Destination "mamba"

Late August in Scotland.  The hills are covered with the purple shades of heather, the sun shines on long days and all things seem possible.  Or......the midges are at their worst, the weather is muggy and oppressive and a heavy green and grey cloak covers the hills.  Towards the end of the month it seemed that there would be a bit of all of these things.  I'd initially planned a sea kayak trip but realised that forecast light winds and overcast conditions along the coasts would mean midge purgatory.

So, I looked for a backpacking trip which would give the opportunity of at least one night in a bothy, giving respite from the biting hordes.  The journey I settled on would take me into some of the most remote country Scotland has to offer - I'd need to be completely self sufficient in shelter and food so that if I didn't make the planned route I could still camp and be relatively comfortable.

Linn of Dee is the starting point for many long walks; to the north you can head off on some of the best known treks in the country; through the Cairngorms from Deeside to Speyside via the Lairig Ghru or the Lairig an Laoigh; or onto the great plateaux of the eastern Cairngorms and over to Donside perhaps.

Heading west, the choice is hardly less enticing - the routes shown on the Scottish Rights of Way Society sign indicate an alternative start to reach the Lairig Ghru and two great through-routes towards the west.

Anyone heading off on these journeys will enter true wild country, and though there are either tracks or defined paths the whole way, the challenges of distance and weather can test the strongest walkers.  Then there are the rivers - the routes to the west require crossings of water which can be running hard and fast; and there are no bridges over two of the most significant rivers.

My plan was to take the first part of the route from Linn of Dee to Blair Atholl, then head into the trackless country west of Glen Tilt to visit one of the most remote of bothies.  This view shows just the first few miles of my route, up the River Dee to the hills beyond.

The first significant river crossing at least has a bridge - White Bridge crosses the Dee and is a meeting point of tracks and paths (though it's not white!).

The view up the valley of the infant River Dee is one of glimpsed giants.  To the left, Beinn Bhrotain at 1108m/3635ft with the flank of the Devil's Point and Cairn Toul beyond -big hills for big days.

After such a dry summer I was confident of finding the water in the next river, the Geldie Burn, low - but I can't ever recall seeing it so low.  The Geldie is termed a "burn" (stream), but make no mistake, this is usually a river and it runs hard and deep in wet weather or during snowmelt; it's often impossible to cross safely and there are no bridges over it.  I've several times arrived here and found it birling along with an ominous rumbling sound of boulders being rolled along its bed - a crossing to treat with caution in normal conditions.

From here on I was entering "mamba" country.  Not referring to venomous snakes, thank goodness, the word is an acronym possibly coined by servicemen sent from southern England to serve in the Highlands and Islands during the Second World War.  "Mamba" stands for Miles and Miles of B*gger All !

Beyond the Geldie a substantial ruin stands in a patch of green sward, a bright spot among the heather.  This is (or was) Bynack Lodge, a ruined 19th century shooting lodge from the days of the great estates.  Perhaps it's the green setting or the trees surrounding the ruin, mainly pines and sycamores, which make this such a pleasant spot; I've always found this ruin a place of peace and have camped here several times.

The ruin has been stabilised by Mar Lodge estate and you can see some of the brickwork used to support the mortared rubble original wall.  There are actually a few ruins here, one building was a game larder with a subterranean meat store, there was a separate building which may have accommodated the staff, traces of kennels, a stable and even a walled garden.

One slightly surreal but enjoyable experience I had here was watching the balcony scene from Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" being performed using the window sill in the left of this image as the balcony - and that can't have happened too many times!

After a final glance through the arched wall aperture back down the Bynack Burn towards Geldie I hoisted my rucksack and headed onwards; there was still a long way to go today, much of it "mamba".

Hebridean holiday

The staff of Mountain and Sea Scotland have just returned from a week in the wonderful Hebridean island of Harris.  there will be much more over the coming weeks - but here's just a taster:

Gorgeous colour at Traigh Sheiliboist, looking over to Luskentyre and the hills beyond.

An Cliseam, at 799m the highest point of the Outer Hebrides.  It isn't always this clear!

Eagle country.  Harris has the highest eagle population density in northern Europe.

The palette of colour when the sun beats down is simply breathtaking - the light in Harris is what makes this place so special.

 Intense Hebridean light in Caolas Scarp....

So, more to come soon.  Meanwhile most of Scotland continues to enjoy fabulous early summer weather; so I'm off to make the most of it!

Kingdom of the wind - granite versus gale

The summit plateau of Ben Avon is a windswept sweep of cropped alpine vegetation studded with granite boulders and tors.  The summit of the hill is itself a highly featured tor and is visible from a long distances.

Since first acquaintance over 30 years ago I've loved the open nature and the huge skyscapes offered by the Cairngorm giants; in fact the whole area is a great upland plateau cut by steep glacial trenches to form individual hills and ranges.  The gravel flats of the higher ground look lifeless, but there are arctic specialists which prefer the conditions found up here....

...like the Ptarmigan (Lagopus mutus).  A member of the Grouse family, Ptarmigan are superbly adapted to sub-arctic and arctic conditions.  The Linnaean name Lagopus translates as "hare foot" and refers to the birds feathered feet which insulate against ice and snow.  The birds are superbly camouflaged, moulting to white in winter and then to mottled grey during the summer, and have feathers adapted to maximise body insulation. The nostrils are also protected by small feathers to warm the air before they breathe it in.

 Living high up the Scottish hills (in other regions the bird lives on arctic tundra at lower levels) gives Ptarmigan an advantage as there are few competitor species eating their food plants of bilberry, saxifrages and heather shoots supplemented by insects in summer.  The tough plants which the birds eat are difficult to digest, so in common with Red Grouse the birds ingest small quantities of grit which they use to help grind up plant shoots - the gut of a Ptarmigan is the largest of any bird as a proportion of body weight - they are in effect a flying gut!  The mottled grey summer plumage is superbly effective amongst boulders and grasses, often the birds are only noticed when they move; a good thing if you are a favoured prey of Eagles.  To preserve energy Ptarmigan prefer to walk around rather than fly any distance and are endearingly approachable - this bird moved around me quite unconcernedly, occasionally giving the unusual croaking call which is reflected in its name; an anglicised version of the Gaelic Tarmachan.

Animals and birds can either adapt to the harsh conditions of the Cairngorm plateau, or move downhill when things get really tough.  For plants that's not so easy, but there are subtle ways in which vegetation can adapt.  These lines of gravel demarcate "wind stripes" of prostrate heather growing tight to the ground aligned to the wind; in this image the prevailing wind is from behind the camera.  On the slope across the corrie the bare patches are deflation surfaces where the aspect is so exposed to the wind that little vegetation can survive; the surface itself is being lifted by the wind and deposited elsewhere on lee slopes.

Even the granite bedrock isn't immune to the effects of the wind. The numerous tors which stud the summit plateau of Ben Avon have holes worn into them which are partly formed by the wind.  Grit and tiny pebbles which were deposited by the wind are whirled around in rainwater, slowly deepening the depression.  Gradually the process forms these deep pots as larger stones and more water are able to accumulate.

Some become quite deep; this one was about half a metre into the rock and the process of the wind whirling the water and disturbing the grit at the bottom of the pool could actually be seen.  Near the top of this image, another hole is beginning to form.  In the face of Cairngorm gales, even granite gives way....

The summit of Ben Avon is a granite tor at 1171m/3842ft, named Leabaidh an Daimh Bhuidhe (couch (bed) of the yellow stag).  A short scramble gains the narrow crest of the tor, normally as on this day quite easy but not if it's plated in ice or lashed by the wind - or both!

From the summit there's a view across to Ben Avon's massive neighbour, Beinn a'Bhuird (table mountain) which has an even larger high plateau.  

The two Munros are linked by the narrow connecting bealach (col) of The Sneck which can be seen near the left of the image.  The two hills can be combined into a really big day's walking starting (for example) from Invercauld on Deeside, rewarding but shattering!  My own day on Ben Avon wasn't quite as long, but the "long walk in" inevitably means a long walk back out too...it was time for me to get moving again.

Kingdom of the wind - where plants walk

On the high plateaux of the Cairngorms, the wind rules everything. The great open areas of ground above 1100m / 3600ft are exposed to the full force of weather from every direction and are often swept by gales and winds of hurricane force, especially in winter. Gusts of over 170mph/280kph have been recorded and sustained wind speeds in excess of 100mph/160kph are common. Given these sorts of speeds, it's hardly surprising that the wind exerts influence over everything which lives on the high arctic-like plateaux, limiting possibilities and even determining landforms.

When planning walks on the high ground here, the wind is a primary consideration with strength and direction factored into the day's plan. After a run of windy days in mid July abated, I took a long walk on Ben Avon (pronounced "A'an" and named for the river at the mountains foot -the bright one). 

Any day out on Ben Avon will be a "big day"; this is the largest of the Cairngorm hills by area, some 12 kilometres NE to SW and 9 kilometres N to S - really a hill-range rather than a single mountain.  In addition to the large extent of the hill, the starting points for walks are at some distance from the summit.  The most logical starting point from my home is at Cock Bridge to the north east of the hill, and my route would be some 40 kilometres.  The wind was forecast to remain light until evening, when it would once again begin to increase.  Fortunately, a mountain bike can be used on the track leading from Cock Bridge past the source of the River Don and on to Inchrory and the Linn of Avon, meaning that I'd do around 20km on the bike and 20km on foot.

Above Inchrory, this dry ravine cuts steeply down through lime-rich rock, an unusual rock type for the Cairngorms and visible from quite a distance as a bright green patch among the more muted colours.  Ahead, the outlying slopes of Ben Avon beyond the river were still cloud-capped.  The MWIS forecast was for the cloud to lift gradually during the day; I hoped that it would be as accurate as it usually is.

The bike was left near the Linn of Avon and I headed uphill on a stalkers path past grouse butts.....

...towards the start of one of the ridges of Ben Avon at Carn Fiaclach (toothed (or notched) Cairn).  Beyond  and above the wood surrounding the lodge at Inchrory, my route of approach already seemed quite distant, the green slope leading down to the estate track and across the hills to Cock Bridge.

The bald summit of Meall Gaineimh (sandy hill) is passed on a path which winds through gravelly ground and past some of the distinctive granite tors which are such a feature of Ben Avon.  The walking is a delight, fast movement on small mountain paths once the initial ascent is done.

My route took me up to the granite ridge of East Meur Gorm Craig before descending slightly to the wide sweep of the appropriately named Big Brae (slope).  Even in mid summer there are significant snow patches in most years, and this is in part due to the wind.  Snow is either compacted by gales into any depression on a windward slope.....

.....or deposited on lee slopes and in corries to immense depths.  The snow patches irrigate the ground through the summer and give a foothold to alpine grasses and plants.

Up to around 1000 metres / 3300ft there's a mix of plants such as Alpine Lady's Mantle (Alchemilla alpina), a relative of the larger plant commonly seen in gardens.  A combination of grazing by deer and the scouring of the wind keeps the plant low-growing.

Higher up, and only the hardiest of plants can survive the harsh conditions.  Alternately frozen, baked, flooded and subject to drought and gale, plants need to be tough up here.  The Three-leaved Rush (Juncus trifidus) is a real Cairngorm plateau specialist, able to survive on the most exposed ground where few other plants are able to apart from mosses and lichens.  Talking of "trifid", the 1951 Sci-Fi book by John Wyndham, later made into a classic 1962 movie - "Day of the Triffids" - features a species of plant capable of "walking" locomotion.  Here on the Cairngorm plateau, there are species of plants which can do just that, albeit slowly.

This Crowberry (Empetrum nigrum sp) started life in the lee of the small boulder at the bottom of the image.  It has grown away from the prevailing wind, putting out small roots as it goes seeking a more sheltered spot, curving around the boulder near the top of the image.  The original rootstock and stem are now dead and completely detached from the ground.  In some examples of this sort of downwind movement, the track of individual plants over decades and perhaps centuries can be traced by the absence of lichens on the rocks over which they have moved. 

This Crowberry also has a reproductive trick to help it survive the harsh environment, it is of the sub-species hermaphroditum which has bisexual flowers to increase the chances of fertilisation, and smaller, stubbier foliage to resist the hostile weather.  A real life "Triffid" !

A gentle rise to the SW now took me to the highest plateau of Ben Avon, a broad ridge leading towards the tor which forms the summit.  I emulated the plants and sheltered behind a large boulder to rest and eat, there wwas still plenty of walking ahead....

Breathtaking west Jura

We'd enjoyed an exhilarating ride up the tidal stream in the Sound of Islay and were now heading back up the south west coast of Jura which had been such a great paddle the previous evening.

This day was to be simply breathtaking in so many ways....

We'd planned in a stop at the tiny beach where the waterfall of the Allt Bun an Eas (Burn of the waterfall end) plunges in three elegant bounds from the raised beach above to the present day shoreline.

Douglas and I took a refreshing plunge and wash in the lowest pool, wherein the water was not warm.  In fact it was on the breathtaking side of cool, but very refreshing and we were able to sit in the sun to dry off - getting back on the water absolutely zinging after our "dook".

The coast itself continued to be stunning, with rock features, arches and dykes at every turn.

The view to the north was huge, distant Ben More on Mull brushed by virtually the only cloud in the sky.

Closer to hand we paddled past seabirds such as this Black Guillemot (Cepphus grylle), known in many parts of Scotland as a "Tystie".

In many places the colour of the water was, quite simply, breathtaking.......

....as were the beaches.  This one was superb, and it's a measure of the quality of the beaches on the west side of Jura that we only stopped on this particular one because it looked to have a good supply of firewood to collect! 

But whilst we were there we took time to absorb the absolutely great scenery - the Mull hills framed by a weathered basalt dyke marching down the shore.

This was almost the last large pebble beach before we entered Loch Tarbert and yielded plenty of dry driftwood from above the high water mark.  Inside the loch there would be far less washed up we thought.

Loch Tarbert has been high on my wish-list of places to paddle for a long time, due in no small part to Douglas' descriptions of its wonderful scenery.  He's right to be so enthusiastic - what a place!  The views to the Paps of Jura and the raised beaches give the outer loch a unique atmosphere.  The name Jura is said to originate from the Norse Dyr (deer) and that would certainly fit, but its also possible that the name comes from another Norse word - jur meaning "udder" and the island's appearance from the sea would make this name very appropriate.

The lodge on the shore is Glenbatrick, owned by Lord Vestey.  The view from the back door is nothing short of breathtaking.....

In the bleak midwinter - drinking in the view

We were really glad to paddle from shade into bright sunshine, although the temperature remained stubbornly below zero it just felt a bit warmer.  The view across to the Glencoe hills began to open up, Bidean nam Bian on the right of this image is almost a miniature mountain range complete with ridges, summits, spurs and corries.

To the north of Loch Leven the Corbett of Mam na Gualainn rises almost from the shore and was in brilliant sunshine - it was a marvellous morning to be on the water!

My own view ahead had an unaccustomed element in the shape of a Flat Earth Kayak Sail neatly furled along the foredeck - of which more in future posts......

The prominent peak of the Pap of Glencoe ("pap" indicating a breast-like shape; the Gaelic names are very descriptive!) is one of those hills which has a presence much greater than its size would suggest.  At 742 metres/2434 ft it's really an outlier of the grand ridge of the Aonach Eagach which walls in the north side of Glencoe, but it has views to equal most of the higher mountains and is one of the most recognisable of Scottish hills.

After a couple of hours of paddling in this amazing scenery we spotted a shingle beach with some convenient rocks in full sun - the vote for first luncheon was unanimous!  As luncheon stops go, this one ranks in the first division for the superb view back across the loch to Beinn a'Bheithir......

.....we drank in the view as we drank our coffee; all of us so glad to be out paddling on this cracker of a day.  We weren't the only kayakers to be enjoying a fine winter day either; our friends Duncan and Joan had been unable to join us at Ballachulish but had siezed the chance for a paddle on Loch Tay amongst some simply beautiful mountain scenery.

We packed away and left the beach, heading up the loch with dazzling views on either side.  We knew that we'd paddle back into the freezing shade later on, but right now we just enjoyed the sunshine.