Into the Arctic and the Winter: The Final Stage of My Yukon Walk, September 1- September 8, 1990

 

When I left the Eagle Plains Hotel (see my last Yukon post) I knew I was on the last part of the walk but I didn't know exactly where I would finish or how long it would take me to get there, wherever it was, so I set off with two weeks supplies and the heaviest pack of the trip. I was pretty fit of course and the load was not the burden it would have been at the start of the walk.

My plan was to follow the remote Richardson Mountains north at least as far as the pass where the Dempster Highway crossed them into the Northwest Territories. Autumn colours and cold temperatures showed that summer was over. Chilly rain fell frequently and I was glad of the tarp I'd brought as a cooking shelter.

After crossing the Arctic Circle I climbed up into the Richardson Mountains. These are built of sedimentary rocks and form long undulating ridges that make for superb walking and I had one of the best days of the whole trip striding along the crest.

The weather however did not let me stay on the crest for long. Snow began to fall and soon a blizzard was raging. I was blown off my feet once and could then only progress by almost crawling. This, I realised, was crazy so I descended cautiously down steep and slippery moss and boulders to easier terrain. I camped in heavy rain and strong winds on open ground with little shelter. The storm battered the tent, easing towards dawn as the rain turned to snow.

I left that camp in a white-out and slogged through soft deep snow to a final camp. Somewhere during the day I left the Yukon Territory. Another desperate day in driving snow and hail staggering through ankle- to thigh-deep snow led to the Dempster Highway. A truck slowed and stopped. The walk was over.

The walk had taken 83 days and I reckoned I'd walked well over 1,000 miles, though as I couldn't trace some of my route exactly on the map I didn't know for certain. The distance didn't matter though. It had been a great adventure.

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, with 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.

Book Review: Skye's Cuillin Ridge Traverse by Adrian Trendall

 

The most challenging hills in Scotland are undoubtedly the Cuillin on the Isle of Skye, a tangled mass of spectacular rock architecture.  There is no easy way up most of the summits. Scrambling and in some places rock climbing are required to reach many of them. 

So much complex rock detail is crammed into this small area that maps cannot cover it adequately. This is the only mountain range in Scotland where I would say a guidebook is essential. Having been going to the Cuillin on and off for forty years I've a small library on the region, including a succession of guidebooks. This one came out earlier this year and is the best of them all. The author, Adrian Trendall, is a mountain guide on Skye and clearly knows the Cuillin intimately. He and his wife Bridgette run All Things Cuillin, a guiding and photography company, and a Facebook group with the same name.

The book is in two parts, both contained in a plastic sleeve. The first part covers necessary information such as navigation, grades, and logistics and then ten classic scrambles. Each route is described in detail and clearly marked on photographs and sections of  Harvey's Superwalker Skye: The Cuillin map. There's also a chapter on the Cuillin traverse in winter for those with the experience to attempt this. 

The second part is a detailed topo booklet to the complete Cuillin Ridge Traverse with Harvey 1:25,000 and 1:12,500 mapping and again routes marked on photographs. The information is well laid out and easy to follow. I wish I'd had this on my one almost ridge traverse (Sgurr nan Gillean to Bealach Mhic Choinnich where we bailed out as a storm began) and on shorter ventures along sections of it. 

The guide is illustrated with the author's excellent photographs, which show both the splendour of the scenery and the nature of the scrambling and climbing. 

A highly recommended book.

A Spectacular Display of Clouds At Sunset

Evening is one of my favourite times and I often go out for a stroll at dusk and watch the day fade into night. Sometimes there is a red sunset, sometimes clouds glow with the last light, sometimes greyness just fades into black. And sometimes magic happens and the sly is ablaze with glory. 

That was the case on the second day of September. After a day of wind, rain and an overcast sky sunlight finally cut through the clouds, lighting up the Cromdale Hills. I wandered down the track through the woods below our house. A chat with a neighbour was cut short by the appearance of midges - they haven't gone yet. 

Leaving the woods now seemed a good idea so I walked back up the track and out into the fields, where I hoped the breeze would deter the midges. Looking back I could saw a rainbow arcing over the darkening Cromdale Hills. 

Towards the now vanished sun great swirls of cloud caught the last rays, turning orange and gold. The clouds were layers of twisting fantastic shapes. Out in the fields I stood and stared, entranced by one of the most glorious skies I have ever seen. This was magic indeed.

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/.