old pinewoods made the glen pleasant and a little wild.

Ben Rinnes

As the land grew tamer and the first fences and cultivated fields appeared I left the glen on an estate track that took me back up onto the moors with views over the trees to snow-topped Ben Rinnes.

Across the next glen I could see an extensive cross-hatching pattern on the hillside. I'd never seen anything like this before and couldn't work out what it was for. Back home research showed it's called narrow strip matrix or maze cutting and is done to provide more edges to the heather as part of management to boost grouse numbers for shooting. I'd seen burnt patches and shooting butts on the moors here as grouse shooting is a major land use but nothing like this.* 

Glenmore Loch

As clouds began to build again I descended to little Glenmore Loch, a pleasant artificial pool where I saw mallard ducks and a heron, and then up onto the slopes of Tom Mor, on top of which is the mast that provides my wi-fi. The mast was visible but there was no signal here.

Looking back to Glenmore Loch as the clouds roll in and sleet begins to fall

Now on familiar ground I hurried down the track to the road home. Distant hills were disappearing into the mist and light rain and sleet was falling. The world turned grey. I could have done without the last hour’s walking. I’d visited some local country I hadn’t seen before, had a restful camp, and a good walk though. It had been a low key but pleasant trip and the weather suggested I’d have had a much rougher and less enjoyable time if I’d gone to the higher mountains.

*The Tulchan Estate, which owns and manages this land, was recently reported as being up for sale for £67 million. However indefatigable land campaigner Andy Wightman explains on his Land Matters blog that there's some sleight of hand going on with the sale of 100% of the shares so that various taxes need not be paid. It seems the estate is both for sale and not for sale at the same time.