Autumn Backpacking in Glen Affric

Mists, clouds, colours

Glen Affric in autumn is glorious. Actually, Glen Affric is always glorious, but it’s especially so in autumn due to the colours of the trees and grasses. Mists often drift round the peaks and the sun is lower than in summer, giving wonderful side lighting.

View along Glen Affric at the start

This year my autumn visit was a three-night trip in the company of Tony Hobbs and his dog Bella. Starting late one afternoon we walked along the Affric Kintail Way for a few kilometres until we found a grassy spot to camp just as it grew dark. The sky was overcast but the colours of the birches were deep and rich.

Tony in the undergrowth

The sky was still cloudy at dawn but there were hints of blue and bursts of sunshine as we started up the steep narrow overgrown path beside the rushing waters of the Allt Garbh. At times the dense undergrowth of bracken, heather and saplings gave the ascent a jungle-like feel.

Out in the open

The sky began to clear as we climbed out of the trees and the views opened up. The light was lovely. It didn’t last though and the sky was overcast again as we turned into the upper glen. Our intended hill for the day, Aonach Shasuinn, was shrouded in dark cloud and the steep climb into the clag didn’t look appealing. Staying in the light seemed more attractive so we continued up the glen, hoping to find somewhere to camp at its head.

Bursts of sunshine

We didn’t get that far. The path became an estate track, the estate track disintegrated into a boggy mess. Somewhere I tweaked a calf muscle and was limping painfully so when Tony pointed to a large flat grassy area down by the river and thought we should camp there I didn’t disagree and we were soon pitching our tents.

Relaxing in camp

There was no wind and it wasn’t very cold so we sat outside watching the clouds and the hills and listening to stags roaring on the hillsides, the sound of autumn. The night was chilly though, the temperature falling to just below freezing, as it had the night before.

Red sky in the morning

Dawn came with a fiery sky but by the time we were packing up it was overcast again, the tops hidden. Rather than continue up to the head of the glen we decided to make a rising traverse to the low point on the ridge that lay above our camp. The way up was rough, steep, and boggy, and not good for my sore calf so I was glad when we reached the top. It was enough climbing for me for the day.

Bella & Tony on the tough ascent

A cold breeze swept the ridge so we dropped down a little way searching for somewhere calm and not too boggy to sit for a while, eventually settling on a lovely, dry, gently sloping, striped rock. The view out over Glen Affric to the big hills on the far side was spectacular even though the clouds remained down on the tops. 

We recorded a little video chat while we were there.

Not far from our rock we picked up a steep path that led down into Glen Affric. This path was ingeniously designed, zigzagging across the slope, and curving round little cliffs, to take the sting out of what could be a challenging descent. I love paths like this! They feel almost a natural part of the landscape, fitting into its shape and contours. They’re hard to see from any distance and leave as little mark as it’s possible for a path to do.

Tony on the path down

My delight in the path distracted me from my sore calf and as we descended further distraction came from the skies clearing to cast a wonderful light over the mountains, the glen, and the lochs. It was magnificent.  

Clearing skies, glowing landscape

The lower section of the path was muddy and slippery and I had to concentrate or my feet rather than the views. Even so without my trekking poles I’d have been on my backside a few times. Once we reached the wide track of the Affric Kintail Way the tough walking was over and we could admire the autumn colours.

Glen Affric from the lower part of the descent

We had hoped to camp soon after reaching the glen but found nowhere suitable until we were back where we’d been two nights before. It was a good site so we were happy to stay here again.

Last morning

Overnight the weather changed, a change we knew was forecast. I was woken in the dark by rain rattling on the tent. It was still coming down at dawn. The pressure had fallen 18mb since the previous morning. The temperature had been 1°C at 1.30 a.m. An hour later it was 4°, by dawn 7°.  A rapid change.

Packing up in the rain

We packed up and walked back to the car in the rain. The colours of the woods were still wonderful, the clouds wreathing the summits mysterious. We hadn’t climbed the hills we had intended but that wasn’t the real reason we were there. Immersing ourselves in nature and experiencing the beauty of Glen Affric in autumn was what mattered and we had done that.

Autumn arrives: a walk and camp in cooler weather.

Camp in the forest

Sometimes season slide in gently, gradually, almost unnoticeable, until one day you realise it’s not winter or spring anymore. Not this year. This year the change from summer to autumn has felt sudden, abrupt. Sunny and dry to cool and wet just like that.

Sunshine & cool winds - autumn!

Having felt puzzlingly chilly at home, the thin shirts of summer suddenly inadequate, I pulled out a long-sleeved base layer, a garment I hadn’t worn for many months, for a mid-September overnight trip. A warmer top over it too. Summer had gone. Just like that.

View over Rothiemurchus Forest to Creag an Leth-choin and the Lairig Ghru

The forecast was for showery weather with strong winds high up, so I didn’t plan on a mountain camp. I didn’t plan on spending much time on the tops either. A forest camp sounded a good idea, especially as the first autumn colours were starting to appear, so one afternoon I ambled through the Rothiemurchus woods past Loch an Eilein and into the Inshriach Nature Reserve. Here I found a pleasant camp site in a small grassy meadow surrounded big by juniper bushes. Not far away bright red leaves shone startlingly amidst dark green pines. Wild and remote. Well, it was the first, and felt the second.

Autumn colour in the forest

Gusts of wind swept the meadow, interspersed with stillness that brought out the midges. Not that far into autumn yet! Dawn came with sunshine and a dew-soaked tent. Any hope it would dry before I packed up was ended with a shower just as I was stuffing my sleeping bag away.

Sunshine in the trees

The sun soon returned and shone for most of the steep climb up through the magnificent forest onto the open hillside on a rough, narrow path that for some reason doesn’t appear on some maps. Blasts of wind prevented it being hot though. Above the trees I could see dark clouds massing to the south. I didn’t think the sunshine would last long.

The Argyll Stone

It didn’t. By the time I reached the rock tor known as the Argyll Stone (Clach Mhic Cailein) the sky was grey and the wind distinctly chilly. This contorted, eroded block of granite is said to be named for an Earl of Argyll who paused here in 1594 while fleeing after defeat at the Battle of Glenlivet. I paused here too, sheltering from the now fierce wind while I had a snack.

Cairn Lochan in the clouds

My high point of the day, 848-metre Creag Dhubh, was only a short stroll away. This is the northernmost summit on the wonderful long ridge that runs south-north from Carn Ban Mor above Gleann Einich. Creag Dhubh is an undistinguished flat-topped hill without even a cairn. In fact it’s hard to work out which is the actual highest point, not that it matters.  The views, however, are extensive and superb, especially to Braeriac, Cairn Lochan and Cairn Gorm, though today they were shrouded in swirling clouds. Rain was coming. I could see squalls all around.

Loch an Eilein

None reached me though as I continued on down the broad north ridge of the hill, the wind behind me. Far below Loch an Eilein was blue in the green forest, it’s unusual shape clear from up here. In the other direction I could just see the silver foot of Loch Einich below dramatic dark clouds.

Loch Einich

Dropping down rough slopes I reached the Gleann Einich track and followed it into Rothiemurchus Forest. A large bird lumbered through the trees to perch on a high branch, a capercaillie. Always wonderful to see one. I passed a shockingly shrunken Lochan Deo. I’d never seen the water so low before. The hot dry summer may be over but it’ll take time and much rain before its effects vanish. (The rain is here though, I’m writing this at the end of the wettest day for many months, a relief for us as our water supply is only just holding out).

Lochan Deo

Hill Forts, Skeletal Trees & Blood Red Berries

Tangled forest in Clais an Dunain

An interesting exhibition on the First People Of The Spey at the excellent Grantown-on-Spey Museum (well worth a visit if you're in the area) had a sketch map of nine Iron Age hill forts in the area, two of which are within a few kilometres of my home. One stands out prominently on the hillside on the other side of our little glen. The other is hidden in trees above a steep ravine called the Clais an Dunain. I've visited both these in the past but inspired by the exhibition I decided I'd go and have a closer look at Grant's Fort, the one buried in the woods, and take some telephoto photographs of  the other one, Torran Ban. 

Torran Ban

Not much is known about these hill forts. The exhibition booklet says they are "oval enclosures sited on hill tops or glacial mounds" and that their purpose is unknown. They have ramparts of earth or rubble  and ditches or moats around them. Grant's Fort and Torran Ban are both on raised areas on the sides of hills. They ate opposite each other and would have commanded views up and down the glen. Torran Ban still does but Grant's Fort has no clear views now due to the trees.

Aspens 

Visiting Clais an Dunain and it's tangle of mixed woodland is always worth while but especially so in autumn. Many of the leaves had fallen but there was still enough colour left to add beautiful contrasts to the pale leafless skeletal trees, especially the almost-white aspens.

Grant's Fort, or part of it.

After crossing the steep ravine I wandered through the trees to the mounds that make up Grant's Fort. These can't be seen until you are almost on top of them and I found it hard to work out the exact shape and which slopes were part of the hill fort and which weren't. Through the trees I caught glimpses of distinctive Torran Ban, just two kilometres away. I wondered about the people who lived here 1500 years or longer ago. What was the landscape like then? Did they admire it? Worship it? Take it for granted? How did they live? What were these structures for? Many questions and much scope for speculation. The world was so different then. We know that, whatever it was like.

Rowan berries

From Grant's Fort I plunged back down into the Clais. Rowans appeared, leafless now but with astonishingly bright blood red berries not yet stripped by the birds. I've never seen so many berries on rowans as this year.

Bynack Mor, Beinn Mheadhoin, & Cairn Gorm

Back in the open fields I could see the Cairngorms in the distance, etched sharp against the cloud-streaked darkening sky. Dusk is 5pm now. Autumn is fading into winter.

More scenes in the Clais

More rowan berries

An autumn walk and camp in Glen Feshie

Glen Feshie in the Cairngorms is one of my favourite places, as regular readers of this blog will know. I go there several times every year. At least one of those visits is always in the autumn when there is a brilliant show of colour from the deciduous trees, especially the birches.

This year I set off down the glen in a rain storm and a strong wind. But, as forecast, the rain soon cleared and there were occasional patches of blue in the sky. The wind, however, blew on. Under the shade of the grey clouds the wet trees glistened, the autumn colours glowing.

Through the forest the river wound, fast and rushing here, slow and swirling there. The Feshie is a very mobile river, constantly changing its course, leaving banks of shingle, and dried out old water courses. Often it’s braided, with many channels. In places it cuts into the steep banks of soil and pebbles, bringing down trees and sometimes the path itself.  Every visit something has changed. Here you can see a dynamic landscape in action.

At a point where the path had collapsed into the river a temporary way had been made steeply up and then steeply down a wooded slope. I’d followed this many times. On this occasion though the river had receded enough to allow passage along its edge below the trees. This was aided by some new material fallen from above. When I returned along the glen I took the steep path up into the woods to find that the descent had eroded away, providing the surface I’d walked on below. Constant change.

On another section the edge of the river was flowing over a shingle bank at right angles to the main flow into a lower channel. I walked out along this shingle bank with the river roaring past next to me and the overflow just below me.

As I searched for a camp site reasonably sheltered from the wind that roared down the glen a female capercaillie rose out of the long grass and flapped away into the trees. I pitched near a beautiful big old pine and a screen of young pines and birch saplings. From the tent door I could watch the river flowing.

The evening was peaceful, the wind dying down. During the night it picked up again, roaring through the trees and buffeting the tent. The night was warm for late October, with a low of only 7°C.

I woke to low clouds covering the tops and the wind raging on. I had thought of heading up to Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair and the Moine Mhor if the weather improved but as it hadn’t a walk further up the glen was much more appealing. Leaving the tent to collect on the way back I followed the river below the crags of Creag na Gaibhre and Creag na Caillich where the glen narrows and the forest rises steeply on the rocky slopes. The path rises and falls, sometimes beside the water, sometimes traversing high above it, a superb walk in the grandest part of the glen.

A soft but loud ‘kek’ call came down from high in a stand of old pines. It was hard to see the source but eventually I spotted a cock capercaillie way up in the branches plucking pine needles as it called. Seeing two of this rare and threatened bird was wonderful. I passed by quietly.

The subdued light and overcast sky made the autumn colours even more striking. The mix of trees, rocks, and river was glorious. This is a landscape to inspire and hearten. It always raises my spirits, especially now the forest is returning under the stewardship of Wildland. “A landscape of hope” says the sign near the start of the walk. It truly is.

Autumn colours before Storm Ashley arrives and blows them all away

With the first named storm of the autumn forecast to bring very strong winds over the next two days (there is a Met Office weather warning) I thought I'd go for a local to see the autumn colours before more leaves are stripped from the trees.

The day was pleasant and warm with sunshine, an occasional breeze, and fluffy white clouds. No sign of the big storm that's on the way. The autumn colours were glorious, startlingly bright in places, subtle and gentle in others.

Some trees have already lost their leaves. On others the colour has hardly started to change. The woodland here is mixed outside the pine and spruce plantations, dominated by birch but also with aspen, rowan, oak, willow, cherry, and  hazel, giving a wonderful mix of colours and shapes. 

A few hours wandering in this glorious woodland was relaxing and invigorating at the same time. Several buzzards circled overhead, one rising from the ground just ahead of me. A raucous was a jay, flitting through the trees. A flock of starling perched high on the already leafless top branches of an aspen. Two roe deer watched me warily before disappearing into the dense trees.

Out of the trees the view towards the Cairngorms was hazy and bright, the hills cloud-capped. But here the sky was blue and the air sharp and clear.

 After the storm I'll return and see how much the woods have changed, how many more leaves have fallen, whether any trees have come down. But for now all is peaceful and calm in the autumn forest.