A Winter Light Show

In late December there was a wonderful display of Nacreous Cloud in the skies over Aberdeenshire.  From before sunrise the ethereal colours and effects were evident and continued to varying degrees all day.

Nacreous (mother of pearl) clouds need really specific conditions and are consequently rare phenomena:  the cloud needs to be very high at 10-20 miles above the earth's surface, the air at that height needs to be very cold (below -80 degrees Celsius) and a very low sun angle.  They're also known as Polar Stratospheric Cloud (PSC) and the particular ice crystals forming the clouds refract the low sun at an angle down to earth.  Because of these specific conditions, nacreous clouds are usually only seen in northern polar regions in winter, or when the polar upper atmosphere vortex sinks south, which was what gave rise to this lovely display.

The ice crystals in Nacreous clouds are smaller than those in lower cloud types and can often be composed of atoms of nitric acid and water ice - this combination can combine to release chlorine atoms, so they're not entirely good things!

That said, as the sun began to set in mid-afternoon the colours of the clouds intensified and the shapes changed...it was a captivating sight.

 The most intense colours happened well after sunset when the clouds were still being lit by the sun which had left the surface and was shining at just the right angle - simply stunning!

Clouds and colours - a morning on Loch Ewe

The first paddling day of our trip to Loch Ewe started with a mirror flat sea reflecting an amazing cloudscape - I think these are altocumulus clouds.  The effect built quite quickly and then the cloud began to dissipate just as rapidly.

By the time we set out from Firemore the cloud had largely broken up.  We paddled out into the loch and straight away a long view opened up to the distinctive skylines of the Torridon mountains.

It was a marvellous morning to be out on the water!  Our route took us northwards along the west shore of Loch Ewe towards the open sea, which looked to be as calm as the loch - our boats simply slid along with little effort.

We enjoyed exploring some rocky channels below Meallan Na Gamha (also named Stirkhill on the map - the meaning is the same in Gaelic and Scots, "little hill of the yearling cattle") and then across the bay came upon this arch, high and dry.  As we were here near low water, we noted the place to explore on our way back when the tide would be somewhat higher.

As the morning progressed and the sun move higher the colours were simply stunning.  Most of this area is composed of Old Red Sandstone which is a warm reddish-brown - against a deep blue sky and the vivid colours of yellow lichens and green summer growth it was a very colourful.

Allan found this tiny cave, not more than half a metre across, which was half submerged but seemed to go back a fair way into the rock.  When the gentle swell from the open sea washed in, there were all kinds of gurgles and hisses before a plume of water shot out, expelled from the back of the cave - which I totally failed to capture on camera!

 

We soon found ourselves at Rubha nan Sasan, which has the remains of a coastal battery and searchlight battery dating from 1941 when Loch Ewe was one of the main assembly points for the Arctic convoys which headed from here up to Murmansk and Archangel in northern Russia.  Two 6-inch guns, other lighter calibre guns and two searchlight emplacements were mounted here to protect the shipping within the loch.  In 1999 a memorial stone was erected at Rubha nan Sasan to mark the sacrifice of those from allied navies and merchant seamen lost on these perilous convoys.

One good thing - 17th May 2020

The weekends give opportunity for longer walks, and once again routes on the Correen Hills have been the logical choice, walking directly to and from home on long circuits.  Both days had similar weather with early rain clearing to give bright and breezy conditions, flotillas of clouds racing overhead and clear air.  The freedom and space these hills have offered through the lockdown will be long remembered, great striding routes where other people are seldom seen.

One of my routes over the weekend was this 21 kilometre circular walk which could be started and finished from quite a few different points, there's around 500 metres of ascent involved and it covers a nice variety of moorland, wood and farm tracks - there's a good track the whole way around.  One of the features of these hills is that distance just seems to reel away.

Alternating cloud and bright sunshine made for some dramatic lighting effects as in this view from the summit of Lord Arthur's Hill over to Bennachie, the hill dark in shadow and lower ground covered in gorse making for a brilliant contrast - it was all good.

One good thing - 27th April 2020

After more than five weeks with no rain, the sunset on 26th April promised a change in the weather - and so it's proved.  A cold northerly airstream has taken temperatures down and it's been a day of heavy showers and bright sunshine - typical for April really.  This should turbo-charge growth in the fields and gardens - and, unusually for Scotland, rain is a good thing and welcomed!

One good thing - 15th April 2020

The skyscapes over the last 24 hours have been absolutely beautiful.  Sunset on 14th April was characterised by streaks of cloud lit to vivid shades of orange, pink and gold.

The final crescendo a searing ember glow which perfectly silhouetted a stand of Larch trees on the skyline.

Today's skies saw an unusual pattern of high clouds, I think Cirrus and Cirrostratus, forming bands across a blue sky.

Near the edge the clouds were starting to form a pattern which looked more like Cirrocumulus.  These patterns were above us most of the day as a cold front approaches the north of Scotland - I expect tomorrow's skyscape will be somewhat greyer!

One good thing - 6th April 2020

The best thing about today has been the variety and quality of light throughout the day and into the evening......

Early morning saw showers and stroboscopic lighting effects in the wake of a cold front which passed over northeast Scotland overnight.  Clouds racing overhead alternately lit the view with dazzling, intense colours, then switched off the light to leave a muted version of the same scene.

After a mainly bright and breezy day the wind dropped towards evening and a slow-burn sunset underlit a cloudbank with gold and bronze.

Tonight's full moon was high in the sky before sunset, adding pale light to the most delicate of pink shades in the air.

While back to the west the cloudbank dissipated in the cooling air as if it had never existed, leaving just a hint of the sunset projected into the sky.

As I type this post a full hour after sunset, the same piece of sky is a colour somewhere between jade green and lemon; gorgeous but beyond the camera to capture.  The light (in Gaelic "solas") has absolutely been one good thing about today.

Skyscape spectacular

The skyscapes above Aberdeenshire have been really spectacular over the last week, providing colour and drama in equal measure.

The last sunset of 2019 was a thing of delicate beauty washing the sky with mauve and pink - on a Hogmanay walk we stopped often just to watch as the quiet shades subtly changed.

On 2nd January the palette seemed the same at dawn, but this is looking west - away from the sunrise.  To walk around the house was to experience something really special......

...an absolute riot of pyrotechnic colour and dramatic cloudscape.

Unusually, the colour deepened as the sun rose and began to be diffused by horizon cloudbanks.  It was an absolutely gorgeous sight and seemed unbeatable.  Sunrises here in the northeast can be more spectacular than sunsets as we're closer to the east coast and have less high ground to block the view.  But this sunrise was to be matched in glory by the sunset of 5th January. 

The western and southern parts of Scotland were generally overcast but over Aberdeenshire the edge of a weather front was really clearly defined in a cloud edge.  We were driving home from a trip south and watched as the sun fired this cloud front, colour raging across the sky......

It was almost apocalyptic!  This series of images were taken on a smartphone and like those above have had no post-processing at all, they're just as they came from the camera.

It's hard to put into words the sheer majesty of this skyscape.  We pulled to the side of the road to watch and to take photographs, as did most of the other cars travelling at that time, it was such a special sight.  Turbulence in the cloud was picked out by the low sun and the whole thing seemed to pulse and ripple with fiery intensity.

As the sun sank lower the colours changed subtly but the scale didn't diminish at all.  Flocks of Rooks wheeled up off the farmland as dusk rapidly approached and started to head for their tree roosts, which sparked a thought.  We drove on a little and stopped where we hoped to enjoy the last of the sunset.

By the side of Loch of Skene we stood and watched the intensity of the colour burn from gold to copper to deep bronze and then to purple, all reflected in the water.  Then, the sound we'd hoped for to go with the visuals: geese in small groups and then hundreds and then in their thousands winged in from the surrounding countryside to roost safely on the water.  Long after the light had dimmed we heard their wild calls and splashes as they flew in.  Although too dark for photographs, the last of this exceptional sunset was still a wash of deep bronze an hour after sunset.  In these two sunsets and one glorious sunrise we'd been treated to a real show of Solas (light) in the middle of winter.  Nobody can convince me that this season is a dark and dreary time!

Laid down at Bay of Laig

The west coast of Eigg is just as spectacular as the east side, great cliffs providing a backdrop to the shoreline. We had a spot in mind to camp and paddled steadily southward towards it.

A party of kayakers had set up camp on level ground above a boulder beach - a great location with a good view, but neither Mike or I thought it would make a good landing or launching spot with heavy boats, and would be difficult to leave if the swell got up on this exposed coast.

Our firs option for camping was at Camas Sgiotaig, but as we rounded the point which forms the north side of the bay, we became aware of a low but powerful groundswell pushing up the Sound of Rum from the open Atlantic.  The swell was roaring across the reef of Bogha na Brice-nis - which I didn't capture very well in this image.  We were already noting that the swell direction was straight into Camas Sgiotaig when we spotted that a lone kayaker was already camped on the shore above the beach.  A slight concern for the swell combined with not wanting to disturb an idyllic camp for someone else made our decision - we would push on a little further to our second potential camp,with the option to return here if necessary.

A couple of kilometres further on we landed at Bay of Laig in flat calm, the swell wasn't reaching around into this bay.  It had been a long day of paddling, some 36km and nine hours since leaving Glenuig, but what a great day it had been.  We quickly found an ideal camping spot and pitched our tents before the slight breeze died completely and the first midges we'd seen this year came out to play - the warning of the Yellow Flag Iris had been correct!

The houses in the distance are at Cleadale, and I was able to pick out Lageorna, the wonderful B&B which Douglas and I had stayed in on our winter trip.

As the sun set, the outline of Rum was reflected in beautiful shades below a soft cloudscape, just lovely.

We gathered a little driftwood to add to some logs we'd brought with us, and with the use of a Wilcox Ignition Aid(TM) we soon had a fire lit, the smoke going some way to deter the midges. 

We lit the fire well down the beach to avoid any risk of stray sparks igniting the tinder-dry ground; and due to the location of our other camps on this trip it would be the only fire we'd light. Fire lit, sports recovery drinks to hand and dinner consumed, life was particularly agreeable -  the midges even gave up after an hour or so to allow us out of our protective mesh jackets.

Our last view before turning in was the faint afterglow of a sunset reflecting on the wet sand in the late evening dusk.  I was asleep almost as soon as I lay down and slept soundly in this wonderful spot.

A winter day on Morven

The period since Christmas has been quite cold, with temperatures down to -8 Celsius overnight, while a northerly airstream has brought snow showers. I was looking for an opportunity to get out and about and a day of clear weather on 28th December looked perfect.

I headed the short distance over to Cromar to climb Morven - there was markedly less snow on the ground here than at home but plenty higher on the hill.  Morven is an Anglicisation of "Mor-Bheinn" (big hill), and it lives up to the name- a bulky dome which stands apart and seems to tower over the surrounding countryside.  I've climbed this hill several times and it always seems to take more effort than you'd think it should. On the drive across I noted the shroud of cloud across the higher parts of the hill, and the banner of snow blowing from the summit - there would be some lively conditions near the top.....

The shortest route to the hill from near Balhennie is the one most folk use, it's short but quite steep and pretty much out and back.  I looked for a route with a bit more variety and settled on starting from the minor road north of Loch Davan, taking a track past Raebush and Redburn which passes through a pleasant wood before heading uphill onto the moor.  The views up to the northeast are extensive, beyond Cromar to the hills near my home.  Snow showers were moving across much of the higher ground, but up to this point I was in clear conditions.

A clearance in the cloud over the top of Morven offered the hope of a summit view, but I was still three kilometres from the top and the cloud soon closed back in.  My route followed tracks curving across the broad saddle to the left of this image, then I went up more steeply, aiming for the right hand edge of the summit ridge.  The going was initially tough in deep, snow covered heather, but as height is gained the vegetation becomes much shorter and the underfoot easier....

...though the conditions were really fierce as the summit area was gained.  The cloud was combining with a 50mph tearingly cold northwesterly wind which was raising a considerable groundstorm of pulverised snow.  This image was taken in a brief lull in the wind and shows the best visibility for some time!  To add to the fun, a heavy snow shower arrived so I battened down and put on ski goggles to maintain some limited visibility.  This was full-on winter and I found myself really enjoying the wild conditions. 

A line of battered fenceposts is a useful guide towards the summit; today adorned with foot long frost feathers.  These feathers are formed when a cold, strong wind deposits moisture onto the windward side of rocks and other objects; the feathers show the direction of the wind as they grow directly upwind and can build up to a considerable size.

The now shower eased as I was heading across the flattish ground of the summit ridge on a compass bearing and I was pleased to see the cairn emerge from the whiteness right on cue.

This wasn't a day for a leisurely snack whilst enjoying the summit vistas!  A brief crouch behind the trig point to set up bearings to the track below and I headed back along the ridge - the wind by now was really biting and was pushing me bodily sideways in the stronger gusts.  At the end of the summit ridge I took another bearing and headed dead SE down into the murk towards a track which passes to the south of Morvern.  The snow whirling off the ridge was all being deposited down here, but not in sufficient quantity to constitute an avalanche hazard.  It did make for a speedy descent through the heather and I was soon on the track and into much more benign conditions.

A look back from the point where the track heads steeply back down to Raebush; the cloud banner still streaming off the top of the hill, conditions would still be as fierce up there.  At 872m/2860ft, Morvern isn't the biggest of hills, but once again it had given me a terrific winter day.

Cairngorm contrast - the relentless foe

Afte two days of really lovely October conditions the weather broke.  I was staying at Rothiemurchus Lodge and through the night the whole building was shaken by violent gusts of wind - my thoughts were with the Duke of Edinburgh's teams over on Deeside but actually they had quite calm conditions low down in Glen Derry.

I set out into heavy rain and scudding cloud.  What this image can't show is the violence of the wind; tearing gusts which blew sheets of rainwater from the ground and roared through the trees.

Climbing high above the woods of Rothiemurchus, a glimpse on sunlight on the far side of the Spey valley would be the last for some hours.

Ahead, the weather looked particularly challenging as cloud and rain belched out of the jaws of the Lairig Ghru.  The rain now set in with real venom and the wind, dead against me, slowed progress right down.

At some points I simply had to turn my back to the wind and rain as it became too painful to face into the combination of 60mph wind, lashing rain and gravel blown from the path.  The Lairig Ghru is one of the great through-routes of the Cairngorms, and indeed of Scotland.  A huge former glacial breach linking Deeside with Speyside, it slices through the Cairngorm plateau reaching 835m at its highest point.  Today it was perfectly orentied with the wind, which was roaring through, almost stopping progress at times.

In normal circumstances I'd have avoided heading up into such weather, but I intended to meet the D of E teams as they came through the other way.  They would have this weather at their backs but would still find it more challenging than previous experiences in the hills.

Hunkered down at the Pools of Dee, a few small lochans near the high point of the pass, I watched the clouds racing past.  The main plateau lies some 400 metres above the Lairig and I could only imagine the power of the wind up there as it raced unchecked over the dome of the Cairngorms in the first real "blow" of the autumn.

In these conditions, and particularly in winter, the wind is a relentless foe.  I've had some of my hardest fights not too far from this spot, the wind sapping energy, strength and willpower - a fundamental and fierce experience.  There's a wild pleasure in being able to operate on the hills in such conditions though - a feeling almost impossible to explain to someone who doesn't walk or climb in the mountains.

Briefly poking my head up occasionally to scan for folk coming through, I settled down for what might be a long wait.

But remarkably, both teams were keeping good time and going well - impressed but not overawed by the conditions.  It was a relief to put my back to the wind as I headed after them - progress suddenly seemed so much easier and now th trick was not getting blown over.

And then, one of those moments.......the rain ceased and the cloud tore apart as if a curtain had been pulled; we walked into bright sunshine and clear air.  The wind stayed at the same severe gale force, but what a difference!

Looking back up into the Lairig, the cloud was now racing across the pass rather than straight down.  The shif of wind as a front passed had totally altered the conditions in the space of a few moments - a real Cairngorm contrast.