Storm Loris & aftermath

Storm Loris blasted through yesterday with record-high wind speeds for the time of year. Storms in August are not unusual but they're normally not like this severe. 

While the storm raged I went outside very briefly and shot a few seconds of video with my phone. Rain was lashing down and the trees were thrashing wildly. I certainly wasn't go into the woods or even very near them. Watching the storm from inside seemed wise and I was soon back indoors.

Unlike many people, some not too far away, we didn't lose power and we weren't affected by road and rail closures as we'd no plans to go anywhere, having been following the build-up to the storm for several days. So a combination of luck and planning meant Loris didn't affect us. 

In fact the biggest shock was this morning when I woke up. It was unnervingly quiet. No wind in the chimney, no rain rattling the window. Just silence. 

In fact it was quite windy. Just normally windy though. It felt safe to venture into the woods so I went out for a walk to see what damage Loris had wrought. It was less than I'd expected. Plenty of twigs and dead branches everywhere of course but not that many fallen trees. Most of the latter were at two corners of the woods vulnerable to winds and where trees had come down in previous storms. 

At one of these spots the wind was still fierce and I recorded another little video, again having difficulty holding the phone still.

The weather looks unsettled the next few days but not abnormally stormy. The second half of August looks like it might be fine. I hope so. I have a walk planned.

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.

Where are the trees? Thinking about the environment along the Cape Wrath Trail.

A solitary rowan growing out of a boulder in An Caorann Mor between Loch Cluanie and Glen Affric

The Cape Wrath Trail, most of which I walked a few weeks ago, is mainly a low level route. There are some high passes but mostly it follows glens. It is a walk through the mountains rather than over them. I was aware that most of the time I was at a lower elevation than my home in Strathspey at 300 metres. It didn’t feel like it though. It felt higher and more mountainous than it is, the surroundings hard and harsh.

The Allt Feithe Chailleach. Just 225 metres above sea level. There should be trees.

The reason, I quickly realised, is the lack of trees. So much of the route is in bare, over-grazed, treeless glens. Being used to the Cairngorms with its extensive and increasing forest cover I missed the trees.

Regenerating forest in a fenced area in Glen Loyne

Paradoxically, the absence is most noticeable where there are trees. The frequent dark blocks of spruce plantations show that trees will grow here as do the rather fewer fenced areas of regenerating forest. The bare land around these forest islands is not natural. It is the result of over-grazing by deer and sheep. And this doesn’t just mean no trees. It means poor overall biodiversity. Inside the fences the undergrowth is thick and lush and there is much bird song. Outside the vegetation is low and species poor. Bird song is absent. In many areas a distant cuckoo was all I heard.

Scots pine forest in Glen Garry

Beginning the walk along the Great Glen I was in woods much of the first day and a half, some of it natural or semi-natural, rather more of it plantation. After leaving the trees in Glen Garry I was only in woods for short periods. Too often the few trees in the landscape were solitary rowans growing out of clefts in rocks or thin lines of mixed woodland along the sides of steep ravines, all out of reach of the deer.

Mixed woodland on the steep banks of the river Douchary

The differences were exemplified by a section between Inverlael and Oykel Bridge in the northern half of the walk. The path descends Glen Douchary through a ribbon of trees on steep banks with the river rushing down below. Life flourishes. Birds sing. The land feels alive. 

Loch an Daimh. A sad landscape after the joy of Glen Douchary.

The glen is left for a walk above long Loch an Daimh. The trees vanish. No birds sing. The land is sour. Life struggles here. This is what the summits far above are like but here it’s only 200 metres above sea level. There should be a glorious forest lining the loch.

Fenced forest regeneration standing out in Glen Loyne

There are changes, shown by the areas fenced for regeneration, often aided by planted native species, but these aren’t that big. Still, I’d rather some trees than none and the resulting chequerboard pattern of healthy and unhealthy terrain is better than nothing, jarring though it looks.

Clear-cut hillside in Glen Garry

In many areas plantations have been clear-cut, leaving ugly devastated sweeps of hillside slashed with bulldozed roads. If left to regenerate these could become new forests in future decades though it takes time for such brutal scars to heal. Some no doubt will be replanted with packed rows of spruce for future clear-cuts, though hopefully not many.

Fine scenery in Glen Gnionhaidh but where are the trees?

The Cape Wrath Trail should be a walk in the woods. It isn’t. It is still an enjoyable, challenging and impressive walk. I wouldn’t want to deter anybody from hiking it. But if you go think about what you see, think about trees. And give support to those who would see them return, who want to rewild the land.

Six Days In The Life Of A Birch Tree: Photo-Essay

After the first light snowfall. November 29.

In the field outside our house there's a lone birch tree growing in the remnants of a tumbledown stone wall. We've watched it slowly grow for over thirty years and I've photographed it many times as it changes with the seasons. Usually the changes are slow, buds changing to leaves in the early spring, leaves slowly opening as spring progresses, leaves darkening at the height of summer, leaves slowly turning gold in the autumn, leaves falling. Then a long period of winter stasis for three months, a stasis only broken by snowfall and frost. But when the latter come the birch can change appearance extremely fast and take on a magical look it never has otherwise.

During heavier snow. November 30.

This was the case over six days as November ended and December began. The first snowfall of the winter transformed the birch tree over six days from a dark silhouette to an enchanted snow-draped whiteness. As the snow and frost accumulated the tree grew in size and changed shape as the branches drooped under the weight. 

After the snow. December 2.

The snow builds up. December 2.

On the day when this reached its magnificent maximum I walked round the birch, entanced by its ethereal beauty.

December 3.

December 3.

December 3.

December 3.

Then overnight it was all gone. A slight rise in temperature, though it stayed below freezing, a slight breeze and the tree returned to how it been just six days earlier. The ephemeral magic was over. Never again will the tree look exactly like did for these few days.

December 4

Mists In The Forest & The Photographs I Took

 

This week's weather has been mixed with much cloud and mist and some rain and sunshine. The mist has been fascinating though, curling through the forests and drifting half-way up hills. Photographing it has been absorbing. The above image is my favourite of the week. It took a little thought and movement to achieve. It's always satisfying when doing so ends with a result I'm happy with. 

Above is the first image I took looking down into this wooded glen. I quite like it but it doesn't have the intimate quality I wanted so I changed my position a little to include the fallen tree in the foreground and zoomed in to the depths of the glen, cutting out the sky, to get the picture at the top. I didn't have to vary the focal length much, just from 39mm to 45mm (APS-C),  but it made a huge difference. 

I zoomed in much further for the above image, right to the 135mm limit of my lens in fact. The steep eastern flank of Cairn Gorm had briefly emerged from the clouds and I loved the stand of trees with mist either side in the centre and thought the two together made for an interesting picture.

The above image took a little time and thought too. Initially I was attracted by the thin band of mist in the distance. But zooming in to 135mm produced the image below. I like the mist but there's too much of the less interesting background and not enough foreground.

It works better cropped to a panorama which puts more emphasis on the mist though I'm still not convinced by the background.

I pulled the zoom in for the next image (to 51mm) I like the rather ghostly aspens but the centre is too dark. I can lighten it of course but then the trees look too flat and dull.

Finally I looked at the scene more closely and decided to concentrate on the immediate foreground and to include the rock and the bracken. I liked the contrast between the sunlit oak tree and the lichen covered leafless birch tree in shadow. Finally I had a compostion that worked for me.

Thoughts on the Sycamore Gap tree and nature

The birch tree

The felling of the Sycamore Gap tree has resulted in an astonishing outpouring of shock, grief and anger. The story has been a lead item on television and radio news and in many newspapers. Social media has been awash with comments from just about every organisation and individual concerned with conservation and nature and many others as well. Most show concern and unhappiness this has happened, others point out that far worse occurs without such a reaction.

Like most people I felt shocked when I saw the pictures. I did see the actual tree once, many decades ago, but since then I have seen pictures many, many times. That makes it feel familiar and it’s felling creates a sense of loss. Others feeling and expressing the same reinforces the emotion.It makes me think of trees I know and love and how I would feel if they were cut down.

Looking out of my study and kitchen windows I can see a lone birch tree standing in a pile of stones from an old wall in the middle of a big field. I’ve seen that tree every day I’m at home for over thirty years. It really is familiar, a part of my life. I’ve photographed it many times over the years in every season and every type of weather. It is a fine tree. I like it very much. I would be shocked and sad if it was cut down. It wouldn’t cause a ripple in the outside world though. No-one apart from me and my family would know, let alone care.

The birch tree in a storm

Birds perch in it occasionally but it’s not really a tree for wildlife because of its location, in the middle of fields grazed by cows and sheep. It’s rough grazing and there are flowers amongst the grass and butterflies and other insects so it’s not a totally sterile or barren landscape. But any birch seedlings never make it far above ground.

Not far away, also visible from the house, is a thicket of young birches, dense and tangled and thriving. This has grown up in the last twenty years, since the farmer stopped bringing his beasts regularly up the track beside the area and they ate any tree seedlings.

The thicket

The birch thicket isn’t very big, but it is just large enough to go into and feel inside a wood, inside a place that is different to the world outside. In spring and summer it is full of exuberant life. The undergrowth is thick with flowers and grasses, insects buzz, birds sing. This is so different to the solitary birch in its field.

Yet I have never photographed this thicket until doing so for this piece. It doesn’t stand out; it doesn’t fit as an image of natural beauty. Walking round and through the little trees there’s no obvious viewpoint from which to admire them. It looks messy. It is messy. And that’s good as it’s that messiness that is brimming with life. Nature isn’t tidy.

The birch tree in a winter mist

The solitary birch is very photogenic. The shape is pleasingly symmetrical. It stands out against the sky. The Cairngorms form a distant backdrop. It is aesthetically satisfying. That matters in our appreciation of nature and landscape. It’s part of our culture. The Sycamore Gap tree is a perfect example of this. Standing between those lovely curving slopes, solitary and dramatic.

For the health of nature this doesn’t matter at all. The birch thicket is where life is burgeoning. Remover the domestic livestock and young birch would spring up around the lone tree but unless that happens it’s one ageing tree with no nearby offspring and no woodland community around it.

The Sycamore Gap tree is the same. There are no other trees. It will probably regrow, sprouting shoots from the stump. Sycamores are good at that. But it will still be a lone tree unless others join it and if they do the landscape will look different. Ecologically healthier but aesthetically probably not as immediately attractive. I think that is what should happen. If anything positive is to come out of the felling and the surge of emotions it has engendered I hope it is that more people campaign and work for more trees in Sycamore Gap and elsewhere, more messy thickets rich with life. That’s what we need.

 

Painting Scotland Yellow - a new campaign for a favourite tree

 

Aspen is a beautiful tree, especially in autumn when it's leaves turn a glorious intense yellow. However it's now scarce in Scotland due to overgrazing. I'm privileged to live where there are quite a few aspen in the local woods. All these pictures were taken within a short walk of my home.

Aspen is one of my favourite trees so I'm delighted that Scotland The Big Picture has just launched a campaign called Painting Scotland Yellow " to inform and inspire more people, at all levels, to recognise aspen as a key component of healthy woodlands". The result, it is hoped, will be more aspen in the landscape both through natural regeneration, as well as planting. I really hope so.

Restoring aspen to the landscape is difficult because "aspen rarely sets seed in Scotland and instead relies on the root system of one tree sending up ‘suckers’ to create clones of itself." This is why aspen often grows in straight lines. 

To produce aspen for planting " growers take cuttings from these roots and grow them on – a labour intensive job – or they wait for one of the few years in which aspen flowers in order to collect seed". It's not easy then to increase aspen numbers.

Whilst most spectacular in autumn aspen are wonderful trees year round. In winter they are pale and ghost-like, an appearance that lasts into the spring as their leaves come out later than on other trees.

When the wind moves aspen leaves they quiver and rustle, a feature reflected in the scientific name, Populus tremens. 

 

The bark of an aspen is a pale creamy grey, smooth in young trees, cracked and pitted in old ones and often splashed with lichen.

 

 More aspen, yes, please!