Leuchan, Looking

October in Scotland can have some stunningly good weather, and a warm, clear early October day was too good to miss.  Allan, Lorna and I met up in the Deeside town of Ballater for a round of a hill suggested by Lorna, and one which I hadn't previously walked.  We left the town and crossed the River Dee on the fine stone Royal Bridge and left the road to join an old track through pines and larches, the track a cushion of fallen needles dappled with sunshine.

The track climbs very steadily at an easy-to-walk angle out of the wood and takes a curving line towards a distinct notch on the skyline.  Below us (to the left in this image) a very large "parcel" of red Deer hinds moved across the grassy ground with two huge stags in attendance.  the stags were roaring repeatedly and one charged the other, sending it trotting away.  In reality one stag has absolutely no chance of keeping a group of over fifty hinds through the rut - he has his hands full!  As we climbed further we saw numerous groups of hinds marshalled by stags, the hill slope echoing to their roar.

A chat with an estate stalker who was driving down the track gave an excuse to pause on the climb and we got some really interesting insight into management on this piece of ground.  A group of clients were out with the head stalker shooting grouse, we asked whether our route would be a problem - which it wasn't.

The views were really starting to open up as we reached the skyline notch and climbed above it towards the summit of our hill, Cairn Leuchan.  On a knoll above the path, the distinctive shape of a mountain hare could be seen...but something didn't seem right....it was stock-still.  we walked up to investigate....

..and found this fine fellow called "Leuchan" from the hill, looking fixedly across Glen Muick to the distant Lochnagar.

Leuchan appears to be made from resin or a similar construction and even has his own stone name plate.  I've come across a similar sculpture on a hill the other side of Glen Muick previously and I still have no idea who installed them - but as pieces of art in the landscape they're fine by me!

We left Leuchan, looking, to his contemplation and continued towards the summit of Cairn Leuchan.

It's a short but steep climb to the outcrop forming the summit of Cairn Leuchan.  At 700m/2297ft it's neither a high hill or on any particular list of hills, but it is a very fine viewpoint.  The object of Leuchan the Hare's gaze, Lochnagar, is very prominent and draws the eye to the south west.

To the south east is another Munro, Mount Keen, the most easterly of Scotland's 3000ft hills.  The path which leaves the traditional "Mounth" route between Deeside and Glen Mark to climb to the summit is clearly visible as a pinkish line.

After resting a while and taking in the view we headed back down to the skyline notch, passing the shooters at their lunch.  We exchanged pleasantries with the head stalker and his staff but were roundly ignored by the clients.

We intended to keep to the high ground and took a short detour onto Craig Vallich, which is a fine viewpoint above Ballater.

The final high point of the day was the 601m/1972ft Pannanich Hill, which was possibly the best viewpoint on the walk.  A wide view through the northerly arc with the glacial lochans of Loch Davan and Loch Kinord as foreground with our "home hill" of Bennachie as backdrop made a super panorama while we sat and enjoyed a coffee.

It had been a great day, with lovely weather - t-shirts on high ground in October is definitely not the norm!  The walk had a final treat for us too.....

Another hare sculpture, also looking towards Lochnagar - maybe there's a pattern here, it's an intruiging puzzle!

The descent from Pannanich Hill back down to the valley of the River Dee is very steep and hard on the knees - we felt that our ascent route had been much the better way.  Soon though the roofs of the town and the fine church tower were in view and we strolled back along more level ground through a lovely wood.

What a great day it had been, another "wee hill" which had given a route of real quality and interest - a good choice by Lorna!

 

A seasonal pleasure

September at Mountain and Sea Scotland HQ brings one of most satisfying of seasonal tasks, the storing of firewood logs to fuel our woodburner.  A big load of beech and elm from our regular supplier Ben at Treelogic arrived on a Friday, giving us the weekend to do the job.  

The first task was to sort out what would be stacked immediately and what could be split to give a variety of log sizes.  There followed an evening's work steadily moving the logs to the woodstore by wheelbarrow and starting the stacking process.  There was no hurry to do it as this load of wood isn't for use in the coming winter, it's destined to be burned in autumn and winter 2022/23.

I left the majority of the beech logs aside to be split.  As it was mainly large branch wood it would split nicely and provide smaller logs as well as making the individual logs easier to stack.  This is a job which has never seemed to be a chore to me but rather an enjoyable, even paced rhythm which is totally absorbing and almost therapeutic.

The job is made especially enjoyable because my splitting axe is a a wonderful tool.  A hand-forged large splitting axe from the small Swedish company Gransfors Bruk, it was a gift from our children a few years ago.  I have never used a tool so perfectly designed for purpose and which feels so absolutely "right" in the hands - it makes me smile every time I come to use it.

The job is finished by stacking the logs in one of our several woodstores.  This is also an absorbing job; there will be a "right" space for each log, no matter how awkwardly shaped.  In Scotland we don't usually see straight birch log firewood cut perfectly to length and diameter to form the wonderfully aesthetic stacks seen in Scandinavia, but its still possible to get a stable stack which doesn't look too much like simply a pile!

 And so, the job is done - for now.  The new load of wood is dry and perfectly burnable, but like malt whisky, firewood benefits from some additional time to mature.  Given extra months of seasoning it's possible to get wood seasoned from a dry 20% to as low as 15% moisture content even in Scotland's climate and this makes a surprising difference to the way it burns.  

In the meantime, of course, there's the satisfaction of walking past the woodstore on most days - it's tempting to build and fill "just one more" store - after all, you never know what the weather might be like next winter!

Reflecting on a Loch Etive journey

Sleep was a little disturbed at our camp on the shore of Loch Etive; the Red Deer stags continued their roaring all night, the sound echoing across the loch.  Just as dawn broke they seemed to quieten, allowing an extra hour's sleep for the humans.  

We woke to a morning filled with promise; a light cover of cloud was already starting to be burned off by the rising sun.  We were pleasantly surprised that there was no condensation on the tents and no dew on the ground, allowing us to pack tents away quickly.

We got on the water before 0900 and headed out to the centre of the narrow loch.  Behind us the ridges of Ben Cruachan looked very atmospheric with streamers of morning cloud hanging in the corries of that great and complex hill.

The north west shore of Loch Etive is more wooded than the south eastern side and was beautifully lit by the morning sunshine, gorgeous shades of autumnal colours were picked out wherever sunlight broke through.

We headed over and paddled slowly up the shore towards the head of the loch alongside woods of oak, holly and birch, set off with a deep russet carpet of brackens which had already "gone over".  We felt that the morning could scarcely be better....until we turned a small headland and got the view we'd come for.

Landing on a shingle shore we just stood and stared before reaching for our cameras.  The dramatic hills at the head of the loch were reflected perfectly in the still water and we took image after image after image.  I'm still not sure whether I prefer the images with the shoreline boulders......

......or the ones without the boulders!  The  head of Loch Etive lies between the Blackmount and Glencoe and the hills in view are some of the best of both those grand ranges.  The sharp peaks at the ends of Buachaille Etive Beag and Buachaille Etive Mor are prominent, with the passes of the Lairig Eilde and the Lairig Gartain between them.  In shadow on the right of this image is the base of Ben Starav, a hill I'd put in my top ten of Munros...it was all pretty special!

We sat for a considerable time just absorbing the views and enjoying the stillness of the morning - after our initial amazed exclamations about the view, words seemed a little superfluous.  Coffee was taken along with snacks to prolong the sitting around, but eventually we knew we'd have to get back on the water if we were to take advantage of the ebb tide further down the loch.

The views as we headed back down the upper part of the loch were hardly poor either!  What tiny breeze there had been had died completely and we paddled on absolutely still water, the only movement was that created by our paddle strokes - and we felt almost guilty when we created ripples on such perfection!

Stands of trees on the shore created great reflections; at times these seemed similar to the fractal patterns in children's kaleidoscopes.  I positioned myself to photograph first Allan..... 

...and then Raymond in the middle of these reflected geometric patterns.

 A wider view shows just how perfect this morning was as we paddled under the sweep of Ben Trillieachan (hill of the sandpiper - though many climbers who've had experience of the famous slabs on the north end of the hill would claim it's "sandpaper"!).

As we left the narrow upper part of the loch we took a last look back at the view.  Our passage back to Taynuilt was assisted by the pull of the ebb tide and we averaged a healthy 8.5km/h without much effort, popping through the narrows on the last of the ebb.

This had been a great overnight exploration of Loch Etive, we'd had great views and amazing wildlife encounters as well as a comfortable camp -  it's a loch I know that I'll return to paddle again.

Big birds and big beasts on the shores of Loch Etive

We had little time to dwell on the fact that the brilliant autumnal sunshine had been replaced with a sheet of grey cloud.  As we paddled along the shore we became aware of two Oystercatchers and a gull going absolutely bonkers and dive-bombing a patch of beach.  Such behaviour usually indicates the presence of a predator, and in this case it was two of the most spectacular predators.

We were able to paddle slowly up to get really close views of two White Tailed Eagles (Haliaeetus albicilla) before the huge birds lifted off.  But, amazingly, they landed just a few metres along and seemed completely unfazed as we drifted past.  We thought that this was an adult and one of this year's young, the juvenile bird was mostly brown....

...while the adult was grey around the wings and mantle with the distinctive white tail of a mature bird.  We were treated to several minutes of very close encounter with these impressive birds and it was clear that they weren't at all bothered by us as long as we kept a comfortable distance and stayed quiet.

Eventually the juvenile bird got fed up of being dive-bombed by an irate gull and took off over the loch, followed by the adult bird which gave us a great fly-by.  Wildlife encounters like this are such a privilege - and to be treasured.  As it turned out, our wildlife experiences were far from over for the day.

We'd started looking for a good camping spot from fairly early in the afternoon; this trip was never about clocking up distance and all about an exploration of a sea loch all of us have walked above and along but not paddled.  We settled on a spot on the shore with good level ground around a stand of Alder trees, got the tents up and split up to scour the shore for driftwood for a fire.  We were surprised at the amount of wood along the tideline this late in the year but reasoned that for months through Spring and Summer there had been no visitors until the lockdown restrictions were lifted.

 After a superb dinner of home-made casserole (accompanied by a rather good red wine - no point in suffering!) we got a fire lit below the high water mark just as darkness was gathering.  As it turned out, I'd put the fire a little too far below the tideline and we had to move the whole thing up the beach as the Spring tide rose and rose!

Our other wildlife experience began as dusk was falling.  This trip was done in mid-October and the Red Deer rut was in full swing, stags roaring all around us.  As darkness gathered the wind had dropped to nothing as can be seen by the sparks and smoke from our fire, and the bellows of these impressive animals echoed across the water and from the hillside above the camp - it was very atmospheric!  We turned in late in the evening thinking that the stags might settle after a while, but the iconic sounds continued right through the night.  The stag with the deepest, hoarsest, loudest roar of them all seemed to be holding ground on the hillside just above our camp - and thankfully stayed there.  Stags fired up during the height of the rut can be a fearsome prospect and we didn't fancy coming up close in the dark!

After a Spring and Summer when we hadn't been able to get out in the kayaks it felt that we were getting the most special of experiences. 

Autumn on Etive

Of all the seasons, autumn in Scotland is my favourite.  the colours are at their best and there's a tangible sense of change in the air - I've never thought it to be a season of decline or dwelled on the shortening day length.  Allan, Raymond and I were looking for a sea kayak trip during a period of settled weather in mid-October; we decided on paddling on Loch Etive which we hoped would give us a good trip and allow us to experience the autumn colours from the water too.

Loch Etive is a 30km long, fjiord-like sea loch with its entrance into the Firth of Lorn at Connel, just north of Oban.  When the glaciers carved out the loch and then retreated, a sill of rock was left near the entrance.  This sill limits the flow of water leaving the loch on an ebb tide, with the effect that the level of the water outside the loch drops faster than that in the loch.  From quite early in the ebb a tidal fall forms at Connel where the loch is spanned by a road bridge.  On a spring tide, which it was when we did this trip, the Falls of Lora were in full and spectacular flow.  We stopped to admire the spectacle, and to watch the river kayakers who use the Fall as a play spot.  We, however, had no intention of taking 5 metre fully laden sea kayaks anywhere near this spot on a spring tide and planned to stat our trip some way up the loch!

We gathered at Taynuilt where the loch again narrows but without the excitement of a tidal fall to contend with.  We'd need to paddle against the last of the ebb tide for a short while but were confident of finding eddies along the shore to help us past this short section.  It was a bright morning but with a chilly breeze which was forecast to drop during the afternoon.  Loaded and ready, we got on the water for our short adventure.

Approaching the narrows there are tantalising glimpses of the mountains which line both sides of Loch Etive and give it such character.  I've climbed the hills and walked one side of the loch but hadn't previously paddled here, so was looking forward to exploring as much as we could.

We got through the narrows with little difficulty, though against a bit of a breeze as well as the ebb stream.  The play of light on the hillsides, alternately lighting the rich autumn colours, was lovely - though we noticed a cloud sheet was beginning to form over the area.

As shafts of sunlight became less frequent their effect seemed more pronounced, pefhaps also due to the lowering angle of the sun at mid afternoon.

 All too soon the cloud sheet drew right across the sky, and though the scenery ahead was getting more spectacular the absence of vivid colour took something away.  We certainly weren't complaining too much though, this is a great place to explore by sea kayak - and we had an unexpected treat ahead of us.

A look back to Loch Maree

We left Isle Maree feeling very relaxed and emerged into bright sunshine and a freshening breeze.  We paddled across to the north shore of the loch to check out a potential site for a future camping trip; the autumn colours were very fine, especially against the magnificent backdrop of Slioch.

We turned downwind to paddle along the north shore and enjoyed a relaxing paddle among stunning autumnal shades; oak, aspen, beech and birch all at different stages of turning.

After threading our way back through Loch Maree's islands we returned to Slattadale to find that in the deep shade of this part of the loch there was still a hint of frost smoke over the water - kayaking through this was a really special experience.

As we loaded our boats onto the cars we watched the light slowly change on Slioch - the name translates as "the spear" and it's very appropriate when seen from some angles, the buttresses rearing into clear air.

As you drive the A832 road back towards Kinlochewe the view of the hill across the loch is foreshortened and somewhat compressed, though still very impressive.

Our route had been a short one, but the day had been superb - for the second successive year Loch Maree had given a day of autumnal brilliance.

Climbing out to the head of Glen Docherty, we paused at "The Viewpoint" to take a look back along the length of Loch Maree and out to the distant sea - it was the end of two cracking days of kayaking, one on salt water and one on fresh water; both special days.

Sight and sound on Loch Maree

There was absolutely no wind when we headed out onto Loch Maree.  Our pace matched the feel of the morning and we spent long minutes just drifting on miror-calm water and absorbing the place.

Our plan was to simply explore a few of the islands clustering the north west end of the loch, so we headed slowly over to the nearest of them.  The westernmost islands have good cover of Caledonian Pine with an understory of  Birch and Rowan, those to the east have little in the way of tree cover, and there's one island which is quite different to the others.  Autumn is a great time to visit these islands; the area is a National Nature Reserve of great importance for the pines themselves which are a genetically intact relic of ancient pinewood and for the rare Divers (Gavidae) which nest here.  In autumn there's no risk of disturbance to the birds.

As we paddled between the islands new sightlines opened up at every turn.  So complex is this area that one could paddle it dozens of times without taking the same route.  A group of kayakers had got on the water after us, but we didn't see them at all in the maze of islands and channels.

Along with sights, there was sound.  Although the Red Deer rut was just about finished we heard the occasional powerful roar of a stag from the rugged hillside on the north side of the loch.  The primal challenge carried right across the water; it's a most evocative sound of autumn in Scotland and I can testify that close to, the roar of a stag is a sonic experience not to be forgotten!

Sight after sound, a fine view opened up towards Slioch, the light subtly changeing on the hill as the morning wore on and the autumn sun swung through the southern sky.

We felt very lucky to be paddling the loch in conditions like these and to be enjoying colour, scene and sound.....