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.

Another little video on backpacking pots & stoves

 

A comparison of  three pots & two stoves.  

A Walk along Glen Feshie and up to the Moine Mhor

  

Video of the walk described in my last post.

Glen Feshie, the Moine Mhor, & two Munros

Sgor Gaoith

The long dry spell is over. Rain is falling heavily. Just a few days ago I was striding across the crisp, crunchy, dusty Moine Mhor – the Great Moss, a vast normally boggy upland – astonished at the dryness. The day before I had marvelled at the shrunken River Feshie. That will change now.

I’d set off down Glen Feshie on a sunny afternoon, though with thin clouds spreading overhead. The fresh leaves of the birches shone bright. The air was thick with heat. Soon the clouds had grown enough to block the sun though it still shone on a distant hillside, turning the pale grasses gold.

Allt Garbhlach & River Feshie

The burns that run down into the Feshie were so low I could easily cross on stones without even dampening the soles of my boots. Their beds looked far too big to have been carved by these little streams. But they had, when the waters were high and rushing down the mountainsides sweeping away everything in their path. The Allt Garbhlach is a constant reminder of this as you scrabble down the steep slopes to its wide stony bed and then scrabble up the loose path on the far side. There used to be a good path with steps here, swept away a decade and more ago. Now little trees are springing up amongst the rubble and debris. They may have a short life.

Creag na Caillich & the River Feshie

I camped in the woods in the narrow neck of the glen, where it’s hemmed in by the steep rocky slopes of Creag an Caillich and Creag na Gaibhre. A fine site amongst old pines and young birches, it had been used before and sported two fire rings, one old, long disused, and grassy, the other bigger, newer, and with blackened rocks and half-burnt logs. There was no litter, thankfully. I don’t think anyone had been here for a while.

Glen Feshie camp

Dawn came with weak sunshine and stillness. The woods were calming and I lingered. Relaxing for half the morning before rousing myself to pack up and move on. Backtracking down the glen I picked up an old path that winds steeply through the trees and up slopes of heather to the fine cairn on Creag na Gaibhre. The path is overgrown and indistinct in places. I lost it a couple of times.  The climb is arduous but the views and the feeling of wildness overcome any weariness.

Broom

Above the trees broom flourished, its bright yellow flowers dominating the landscape. There were dizzying views down stony ravines to the forest and the river far below.

View into Glen Feshie

Creag na Gaibhre is a splendid viewpoint for Glen Feshie and I stopped here for a snack. A breeze was picking up and the sky cloudy so I didn’t stay too long but was soon following the faint path as it continued on to the dark waters of Lochan nam Bo, trapped in a cleft in the hillside, and then over Druim nam Bo, a bump on the broad west ridge of Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair, the high point of this corner of the Moine Mhor and a Munro.

Creag Na Gaibhre

Long before reaching the summit I joined an old estate track that stood out harshly from a distance – two straight furrows driving up the hillside – but which didn’t seem too intrusive when actually on it.

Mullach Clach a' Bhlair

As the steepness eased off and the tiny cairn on Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair appeared (a rather paltry affair compared with the one on Creag na Gaibhre) the view opened out across the Moine Mhor to the distant pointed peak of Sgor Gaoith, also a Munro, and the sweep of Munros – Braeriach, Sgor an Lochan Uaine, Carn Toul – that rise above its eastern edge.

The summit was windswept and chilly. I kept moving, heading for Loch nan Cnapan in the heart of the Moine Mhor. There are ugly bulldozed roads up here and I used these at times though mostly I went cross-country. When wet this can ensure sodden feet and much cursing as you flounder through the bogs. On this occasion I was amazed at how dry it was, drier than I’ve ever seen it. I walked on cracked crusty mud, over pale dried grasses. There was no water in many of the little burns and pools that lace the moor.  The word arid came to mind.

Loch nan Cnapan & Monadh mor

At the loch I found a good flat site. The wind was gusting strongly, so I pegged out all the guylines. As with the evening before the late sun cut under the clouds and lit up the long gently slopes of Monadh Mor a couple of kilometres away.

Loch nan Cnapan camp

A sudden blast of heat woke me at dawn. The sun had just appeared over the hills. There were long streaks of cloud in the sky. The wind had gone. I wandered beside the loch, ate breakfast, dozed, ate another breakfast, somnolent in the heat.

Sgor Gaoith

Eventually I packed up and started across the rough ground – all knolls and hollows -towards Sgor Gaoith, aiming for the old path that runs along the rim of Coire Odhar in Gleann Eanich. I think this is the finest way up Sgor Gaoith as it gives superb views.

Once I’d located the path, which seems to start somewhere out on the Moine Mhor, I followed it round to the Fuaran Diotech spring and nearby ruined hut. There’s a pool by the ruin. The burns running in and out of it were dry. A flat grassy area makes for a good pitch here. I’d used it just the year before (see this post). Someone had camped here much more recently and had left a ring of rocks, the grass still green underneath. I moved the smaller ones onto the ruin’s walls and rolled the bigger ones into the pool. I wish people wouldn’t do this! Or at least replace the rocks when they leave.

Allt Fuaran Diotech

The Fuaran Diotech spring was still running strongly, soon leaping down the crags into Coire Odhar. Cool, fresh water. I needed it. I relished it.

Sgor Gaoith

Refreshed I continued along the path. Soon it converged with the main thoroughfare coming from Carn Ban Mor. Two walkers were just heading back down this, three more were heading for the summit just ahead of me. On the top five more were relaxing in the sunshine. The view of Loch Eanich and Braeriach was spectacular, as always.

Braeriach & Loch Eanaich from Sgor Gaoith

Leaving for the wide scar of the standard route I met a walker heading up, the eleventh person I’d encountered, and the last. All of them were in a half hour period and on or near the summit of Sgor Gaoith. I met no-one else all trip,

I was soon over Carn Ban Mor and heading down the long stony path to Glen Feshie. As I descended the wind picked up and so did the heat. Sweat-soaked I was glad to reach the glen.

Pictures & Memories from a Walk in the Uinta Mountains

Red Castle Lakes from the ascent of Wilson Peak

Sorting through old photos from film days for an upcoming project I found a folder of colour prints from a trip twenty-four years ago when I spent eleven glorious days hiking in the Uinta Mountains. I hadn’t thought about this walk for many years and I was delighted to these pictures again. The area looks really spectacular! 

The Uinta Mountains form a long east-west running spur of the Rocky Mountains in north-east Utah. They are alpine mountains, snow-covered for more than half the year and with a myriad lakes and streams. Forests rise to around 3,354 metre (11,000 feet). Above the trees are vast open grassy bowls dotted with lakes, above which rise long, steep, rocky ridges. Most of the area is protected in the 460,000-acre High Uintas Wilderness, the largest wilderness area in Utah.

I’d gone to Utah for the annual Outdoor Retailer trade show, which was then held in Salt Lake City. After the show GoLite, one of the pioneers of lightweight gear though sadly long gone, had taken a group of us to the Uintas to try some of its new stuff at a high camp and on an ascent of 4,125m (13,528 feet) King’s Peak, the highest summit in Utah. After we’d climbed the mountain and survived an exciting thunderstorm at a timberline camp the others departed and I had the next nine days to myself.

I spent the time walking to the eastern end of the range and then back again by a different route. It was a wonderful walk. I was above timberline much of the time and climbed a couple more peaks including 3981 metre (13,060 feet) Wilson Peak. The weather was dry and mostly sunny until the last two days when there were more thunderstorms.

GoLite had supplied me with much of my equipment for the walk, including pack, tarp, sleeping bag, and most of my clothing. Its gear back then was some of the best around.

These photos were taken with a 35mm Ricoh GR1s compact camera with fixed 28mm lens, which I carried as back-up to my SLR camera. I used slide film with the latter. I’d forgotten I’d taken any prints until these turned up! Whether I took any more than the 36 I’ve just come across I don’t know. The prints aren’t captioned or dated so I don’t know exactly when or where most of them were taken. From internet images I have only identified the location of one picture, which is at the head of this piece. If anyone can identify any of the others I’d be grateful!

I wrote a feature for The Great Outdoors magazine after my trip which was reprinted in my book Out There: A Voice From The Wild if you’d like to read more about it.

How Satellites Have Changed My Hiking Life: A Look At Tech & Backpacking Part 1

Igloo Ed Huesers using a handheld GPS device in Yellowstone National Park in 2009

Working on the forthcoming republication of High Summer, the story of my walk the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988, I’ve been struck by one huge difference between then and now, the rise of electronic and digital tech. Whilst all the backpacking clothing and equipment I used wouldn’t look too out of place now and its functions haven’t changed at all I now carry items that were the stuff of science fiction back then (which is appropriate as many of them require satellites in space to operate). I’ve written about this in general in a new introduction to the book but I thought it would be interesting to look at the timeline of the changes and how and when new items were added and the effect they had.

Satellites are the key to these changes, satellites for navigation and for communication. So they come first. This is the space age!

Satellite Navigation

Silva Multi Navigator

Magellan launched the first consumer Global Positioning System device that used a satellite array to calculate its location on the ground just a year after my walk and similar ones soon appeared during the 1990s. I tested a few for The Great Outdoors magazine. One of the earliest was the Silva Multi Navigator which I tried in 1995*. This was a bulky device weighing 227g that ran on 2 AA batteries. Like other GPS devices it gave your position in Lat/Lon or grid numbers which you could then find on a map. You could record tracks so you could retrace your route and it had an electronic compass and a barometer/altimeter. It sounds very basic now but seemed like magic at the time. You could stand on a featureless hillside in thick mist, press a button and a grid reference appeared. Plot that on the map and you knew where you were to within maybe ten metres. Amazing!

I wasn’t though convinced enough of the value of GPS devices to take one on my round of the Munros and Tops in 1996. With 512 summits to climb I wanted to keep the weight of my load down and decided GPS was something I could do without. In retrospect there were a couple of times it would have been useful but mostly it would have just sat in the pack.

SatMap

The next development was GPS mapping and a decade after using the Multi Navigator I was using a SatMap device with maps on it. Now I could see where I was without having to read the grid reference on a map. Amazing again and, I thought, much more useful.

My first smartphone in use on the Pacific Northwest Trail in 2010

In 2007 Apple launched the iPhone and the smartphone revolution began. I could immediately see the advantages of these tiny computers for long-distance walks. They could take pictures, carry books to read, show your position on a map, link to the internet, and even be used for phone calls. In 2010 I bought one, the HTC Desire, and took it on the Pacific Northwest Trail with all the maps downloaded on to it. Long before I finished the trail I was hooked. I’ve never been backpacking without a smartphone since. I’ve never carried a standalone GPS device again either. There seems no need. I do still carry printed maps though. I like the overview a big map sheet gives and anyway I think I’d feel underequipped without one plus a magnetic compass. Twenty-five plus years of using them on hundreds of days has left the need for them ingrained. I do virtually all my navigation with the smartphone however.

For communication with the outside world the first smartphones were only useful when there was a signal though, which was hardly ever in wild places. On the Pacific Northwest Trail I was just as out of touch most of the time as I had been on earlier walks. I was just less likely to get lost, which would have made a huge difference on the Canadian Rockies walk where I spent around a week somewhat unsure of my whereabouts. That part of the walk would have been unrecognisable if I’d had GPS mapping.

Satellite Communication

SPOT & Garmin InReach

With satellite navigation established satellite communication soon followed and being in touch without a phone signal became possible. I’ve been using a GPS** satellite communicator the last thirteen years (I was surprised to discover it was so long but my first gear list with one is dated January 2011). Until two years ago this was a SPOT unit which I just used to send an ‘I’m OK’ message from camp each evening. It had no screen so ironically it didn’t show my position, though it did to the recipients of the message. Still, I had my smartphone to show where I was in case I didn’t know.

It wasn’t long before satellite communicators with screens and two-way messaging became available. I was happy enough with the basic SPOT for a while but then I was sent a Garmin InReach Mini 2 to test in 2022. As with my first smartphone I was quickly hooked. Especially as it linked with my phone so I could use its much bigger screen for sending and reading texts and emails. I still send the basic OK message each day but when needed I send more info such as when I expect to finish a walk and I can also receive messages and news from home.You can read my full review of the InReach Mini 2 here.

Satellite communicators are key safety devices of course and can be used to call for help just by pressing a button. I’ve never had to do this and obviously hope I never will but having it is a reassurance, as much to my family as to me, as is being able to let them know I’m OK every day. Before this was possible they were used to me disappearing for weeks at a time but now I suspect they’d think that irresponsible.

GPS has changed navigation and communication in the outdoors greatly, making the first much easier and the second possible. Whether this is good or bad or a mix of both is another matter. Whatever anyone thinks the change has happened.

There are other electronic and tech devices that didn’t exist for the first half of my backpacking life too – e-readers, weather trackers, portable battery packs. I’ll go into these and what they added to my backpacking in terms of utility and weight (or reduction in it) in Part Two of these all-things techy posts.

*I can’t remember all the dates I started using stuff of course. I consult a Word document containing lists of the gear I’ve used on just about every overnight or longer trip since 1993. It now runs to 490 pages! Luckily Word’s search engine works well.

** Now there are several global navigation satellite systems they should correctly be referred to as GNSS. However GPS was first and is established as the generic term so I’ve stuck with that.

High Summer Update

Mount Sir Alexander, a great view on a tough day of cross-country travel. September 3.

As it's over a month since I mentioned the new edition of my book High Summer about my walk the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988 I thought I'd give a brief update and show a few of the pictures I've scanned so far. 

Unnamed lake near the Graham River. October 5.

The book should be out in the not too distant future once I've sent more images to Andrew Terrill, who is publishing the book through his imprint, Enchanted Rock Press. Andrew then works some magic on the images to prepare them for publication, which will be in colour in the e-book and black and white in the print edition (due to the cost of colour printing). Andrew has also recently posted an update on his blog with some of the pictures he has prepared. 

Brew stop on a cold sunny day in the forest in the Hook Creek valley. September 18.

There will be far more photos in the new edition than the twenty in the original one, which will, I hope, show much more about what the walk was like and the variety of landscape, weather, and terrain involved.

Trail in the rain near Maligne Pass. August 1.

Now back to scanning more slides!

Halfway River. October 6

Now back to scanning more slides!

High Summer: Backpacking The Canadian Rockies republishing update

A month ago I posted about plan for a new edition of High Summer, my book about walking the length of the Canadian Rockies back in 1988 that has long been out of print. Andrew Terrill is republishing the book under his imprint Enchanted Rock Press and today I sent him the text with some added footnotes and a new introduction. There's no publication date yet but we're getting closer.

I have also been sending Andrew batches of images scanned from the slides I took during the walk for consideration for the book, which will have far more pictures than the original edition. I've posted a few of those images here, though I can't say say yet whether these will actually appear in the book.

I'm scanning the slides with my Sony a6700 digital camera and Sony 30mm macro lens on an old lightbox. The originals were taken with two Pentax SLR cameras and 24mm, 28-70mm, and 70-210mm Tokina lenses on Fujichrome 50 and 100 ISO colour transparency film and for one section where my supply box failed to arrive Ektachrome 100 and 200 ISO transparency film. 

I took over 3000 transparencies so selecting ones to scan is taking time. I love doing it though. I haven't seen most of these photos for over 30 years.

Glacier Peak Circumnavigation - 2001!

Continuing my search through old photos for my next book project I came across a packet of colour prints labelled Glacier Peak. These are from a 95-mile 8-day circumnavigation of Glacier Peak in the North Cascades in Washington State that I walked in October 2001. Half the trip was on the Pacific Crest Trail, which I'd hiked 19 years earlier. I'd thought this one of the finest sections on the northern half of the PCT and was glad to be back. 

Finding these prints had me digging out my journal of the trip, which is full of words like beautiful, magnificent, glorious, superb, and spectacular. I was clearly impressed! The weather was excellent throughout, the temperatures mild for the time of year. 

The route led from deep forests of huge trees up to high passes with splendid and dramatic views. The autumn colours were brilliant. The mountain landscape was awe-inspiring. 

Several of my camps were high in the mountains with stunning vistas all around. At every one I only needed to crawl under my tarp to sleep, in order to keep the dew off my sleeping bag. Mostly I sat outside, absorbing the wilderness.

This was one of the finest short backpacking trips I've ever done, as perfect as I could imagine, and reliving it again through these pictures and my journal is wonderful. I'd love to be back there again.

Current information on the trip here. 

Photographic note: The colour print film was Kodak Gold 200 ISO. The prints are machine-made postcard-size ones. I could probably get better results from the negatives. I photographed them handheld with my Sony a6600 camera and Sony E 35mm f1.8 lens.