One good thing - an apres (work) ski

I'd received tip-offs from friends during a day of working from home that the snow conditions were great for nordic skiing in the forest above the house.  As soon as the final Skype meeting of the day was complete I grabbed my skis and boots and drove up to the top of the road.  The blue sky of earlier in the day had been replaced with a grey mist which had the feeling of more snow about it, and it was already past sunset.  No matter; if you don't embrace the darkness at this time of year in Scotland, you'll have short days out!

My friends had been up over a couple of days and there were good tracks to follow thanks to Les, Lorna and Linda, which made for fast skiing.   The rhythm of movement on ski came back gradually as I headed up into the forest.

I'm not at all elegant on nordic ski, but so good was the snow that even I was able to strike out in a fast kick-and-glide style; on level sections it was possible to get up quite a speed, and to glide the downhill parts of the forest roads.  It's been a long while since I've experienced "Goldilocks" snow of this sort - not too deep, not too thin, not too packed and not too powdery - it was great!

Soon I was well up into the forest and at the end of the forest road, well after dark.  A brief rest and it was time to head back, mostly downhill.  For about 15 minutes a light snowfall had been apparent, but it was about to get a bit heavier...

...in fact quite a lot heavier!  My outward tracks were already filling in but were still good enough to give some speed, the head torch beam showing that this was no passing snow shower.

The last kilometre or so was slower as the amount of snow coming down meant that I was effectively breaking trail in tracks I'd made just an hour earlier.  It was all exhilarating, aerobic and the perfect after work exercise - what a privilege to be able to do this just a few minutes from home!

 Back at the car, it was plain to see how much snow had come down in a short period.  The drive back down the steep Suie road was....carefully done! So that was the "one good thing" about today, and it looks that conditions will be perfect for more of the same.

One good thing - a winter glory

It was a very cold day here in Aberdeenshire.  The snow has gone from the low ground to be replaced by hard ice, the snow on the higher ground continues to build.  Freezing fog in the morning began to lift at lunchtime as I headed out for a walk; my timing was incredibly lucky.

The last tendrils of fog were dispersing and with my back to the sun an ethereal phenomenon appeared, just at the edge of vision.  A fogbow is an uncommon optical effect, similar to a rainbow but with the sunlight acting on mist rather than water droplets.  It appears as a pale arc and is just so beautiful.

The effect didn't last long before beginning to dissipate.  I've seen fogbows just a few times - the last during a crossing of the Sound of Gigha with my friend Douglas on another day of fragile beauty.

 The evening light was just lovely; a quiet, delicate pink which gradually faded to indigo and then deep inky black, studded with stars.

During the lockdown of 2020 I looked for "One Good Thing" to offset the tragedy of the Coronavirus pandemic.  We enter 2021 in a similar lockdown and maybe I'd thought that it would be more difficult to find natural beauty in winter.....I was so very wrong.

Light and labour - a winter walk on Culblean Hill

The start of the year has seen some really cold conditions in northern and eastern Scotland.  For days either side of New Year the temperature has rarely been above freezing and there's been steady accumulation of snow, coming in showers on a north to north easterly airflow.  Sunday 3rd January looked to be a good day, so Allan, Lorna and I looked for a suitable hill to walk.

Given the prevailing wind and the complete snow cover on high ground we could see from our homes, we looked for a hill which had a north or easterly aspect to climb.  this would mean that the bulk of the snow would have been scoured off to be deposited on south to south westerly slopes, and so give us easier going underfoot.  We chose Culblean Hill - and it wasn't until after we chose that we realised Allan and I had climbed this hill three years previously to the day - in quite similar winter conditions though with less snow cover.

One of the hardest parts of the day was getting to the bottom of the hill - the roads were quite treacherous as there had been a re-freeze of lying snow followed by freezing rain and snow overnight - it was a slow and cautious journey to the starting point.  The initial track is quite steep, but in light powder snow cover under a blue-and-white sky it seemed no real effort; we stopped frequently to admire the views anyway!

Across to the north, Morven (Big Hill) retained cloud cover all day as forecast - which was another reason for choosing a slightly lower hill.  Just the lower shoulder stayed clear, the upper ridge of this super hill generating a cloud banner as cold air was forced upslope.

The view behind us over Cromar towards Pressendye opened up as we climbed - another hill which has given great winter days.  To the north clear air and bright sunshine predominated.....

...but over our shoulders a change was heading from the east as a big snow shower built up.

With the great majority of the climbing done we headed onto the flat and featureless summit area of Culblean Hill.  As we were on the northern edge of this mid-height plateau the snow cover was still quite light, having been scoured by the wind.

The good going didn't last and it was a real labour in knee-deep snow across the plateau towards the summit cairns.  The light was ethereal with shifting tones and constantly changing light levels as cloud streamed across close overhead.  A couple of compass bearings were needed to keep us on track as we waded through deep snow cover whilst trying to avoid the peat hags we knew to be hereabouts.

At the southern edge of the highest ground the view was quite a contrast to the sunny conditions up to the north.  Here, dark clouds with a defined edge lowered over the valley of the River Dee - the town of Ballater a darker patch below wooded hills.

To the west the views were of rolling snow-covered hills off into the far distance, much less clear than that day of three years ago but no less impressive.  It was wild, cold and utterly magnificent; a small hill of just 604m/1982ft giving us some really great winter hillwalking.

It's a truism that every winter hillwalk in Scotland should be treated as a mountaineering venture.  Our hills aren't as high or as remote as in many parts of the world, but have very changeable conditions and experience weather of a ferocity usually associated with much higher mountains.  We'd brought full winter gear including crampons and needed all our spare layers on a small hill.  We'd planned our route carefully to avoid the deepest snow, but still found hard labour - and we needed accurate navigation to locate the correct gully between two tracks we could use for our descent.

Just 200m of descent took us into a different world.  the snow cover very much lighter, the wind a whisper of what we'd felt on the high ground and visibility restored.  Still though, the play of light was in evidence with cloud streaming in from the North Sea trailing curtains of snow.  I tried to capture the quality of light on this walk, shooting lots of images which just failed to capture the wild, luminous light.  This image does no justice to the scale of the cloud streamer overhead - and I'm still not sure whether I prefer it in colour.....

 ...or in black and white!

Three years to the day since climbing this little hill in the earliest part of January, it had again given us a day to remember.  We'll be back - but with new Coronavirus measures limiting meeting up outdoors to just one other person, it may be a while before we can all get back on a hill together.

First footing

New Year's Day dawned raw and cold, but mainly dry - a contrast to the grim conditions of the previous day.  Whilst "first footing"  family, neighbours and friends isn't allowed this year due to Coronavirus restrictions, first footing a local hill could certainly go ahead.

I chose Lord Arthur's Hill, the highest of the Correen Hills, partly because it's very close to home but mostly because during the most restrictive part of 2020's lockdown when travel was severely curtailed these were my "go to" hills and gave such a lot of space and exercise.

The approach track was very icy, higher up on the hill the snow was quite deep but sugary.  Sub-zero temperatures forecast for the first week of January will harden it and make for easier going than I experienced. Snow showers came and went as I climbed into the cloud.

It was bitterly cold at the summit with a raw northerly wind - and no place to linger; especially since there wasn't a view.  The new year was barely 10 hours old and I was definitely the first visitor of the year.  After a few minutes I headed off the summit by a different route than that I'd climbed to give a partial circuit.

 I headed down to a wood on the Fouchie Shank where I knew I'd find shelter from the northerly wind and where I've previously camped.  In under the trees it was calm if not particularly warm and I could sit and make cup of tea, pleased to have been the first foot on this "home" hill.

The end of an extraordinary year

Although 2020 ended (perhaps appropriately) with a grim day of cold, grey and wet weather, there have been some beautiful winter days at the back of December here in the north east of Scotland.  Snow has come and gone, then fallen again - transforming the landscape each time.

Hard frosts have created transient and beautiful sculptures.....

......some like pale fireworks, lasting only until the low winter sun melts the frost.  As ever, I've found escape and respite during this most extraordinary and difficult year in the beauty and opportunity of what's close at hand.  We end the year in what amounts to a lockdown with travel and social contact with loved ones and friends curtailed - as has been the case been for much of 2020.  Hopefully 2021 will see an emergence from the pandemic which has so dominated this year.

And so, as the year closes - from these guys and from me, I wish you health, peace and happiness in the coming year

 

Christmas Eve

In the small hours of Christmas Eve I took a look outside....to see heavy snowfall on a northerly wind, just as forecast.  We'll have a white Christmas here in Aberdeenshire!

The landscape is completely transformed to dazzling white - just in time for a Christmas which will be very different for most people, including us, with limits on travel and the family one can meet with.

Chores done, logs split for the fire and a few last minute errands run, I took a long walk around the local area.  It was cold with a biting wind and a promise in the sky of further snow.  Bennachie looked very fine, dazzling white in the low sunshine just before sunset - at 3.25pm.....

The woodburner is lit, the tree awaits a delivery of gifts by Santa Claus.....

So it just remains to wish you peace, health and happiness wherever you may be spending Christmas.

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.