Wild camp

19°C, light cloud with a SW breeze.

There is a great upland route near Glen Finnon. It’s a horseshoe of peaks that includes two Munroes, a long undulating ridge and magnificent views of glens, mountains including Ben Nevis, and views out to sea of the isles of Eeig &  Rum. I could find no proper campsite near the route’s start so I chose a spot for a wild-camp. It was fairly near the road on a col that looked deserted except for a trainline that carried a steam-train twice a day.

With a site selected, I put up the tent rather later than usual after cooking & eating supper first. Discretion is the rule here, put up the tent at sunset & take it down as soon as you can after sunrise. I bedded down at about 10pm and read for a while. The ground was a ripe breeding ground for midges and some got into the tent & bugged me while I lay there reading my book. Some of those midges are still there, adding punctuation to the story.
Later in the night, probably about 2am I was woke suddenly to an animal sound. A loud deep sound that was quite percussive. Despite choosing a spot out of view for humans, it wasn’t so hidden from deer.
I’m still naive about deer, I lay there heart thumping when the sound came again. A sudden burst of air somewhere between a grunt & a snort. Clearly the sound came from a big pair of lungs. My fear cortex ran overtime & I could picture a scene where a herd was making its way along old tracks that they have used for decades. All it would take is a slight disturbance and they would gallop in the dark in fright. There I lay, in a tent made of light thin fabric and only a summer weight sleeping bag for protection. Deer hooves are sharp, they use them for defence. These thoughts occupied the front of my mind. Strangely in all of this, Rosie my trusty dog wasn’t too bothered.
I decided to take the situation onto my own hands and got out of the tent with a torch. Good, they weren’t in immediate sight, so I scanned the horizon and hillsides with the beam. The stars shone brilliantly, the midges bit my bare legs but only one pair of eyes shone back in the darkness. After a short moment, even they were gone. Relief, they have fled. I stole a moment to look up at the filigree milky way and Cygnus blazing brightly overhead while the midges finished their meal.

I did eventually settle back to sleep though woke once more to pee. This time, peace, I could enjoy the image of a thin cresent moon next to the fixed brilliance of Venus as a morning star. There was another planet nearby but I don’t know what it was (probably Jupiter).
A big day lay ahead, a very long walk was the reason to camp in such a place so I grabbed more sleep.

The day went on from there as planned.

Mid-holiday

20°C, clearing

Mid holiday has a definite feeling. Work is still a long way off, physically and mentally recovered and looking forward to adventures. I’ve been on two already- both involved camping of one sort or another. Now, I’m looking north to Scotland.

I feel truly alive, which is a slight on work isn’t it? I can listen to music and be moved in a way that evaded me a month ago. Yesterday, I read a Spike Milligan book. His writing has that evocative mix of irony, wit and innocent sadness that had me doubled up in uncontrollable hysterics. Reading out a quote from the book was just impossible. I finished the book thinking the same thing on finishing Douglas Adams– I wish I could write like that.

Anyway, I feel restless. I have plenty of energy and lots of exercise is the only solution to that. Well, maybe not the only  one; many people use alcohol. There’s a miserable solution that is of no use to me.

Bearings

18°C, clear but some showers. CR:44.5 miles

It’s no real dilemma, the choice between watching sport on TV (Olympics or Tour De France) and going out for a ride in the sunshine. This year’s Olympics is different; the events are on during the day unlike the last few where we woke in the morning to find ay results we’re interested in. Bradley Wiggins got his gold medal while I was pedalling alone in the lanes of Leicestershire. I can’t deny the thrill I got on arriving home and putting the radio on: he got it! He got gold.

The ride was good, I felt strong and would have a better average speed if the wind was less fierce. Incidentally, I’m still procrastinating putting in that new bottom bracket bearing. It’s still making horrible crunching sounds but running smoothly. Well, I say smoothly, it has started making odd noises when I push uphill in the saddle. That bike will be so nice when the bearing is replaced, and I should change the inner chain-ring to a larger one too. 39-53 is too much of a jump for me, it forces double shifts on the rear 8 most of the time. there is a 42 tooth ring in the shed. Maybe when I get back.

Rhinogau and grasslands

19°C, light rain

grassy approach with the quarry on the hillside in the distance

I drove away from Snowdonia with a heavy heart this afternoon. A polar opposite to the feeling I took with me last Friday. It felt almost routine, and would perhaps, be not such a big deal. Saturday I climbed Rhinog Fawr along a similar route to previous times. The route included some excursions off the track, and the final ascent was over rougher scrambling ground.

Sunday was supposed to be a lower level walk over to the next valley (Cwm Nantcol) in search of a sight seen last year partly hidden in the bracken. After coming down from Rhinog Fach, I passed a strange sight near some over-grown quarry workings. The land was claiming back buildings and tip constructions which had become part of the soil. The land had coated them in moss, malm grass, heather and bracken. However, part hidden in the lush vegetation was a staircase. A staircase out in the wilds that plunged down into the darkness. What a sight! No time to take any pictures- I felt some stress caused by time pressure and the fear of loosing daylight. The image strongly burnt into my mind, though I regret its location was not strong fixed enough in my mind’s map.

There were interesting sights to be sure. But even with 2½ hours of searching, I could not find that staircase. It can’t have gone, a solid structure like that, made of slate isn’t going to collapse into the soil. A trip back seems like the best idea now. I will have to approach it from the same direction as last year’s hike: may as well climb the mountain (G. Fach) too before descending by the same route. Maybe that’s the secret. Continue reading

Another 30 miler

25°C, sun & light wind. feels hot & close. CR:30.7 miles

Same route as last time, but slightly slower. The bike is running well if rather clunky. Should I get up and change the bottom bracket bearing or pack hiking gear?

Cash in hand

26°C, Sun, little wind.

It’s morally wrong: BBC. Spot the stupid assumptions-

  1. Cash paid to a builder is not declared for tax purposes.
  2. house-holders have a responsibility for the way tradesmen handle their tax affairs.

It’s okay though, politicians can make such declarations because they are experts on immoral behavior. This isn’t going to go down well, phrases like “people who live in glasshouses shouldn’t throw stones” spring to mind. I suppose it’s true that I am drawn into grumbling about the social demons policiticians and bankers. Grumbling is a bad thing and has the danger of becoming a habit. Let’s leave it there.

Twenty-eight

English: Emperor Dragonfly (Anax imperator). F...

English: Emperor Dragonfly (Anax imperator).

28°C, crisp bright sun. CR:30miles

Emperor Dragonfly: strange fluttering near the kitchen sink earlier. Strange because I was sure the tap was off properly, then I saw it. A huge bejewelled pre-historic creature, caught up with its biplane wings on the window sill. Its body was decorated with malachite and metallic patches, then at the head- huge compound eyes. Huge and iridescent, the head had no space for anything else, the eyes were wrapped all round. It seemed wrong that a few pieces of cob-web hung from its tail.

I caught it in a sandwich box, the usual plastic cup was far too small. Within seconds, it was free. A magical encounter.

Cycling: only 30 miles, but I put the hammer down. Even so, I’m not as fit as I used to be- only 16.7 mph average. But still, it was fun & no real hay-fever until the evening. A very fine day.

Summer spirit

23°C bright sun & winds. CR:33 miles.

What are these things I pass on my ride so often? The girders seem to be aligned north-south and are on a pivoting support. Will solar panels be fitted sometime soon? There are just the two structures pictured here, both connected to a trough dig into the grass. 

It’s Sunday, the first after we broke up for the summer holiday. I feel the spirit of the holiday already which normally I don’t count until we get to Monday. We don’t work Sundays any time of the year but today is different. There is none of the pre-work nerves that so often blight this day of rest. So, let’s count today.

The Tour De France– Haven’t watched this for years, but the prospect of a possible British win drew me in. Bradley Wiggins & Mark Cavedish took 1, 2 this afternoon in Paris. An unbelievable result. I raise an imaginary toast.Can’t say I give a damn about the Olympics yet though.

Life in pot

15°C, rain

Three months of rain would suggest that summer is as good as cancelled this year. All that water has driven the garden wild, it’s a jungle out there. I have some work to do this weekend with the nearest thing I have to a machete.

It’s no normal summer when a little 5″ pot can stay wet without once drying out. Such conditions seem to suit the curious little guys who live in there.

After work each day, I visit their pot to see how they are doing. This picture shows today, they are taking form. Last week they were barely more than the little bits left over when you have rubbed out a pencil mistake. If you waggle your finger in the water they scurry back down to the silty layer that has collected at the bottom.

Starting from the day we break up for summer, the sun has promised it will put in a sustained appearance. I must make sure their little world remains habitable for the charming little dudes. Presumably, they must be larvae for some flying insect. Let’s see this through.

Jetstream

16°C, rain

Three months of rain. The met-office say it’s the Jetstream running unusually far south this summer. Normally it flows north west of Scotland and sends to occasional storm down the northern approaches. This year it’s overhead. For those who don’t know, I ought to explain what this Jetstream is- think of a giant hosepipe in the stratosphere that is gushing water over our little island archipelago.
An image worthy of an animated visualisation don’t you think.