An autumn walk and camp in Glen Feshie

Glen Feshie in the Cairngorms is one of my favourite places, as regular readers of this blog will know. I go there several times every year. At least one of those visits is always in the autumn when there is a brilliant show of colour from the deciduous trees, especially the birches.

This year I set off down the glen in a rain storm and a strong wind. But, as forecast, the rain soon cleared and there were occasional patches of blue in the sky. The wind, however, blew on. Under the shade of the grey clouds the wet trees glistened, the autumn colours glowing.

Through the forest the river wound, fast and rushing here, slow and swirling there. The Feshie is a very mobile river, constantly changing its course, leaving banks of shingle, and dried out old water courses. Often it’s braided, with many channels. In places it cuts into the steep banks of soil and pebbles, bringing down trees and sometimes the path itself.  Every visit something has changed. Here you can see a dynamic landscape in action.

At a point where the path had collapsed into the river a temporary way had been made steeply up and then steeply down a wooded slope. I’d followed this many times. On this occasion though the river had receded enough to allow passage along its edge below the trees. This was aided by some new material fallen from above. When I returned along the glen I took the steep path up into the woods to find that the descent had eroded away, providing the surface I’d walked on below. Constant change.

On another section the edge of the river was flowing over a shingle bank at right angles to the main flow into a lower channel. I walked out along this shingle bank with the river roaring past next to me and the overflow just below me.

As I searched for a camp site reasonably sheltered from the wind that roared down the glen a female capercaillie rose out of the long grass and flapped away into the trees. I pitched near a beautiful big old pine and a screen of young pines and birch saplings. From the tent door I could watch the river flowing.

The evening was peaceful, the wind dying down. During the night it picked up again, roaring through the trees and buffeting the tent. The night was warm for late October, with a low of only 7°C.

I woke to low clouds covering the tops and the wind raging on. I had thought of heading up to Mullach Clach a’ Bhlair and the Moine Mhor if the weather improved but as it hadn’t a walk further up the glen was much more appealing. Leaving the tent to collect on the way back I followed the river below the crags of Creag na Gaibhre and Creag na Caillich where the glen narrows and the forest rises steeply on the rocky slopes. The path rises and falls, sometimes beside the water, sometimes traversing high above it, a superb walk in the grandest part of the glen.

A soft but loud ‘kek’ call came down from high in a stand of old pines. It was hard to see the source but eventually I spotted a cock capercaillie way up in the branches plucking pine needles as it called. Seeing two of this rare and threatened bird was wonderful. I passed by quietly.

The subdued light and overcast sky made the autumn colours even more striking. The mix of trees, rocks, and river was glorious. This is a landscape to inspire and hearten. It always raises my spirits, especially now the forest is returning under the stewardship of Wildland. “A landscape of hope” says the sign near the start of the walk. It truly is.