19C, brighter further south.
Here is the inevitable melancholy end of holiday shot. I always leave Scotland with a lump in my throat at the end of a visit. I get it in Wales, but this seems more precious.
I bought a book of walks in the southern highlands so maybe, a shorter visit is practical. The western highlands are just too far to drive for a short visit.
14°C, drizzly showers,
Last Monroe of the trip. Not a difficult climb by any means. It was interesting in a few specific ways.
1, vegetation- very mossy on the top: perhaps this top is almost always in cloud. The moss was just like the stuff I find in the gutters at home. It filled the gaps between bolders but did make them rather slippery. Although not as bad as black mosses, it still requires a change of approach.
2, Cruachan is a mountain that has been turned into a massive hydro-electric station. It can pump water up into the lake to use later in time of high demand on the national grid. More interestingly, it also draws water from Eunaich through tunnels. It can collect water directly from streams via small dams then channel them through the tunnels that run deep below the ground, right under the mountain. It was one of these tunnel entrances that fascinated me.
Tarkovsky would have recognised them. You’ll see what I mean when I can upload some pictures.
I found this place rather spooky. Looking into the tunnel is looking at an endless inky blackness that gurgles and thunders an deep mix of sounds that makes the mountain seem alive.
Through the gate…
14°C heavy showers.
Moved to escape the worst showers. They were really torrential in Fort William. As I write, I am sitting in my steamed up car looking upwind at a brighter sky. Supper is out there cooking on the stove.
There remains one full day before the long drive back home. How best to use it remains a pressing question. And as always on these trips, it all depends on the weather.
This morning, we encountered two pigs rooting in the adjacent aspen wood. They have cleared the undergrowth except the bracken. It was funny watching them eat brambles. I couldn’t resist tweaking his nose. It’s hard and leathery- all the better for rooting with.
This evening, a different campsite has highland cattle to watch over us. They seem very calm but mildly curious.
14°C, light cloud, SW.
Wildcamp near Sgurr Mhaoraich near Loch Quoich, a man-made reservoir. Though it’s very remote here, there is some through traffic to the tiny village Kinloch Hourn. I found a spot by a small Loch on the watershed. It’s a bit more windy here so there should be fewer midges. Anyway, it’s beautiful here with grassy covered hummocky moraines. The sort of place that makes your heart feel big and swollen inside your chest.
I can’t help but be a little nervous though; there is evidence of deer, some droppings are fairly fresh. And footprints.
Later- encountered a small herd of red Deer while driving along the shore. About 4 hinds, and one stag. He ran along in front of the car and then jumped to the side. There he stood, only feet away, eyeing me up. We made eye contact. It felt like a while, but not long enough to get the camera out. The image will, nonetheless, stay with me- I am sure.
16C, good start.
Creag Meagaidh is just one summit in a horseshoe of others well over 3,000ft. They form an undulating ridge with fascinating and varied views all round. Start at 9.30, but it still took me till 15.00 to reach the title summit. Okay, so I had to take a catnap on the plateau, but still…
That felt like a very hard day. I don’t know how it happened, but I normally don’t read the time very often. But when I did, it was quite a shock that it read 2pm and I had not wet eaten lunch. Terrible, no wonder that I felt so dreadful. Why not have a sensation of hunger to make it unnecessary?
Anyway, a great day only marred buy a tricky descent through a birch forest, the path was hidden, roots were a serious tripping hazard and the rocks mossy and slippery as ice.
21°C, very wet morning, lovely later.
The bothy is out of reach, the river in spate, is impassable. I did try, but the brown water is too strong and deep in the middle.
Camp opposite the Bothy
It’s been a good day, all went to plan despite a rotten start. Rain poured all night, so it looked daunting. Once I got underway, the sky cleared and great photos presented themselves.
Today I did the half day walk intended- Bouhontine and the parallel roads. Guide-books always show photos of them them in winter but they are quite clear even now, all covered in grass, heather and bracken.
The best part of the walk was the secret valley behind Bouhontine hill.
As I write, I any lying in my tent, awaiting a good night’s sleep. Last time I wildcamped, I was spooked by a bellowing stag.
Wish me luck.
22°C, cleared by lunchtime
It’s dark earlier here. Much darker and sudden. It goes with that heart sinking realisation that a holiday is over. The sun touches down in Scotland at something like 21.10, here it’s half an hour earlier at least. How deflating. What would it be like to live up there in Scotland?
I asked some locals during my camping trip where folks fit screens on their windows to keep the midges out. Their answer was “to be fair, there are not many time you can open your windows in Scotland”. Perhaps the late evening are compensation for the much darker winters. But so what, they have the mountains & glens. I’m still intoxicated by all of that. Is there any way I could do just a year up there to see whether I could do it.
I have been hiking with Rosie in the Highlandsagain. There is a lifetime of holidays in those hills. Such holidays cost barely any more than living here- camping is costs about £5 per night and other needs would cost the same down here. I drove back on Friday thinking over what it is that is so beguiling.
Rannoch Moor in the scotch mist
The bleak Rannoch Moor was thick with Scotch mist. Mountains I knew faintly loomed out of the mist, sometimes with skirts of lacy ragged clouds. There are few roads across that strange landscape- the A82 was straight, but distorted by harsh winters of ice and lengthy snow cover. Tall reflective posts marks the road’s edges- presumably sometimes it’s the only way to know where the road ends and the moor begins.
I stopped a few times to take photos and take in the atmosphere. Soft drizzle penetrates clothes and camera. A few minutes pass and the midges gather, some to cloud around others to bite. They seems to prefer eyelids and neck. You have to move around to evade them, stand still and these slow flying insects catch up with you easily.
As if the landscape is a conscious entity, it draws you in with a spell and wants to swallow you up. It was so hard to tear myself away on Friday.
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.
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.
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.
Micycle 