Livestream on Nordic ski touring tomorrow

On the summit of Ben Macdui in the Cairngorms

Tomorrow (November 28) I'm discussing ski touring with Ash Routen and Tony Hobbs on Tony's YouTube channel at 8.30 pm. Should be fun!

Ski tracks in the Scottish Highlands

High Summer in The Great Outdoors

The latest issue of The Great Outdoors has an eight-page feature by me about what has changed in the world of long-distance hiking since I walked the length of the Canadian Rockies in 1988. It's illustrated with photos from the new edition of High Summer, my book on the walk, which has just been published by Enchanted Rock Press. This is the first time these photos have appeared in a magazine. The book has dozens more photos that have never been published before.

Storm Bert's Big Thaw

The Cromdale Hills, November 22. 

Whilst Storm Bert has brought chaos and destruction to many areas of Britain, causing big problems for many people. Locally the only noticeable effect so far is the astonishingly rapid stripping of the snow. Today I walked on snow free ground where I was skiing just two days ago. Rapid thaws are not uncommon but this is one of the fastest I've seen.

The Cromdale Hills, November 24.

Storm Bert isn't over yet. There are weather warnings for strong winds tomorrow. I'm hoping these don't do too much damage as many areas are still recovering from last winter's storms. (See this post). 

Ben Rinnes, November 22

Climate change means storms are becoming more powerful and therefore more damaging, here and worldwide. The weather is becoming more unstable as the climate heats. This and the nature crisis, which are intertwined, are the crucial problems facing humanity. How we deal with them in the next few decades will have a huge effect on the future for our children. 

Ben Rinnes, November 24

Locally and immediately I'm waiting to see just how windy it is tomorrow and after the storm is over how much snow is left high up in the Cairngorms. I'll probably go and have a look soon.

A Local Ski Tour Before Storm Bert Arrives

The Cairngorms at dusk

Snow deep enough to ski from the front door is rare in November. After more overnight snow there was enough today though. I thought I’d better go out and enjoy it before the big storm named Bert by the Met. Office arrives tomorrow bringing high winds, snow turning to rain, and rising temperatures. By tomorrow evening most of the snow will probably be gone.

Sunshine on an old wall

The day was calm and cold with much sunshine and a lovely blue sky. The snow was soft with a depth of around 20cm. Just enough. No breeze had disturbed it. The snow lay gently on the land. Where there were tussocks of long grass and reeds it covered up the spaces between them, giving the illusion of a fairly level surface. I knew from walking here just how rough and uneven the ground actually was and so wasn’t surprised when my skis broke through and sank deep, the tips sometimes disappearing. It was still much easier than walking though.

Old but still functional!

As I was only heading out for a few hours I took my old waxless skis, dating from 1986, as I can just grab these and go, no preparation needed. They’re battered enough that I don’t mind clipping the occasional stone either, something I did several times as some rocks were only lightly covered.

Care needed

Mostly I stayed out in the open out in the fields, where I could enjoy the sunshine, a rare delight this month, and let the skis run as the snow was deepest here and anyway I knew there were few stones. It was in the woods, in the shade of the trees, that the snow was thinnest and rocks more prevalent. Here I had to take more care, slow traverses down slopes rather than straight runs. Even so the joy of slipping across the snow was there, the rhythm of skiing. Every year when I first go out on skis I remember the delights of being able to cross snowy terrain so effortlessly.

Snow forest

The lack of wind meant the snow had stayed on the trees, creating beautiful delicate traceries and lines. Far beyond the forests the Cairngorms came and went in drifting clouds. Ben Rinnes was a white pyramid, looking bigger than usual, the Cromdale Hills a pale undulating ridge.

Ben Rinnes

As the sun dipped into distant clouds I turned for home. The temperature dropped rapidly, soon down to -7°C. A warm fire and a hot drink called.

The Cairngorms

The ski season has begun.

Wall & forest

Mountain Style: the history of British outdoor clothing

Outdoor clothing has changed dramatically since I started going to the hills back in the 1960s. There was little specialist clothing back then and the basic materials were wool and cotton. Technical fabrics meant Ventile cotton (still around!) and similar. There was no big outdoor industry either. 

How we got from there to here is told in this excellent new book by Henry Iddon and Max Leonard. The story of how climbers and innovators, often starting out with no money and just a sewing machine in a back room, helped create the vast outdoor industry we know today is fascinating. 

To produce the book the authors did a huge and impressive amount of research, talking to company founders, key innovators and designers; compiling brochures, catalogues and magazine reviews; and sourcing original garments. Here you'll find the stories of Mountain Equipment, Berghaus, Rab, Rohan, Craghoppers, and many, many more, some long gone. There's also the rise of the technical materials, starting, of course, with Gore-Tex, plus Pertex, fleece, polycotton, Velcro, Lycra and more, that allowed the new companies to develop new designs.

The large format book is packed with illustrations from studio photos of garments taken specially to ones of clothing in use, company logos, advertisements, and catalogue pages. 

Having been involved in the outdoor trade as a gear reviewer since the late 1970s and a hill goer since the 1960s I was asked to contribute an essay on my personal experience of the history of outdoor clothing and the rise of the outdoor industry. This has become the introduction to the book and I'm honoured by that as this is a marvellous book that tells a story that deserves to be recorded and remembered.

Mountain Style is published by Isola Press and can be purchased here. 

Winter comes to the Glens & Mountains

The Lairig Ghru from Creag an Leth-choin

The first long cold spell of the winter has arrived, bringing snow and ending the mild weather of the first half of November. For those of us who love snowy mountains this is exciting. I’ve been out twice since the weather changed, once on a short local stroll, once up into the mountains. Both were wonderful.

The snow falls

As I write this snow is falling, gently, softly. It began two nights ago. We woke in the morning to a light scattering in the garden, the first of the winter that hasn’t melted almost immediately. The skies started to clear and bouts of sunshine did thaw snow exposed to its rays but in shady areas it remained, the temperature staying below freezing. Squalls swept in frequently, bringing short bursts of new snow. The forecast is for a week of cold, with heavier snow at times.

Snow crossing the Cromdale Hills

In the afternoon we went for a stroll across the fields, watching dark snow-dense clouds power across the landscape. For a few minutes snow fell on us as the distant hills vanished, then as quickly passed on.

The sun about to set

The snow came from the north. Towards the low sun the sky was mostly clear and its rays shone across the land and illuminated the racing clouds, creating an ethereal golden hue. Magical, glorious, special winter light.

Cairn Lochan

The next day I went up into the Cairngorms. The air was freezing and there was a thin covering of snow, thicker higher up. The Cairngorm Plateau came and went in rolling white clouds with a deep blue sky above. Not feeling like walking in the mist I headed for the slightly lower rocky peak of Creag an Leth-choin (aka Lurcher’s Crag), reaching it via  Miadan Creag an Leth-choin, which is actually 30 metres higher but is only an undistinctive though extensive gentle bump on which it’s easy to get disorientated in mist.

Looking down into the Lairig Ghru

Rather than climbing directly to Creag an Leth-choin I wandered over to the western edge where steep slopes fall dramatically into the Lairig Ghru pass far below. In places broken crags abut the rim, today plastered with snow and rime ice.

Sgor Gaoith & Sgoran Dubh Mor

Across the Lairig Ghru I looked over the steep crags on the side of Sron na Lairige, a ridge that leads to Braeriach, to the equally rugged undulating curve from Sgor Gaoith to Sgoran Dubh Mor, a grand winter scene.

Cairn Gorm

Turning east four more ridges ran diagonally across the landscape, culminating in the cloud-shrouded summit of Cairn Gorm. That hill never showed itself all day.

Frosted rocks above the Lairig Ghru on Creag an Leth-choin

Surprisingly the cold breeze that had accompanied me to the Miadan faded away and it was calm though very cold on Creag an Leth-choin. My thermometer said -7°C. I lingered for a while, relishing the view and the feeling of winter while warming myself with hot, spicy, ginger cordial.

A last look across Miadan Creag an Leth-choin to the Lairig Ghru

Descending into shadow as the sun disappeared behind the hills I noted the bubbling of ice along the burns and frost feathers on the grass. The snow in Lurcher’s Gully was almost deep enough to warrant snowshoes. With much more forecast maybe I’ll need those next time, or even bring skis. Winter has begun.

A burn begins to freeze

A Walk Over Meall a' Bhuachaille To Make A Little Video

View down to Ryvoan Pass & An Lochan Uaine

Sometimes the days pass by and something you think you did recently turns out to be six months ago. I was thinking it was a little while since I’d been on a favourite Cairngorms walk, through Ryvoan Pass and over Meall a’ Bhuachaille, but on checking my journal I was surprised that the last time was actually back in May. It’s not often there’s such a gap. I definitely needed to go again soon. The forecast seemed right for such a walk too as it was for mist and gusty winds above 1000 metres but clear with light breezes lower down. Meall a’ Bhuachaille is 810 metres.

I was also thinking about recording a little video on the new edition of my book High Summer, about my 1988 walk the length of the Canadian Rockies and wondering where to make it. In my study if I could cut out most of the disorganisation? In the front room if I could arrange it when I wouldn’t disturb the rest of the household? In the garden, which is mostly fairly wild? Then a thought popped up. Why not take the book for a walk? It seemed appropriate. Make the video in the hills. The book would come up Meall a’Bhuachaille.

An Lochan Uaine

The day was quite warm for November – no jacket needed – as I set off on the familiar path to An Lochan Uaine and Ryvoan Bothy. The lochan shimmered in a gentle breeze, quiet and subdued, the last autumn colour gone from round its shores.

Ryvoan Bothy

The bothy looked bright and smart following its renovation by the Mountain Bothies Association in the spring. There’s a new bigger porch, a woodshed, and a red roof now.

Climbing the path from the bothy up the eastern slopes of Meall a’ Bhuachaille, a path that has several sections of steep stone staircases that always remind me, fancifully, of the one climbed by Frodo and Sam in the Lord of the Rings up to the lair of the giant spider Shelob. Not that thoughts of giant spiders bothered me here. I was more thinking about the weather and whether the summit would be clear for making my video.

View from the ascent

It didn’t look promising. All the hills were cloud-capped. The wind was picking up too and there were hints of dampness in the air. There were hints of blue and a slight orange glow that suggested the clouds weren’t that thick. Maybe it would clear.

Sunshine over Abernethy Forest

I could soon see the mist not far above though. It didn’t look like shifting. Just before I reached it bright sunshine illuminated a strip of Abernethy Forest. Then I was in the grey dampness. 

No book video here!

At the summit I stopped briefly for a snack. Light rain was falling and the breeze was chilly. The mist was thick. Not the ideal place for a video.

Pearly-edged clouds

Descending I was soon out of the mist and heading for the forest. As I reached the first trees the edges of the clouds over the high mountains were edged with a soft pink and orange lustre. A fallen pine not far from the path looked a good seat and so it was. The video was soon made, shorter than it might have been as drizzle began to fall after a few minutes. Probably long enough though.