Collected Musings of a Hill Wanderer

Outings beget photos and photos can beget ideas for more outings. In recent weeks, I have been sprucing up the Yorkshire Dales photo collection that I have on display for all to see on the web. Many of these were taken on negative film so new scans of old prints were attempted in order to make more of the results. Back then, I did things with my SLR that I would try to avoid now. Included among these would be a determined attempt at picture making in the middle of a hazy summer day. That's not to say that such conditions would stall play but I'd be more judicious about what I'd record. Whether it is down to the advent of digital capture or not, it does feel like I have developed more of feeling of how a scene before me will come out in a photo. The reason for my suspecting the effect of technological progress is that I may spend longer looking at my photos now than was the case when I exclusively used film. The fact that I am in total control over the entire process in the digital world may have a bearing because making prints from negatives or transparencies involves a certain amount of interpretation on the part of the printer, even if we are not talking about fine art monochrome images. In time, I may get to adding more new images but my attention has gone forth to a spot of under the bonnet work on my slide show machinery followed by giving my Isle of Skye photo collection (still under way) the same sort of attention lavished on that for the Yorkshire Dales.

For a few years, I have not been devoting so much attention to the Yorkshire Dales but that may be finding itself seeing some recompense. Last month saw me out in the midst of the gentle surroundings of lower Wharfedale while last weekend saw me out in wilder countryside. A circuit from Ingleton saw me both thrilled by limestone pavements, even under duller skies, and immersed in spacious open country. That's never to say that there was no one else about but we each could have our own corner for a little while and chilling out was well possible on the moors around Twisleton; there was none of the feelings of being in a cavalcade that entered my mind between Burnsall and Howgill in September. It was a little busier on the way up Ingleborough from Chapel-le-Dale but dropping off in the Ingleton direction wasn't long losing any semblance of crowding though there was little sign of anywhere being overrun. Bunching together became a reality on the steep approach to Ingleborough but that's always the way so it's never any real trouble so long as you don't rush things and keep an awareness of whoever is about you; we all can share a bit of countryside anyway. The day provided the sort of experience that draws me back time and again and it helps that there is more to explore too. Getting a sunny day to make photos reminiscent of those by a certain Granville Harris would be a bonus.

Photographically, it was a day of digital and film capture. Perhaps perversely, the sun found breaks in the clouds at precisely the moment when my DSLR ran out of electrical juice; being ever ready with a charged battery might have been a help but I only can own up to my own fecklessness. Then, it was over to the world of film to capture the wondrous lighting as I tramped the final miles towards the end of my hike. The instantaneous nature of digital capture may have been missed but a spot of patience is all that's needed to see how well the results of my endeavours worked out for me and to use a lab that I know to do the business for me. If I had no back up camera, I would have been kicking myself so this is no problem. In fact, the incident probably justifies my continuing to bring both a DSLR and an FSLR on walking trips, even if there is a weight penalty.

Like the film photos, the full account of Saturday's walk should follow and I need to look at those digital images and charge up that camera. A spare battery might be a sensible purchase but any excuse for a spot of film photography never can be bad. My recent exploits with old photos in Photoshop Elements using exposure correcting tools like levels, curves, hue/saturation tweaking and shadow/highlight adjustments have shown me that new life can be added to an old photo (hopefully) without overdoing things. Of course, there has to be some potential for decent results to be obtained and you always want to avoid some abomination in keeping with the punch drunk efforts using filters in the 1980's. Having a good sense of what is natural and what isn't has to help but there's a very fine line between having the right amount of colour saturation and contrast and ending up with a day-glow semi-fluorescent effort; I aim to stay on the right side of that line.

Midsummer in 2008 might have been a time when I felt that the year had peaked and the encroachment of unsettled weather may have had something to do with that view. Certainly, the year will not be remembered for having a sunny summer and many were disappointed, even if it did have its better interludes. Personally, I reckon that it’s best to try and enjoy what is visited upon us at any time of year and seem to have come to the conclusion that the traditional summer holiday season is overrated. There may be more hours of daylight but, if the days get too hot, it may be worth sticking to the cooler parts of the day and that reduces the amount of time available for wandering through the countryside anyway, perhaps restricting the time available until it is not that much different from spring or autumn anyway.

Even with the feeling that the second half of a year feels like an anticlimax after the first, I continued to get out into attractive countryside. I found hot sunny weather in July, was extremely lucky with my visits to Scotland in August, had an easier September and October before taking advantage of numerous wonderful opportunities in November and December. There was much to behold so here are a few recollections of it all.

July

In walking terms, July was another fallow month with a sun scorched saunter along the Offa’s Dyke Path near Welshpool at the end of the month being the main trip of note. Otherwise, time limited by other activities ensure that most of my major outdoors activity was to be cycling rather than walking. The month’s mixture of weather contributed too but I was feeling that the best of the year had passed by this time anyway and began to wonder if the timing of the school holidays was more than a little nonsensical. I also got to mulling over island wandering as a possibility for my now habitual longer Scottish walking break. My few hours on Kerrera in May may have had something to do with this inspiration coming upon me and I felt the need for a longer break anyhow.

August

The main even in August was that island hopping trip to Skye and the Western Isles. Though anyone surveying the weather and the weather forecast on the eve of the trip might have questioned my sanity for even considering what I was about to undertake. In the event, I struck the jackpot: while other parts of the U.K. and Ireland were getting a soaking, I managed to find wonderful sunshine and avoid those downpours. That was thanks to the belt of rain getting stuck across the north of England and the south of Scotland. Harris was to prove the highlight of the week without Skye failing to satisfy or the peace of the Uists being forgettable. However, it does need to be said that South Uist felt a little like an anti-climax after Harris so it might be best to journey in the northbound direction on any future visit. A social visit to Edinburgh followed but I still got in a few hours among the Pentland Hills, an area that I surprisingly ignored when I lived up there in that city.

September & October

September and October proved to be pivotal months for a lot of reasons, the economic situation in the wider world being one of them. For me, it was a period lacking in longer walking excursions but shortening days meant that walks at lunchtimes started to take over from evening cycles. Another trip to Ireland in September allowed me to spend a few sunny hours around Gougane Barra. Even though I felt unable to add a fuller narrative for that trip, the photos found their way into the photo gallery very quickly. Alongside this, the realities of writing a longer trip away were made plain to me as producing reports for my Hebridean trip began to take eat up their share of time. It wasn’t just the writing that slowed progress since choosing and processing the photos to be included as part of the descriptions nearly were more rate limiting than the actual writing itself. That experience had been happening throughout the year but it really came to a head with the larger block of writing. Staying with the subject of lessons learned, I started to cast more of a critical eye on the focus of the blog and came to the conclusion that much of the musings on public transport really belonged elsewhere. In time, another blog was spawned for that but travel matters relevant to exploring wonderful countryside will continue to make their appearance here. In time, it may happen that old posts falling outside of this might get moved elsewhere as part of continued content reshaping but I’ll leave things as they are for now.

November

November saw me re-emerge into areas well populated by hills again. The first of two trips to Cumbria saw me embark on an out and back trek from Windermere’s train station to Yoke. I had gone north with a few ideas in mind and this proved to be just as well when public transport and the available daylight constrained my ambitions a little. Neither did anything to spoil my enjoyment of the day. A miscalculation on the following weekend had me walking from Ardlui to Butterbridge a day too early for good weather to do its magic on the landscape. in some respects, the hike echoed my February outing to the area in that showers got going to make things feel unpleasant as I dropped down towards the end of my walk. I may not have seen the countryside in its best light but plans for potential excursions came to mind and they may compensate for this at some suitable juncture in the future. Dullness of a drier variety was set to dominate my walk from Ambleside to the top of Red Screes and back the next weekend. Some sunshine managed to escape from its cloudy prison towards the end of the walk but the intense cold remains in mind, particularly since the turning on of Ambleside’s Christmas lights delayed my journey home.

December

December may be considered by meteorologists to be the start of winter but my walking was not about to go into hibernation, especially with the possibility of sampling some snow. So, the first Saturday of the month saw me return to the Howgill Fells after the briefest of visits a few years earlier. The snow that I met got me wondering about winter skills and such like but the experience was one not to be missed. The day after had me out exploring Macclesfield’s hills with an out and back hike from my own doorstep. I might have been trampling familiar ground but there were some new sides to be seen too. A trip to Ireland for Christmas and New didn’t stop my walking either, even if road walking took up the most of what I was doing. Nevertheless, I got to get off road to explore around Springfield Castle near Broadford in County Limerick and even got to sample a little piece of the Dingle peninsula around Camp and Castlegregory in Kerry. Sunshine enlivened both walks but that part of Kerry was frequented by a biting wind while we were there; nevertheless, it didn’t stop me wandering a little way along a track (used by a tractor to get winter feeding to livestock by appearance of things) through the dunes at Maherabeg (Machaire Beag in Irish) in the late evening sunshine, at least shadowing the Dingle Way if not actually following it. That brought a year packed full of walking trips and opportunities to a delightful close. 2009 awaits.

Monday, August 11th:

Ferry travel and island hopping are often synonymous. During previous Scottish outings, I have been known to explore Mull, Iona and Arran with Caledonian Macbrayne (Calmac to one and all) getting me to and from the islands in question. An Easter excursion to Arran involved an overnight stay but Mull and Iona have only ever seen me on day trips. Kerrera has been the same with its little passenger ferry getting me there and away.

The main way onto Skye these days is by going over its well known bridge but there ferry options for getting there too. One that I have used is that running between Armadale and Mallaig but there is another going between Glenelg and Kylerhea. That is a small community-run affair but it is summer-only like the much larger Calmac ferry. Unlike others that I have frequented, Skye has seen me on multi-day trips a few times although there have been shorter ones with me spending spending just a single night on the island too.

My Hebridean explorations last month had me spending just the one night on Skye with a few hours spent around Ben Tianavaig as well. I have shared that here already so I’ll move things along to that ferry ride to Harris. The sailing itself lasts an hour and forty minutes and the crossing of the Little Minch does take you sufficiently far away from land that they need registration cards for the crossing along with your ticket. That’s not to say that any sights on the crossing are devoid of land. Just stand at the right side of the boat and there’ll plenty to see.

I made my way to the cafeteria at the start of the crossing so we were well out of Loch Snizort by the time that I returned to the deck. An Easter Monday return from Arran taught me that getting fed before things got too busy was sound practice. It also started to rain as we left Uig so being under cover was no bad idea either and I had a dry few hours there before the ferry came.

Though we were out on more open water when I ventured outside again, Skye was far from being gone from view. In fact, the full length of the Trotternish was still visible even as it became an ever thinner line on the horizon. Some islands north of Skye came into view too. Visibility was very good with some sunshine about and the crossing remained a smooth one throughout.

Any lack of land was soon remedied as we pass into Loch an Tairbeart (Loch Tarbert West) with its myriad of islands. Scalpay was a major sight and, of course, there was Harris itself with its best hill country remaining steadfastly in shadow while other parts caught the sun. After all this wonder, Tarbert still seemed a pleasant spot even if it was far from huge. A visit to its tourist information centre resulted in my picking up a bus timetable for all of Harris and Lewis. Aird Asaig (Ardhasaig in English) was where I was staying the night so a bus ride was in order to save myself an hour’s walking with a full load on my back.

Once esconsced at my lodgings, I took to a spot of ambling. An Cliseam (or Clisham, Gaelic is the mainstay for the place names in these parts) and its client hills remained under cloud and some of the summits were shrouded too. I had no rain which was a blessing given the portents from the weather forecasts that I had been seeing. My wanderings took me around Loch Bun Abhainn Eaddara and along the shores of Loch a’ Siar. The journeying was short but glimpsed steep slopes that were stony and craggy, reminders that I was among proper hills regardless of what their heights might be. These were hills of which I was to see more but I had already seen enough to retire for the night. By then, the weather had taken on a damper aspect but the following day was when the real exploration was to commence.

Sunday, August 10th:

Up to a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been to Skye for a few years so a visit was long overdue, even if it turned out to be a short one while on a journey that took islands that I had until then not visited at all. There might have been showers floating about but Skye didn’t disappoint whenever the sun made its way from behind the clouds. The day before couldn’t have been more wet in Macclesfield (the Sutton Sheepdog Trials could have done with better weather…) so anyone who knew what I was planning could have been forgiven for thinking that I was mad. However, things didn’t look too bad in Glasgow and the sun lit up parts of the city as the coach on which I was travelling made its way to Fort William. Between the upper reaches of Loch Lomond and Loch Linnhe though, the aspect shown by the weather was well wet. I still found Fort William wet underfoot but dry overhead during a short stop there to change coach before continuing to Skye. That drier theme was set to continue all of the way to Kyle of Lochalsh where Skye was displaying a damper appearance. Further north on the island, conditions were very different with a good deal of sun on offer in Portree.

Once I had dropped off some of my things at where I was staying for the night, I decided to head for Ben Tianavaig for a spot of hiking. To get there, I had to brave the busy A87 before making my way onto the B883 that serves Braes, a place that is noted for a famous clash between crofters and police who had come to enforce the execution of eviction notices. The result of that battle was the enactment of legislation guaranteeing crofters’ rights that sounds not that dissimilar to the demands of the Irish Land League. Different histories sometimes exhibit certain common threads.

Braes was five miles away from the A87 so that was never going to be my object for the day; more than ten miles of road walking is not my idea of fun so a bicycle would offer a better way of getting there. As it happened, my initial target was Camastianavaig on the shores of Loch Tianavaig. There, I met some people who said that there were porpoises playing off shore and I got to see what they were enjoying with my own eyes. I left them to savour the sights and soon found a rough path taking me out into open country to start on my way up the steep sides of Ben Tianavaig. I chose a route away from any really steep drops, particularly those looking a little bit too close to the sea. After braving the leg busting ascent and any showers that cam the way, I found myself on top of the hill with marvellous panoramic views to be enjoyed. The sights included Raasay, the Trotternish ridge to the north, the Red Hills and Cuillin to the south along with Skye’s indented coastline. I had it all to myself for those moments before thoughts of getting back down again came to the fore.

The route down was to be different to the way up and Scotland’s access laws were well used as I negotiated the rough country between Ben Tianavaig and Penifiler. It wasn’t all downhill with there a small bit of uphill action before I got onto less testing ground. Conditions underfoot weren’t too wet considering the rain that was about and the vegetation wasn’t too bothersome either. There was a tricky thicket of scrub that through which I forced my way across a stream but heather, bracken and marsh grasses were the less challenging mainstay. I don’t recall seeing much wildlife and I don’t remember any interest from midges so they can’t have been too bad.

Even with my return to tarmac, there was still the matter of rounding Loch Portree as the sky grew darker. If there was a bridge across the loch, then I wouldn’t have needed to take as long to return to my lodgings for the night. That darkness soon turned to dampness and I needed waterproofs again by the time that I reached the A87 again. The rain was to persist for a few hours but I was after a good walk with its moments of sun and so had no complaints.

An easier day followed and I couldn’t really get up to much with a 14:00 ferry to Harris to be caught. I spent some time mooching around Portree and trying not to buy so much as to be overloading myself with it; the weight on my back was already enough for me. I left Portree at 11:35 on the bus to Uig where conditions were drier with no showers happening on me while I waited there. I may have ended up with some hours to spare but buying a ticket took up some of that time and the sun came out while I was waiting. That ferry came soon enough but that’s a story for the next post in the series.

Skye is yet another of those iconic spots in Scotland’s Highlands and Islands that continues to draw me back. My most recent spot of island hopping had me encountering the misty isle yet again, albeit briefly. The story of my most recent stay will wait for a future posting but the stopover has caused me to cast my mind back over previous visits, just like what happened after my excursion to North Argyll at the end of May. Those trips haven’t been as numerous as those to the likes of Lochaber and Lorn but Skye remains an island for which I retain a certain fondness.

The fact that it has been reasonably kind to me with the weather has helped me to see the island in its best light. That certainly was the case for my first outing up there in the last week of July in 1999. Up to that point, the month had been very grey, in Edinburgh at least, so I took my chance when I got it. Travel by coach landed me in Portree at around 17:00 in the evening and I made my way to the Portree Independent Hostel for my night’s stay. The glorious evening drew me out for a potter about the place for glimpses of the Cuillin Hills in the distance. The following day saw me hire out a bicycle and I made my way across the island to Dunvegan and its castle. The day was hot and the hills that the road surmounted, though none too impressive, did take their toll on the legs so my rest in Dunvegan was well earned. Nevertheless, roads were quiet and sights of the coastline and its many small villages kept me entertained as did the sight of MacLeod’s Tables in the distance. For the way back, I took a different route to follow the coast road to Sligachan as far as Bracadale before turning inland on a wonderful if scary narrow road though the hills to Portree. In evening sunshine, the countryside couldn’t have looked any better. The only fly in the ointment is that due to a lack of camera film, I have to rely rather more on my memory than photos for this account but that’s no bad thing. After staying in a different hostel, I reluctantly left Skye to return to Edinburgh, stopping by Eilean Donan (and annoying the coach driver on the side of the road near Dornie because my bag was in the wrong place and buried under loads of others; it’s a lesson that I haven’t forgotten: ask where to put your luggage first!) and Inverness. I may only have stayed a few days but my appetite had been whetted.

It was August of 2001 before I found my way back again, on the first of what has become my now near annual summer Scottish breaks. The weather was more uncertain on this occasion and I made my way from Edinburgh, where I had met up with a friend of mine, through some miserable wet and windy weather; it’s just as well that I was travelling in a coach and under cover at the time. The day after could not have been more different and I took my chance to savour part of the Trotternish. The views of the coast and the Quiraing were enticing enough for me to be putting my then newly acquired Canon EOS 300 SLR through its paces, even from this less ideal vantage point. My trek started at Ellishadder with my taking in a nearby waterfall cascading down the cliffs. Onward progress towards Staffin guaranteed me ample views of the Trotternish ridge. Continuing on towards Flodigarry and beyond garnered closer views of the twisted geological wreckage before I caught the bus to Uig. Its being a port might not make Uig a beauty spot but the day remained wondrous and thoughts of an excursion to Harris emanated in the brain; various distractions meant that they remained as such until recently. A bus returned me to Portree and the next day, a duller affair, saw me leaving reluctantly again with a bus taking me to Armadale and a ferry taking me on to Mallaig, from where I made my way back to Edinburgh again after a stay in Oban and a visit to Mull.

August 2002 saw me crossing Scotland ahead of a band of wet weather that was approaching from the east. A quick run to Skye resulted with my having a short walk around the the Old Man of Storr and I stayed only one night before heading off again. It was just as well because the following morning was well soggy but things cheered up as I made my way southeast again.

My next escapade, a longer affair, took place in July of 2005. In some respects, it was inopportunely timed because the failed 22/7 London bombings immediately preceded the trip. My base this time was Broadford because there was some real hill country wandering in the head. In fact, one of my hikes took me among the Cuillin and the Red Hills while the other was a crossing of the Trotternish ridge. The Cuillin ramble started from Elgol, then having a less usable bus timetable than today, and took me up a narrow path along Loch Scavaig with disconcerting drops into the sea on my left. Even so, any difficulties were more than worthwhile with fabulous views of the Cuillin Hills and Rum on offer in the wonderful sunshine. Reaching Camasunary saw me take a welcome break before continuing along the track to Sligachan under Bla Bheinn. The scenery remained wonderful with the likes of Sgurr nan Gillean and Marsco easily keeping me occupied. The sky might have clouded over by the time of my arrival in Sligachan but I was after having a very good day. Cloudiness dominated the walking the day after too, at least in the early stages. My trek started in Brogaig from where I followed the minor road up onto the Trotternish ridge. Once on the ridge, I headed south to go up and down hills like Bioda Buidhe before going down into Uig via Glen Conon. I was tempted by the idea of mounting Ben Edra and dropping into Glen Uig but I changed my mind en route. During my descent the sun came out and any glimpse back would be towards rounded humps that attempt to belie the existence of the inland cliff that forms their eastern faces. Having a spot of time to spare before the next bus, I found a quiet shady woodland spot, replete with a waterfall, where I could laze for a little while. That opportunity was much enjoyed, a perfect end to an adventurous hike. All in all, I don’t recall getting any rain during my stay on the island but there certainly was a lot of cloud about only for it to disappear at the right moments to allow Skye to display its magic. Broadford served well as a base with all of the essentials that I needed and some good views of hill country to boot. It certain allows for even more and deeper exploration of the area about it than I did.

My having been to Skye only a small number of times has its uses: there are plenty of reasons to return. That’s not to say that Skye hasn’t been a satisfying destination for me but leaving somewhere wanting to go back is so much better than feeling that you’ve seen all that is there to be seen. After all, those yearnings for a return can generate new hiking ideas and added motivation for exploring the outdoors. I am inclined to think that Skye merits another longer trip, perhaps in a season other than summer. Only time will tell what happens but I was treated like I was on my most recent encounter with the place, it will not have been bad to me at all.