Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

The last few months have been hectic at work and that has impeded any incursions into the outdoors during what has been a lengthy spell of settled weather. That isn't to say that I haven't been out at all. After all, I got away to Ireland over the weekend. In a change for me, I swapped my usual air destination of Dublin for the quieter one at Shannon near Limerick.

That was the cause of allowing me to revisit the city of Limerick after having not been there for quite a few years. It has its landmarks of medieval antiquity too with thoughts of seeing King John's Castle on the banks of the Shannon in good if hazy sunshine being the cause of drawing me out on a trot between connecting bus services. For a place that was my county town for much of my life, it could come as a surprise to you that I had never gone and explored the walkways and parks that Limerick City Council has set in place along the banks of what is Ireland's longest river before. Last weekend saw that set to rights but seeing the likes of Bunratty Castle and the village of Adare were reminders not of the unexplored but of places that I wouldn't mind seeing again. The fact that they caught the sun really well as I passed nearly made me want to stop and stay a while but for the need to keep going.

It wasn't all about enjoying delightful sights of man-made constructions because a trip into Limerick's tourist information centre revealed some long distance walking options too. In there, I spotted a guide to the Lough Derg Way along with those for the Mid Clare Way and the East Clare Way. While I was in the heart of a city, these discoveries were reminders that wanderings in greener surroundings weren't all that far away. It's all very well savouring the more delightful parts of places like Limerick or, as I did at the start of February, Oxford but losing yourself in empty open countryside for even a short while is unbeatable.

Turning those thoughts of more natural spaces a little wilder, I also recently happened on a leaflet extolling the virtues of Sleat as a base from which to explore Skye. Though it's seen more of my attention than the hinterland of Limerick city, a few years have passed since I last ventured up there as part of a Hebridean adventure a few years back. With the frenetic pace of my working life nowadays, being able to find in a short amount of time a convenient base from which to fan out to sample more views like those of Skye's Cuillin Hills sounds good to me. While I may have been cycling through the Cheshire countryside to and from work a lot over the last few weeks, it is starting to look as if planning a longer stretch away from the madness of modern life is opportune.

Last weekend saw me follow a flight of fancy in that I journeyed up to Fort William on the Sleeper from Crewe. A forecast showing some sunshine was what unleashed me but the reality was more foggy when I reached Fort William. Incidentally, it was very foggy when I left Crewe too but that didn't stop me wondering at what I had done, even if I had gained a glorious view of the Black Mount beyond Loch Tulla or of the hills around Loch Treig on the way.

Despite a quandary induced by the weather that I , I stuck with my original design of popping over to Glenfinnan with two options in mind. The one that came to pass was a short trot along the banks of Loch Shiel and there was some the sun was found to be out when I arrived too though it wasn't to last with grey clouds eventually taking over the sky. Wisps of low cloud affixed themselves to hillsides too as if to amaze the passing wanderer. Add a stag to the scene and he partaking of some silage left out for feeding and there was some wild magic in the peaceful stillness. The surrounding hills looked majestic too so this was a good introduction that needs following up but more thoughts of unfinished business came to mind.

After all, it was ongoing unfinished business at work that made me wonder if I was doing the right thing in undertaking a weekend away but there were more instances from the outdoors world that overtook this. On Sunday morning, the thought of a trot around by Cow Hill and Glen Nevis came to mind but there really wasn't the time for doing that in any state other than in a worried rush and Scotland's fine countryside deserves better than that.

Other examples also joined the queue. Reprising the part of the West Highland Way between Bridge of Orchy, Kinlochleven and Glen Nevis is but one. Seeing more of the hills of the Black Mount and around Loch Etive or Glen Etive is another. Then, there's following up on fleeting visits to Morar and Ardgour more than twelve months ago. Part of the motivation for all of this is my coming away with pleasing photos but that has been an ever present motivation in my explorations of hill country and it's good to see that it still does the trick for me.

On the way home, the sight of Cameron McNeish's The Skye Trail on a bookshelf in Glasgow was enough to have a copy come away with me and that reminded me that I have unfinished business up there too. A fuller review has appeared elsewhere on the blogosphere so I won't be doing one but it's a pleasing mix of route description and social history that also was typical of the volume on the The Sutherland Trail, itself also in my possession and needing further perusal.

All in all, this is far cry from my state of mind last autumn when it became difficult to overcome any sense of fatigue to get out in the countryside all that often. Now, I blame the sense that there was nothing out there that drew me out anymore. Of course, that is fallacious and it's good to have cured it for now. All that it took was the arrival of arctic weather with a good deal of snow and a Christmas spent in Ireland (catching up with a few issues of TGO too) for that one to be put out of commission.

Last weekend's greyness did nothing to coax me out of doors and other things took up whatever spare time was available. With a promising forecast for the coming one, I am minded to make use of what goodness comes the way though it will mean preparation for colder temperatures and mindfulness of the threat of snow showers too. The shadow of winter hasn't left us just yet but the thought of crossing frozen moorland does sound tempting. It's too soon to say where the first full hillwalking trip of 2010 will take me but I hope to make a get away soon, even if only for a day.

On of the things that I got to doing last weekend was to see what more sympathetic processing would do for older photos brought away after outings among the hills of Kerry over in Ireland. Apart from the now customary thoughts about returning to see more or to do better photographic justice to the place, I got to being amazed by how proud of their surroundings and shapely even low sized hills can appear. Taking a look in the photo below might show you what I mean because the more obvious summits barely break above 300 or 400 metres above sea level.

That observation propels my brain to another point: that steeper flanked humps can deceive. Well, they certainly can tire as I discovered along a stretch of the West Highland Way between Balmaha and Rowardennan. None of the humps rose much above 100 metres in height but the constant up and down action wasn't kind either. Hillocks don't just possess the party trick of feeling higher than they are but they can look it too. That observation takes me to Loch Seaforth (Loch Shìphoirt) on Harris where Seaforth Island (Eileann Shìphoirt) has a high point not exceeding 200 metres in height but it doesn't rise out of the water by half when seen from Ardvourlie (Aird a' Mhulaidh). I suppose that everything looks higher when seen from next to sea level and you have to wonder how Ben More on Mull presents itself to someone walking in from the coast to reach its summit too.

Those smaller isolated hills might have their uses though, especially when they offer vistas featuring summits. It is for that reason that Diamond Hill near Letterfrack in Connemara has taken my fancy after seeing it featured in a Walking World Ireland route. If I ever manage to make to that part of County Galway, I'd have in mind for that first ever visit. Ben Tianavaig on the Isle of Skye fulfilled a similar role with views of the Red Hills, the Cuillin, Raasay and the Trotternish all on offer in a 360º panorama on an evening that mixed bright sunshine with spells of rain. Orrest Head in Cumbria is another such delectable picking and illustrates that being deceived into expending energy to reach a lesser top is not foolishness at all. There are enough of the same kind that I risk making a big long list when only a few examples will do. The steep sides to any of these is a hint that any panoramas need work but who can complain with the rewards on offer?

It had to come as it often does at the start of November. Temperatures fell on a Sunday night after a fairly pleasant day that saw me fail to get out into the open air as I would have liked. What followed it was a day that mixed fine crisp winter sun and typical November misty murkiness. Some may say that it's still autumn but the weather feels like winter even if trees retain the last leaves after some stormy interludes. A lunchtime walk had me surveying what's left of the golden shreds after the Indian summer that came to us in September and October.

Apart from the chill in the air, November brought us some unsettled weather too and that seems set to continue; we may be in the midst of a lull at the moment but something more dramatic lies ahead of us if forecasters are right, and they are far from infallible. Thus, it is somewhat timely that The New York Times has brought us an article concerned with the avoidance of hibernation. The activity at the heart of it may be running but the same malady afflicts those who explore the outdoors world so it's interesting to read another take on the subject, especially given November's habit of bringing grey murky weather with it.

It is tempting to retreat to virtual explorations on one's PC when it looks not so alluring out of doors. Nevertheless, that can have its place too and might even result in putting you out over your activation energy barrier to enjoy what abounds at this time of year. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up old members of my online photo gallery. The ones of Skye are as good as done until I get to adding to that collection from a day's walking over Ben Tianavaig last year. Lochaber has come next for a spot of improvement and Argyll hasn't escaped either with an old print taken by the shores of Loch Etive seeing an attempt to better it with a new scan and subsequent Photoshop work; there's a knack in keeping things realistic, a line on the wrong side of which I don't want to find myself.

The trouble with all this tinkering with old photos and is that it consumes free time like it's going out of fashion so a short session can gobble time that was set aside for other things. That's what happened to me on Sunday but it has its benefits too. Looking at those old photos reminds you of places where you haven't been for a while. For instance, I now think of that photo of Loch Etive as an less than sharp specimen and wonder about a return visit. In the past, I have played with the idea of a two day walk from Taynuilt to Glen Coe or vice versa with an overnight stopover at a bothy. Nothing has come of it so far but the idea of revisiting Loch Etive and passing along Glen Etive for the first time makes the notion attractive. If the weather was to play ball, then it would be even better.

While on the subject of a wandering mindset, there are places in Lochaber to revisit. Loch Treig and the Grey Corries fit in here and there's what's around Corrour too; the idea of disembarking from a Sleeper to walk to Fort William has come to mind from time to time. More civilised spots like Loch Lochy and Loch Arkaig also beckon. Mind you, a spot of bicycle hire might be an idea for the latter pair because progress along the Caledonian Canal as it rounds Meall Bhanabhie can seem so slow as to be infuriating. Still, this is a nice part of the world that should be traffic free and the distances involved make bicycle travel look the more useful. For long distance travel on foot, there's the Great Glen Way of which I have sample only a little and it would take me by Loch Lochy on its way to parts that have yet to host my footfall.

Continuing the theme of exploring pastures new, there's around Mallaig too with some introductory possibilities from Morar to gain a sense of what lies about there; it is remote country too, replete with possibilities around Loch Morar and Loch Arkaig for the more adventurous. It's been a few years since I ventured around by these parts while en route from Skye to Oban and the only stops were Mallaig and Glenfinnan. With the options already described and others like Knoydart and the Small Isles within reach, it is perhaps small wonder that the summer excursion that eventually took me to Aviemore could have taken to towards Mallaig instead. In the end, I decided that it was better to try for a time when weather would have been more suitable for showing off the landscape at its best. Nevertheless, it is good to have such a scheme in mind, for the sake of avoiding indecision if noting else.

Having skirted around it, I suppose that Skye well deserves a longer mention. That walk from Elgol to Sligachan may not get repeated after seeing my surroundings bathed in the sort of light that would have been in order for a week based in Mallaig. However, there are other paths to follow and other parts to savour. Glen Brittle is but one of these and a spot of cycling might be in order given that's how I got about on my first visit to the island. It's never any harm to see new sides to an old favourite.

With all of these, what really hits me is how well peering at old photos can act as a muse as well as being an uplifting distraction from any greyness that is about. It is tempting to say that shortening days curtail the possibilities but I am minded to convert the delights of afar into experiencing what lies on my doorstep. Making use of the latter may set me up for heading further afield yet. In a way, it's amazing what indoor inspiration can achieve so long as you don't spend all of your time lost in the reverie and fail to get out at all. After all, November isn't always murky and December's bright moments should not be missed either.

One thing that is easy to forget is that the British mainland is not aligned along the Greenwich meridian but at an angle to it. One of the effects of that state of affairs is that Edinburgh and Manchester are nearly lined up in a straight north-south line, even if shadowing the coast and finding a line of least resistance through any hill country means that your route gains an elbow and that certainly is the case if you travel by train. Travel on the East Coast Mainline also veers away from what might be termed direct with the result that the journey time between Newcastle and Edinburgh is of the order of 90 minutes.

The cause of this being brought to my attention was my pondering a short getaway that arrests any decline into end of year torpor or, better still, punctuates it so much that it is stopped in its tracks. During these episodes of plotting, eyes are cast over maps and that's when it came home to me that I was next to immediately north of Donegal in Éire when I was on South Uist last year. What really made this plain were the similarities in the predicted weather for Wicklow and Mallaig for the coming weekend when I last looked on Metcheck. However, you do need a longitudinal west/east split to make this kind of thing plain, especially to make it dawn on you for the first time. Of course, a split can be north/south or any other combination too as the weather enjoyed on my trip to the Western Isles was to prove.

As regards my plotting, that is a work in progress so things are in a fluid state. The good thing about that is that I wouldn't be ruling out the possibility of a short Scottish escapade if it makes me an offer. After all, when you fancy rupturing a continuity that feels like a rut, taking yourself somewhere else for a little while is just the thing. If the everyday clutter can be left behind you and there is a chance of a fresh start, it works even better. For me, this is what the long break around Christmas and New Year does every year but once a year can never be enough. In fact, it is for that very reason that I want to disembark for while from the juggernaut that could land me on the doorstep of that much hyped season before I know it. Letting life carry you along is too easy so clearing some space and time to force a restart as well as allowing those batteries to be recharged only can be a good thing.