The last day of August in the hills - autumn colours appearing, brilliant evening light, bitter wind.

    

August ended cold with strong winds. On the last day of the month I went to Glen Feshie and climbed up through the woods to the bouldery summit of Geal Charn and a high level walk over Meall Buidhe to Sgor Gaoith. On the tops the wind was bitter and I wore hat, gloves, fleece top and windproof jacket. Summer, it seemed, was over up here. Two walkers descending were similarly clad. I saw no-one else.

The hillsides looked autumnal, the purple heather fading, the grasses turning yellow and red. Above the clouds were thick and dark, though above the summits. There was brightness in the sky though, to the west, east and north. But not here.

I didn't reach Sgor Gaoith until 7.30 pm. The sky was already darkening. Loch Einich was in shadow and the view down to the loch and across to Braeriach was strangely subdued. Usually this tremendous scene dominates but not today. The flatness of the light took away the drama. Instead my eye was drawn west to the rays of the low sun cutting under the clouds, sending down brightness onto Creag Meagaidh and the Monadhliath.

Throughout my descent in the dusk the light in the west shone bright, making it hard to keep my footing on the slippery, boggy, rock-laced pathless slopes, especially as the light faded. 

Reaching the path above the Allt Ruadh made the going easier as I could see the pale line cutting through the dark heather. The clouds were clearing and the first stars were in the sky as I reached the dark shadow of the woods. The edge of the last clouds turned bright silver and then the moon, almost full, rose, its bright shafts illuminating the ground between the trees. Shadowed areas became pools of impentratable black. I stumbled over an invisible root and relucantly switched on my headlamp. There was a chill in the air now, my breath visible. August, and maybe summer, was over.

Return to the Mountains: Stage 5 of my Yukon Walk, August 6 to August 30, 1990

  

After the long crossing of the gentle wooded Yukon Plateau (see this post) I returned to the mountains on a section of my Yukon walk that had the most spectacular scenery but also some of the toughest terrain I've ever crossed. There were no towns north of Dawson City and just one hotel at Eagle Plains so I'd arranged food drops at two maintenance camps on the Dempster Highway, the only road, as I expected to be walking for at least another month. With autumn approaching and knowing I would soon be in the Arctic I had sent a down pullover, thick sweater, warm mitts, gaiters and thick wool socks to Dawson. My pack would be heavier but I would need them all before the finish.

North of Dawson I was looking forward to reaching spectacular Tombstone Mountain and its equally magnificent neighbours. Reaching it was tough though. Easy walking on dirt forest roads gave way to a desperate struggle through dense alder and willow thickets. At one point it took two hours to thrash two miles. Further hard walking in more dense brush and across boulder fields led into the heart of the mountains. Paradise! I camped at Talus Lake, looking across the shining water to Tombstone Mountain itself. 

The four days I spent in the Tombstone area were the highlights of the whole walk. I could have spent many weeks there. But I needed to reach my supply points and keep heading north. The landscape of the rest of the Ogilvie Mountains was still impressive and mountainous, though nothing like the Tombstone Range. The walking was often still tough too as I ploughed through muskeg swamps and black spruce forest. 

Two wildlife episodes stand out from this part of the walk. The first was seeing a grizzly bear and watching it foraging as I passed by on the other side of the valley. Magnificent and exhilarating! Later on I was watching the Ogilvie River when I sensed movement and turned to see two wolves. They were scavenging rubbish left by a horse packing party who had camped nearby. 

Then there was the night of the Northern Lights when I spent  an hour lying on my back oblivious to the cold ground watching great waves of green light sweeping the sky, by far the best display of the aurora I've ever seen.

Twenty days out from Dawson I reached Eagle Plains and settled into the hotel for a rest day. Ahead I could see the Richardson Mountains in the Arctic, the final stretch of my walk. Autumn was here and the first snow might occur anytime soon. 

I wrote a book about the walk. It’s long out of print but I expect there are second-hand copies around.

Photographic Note: I carried two SLRs, the Nikon F801 and FM2, plus Nikkor 35-70, Nikkor 24mm,and Sigma 70-210 lenses, plus a Cullman tripod. Films were Fujichrome 50 and 100 slide ones. The total weight with padded cases was 4kg. To digitise the slides I photographed them on a lightbox with my Sony a6000 with a Sony E 30mm macro lens.

A great camp, fine hills, and thoughts on coping with midges

In my many years of wandering in the Scottish Highlands I’ve often looked at a spot and thought it would be a great place to camp. Usually I’ve then forgotten about it. However, looking at the map years later can bring back the memory and sometimes spur a return visit to actually camp there. This was the case with my most recent camp, which was by Loch a’Mhadaidh Ruadh below An Ruadh-stac in the NW Highlands.

On a cloudy evening I followed footpaths to the Bealach an Ruadh-stac then dropped down rough slopes to the loch, which is actually two and almost three lochs. The ground here is mostly boggy with a few stony patches. There are many tussocks and rocks. It’s a lovely spot but finding a passable camp site is quite difficult and I spent a while searching before settling on the top of a stony bump above the loch that was reasonably dry and reasonably flat. It would do. 

From this camp there were splendid views of the great rock pyramid of An Ruadh-stac, the long ridge of Meall Chean-dearg, and distant Ben Damph. Set in the heart of the mountains there was nothing to see but rock, mountain, loch, and sky – exactly why I was here. The evening was quiet and cool. The night was cold for August, the temperature falling to 3°C. The chill was probably why there were few midges around at dawn. There was lovely early light on the mountains, and I spent an hour ambling round taking photographs and revelling in the wild beauty.

Leaving camp set up as I planned on a second night here I spent the day on An Ruadh-stac and Maol Chean-dearg. The light faded a little with high thin clouds softening the views, but it was all still splendid. An Ruadh-stac is a dramatic peak. There’s only a sketchy path up it’s quartzite slopes and a little easy scrambling is required. It doesn’t quite reach Munro height and doesn’t seem often visited. I saw no-one. 

Maol Chean-dearg is a Munro and there is a path, steep and rocky and eroded in places but easy to follow, and I did meet a handful of people. It’s not as spectacular a peak as An Ruadh-stac but the views from the summit were the best of the day, especially dizzyingly down to Loch an Eoin and north to the line of the jagged Torridon peaks with Liathach seemingly merging into Beinn Eighe. Out across the sea the mountains of Harris were surprisingly sharp and clear. 

I lingered on the summit, speaking briefly to a walker who arrived, commented on how tough the boulder field was on the ascent , took some photos on his phone, then set off down. I was reluctant to leave this idyllic spot but after a while the midges found me and became irritating enough to get me moving. Devils in paradise!

Back at camp the midges were out in their millions or billions, or trillions, great clouds erupting around me. Insect repellent stopped them biting but the swarms were still irritating. It was late afternoon and still very warm. Retreating into the tent was not appealing, it would be hot, stuffy and sweaty in there. I knew rain and wind was forecast for the next day and my plan had been to return to the car then anyway. I might as well do that now I thought and escape the midges. Breaking camp required composure and gritted teeth. Every time I bent down to pull out a tent peg midges enveloped my head. I was glad when I was on my way, despite a rather badly packed rucksack. Back at the car the midges were just as bad. I had clean clothes to change into. That could wait until I was home!

This was the worst midge experience of the summer so far. On social media I’d seen many reports of people suffering similar attacks, some asking if the midges were worse than in other years. I can’t say if that is actually so, but I have had appalling midges too many times in previous years to feel this year is any different. The crucial factor is the weather. This summer has seen many calm humid days, which are ideal for midges. Stormy summers are less so. When I walked the Scottish Watershed some years ago I encountered few midges as the weather in the Highlands was generally wet and windy.

Over the years I’ve developed a strategy for coping with midges that just about makes life tolerable. This is based around three items – insect repellent, mosquito coils, and a tent with a large enough porch to cook in safely with the doors closed. As soon as I stop to camp the midge repellent goes on any exposed skin. Once the tent is up I light a mosquito coil in the porch. Water collected – I bring enough containers to only do this once – I shut myself in the tent. Except when cooking I keep the inner doors closed. The outer door is always shut.  On warm nights this can result in a very damp hot atmosphere with condensation pouring down the flysheet walls – I find this preferable to the midges. A pee bottle is useful too – going out in the night is not advisable!

If I wake to midges filling the porch and slithering down the tent walls I light a mosquito coil in the inner tent, unzip as little of the door as I need to slip the coil into the porch, then zip up the door again. Five to ten minutes usually sees the porch clear of live midges and I can open the inner door and start the stove. Breakfast over I then pack everything before leaving the tent. Then it’s a question of getting the tent down as quickly as possible, stuffing it into the pack, and walking briskly away.

This procedure requires efficiency and speed. I don’t like it but it’s the best way I’ve found of dealing with midges. Camping somewhere breezy is much better but not always possible.

Midge nets are an option I sometimes use if the midges are really unbearable. I find them hot and stuffy though and plain ones can be hard to see through. I have one called Netspex with built in glasses that is much better – unfortunately, it’s no longer available. I always carry it in midge season.

I never let the midges stop me going out but by the end of a summer when they are bad, I am longing for the first frosts. Roll on October!

Podcast with John D.Burns

 

Just out, a podcast with John D Burns. In this we discuss the Cairngorms, the future of Cairn Gorm Mountain, grouse moors, the "wild camping" problems, real wild camping and more. I enjoyed our talk. I hope you do too.

https://www.johndburns.com/podcast/outside-in-with-chris-townsend/.

An Evening in the Cairngorms

 

Yesterday the sun shone. In the distance the Cairngorms were etched sharply against the blue sky. The air was hot and heavy. And I was trying to write a review of waterproof jackets. Concentration was hard. Too hard. How could I think about waterproofs in weather like this? I couldn't. I gave up and decided to go for a walk instead. It was late when I set off but I was happy with that as it meant the hottest part of the day was over and developing clouds meant there might be a colourful sunset.

As I climbed to the Cairngorm Plateau the clouds thickened with masses of shimmering mackerel clouds above sheets of grey. The air was humid, sticky. The midges were out. Two walkers ahead of me abandoned their ascent and turned round. "The flies are horrendous", said one. But once I reached the crest of the ridge there was a breeze and the midges faded away. Two descending rock climbers stopped for a chat. One showed me his orange helmet. It was spattered with black spots. Dead midges. 

Once on the Plateau I wandered up Stob Coire an t-Sneachda and then over to Stag Rocks. Despite the hot weather there were still substantial snow patches in Coire Domhain and on the headwall of the Loch Avon Basin. I could see the white water and hear the rushing of the Feith Buidhe and the Garbh Uisge as they tumbled down the rocks towards Loch Avon. Closer by ring ousels perched on rocks just below me and a family of ptarmigan scuttled across the stones.

As I looked down on the loch the sun sank below the thicker clouds and started to light up the slopes of Beinn Mheadhoin. Two tents were pitched on the sandy beach at the head of the loch. Midgey down there, I thought. Earlier I'd spotted a tent pitched high on the Plateau. That was the place to be.

As the low sun strengthened colour began to return to the land and the sky. I set off up Cairn Gorm, looking down on a hazy Strathspey as mist began to form. Further north lay a blanket of low cloud.

 

To the west layers of mountains were sharp and clear, Ben Nevis and Creag Meagaidh standing out.

I reached the summit of Cairn Gorm half an hour before sunset. The north-western sky was turning a brilliant searing orange. The air was still and quite cool now. Alone I watched the glorious sunset.

As the colours began to fade I started down. Ahead of me throughout the descent was a gradually narrowing band of colour. The details of the landscape vanished into darkness, leaving pale Loch Morlich and the lights of Aviemore dominating the view. Above me an owl circled, hoping, I guess, that I would disturb some prey.

I couldn't have had a grander evening. Refreshed I returned home and my thoughts turned back to waterproof clothing.

Save Beavers In Scotland - Please Sign The Petition

Image from @scotlandtbp (c)

The return of beavers to Scotland has been of the great conservation stories of recent years (and we really need positive stories). They are now a protected species, as they should be. However, despite this, last year one in five Scottish beavers were killed.

As well as being beautiful animals in their own right beavers create habitats, boost biodiversity, and help prevent floods. They are becoming a tourist attraction too. I haven't seen beavers in Scotland myself yet, though I have been to one of their habitats and seen gnawed tree stumps, but I have watched them in North America and Scandinavia. I've marvelled at their dams and the series of ponds they create, which support a wealth of wildlife, regulate water flow, and improve water quality.

Beavers cause few problems but they can damage crops, which leads some farmers to kill them. Until beavers received legal protection last year farmers could do this as they wished. That protection isn't complete however and licences to kill beavers can be obtained from Scottish Natural Heritage. 87 were shot in the last year.

Image from @Scots Beavers (c)

Rather than shooting beavers they should be relocated. There are many suitable areas in Scotland. I'd love to see them here in Strathspey. However the Scottish Government does not permit this.

Trees for Life and the Scottish Rewilding Alliance have started a petition calling on the Scottish Government to allow the relocation of beavers. At the time of writing this has 7,593 signatures. Many more are needed. Please sign if you care about wildlife. Beavers could have a great future in Scotland.

 

Beinn Bhan: Conservation - the good and the bad

 

Walking in the NW Highlands I'm always struck by the scarcity of trees. In the Cairngorms I'm used to walking through forests to the hills. In the NW this is rare, even though many walks start at sea level, unlike in the Cairngorms.

This lack of trees was especially noticeable on my recent camp and walk on Beinn Bhan in Applecross (see last post). Setting off from the River Kishorn just before it meets the sea I walked along a track through boggy ground with just two or three small willow and rowan trees poking through the heather. Once I started to climb there were no more trees, just heather, bog myrtle, bog asphodel, and coarse grasses. The reason was easy to see - there were deer tracks everywhere.  Now extensive woodland is unlikely on the blanket bog that makes up most of the ground below the summit ridge but the high numbers of deer ensures that overgrazing prevents even a scattering of trees appearing.

 

Climbing up to the ridge from my camp I looked up to see a herd of twenty-five or more deer watching me. Long before my sweaty ascent was over they'd moved away, just leaving fresh tracks and droppings in the mud. 

 

Near the end of my trip I could see woodland on the far side of the River Kishorn but on the slopes I was descending there was not even a bush. 

 

Other than overgrazing I saw no damage on Beinn Bhan. No bulldozed roads, no off-road vehicle tracks, no litter, no signs of anyone camping. I doubt anyone had ever camped where I did and I doubt anyone could find the spot once the flattened grass had sprung back. I'm not sure I could! The lack of human signs was pleasing. Even the summit was free of bits of litter stuffed between the stones of the low wind shelter.

The walking on the long summit ridge itself is easy and a relief after the bogs. The terrain is dry with areas of short grass and flat stones. It is a joy to walk along.

The view from the ridge is of sea and hills all around with little to mar the scene. Down in the glen the road to Lochcarron can be seen and to the south-west a communication mast is visible on the lower top of Sgurr a'Chaorachain. Only one thing really jarred - an ugly bulldozed road up a glen to the east.

Apart from the deer I saw little wildlife. Low down there were meadow pipits and a few wheatear. Higher up a raven called. Other than that the hill was quiet and still. 

Compared with many hills Beinn Bhan is unspoiled. Fewer deer would be good though.