A Look At The January Issue Of The Great Outdoors

The theme of the January issue of The Great Outdoors is making the most of winter nights. The opening double-page spread is a lovely winter dawn photo of a snowy and misty Hope Valley in the Peak district by Verity Milligan. The dramatic cover image by David Lintern shows a hiker at a camp on the Tour des Ecrins in the Alps shining a headlamp up towards a starry sky. 

In the main features there's a brilliantly illustrated photo essay by Scottish astrophotographer Stuart McIntyre describing some miraculous moments under the stars, and another well-illustrated piece by Alex Roddie in which he goes winter camping on Ben Lawers and shows how to make the step up to winter backpacking 

The gear pages cover items for cold weather. Lucy Wallace reviews three sets of crampons, Peter Macfarlane and Fiona Russell test four winter sleeping bags each, David Lintern reviews PHD's Sigma synthetic insulated vest and trousers, and Francesca Donovan tests the lightweight fleece-lined Red Equipment Pursuit Robe for keeping warm after wild swimming.

Far from winter and Britain Phoebe Smith walks Japan's Kumano Kodo pilgrimage route and becomes a 'Dual Pilgrim', having already walked Spain's Camino de Santiago.

As described in this post my main contribution to this issue is a feature on my 1988 walk the length of the Canadian Rockies. I also review ScotWays impressive new edition of Scottish Hill Tracks. Also in Book Reviews Merryn Glover reviews a new edition of Linda Cracknell's interesting and thoughtful Doubling Back: Paths Trodden In Memory. 

Elsewhere Andy Wasley introduces an expanded On The Lookout nature feature with a piece on the elusive bittern, Lewis Winks says the fight for wild camping rights isn't just about Dartmoor, Jim Perrin makes a pilgrimage to Ysgyryd Fawr in the Black Mountains in his Mountain Portrait, Hanna Lindon introduces her home town of Lewes as a base for cosy country walking and talks to five hill baggers on how to take on a tick list, and Emma Schroeder writes of the peace of night-time when camping - except when there are garden gnomes!

The Wild Walks in this issue run from Knoydart to Dorset with the common theme of a pub to visit. In the first James Roddie has a long walk over Ladhar Bheinn, finishing at The Old Forge in Inverie. Alex Roddie goes over Stob Coire Sgreamhach in Glencoe via the Clachaig Inn. Down in England Ian Battersby walks Nine Standard Riggs via the Black Bull in Nateby. In the Lake District Vivienne Crow starts and finishes an ascent of Lonscale Fell at the Farrier Inn in Threlkeld, James Forrest does the Coledale Round and visits the Coledale Inn, and Ian Battersby enjoys a pint in The Ruddings after an ascent of Hopegill Head. In the Yorkshire Dales Vivienne Crow tackles Whernside from Dent, finishing in the George and Dragon. Over in Wales Andrew Galloway climbs Tal-y-Fan and visits the Ty Gwyn Hotel in Rowen. Just over the border in England Lara Dun walks the long ridge of the Malvern Hills to The Wyche Inn in Great Malvern. Finally we reach Dorset where Fiona Barltrop follows the South West Coast Path over Golden Cap to the Anchor Inn at Seatown.

First Snow Camp of the Season

Dawn light

Freezing conditions having returned to the Cairngorms after the big thaw brought by Storm Bert I headed up for what I hoped would be the first camp in the snow this winter. The mountains were blanketed in cloud so I didn’t know just how much snow remained up high or how much if any had fallen since the cold returned.

Most of the winter I check the Scottish Avalanche Information Service for snow conditions as well as avalanche advice. However detailed reports don’t start until December 12^th. Before then there are just brief reports and occasional photos. For November 26^th the report said “currently there is limited and superficial cover in the Northern Cairngorms area with some shallow deposits in wind sheltered places”. There were no photos.

Lurcher's Gully

The description certainly fitted the landscape as I walked up the icy path to Miadan Creag an Leth-choin. The ground was frozen hard and the snow patches firm and crunchy, though sometimes I went in shin deep. Looking up Lurcher’s Gully into the mist I could see no sign of more consistent snow cover.

Coire an Lochain

However as I reached the mist the snow patches grew bigger. Before I was enveloped in the greyness I looked across Coire an Lochain to the cliffs of Cairn Lochan and there was much more snow there too.

Cairn Lochan

I plodded on through the mist with just occasional glimpses of crags high above. By the top of the ascent, at around 1000 metres, there was complete snow cover, though thin in places. I thought of continuing on to the Cairngorm Plateau but the idea of more walking in the mist didn’t appeal and I decided to camp.

Close to the steep drop into the Lairg Ghru pass I found a patch of soft deep snow where I could stamp out a platform for the tent. If the mist cleared it would be a fine site.

There was no sign of a clearance in the evening though and I stayed in the tent, reading, writing my journal, and melting snow for supper and hot drinks. Whilst doing the last I thought I’d make a little video about how I went about it and the gear I used, the stove and pot I’d brought to see how they worked for winter camping having proved as good as I’d hoped.

I was less sure about the video than the snow melting though. I’d never tried to film myself doing anything in a tent in the dark,  let alone operating a stove and stirring snow in a pot with the camera on a tripod wedged in the snow just outside the door, the scene lit with my headlamp, and in a temperature of -7°C. A couple of false starts and I’d worked out the best position for the tripod, the right angle for the camera and realised only my hands needed to be in the video – no need to see the rest of me. That meant the headlamp, which I’d tried unsuccessfully balancing on the pack and on a boot, could be on my head!

The video turned out surprisingly well so I posted it on my YouTube channel. Here it is.

For those interested in took it in 1080p on my Sony a6700 camera with Sony 10-20mm F4 lens at 10mm.

The video finished I had a mug of hot chocolate then snuggled deep into my sleeping bag and turned off the headlamp. If the skies cleared I planned on going to Ben Macdui the next day. If still misty I’d just go round the rim of the Northern Corries.

Neither came to be. And it was nothing to do with the weather. Around 2pm I woke with a streaming nose and a thick head. A cold, damn it! Some co-codamol and I dozed off again, only to wake several more times and fill my bandanna from my snotty nose. The latter then froze. I wasn’t bringing it into the sleeping bag! So I used my woolly hat. The top of that froze too, though that was mainly through contact with the tent roof as it was covered with frost. The temperature was -9°C.

Dawn begins

After a long dark night light began to seep in. I looked out. A crescent moon hung in the sky amongst dappled clouds. To the south a band of bright light lay above the horizon. Maybe it would be a fine day. I hoped so even though I wasn’t going any further feeling as I did. Just descending seemed a challenge.

Early morning

I couldn’t resist the dawn light though so I donned all my warm clothes and staggered outside. The band of brightness grew. To the east the sky was blue and orange. I looked down into the Lairig Ghru, a cold tunnel with brightness shining through the clouds that were beginning to sweep in from the south.

The Lairig Ghru

Across the Lairig Braeriach was starting to disappear into the mist. Soon it was all around me, visibility down to a few metres. I retreated into the tent for breakfast and my warm sleeping bag. Staying there was very attractive. I really didn’t want to get up again, pack my gear, take down the frozen tent, and walk down the hill. I just wanted to stay lying down, warm and comfortable. That not being an option – this was only a one night trip - I had a second mug of coffee then dragged myself outside again.

Braeriach

The tent pegs having been prised out of the snow and the crunchy icy tent stuffed away I heaved my pack on and followed my boot prints back down the hill. I met a few walkers heading up, most of them unsure about whether it was worth continuing.

Mist in Strathspey

I was almost back at the car park before I dropped out of the mist. I’d soon be back in it. Not far below I could see tendrils of it filling Glenmore and Strathspey with little hills protruding through, a dramatic sight.

Melting snow at a camp in the Cairngorms

 

A little video from a recent camp in the Cairngorms. I was impressed at how well the MSR Pocket Rocket Deluxe stove and Fire Maple heat exchanger pot worked for melting snow. A great winter combination.

I wrote about heat exchanger pots in this piece and how good I found them but hadn't yet tried this setup for snow melting. It worked as well as the much heavier MSR Reactor and Windburner stoves, other than not being quite as wind resistant. I'll be using it again.

The canister was a half-full GoSystem 2250 Powersource. Under it I put a sheet of thin foil (actually a cuppa soup packet torn in half). 

The morning after I took this video the temperature was -9C and there was a breeze. This did blow the flame sideways a little but the stove still melted the ice in the pot - it was frozen solid - quickly and then boiled the water fast without need of a windshield. 

Livestream on Nordic ski touring now available on YouTube

On the summit of Ben Macdui in the Cairngorms

The livestream discussion on ski touring with Ash Routen and Tony Hobbs on Tony's YouTube channel was fun and is now available.

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.

The View From The Saddle: Video Clip

Video clip of my recent camp in Strath Nethy

 

Rediscovering Strath Nethy

My camp in Strath Nethy

There is a danger in thinking you know a place, especially when what you think you know is negative so you have no interest in returning there. I’ve just discovered this after an inadvertent visit to Strath Nethy in the Cairngorms. It’s not that I’d never been there. As a regular walker in the Cairngorms I had crossed the valley regularly, both at its foot on the standard route to Bynack More and halfway along when going between the north ridge of Cairn Gorm and Bynack Beg, which was my aim on this recent visit. I’d also often looked across the strath from the hills either side. It felt familiar.

It is many, many years since I walked the length of Strath Nethy and my memories of it were of a tedious, muddy, rocky path that went on and on with nothing of interest to see. Hence my lack of a desire to return. That I did so was due to the weather.

Bynack More in the mist

I’d set out from Coire na Ciste on a cloudy day with bits of drizzle, patches of blue sky, and the occasional shaft of sunshine. The forecast suggested it would be clearer later. I planned on a high camp between Bynack More and A’Choinneach. Crossing a notch not far from Stac na h-Iolaire on Cairn Gorm’s north ridge I looked across Strath Nethy to clouds shrouding those hills.

The clouds were still there when I reached the floor of the strath. A night in the mist didn’t appeal. I decided to camp down here and go up Bynack More in the morning if clear. If not, I’d walk up the strath to The Saddle, the col between A’Choinneach and Cairn Gorm and then across the north ridge of the latter and back down to Coire na Ciste.

Another view of camp

The night was quiet and peaceful, other than a helicopter passing low overhead late in the evening. (I learnt later that there’d been a search for a missing walker not far away – they were found ok). I woke a few times and looked out. Once there were a few stars. Otherwise the sky remained overcast. As it was at dawn. I didn’t hurry over breakfast, hoping it would clear. It didn’t. I’d go up to The Saddle. Just briefly the sun shone on Stac na h-Iolaire then it was gone.

A brief burst of sunshine on Stac na h-Iolaire

I was camped about half way along the strath, at the point where it begins to narrow and the steep slopes either side start to close in. (Strath is a misnomer – it means a wide valley and Strath Nethy is anything but that). It was about four kilometres to The Saddle, where I knew the views would be good if it was clear. I didn’t expect to enjoy the walk there.

Looking up to the north ridge of Cairn Gorm

The path was as rough, boggy, and awkward as I remembered it but how had I forgotten the rugged landscape all around, how had I forgotten that it would look different down here than from high above? Down here I was immersed in it and it was wonderful. This upper part of the strath is a complex mass of boulders and bogs, with the Garbh Allt – the rough stream - rushing through it. High above rock towers and pinnacles line the edge of the north ridge of Cairn Gorm. This is a joy to walk through, a rugged gateway into the mountains. Why did I not remember? I must have had an awful day here sometime in the distant past!

Strath Nethy

The path climbed gently but steadily. Near the top it feels as though you are almost in the mountain, hemmed in by steep slopes on either side. Ahead is a rocky peak with a small flat top. Then The Saddle is reached and the world opens up. Below me long Loch Avon stretched out to the great rock peaks round its head. This one of the grandest views in the Cairngorms and I now think Strath Nethy is the best way to reach it, so it appears suddenly as you emerge from the narrow closed-in valley. 

Loch Avon &, from the left, Stacan Dubha, Craig Etchachan, & the Shelter Stone Crag

The peak that appeared to lie at the head of the strath was now revealed as Stacan Dubha, a subsidiary summit of Beinn Mheadhoin on the far side of Loch Avon.

Another brief touch of sunshine, this time on Cnap Coire na Spreidhe

From The Saddle a rough path angles up the steep eastern slopes of Cairn Gorm to the bowl of Ciste Mhearad. As I headed up sunshine caught the top of Cnap Coire na Spreidhe, encouraging me on. It didn’t last and I emerged from Ciste Mhearad in thick mist. Having found Strath Nethy to be the opposite of my expectations I was content though. I felt I’d discovered a new part of the Cairngorms.