tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90887862860351394892024-03-05T21:30:20.076-08:00the outdoor diariesScottish outdoor girl seeks fun times hiking, biking, camping and canoeingPaulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-18881795878916130992024-01-24T11:54:00.000-08:002024-01-24T11:55:47.129-08:00Atholl - Zoning out<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">This was my first trip of the season in wintry weather though the walk didn't start wintry. Instead it passed through several zones of different weather before topping out in winter itself.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I started in the woods of Glen Tilt which were winter bare but dappled by early morning sunshine. There was <a href="https://theoutdoordiaries.blogspot.com/2023/02/obney-hills-exciting-find.html" target="_blank">hair ice</a> to see, always an exciting find, as I climbed higher through the woods. A clearing soon gave a view north over the giant cut of Glen Tilt as it meandered deeper into the hills below a snow-dusted Carn a Chlamain. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSYWTN2r-OELmhlVpSAeHB06Nky2UeWfN0TXwGynXRDMAYUsERZeTflEsHBk1O2pxsLITW54xzs2OnKGwqKRawIpRmvNqGTjtbaBrWZaZXPdbFrynIZ1BqWbtE33tqDGCK_xFW6hxHnwtWzDszXvKREYa3ex0mIC_QN7z6Q2aO89qeCBLC0LpYRxy8g/s4000/P1080427.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSYWTN2r-OELmhlVpSAeHB06Nky2UeWfN0TXwGynXRDMAYUsERZeTflEsHBk1O2pxsLITW54xzs2OnKGwqKRawIpRmvNqGTjtbaBrWZaZXPdbFrynIZ1BqWbtE33tqDGCK_xFW6hxHnwtWzDszXvKREYa3ex0mIC_QN7z6Q2aO89qeCBLC0LpYRxy8g/w640-h480/P1080427.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I left the woods behind and picked up a lonely track that struck out across the moor. It passed into a new zone of weather as the world around me became frosty and frozen. Icicles clung to the overhang of the riverbank and the water on the track had frozen solid. Soon the track would be dusted with snow as it climbed the hillside. Looking behind me, its route over the moor was picked out in white like tram lines.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGmaperT3Xg07QZRMrHLz6X1B6agT9cwRfu7gEF6-uHcm7WoWDr9XEiTZVSE_gWIN_FoChjv1CIC2cYvyzPUWbZEioUuX-rmtTt9bYJ8-fQo8YfXA8FlDksEuPFHcWtGi-FCJ5-0IkuQXuzZOVwPIPqItoKXC5zSSEdPiiHP0wJiBgc05IVGv4mdGsg/s4000/P1080436.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglGmaperT3Xg07QZRMrHLz6X1B6agT9cwRfu7gEF6-uHcm7WoWDr9XEiTZVSE_gWIN_FoChjv1CIC2cYvyzPUWbZEioUuX-rmtTt9bYJ8-fQo8YfXA8FlDksEuPFHcWtGi-FCJ5-0IkuQXuzZOVwPIPqItoKXC5zSSEdPiiHP0wJiBgc05IVGv4mdGsg/w640-h480/P1080436.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />A stiff pull eventually brought me up onto the hill and into full winter. I'd chosen this top, Beinn a Chait, because it's not on any list or in any guidebook. It's just a top that I hadn't visited before and where I was sure I would find solitude. But what a stunning place it was that day. Without a breath of wind, I could sit for ages enjoying the wintry, mountain panoramas around me. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1BlFH1fxj6-2IsqKv4ePglLEMmp6Pz8EiJqEc95gTBOhrk8SjD7R0PPJaFBuTwd5hW7d_dVUUaCpw_Qpmm_UU8HBT77Nctad1_cYHBcwvnwnLNxe182Q66VcO3J4VErIuzqA_gMOXp2ikTS5gabBFiUM1swaB7qhzffuBaUXQpapTOBslx8IUrPfQA/s4000/P1080441.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC1BlFH1fxj6-2IsqKv4ePglLEMmp6Pz8EiJqEc95gTBOhrk8SjD7R0PPJaFBuTwd5hW7d_dVUUaCpw_Qpmm_UU8HBT77Nctad1_cYHBcwvnwnLNxe182Q66VcO3J4VErIuzqA_gMOXp2ikTS5gabBFiUM1swaB7qhzffuBaUXQpapTOBslx8IUrPfQA/w300-h400/P1080441.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Immediately to the east, the successive ridges of Beinn Mheadhonach, Carn a Chlamain and Beinn a'Ghlo were an impressive sight. To the distant north, were the Cairngorms blanketed with snow and closer to was the bulk of Beinn Dearg where I could pick out a few, tiny figures on the top. But to the west of Beinn a Chait the land fell away to high moorland and the view was unimpeded so that I could see a long line of snow-capped peaks stretching across the far horizon. These were the Western Highlands but somehow they reminded me that day of a much grander range like the Andes or the Rockies. It was beautiful to sit there in the glistening snow taking all this in. Not a sound. Not another person. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4zDtNoe4SXPEw6whaoVHSoz-BI19r8Ln5xgG6RkI4TbPQGt17d5BXq0oawuH8AuHlsdEcwJsuAahVuLdI2PMy9pdbjX2RNykxOf_oGGRZz_Dzq5-TWcK1rN9WgolagLDEztGEYckBUW_c5aPP1J_TXhyphenhyphenGjaghLvcidPjKeCMez2ZgJOfwKSAHuNTSQ/s4000/P1080451.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG4zDtNoe4SXPEw6whaoVHSoz-BI19r8Ln5xgG6RkI4TbPQGt17d5BXq0oawuH8AuHlsdEcwJsuAahVuLdI2PMy9pdbjX2RNykxOf_oGGRZz_Dzq5-TWcK1rN9WgolagLDEztGEYckBUW_c5aPP1J_TXhyphenhyphenGjaghLvcidPjKeCMez2ZgJOfwKSAHuNTSQ/w640-h480/P1080451.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">In the short days of mid winter, the sun was already dipping as I made my way back down. I retraced my route part way along the track in golden evening light that bathed the flanks of Ben Vrackie to the south. A bend in the river was the night's camp spot and it was a cold night that followed. A full moon rose. My water bottle froze and my tent iced up but the river ran free and tinkled quietly all night.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kQgzJ_UdTOsvtJq08uBKjtSp8vnx0SEt5HClqU-tRCl1iO9120xGJF3sn-dWxIjl_c-vVjapDRq8HLupemkNC5GNd15yDrfNlKUQvqnVPNxKXUBqRD9AB_X-QYhortVoPV5y21czAeQsDPB1bt35frW5ChHjYFuJsXNaI3XbQAFsOeeNlTuusuqr3w/s4000/P1080467.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kQgzJ_UdTOsvtJq08uBKjtSp8vnx0SEt5HClqU-tRCl1iO9120xGJF3sn-dWxIjl_c-vVjapDRq8HLupemkNC5GNd15yDrfNlKUQvqnVPNxKXUBqRD9AB_X-QYhortVoPV5y21czAeQsDPB1bt35frW5ChHjYFuJsXNaI3XbQAFsOeeNlTuusuqr3w/w640-h480/P1080467.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next morning, I descended back down through the zones of frosty moorland and damp, green woods. </p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><u>Fact File</u><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start/finish: Blair Atholl<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness train<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: Picked up the path up Glen Tilt immediately before the bridge over the Tilt on the main road through the village. Stayed on the track on the west side of the river and eventually joined the track that leaves Glen Tilt to the northwest ascending beside the Allt Slanaidh. It climbed a good way up Beinn a Chait before I left it to get to the top. Repeated this route back out next day. </span></span></div></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-40549334707205081312023-12-08T10:25:00.000-08:002023-12-08T10:26:29.791-08:00Closer to home - A sprinkle of winter<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My favourite running route at Ormiston and Pencaitland has been dusted with a sprinkling of winter.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxwLT0jziZRKo6k_4XkC6PYssQdzZiT6PIslkAGTkV6flxejvo1NF47fmCNT2s8mgNuLnXzNSoPhSv3DbUqP-HnNRnDERvNI1_9_Wc0sLL91kVZFydDDVe4cFj6jFfMWyMRUvxVsia0u4tfrn_li9_N-oWj7aEye3FGMgF9Ru_Sc-TLsRV77JYgf05Q/s4608/20231203_104637.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvxwLT0jziZRKo6k_4XkC6PYssQdzZiT6PIslkAGTkV6flxejvo1NF47fmCNT2s8mgNuLnXzNSoPhSv3DbUqP-HnNRnDERvNI1_9_Wc0sLL91kVZFydDDVe4cFj6jFfMWyMRUvxVsia0u4tfrn_li9_N-oWj7aEye3FGMgF9Ru_Sc-TLsRV77JYgf05Q/w640-h480/20231203_104637.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-32413985605978395452023-11-28T12:40:00.000-08:002023-11-28T12:42:16.742-08:00Close to home - Autumn storms<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">With three weather warnings during my autumn holidays, I didn't travel very far afield but made the most of the rich colours closer to home. With the colder weather as well, I start to increase my running mileage and getting out running is a great way to enjoy autumn.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">One of my favourite running routes is a loop through the woods and fields from Ormiston to Pencaitland then back via the Winton Estate. The trails here are always quiet and often muddy in winter which is perfect because I do think the muddier you are when you get home, the more you have enjoyed your run! </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc26uiay9rbURo-mxc8wiv6f4XKq4jJ59anLfY5kJkEEQy9lDzqS70SaIH-14cB_kRKclRJD3jy_pN5QJgrhMS9POyI7-FMA6JONixalCidgoMBmfCzfAcbCvFMpUelDn-ZLb0qOdQqgZF_JvfsJvlSNaVrGOqBGfUi9CjkrMzEZF9-u9iZNnLGONSg/s4608/20231031_092745.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfc26uiay9rbURo-mxc8wiv6f4XKq4jJ59anLfY5kJkEEQy9lDzqS70SaIH-14cB_kRKclRJD3jy_pN5QJgrhMS9POyI7-FMA6JONixalCidgoMBmfCzfAcbCvFMpUelDn-ZLb0qOdQqgZF_JvfsJvlSNaVrGOqBGfUi9CjkrMzEZF9-u9iZNnLGONSg/w640-h480/20231031_092745.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">Another favourite run close to home is from Aberlady Bay along the coast to Gullane then back via the John Muir Way and the Postman's Path through Luffness Estate. The coast path is quite rugged and exposed here but in autumn there are huge numbers of geese and waders to distract your attention. This run was early morning as the sun was rising over a frosty landscape.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-3KHPkwj1N1mmvXlD755r73tkvqSDclynTwJhNYis3SrBE7NzXJvPN22XXWXWl-E8qC6ki2hIqGRJKaSRTdASTwBQYTs2aplWz-ewl0AI5VvGqzkDnKDSC-aNiQ0hqM-F8fD-DiLUCA3LnlqaiecxJcfKar1eNXyNEN7mHF9oUlK3p7_Rq_d4ix__A/s4608/20231023_081326.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-3KHPkwj1N1mmvXlD755r73tkvqSDclynTwJhNYis3SrBE7NzXJvPN22XXWXWl-E8qC6ki2hIqGRJKaSRTdASTwBQYTs2aplWz-ewl0AI5VvGqzkDnKDSC-aNiQ0hqM-F8fD-DiLUCA3LnlqaiecxJcfKar1eNXyNEN7mHF9oUlK3p7_Rq_d4ix__A/w640-h480/20231023_081326.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Further afield, I love to run to family visits in Newport from the train station at Dundee as the route goes over the Tay Bridge which has expansive views up and down the river, then along the <a href="https://theoutdoordiaries.blogspot.com/search/label/Newport%20Nature%20Trail" target="_blank">Newport Nature Trail</a>. There's a particular point on the trail when the trees and low sunlight conspire to create a little bit of magic.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NMCkc_yvCyjkfkutMsZYqMII5zFIeydS8PW5fLPuBm52aqaYxB6jDIqG6RXpar5854efuo5av6qJvHWlATpevYYM2sr4icR2a75jb2B6DTp7MvZNDMD3xB0ggkG1zYRlntNuKOnOCMUKkm76-R0dhhyphenhyphen9VYUg8g8DhuhSkZWYRkPlDPkrPoRxm1f-EQ/s4608/20231111_131913.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5NMCkc_yvCyjkfkutMsZYqMII5zFIeydS8PW5fLPuBm52aqaYxB6jDIqG6RXpar5854efuo5av6qJvHWlATpevYYM2sr4icR2a75jb2B6DTp7MvZNDMD3xB0ggkG1zYRlntNuKOnOCMUKkm76-R0dhhyphenhyphen9VYUg8g8DhuhSkZWYRkPlDPkrPoRxm1f-EQ/w640-h480/20231111_131913.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">There were plenty of nice walks too in my autumn holidays including a wander round the Gosford Policies, always stunning at this time of year. Gosford House is the seat of the Earls of Wemyss and March, and dates from 1800. But it's the grounds that steal the show with pretty ponds and woodland.</p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4Ghp49lv95Uy7OeBc0cChm5x-vgHI9F6IDzXjewQg97AZi7fpFMJIN8rNdiTU9sByFYRRUzZC7UJbRZzN6VebsiGhVLgidAVExwsQhmh0nPOBR2qNcrctAYWEDRomOfiPL6lcbDnXdpCHW4B2UTOls0yRTSpvEJYoRUWaXpzQ8V7tYQ6WwhoKKQzRw/s4608/20231028_141540.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4Ghp49lv95Uy7OeBc0cChm5x-vgHI9F6IDzXjewQg97AZi7fpFMJIN8rNdiTU9sByFYRRUzZC7UJbRZzN6VebsiGhVLgidAVExwsQhmh0nPOBR2qNcrctAYWEDRomOfiPL6lcbDnXdpCHW4B2UTOls0yRTSpvEJYoRUWaXpzQ8V7tYQ6WwhoKKQzRw/w640-h480/20231028_141540.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">A wander up at Dunkeld is also beautiful at this time of year with the surrounding woods creating a rich backdrop of colour. In late autumn it's the beech trees that steal the show here. Or maybe it's the red squirrel at the Loch of the Lowes visitor centre.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc3z7y3vGt_HUNZtE62XpBOInvULBRu_e0kFDsPU3skyyeE_gax-YkrT00jeq2zoFiARas4gRwIEW_LQb9FcglFc5UMiiusxPzzMyYKIYwS0ik2L6QMzyZpxj6DuHYGmriWuiWP4KT73iaNOhq2ArYxaYshTNQdBMOYEHeu-XEz8uxAjTDZSFQQDAwQ/s4000/P1080380.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXc3z7y3vGt_HUNZtE62XpBOInvULBRu_e0kFDsPU3skyyeE_gax-YkrT00jeq2zoFiARas4gRwIEW_LQb9FcglFc5UMiiusxPzzMyYKIYwS0ik2L6QMzyZpxj6DuHYGmriWuiWP4KT73iaNOhq2ArYxaYshTNQdBMOYEHeu-XEz8uxAjTDZSFQQDAwQ/w640-h480/P1080380.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cyyJ6Y1uRlIno2_ORt2EdxWpcBaN25xMziW0soQXLkZIFn-cIHPOkRkMkaARYwKSLXsYX_6yLS4cIxEelz3d9GrfPTRLT4JGtjkvZk0fvEwXRf7tsK9mAe0HwSKZqFdtnhEC-l5YBonc5n6FA3uZXSWcQ3MnkcFPt957YadCV4A3Gto6dFjiLgpz7w/s4000/P1080404.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7cyyJ6Y1uRlIno2_ORt2EdxWpcBaN25xMziW0soQXLkZIFn-cIHPOkRkMkaARYwKSLXsYX_6yLS4cIxEelz3d9GrfPTRLT4JGtjkvZk0fvEwXRf7tsK9mAe0HwSKZqFdtnhEC-l5YBonc5n6FA3uZXSWcQ3MnkcFPt957YadCV4A3Gto6dFjiLgpz7w/w640-h480/P1080404.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Autumn is giving way now to winter, my favourite season. While there will no doubt be more storms, let's hope there's plenty of running and nice walks too.</p></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-79114981380241408592023-10-22T03:12:00.003-07:002023-10-22T03:21:22.019-07:00Fife - Late summer Lomonds<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">We had two wildly contrasting days for this late summer overnighter in the Lomond Hills. The first day provided an endlessly changing weatherscape as a sunny morning gave way to a wet afternoon and evening. The second day was as hot as high summer. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfUJV2pxsM8dh8CcbDr5sltoCPhvTtCHP7Gjs3PR6XAj7mOyx0Lc_EhP7x3Qu833FvXI4oPclzYOPp6NMTn7gaMyB8dwLUhcNtlldT2qaG8JAQLMfASIKO66bVsKBGEZWWXxYc-Tw0E5SwOIPV-ll4LRQFZnOmTX5NGjB9dtGM7qPm7S5iPJnda7muQ/s2998/P1080047.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2542" data-original-width="2998" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfUJV2pxsM8dh8CcbDr5sltoCPhvTtCHP7Gjs3PR6XAj7mOyx0Lc_EhP7x3Qu833FvXI4oPclzYOPp6NMTn7gaMyB8dwLUhcNtlldT2qaG8JAQLMfASIKO66bVsKBGEZWWXxYc-Tw0E5SwOIPV-ll4LRQFZnOmTX5NGjB9dtGM7qPm7S5iPJnda7muQ/w640-h542/P1080047.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">Butterflies and wildflowers had abounded for the walk in from the train at Markinch. But by the time we were on the flanks of East Lomond, we watched wave after wave of dense, dark clouds move through the Forth Estuary in the distance. They cast heavy downpours over Edinburgh which appeared then disappeared in the gloom. The showers eventually caught us too in sudden, short, sharp bursts. We soon decided it was quicker to pull the bothy bag over us than wrestle in and out of waterproofs each time.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8LpsKpfJJtubOVkvgZzBvgOtaJn6VJmQvgt1_fMfO908EQhbxTd7J4CoknmSFjm9nX4LjiugrZAFsMkfn5f7X4ipiYuOGWAF9vRv61uT7hwMs_gz8lk4NrYyfF-V0YbeF-M77Zn7VlnVtjVpWs3igLwz1Gl8rTgJGLrAdrVL-jOR93b8ZIMfCWfi7TA/s4000/P1080068.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8LpsKpfJJtubOVkvgZzBvgOtaJn6VJmQvgt1_fMfO908EQhbxTd7J4CoknmSFjm9nX4LjiugrZAFsMkfn5f7X4ipiYuOGWAF9vRv61uT7hwMs_gz8lk4NrYyfF-V0YbeF-M77Zn7VlnVtjVpWs3igLwz1Gl8rTgJGLrAdrVL-jOR93b8ZIMfCWfi7TA/w640-h480/P1080068.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We skipped the top of the hill and instead walked the track that contours round its south side. I like this route. It's very pleasant to walk and it feels ancient and atmospheric. It leads to the old limekilns, a beautiful spot, where today the sun briefly popped out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSjp3nMTjX3eFxrdFy0E5Qlu32bmMd2yEJuUq3ROjc6Gpnl-SQIDdqFuG0ZzgJEncqKLXVFE183n_E9Kg0b1ITYzZQQ_W1ksNzDFlodzvEiR_i1vde65AI4mEFlFlLkD-DbWO88MTzMk9rpZrlnwFlGrnEbk-IuFs9ZpMvAGtHf8QtrfGSOp5EDIk9g/s4000/P1080063.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaSjp3nMTjX3eFxrdFy0E5Qlu32bmMd2yEJuUq3ROjc6Gpnl-SQIDdqFuG0ZzgJEncqKLXVFE183n_E9Kg0b1ITYzZQQ_W1ksNzDFlodzvEiR_i1vde65AI4mEFlFlLkD-DbWO88MTzMk9rpZrlnwFlGrnEbk-IuFs9ZpMvAGtHf8QtrfGSOp5EDIk9g/w640-h480/P1080063.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We walked westwards and pitched the tents in a place that was hunkered down near Harperleas instead of the planned pitch on the exposed ridge of the Bishop. The tents were battered by wind and rain through the night so it was a wise change of plan. But the next day was beautiful with wall to wall sunshine that brought out the best of the purple heather.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgZpI2iLXBLYtiUREdMfn1Jyvh1vDjy84aF33hjAG4Mu8qW78bxlsOMZJ8R0QmTpid3eC6MrVXKGGLQTIsNif_OclN1Gxw91ljaEqIRwC7PkrxdzmVLh0WpGSc47tqVZ1NHp-WjhNX2Y66givhxqGh5qIeD5R8FByX0aLo7mZWEbenjg0yL9g4sowCg/s4000/P1080108.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMgZpI2iLXBLYtiUREdMfn1Jyvh1vDjy84aF33hjAG4Mu8qW78bxlsOMZJ8R0QmTpid3eC6MrVXKGGLQTIsNif_OclN1Gxw91ljaEqIRwC7PkrxdzmVLh0WpGSc47tqVZ1NHp-WjhNX2Y66givhxqGh5qIeD5R8FByX0aLo7mZWEbenjg0yL9g4sowCg/w640-h480/P1080108.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">After packing up the camp spot, we climbed up to an intriguing rock feature called the Devil's Burdens. It's a band of sandstone and volcanic rock that has weathered over time into strange shapes. It was a wonderful place to scramble around and to watch the wheatears flitting from rock to rock. A last sight of them before they fly back to Africa for the winter. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVWAvQUVjq3pGHntUA7q_BSWJcMWgZfQSyyfYip6H746qJpjrs5zIQ9v9OP_LNi5zaAjiJ7hwdb3j00qRgchnruFfeEf9qeZEvDjxnf5tUMCtKQgNLfuP1bJXf8mt55Q8XZMIqjAN0PXt8kYlGz3SMAftqeA6uw8kgnbwzH3ASFeGSjQ8amb8JSNTTA/s4000/P1080101.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDVWAvQUVjq3pGHntUA7q_BSWJcMWgZfQSyyfYip6H746qJpjrs5zIQ9v9OP_LNi5zaAjiJ7hwdb3j00qRgchnruFfeEf9qeZEvDjxnf5tUMCtKQgNLfuP1bJXf8mt55Q8XZMIqjAN0PXt8kYlGz3SMAftqeA6uw8kgnbwzH3ASFeGSjQ8amb8JSNTTA/w640-h480/P1080101.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNcsqcDOtBSQlISZ5ZB5GRHN6fY-Hd6HQL-FixsblEothdlIlzARAUTOunAslZL3EY1bbusBPkvbFTLSTZk2V-Qygim_tt6aTsNPa_NpAnFhX4msW1vds3KCI_luqim4LW0Obj1DvU2DCEKxfrOpjQOIyP681fB3ggWKuZQzWVVIpiUwVWlHnGNGf54w/s1920/thumbnail_P1020417%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1280" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNcsqcDOtBSQlISZ5ZB5GRHN6fY-Hd6HQL-FixsblEothdlIlzARAUTOunAslZL3EY1bbusBPkvbFTLSTZk2V-Qygim_tt6aTsNPa_NpAnFhX4msW1vds3KCI_luqim4LW0Obj1DvU2DCEKxfrOpjQOIyP681fB3ggWKuZQzWVVIpiUwVWlHnGNGf54w/w266-h400/thumbnail_P1020417%20copy.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We picked our way back down through dense, purple heather and wandered through Glen Vale. The rock feature here known as John Knox's Pulpit presides over the glen. It's an outcrop of grey sandstone and its hidden valley is said to have hosted secret meetings of Covenanters in the 17th century. The valley was lush with colourful heather and rampant bracken.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRJ77_qUsxldjbevfK4HUZ-_fVnyJCtr1NjX1FxtqD-fMJ6pPed0EF8MT9pj0QSGxjmIgP0xy6CDxvsZmkbNRLzQWNJO7gDUdWJH6YbsSeR2X42hx_NVHNZ-qMCZlIfT5iv3Q9UrJBZKJEc9ArviOipKSbLTfK5gLxLb68XZtOX_1a88g3D5ovxB0WA/s4000/P1080117.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRJ77_qUsxldjbevfK4HUZ-_fVnyJCtr1NjX1FxtqD-fMJ6pPed0EF8MT9pj0QSGxjmIgP0xy6CDxvsZmkbNRLzQWNJO7gDUdWJH6YbsSeR2X42hx_NVHNZ-qMCZlIfT5iv3Q9UrJBZKJEc9ArviOipKSbLTfK5gLxLb68XZtOX_1a88g3D5ovxB0WA/w640-h480/P1080117.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Our onward route took us across fields and farm tracks to the shores of Loch Leven which was quiet and sleepy in late summer ahead of the noisy, busy arrival of thousands of geese in autumn.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgCLU8JvCOK_OC_k5nC3At87Iejqfa2Q-XwfbgwYjz64mhOgidRR4Uodd79hXvLm-ho-00syYo8t6QG4VADgUlS0EqhvnVi0u_yU-XVviVdka0Syao5JAkFomUc0VHdJ_XsDA8wHzz0nYSgpjeY9EJEvw-ghbgmKWs-x_fDyZkdgOWXdT_s1SbCiggw/s4000/P1080129.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgCLU8JvCOK_OC_k5nC3At87Iejqfa2Q-XwfbgwYjz64mhOgidRR4Uodd79hXvLm-ho-00syYo8t6QG4VADgUlS0EqhvnVi0u_yU-XVviVdka0Syao5JAkFomUc0VHdJ_XsDA8wHzz0nYSgpjeY9EJEvw-ghbgmKWs-x_fDyZkdgOWXdT_s1SbCiggw/w640-h480/P1080129.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">From here the lochside trail took us into Kinross to catch a bus home.</p></span><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fact File</span></u></div><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720312127954" target="_blank">FLICKR</a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Markinch train station</span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Finish: Kinross</div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;">My route: From the train station in Markinch followed the Fife Pilgrim Way signs west through Balbirnie Park then following the residential streets through Glenrothes to the Pitcairn Centre. From here, a lovely path climbs up to East Lomond. On this occasion took the track that contours round the south of the side of the hill to the old limekilns then joined the main track to the hill road at Craigmead. Turned left on the road then took the first track to the right, following it to Harperleas Reservoir, crossing along the dam and then walking along the forest track on its south shore. This path continues through to Glen Vale, passing below the Devil's Burdens. Further down Glen Vale a path to Glenlomond is signed though it's largely following field margins until a better, sandy farm track is reach. Took this track and turned left where it met a minor road then right at the busier road. A Loch Leven's Larder a path connects to the Loch Leven Heritage Trail which can be followed into Kinross. </div></span></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-44195592432157504482023-09-24T10:58:00.005-07:002023-10-03T12:37:57.758-07:00Monadhliath Mountains - A night on the eagle's perch<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It's not often in Scotland that you get lucky with a good, high level camp because so often the tops of the hills are scoured by wind or drenched in mist. But this time, my friend and I did get lucky. A perfect, flat shelf of close-cropped turf and mosses sat at 700m on the ridge to Creag Dubh above Kingussie. The uninterrupted view swept south over the Cairngorms and only a gentle breeze rustled the nylon of the pitched tents. A beautiful, early summer evening made for a delightful walk from our tents across the top of the hill to the summit. Mountain hares abounded and the warm air was filled with the thin call of golden plovers.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgylL40zrF8Z4MtvyJ0PjAxSmkUR84RdosAWPJzQktzCzBnPayiw0vCg3XwA1UaeRUFtkFe3o_DXwS03hl80xrFQipU8PVL07DbcBVZ38tNHGc0oyRDDSA8XtmjZ4YIazy1ZuWsavhjhOeupxx44aQOCToI8ZaKVG6DBAXm6WlCGNXfZeCybZMkwOBEPA/s4000/P1070982.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgylL40zrF8Z4MtvyJ0PjAxSmkUR84RdosAWPJzQktzCzBnPayiw0vCg3XwA1UaeRUFtkFe3o_DXwS03hl80xrFQipU8PVL07DbcBVZ38tNHGc0oyRDDSA8XtmjZ4YIazy1ZuWsavhjhOeupxx44aQOCToI8ZaKVG6DBAXm6WlCGNXfZeCybZMkwOBEPA/w640-h480/P1070982.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">We'd walked in that morning from the train at Newtonmore. Our walk took us across sheep pasture before following a lovely wooded stream-bed up the hillside and then striking out across the grassy hills. With the evening filled by bagging the peak then making supper, it wasn't until the next morning that I noticed all the jawbones.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXSds0Cef_BIfpOc92tC4_qSbvi-rDXfbuIKKF1WnL45yBJQuzJSqu2L-uTJQtu3wzheqwnjCrCxPgazm3YSrectWjcdHZV3pltGe22XEfY3hoL2qFvXvf5YWcmtzVSOMANzC8whLiPIW6rKDl5dDSKMvqrGdBZ5WhZrwmxne_kLdCGIKMwMsxpoGsA/s4000/P1070990.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKXSds0Cef_BIfpOc92tC4_qSbvi-rDXfbuIKKF1WnL45yBJQuzJSqu2L-uTJQtu3wzheqwnjCrCxPgazm3YSrectWjcdHZV3pltGe22XEfY3hoL2qFvXvf5YWcmtzVSOMANzC8whLiPIW6rKDl5dDSKMvqrGdBZ5WhZrwmxne_kLdCGIKMwMsxpoGsA/w640-h480/P1070990.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A clagged-in morning with no views and an unhurried day ahead, made for a relaxed wander around the camp spot, examining the micro landscape close at hand. At first I just saw one but as soon as my eyes were trained in, I kept seeing more and more. Lots of little jawbones. Given the abundance of mountain hares that we had seen on our walk the previous evening, I guessed the jawbones must belong to them and if something had eaten them here, I guessed that something was a golden eagle. But these were old bones and the eagle's perch was long since abandoned.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTq00f7EdwwCx_eor1MxVmYmPHTqRhD_P7OWc1xdctTRR3FRg4yJoQLa6KIsfsiukRkY4pZHUJpISf5hzxAfnlMW0HZvNkECdYKZJxPpVhXoQckn05xHpq5QY9H4BYL1VRLEZPVTpDfWIxz-USs_KPmwW0RVIhYrp7NB7hRjCdgGXFcIjTbymwcC2XQ/s4000/P1080013.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilTq00f7EdwwCx_eor1MxVmYmPHTqRhD_P7OWc1xdctTRR3FRg4yJoQLa6KIsfsiukRkY4pZHUJpISf5hzxAfnlMW0HZvNkECdYKZJxPpVhXoQckn05xHpq5QY9H4BYL1VRLEZPVTpDfWIxz-USs_KPmwW0RVIhYrp7NB7hRjCdgGXFcIjTbymwcC2XQ/w640-h480/P1080013.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Once we were packed up, we walked out a different way, descending eventually into Kingussie. The mist cleared lower down and warm sunshine broke through. The ancient birch woods of Creag Bheag provided welcome shade but wherever the path crossed a clearing, blue damselflies flitted around in the sun. Soon the tops cleared as well and we could look back up to where we'd spent a night on the eagle's perch.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9boVA_9h8oOdVJnCT0Oti03CZ6mNUEMTwfPT_q6KIDHiyZQrHhPKMaPai854RbmBp3dxcLM2aCwcRr8eQZTFGGW7UPKvojViTlpP72h8hY1bv6cBf8FRndLFJNeFhhH0kTcdzGbDmqkjZOFyxcPrC0kVRDHuxoOfQ88hg7-PlS-yvFAXMa21506HxA/s4000/P1080024.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9boVA_9h8oOdVJnCT0Oti03CZ6mNUEMTwfPT_q6KIDHiyZQrHhPKMaPai854RbmBp3dxcLM2aCwcRr8eQZTFGGW7UPKvojViTlpP72h8hY1bv6cBf8FRndLFJNeFhhH0kTcdzGbDmqkjZOFyxcPrC0kVRDHuxoOfQ88hg7-PlS-yvFAXMa21506HxA/w640-h480/P1080024.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #444444;">Fact File</u></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720311436978" target="_blank">FLICKR</a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start:Newtonmore<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Kingussie<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Glasgow/Edinburgh to Inverness train<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: From the main street in Newtonmore, took Strone Road then the track that heads north alongside the Allt na Beinne. Climbed the slopes of Beinn Buidhe then onto Creag Dubh via Carn Coire na h-Inghinn. Next day we followed the Allt Mor down to join the path along the shore of Loch Gynack then followed one of the woodland paths down into Kingussie.</span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-38431224142218710572023-07-09T10:31:00.005-07:002023-10-03T12:38:40.121-07:00Galloway - Backpacking a section of the Southern Upland Way<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">This was my first ever trip walking in Galloway in the southwestern corner of Scotland. I'd cycled there a number of times as it's great for that with lots of quiet country roads but somehow it's taken me this long to pull out the bus and train timetables to see what's possible on foot. Also, having just walked a section of the Southern Upland Way a couple of blogs ago in the Lammermuirs, I became intrigued to discover more of the route. Therefore, four trains and a rural bus took me to Glen Trool Village and after several days on foot, I popped out in Sanquhar to pick up a train home. I hadn't really known what to expect of this section of the route but I absolutely loved it. From the map it looks like the Southern Upland Way passes through a lot of commercial forestry as it crosses Galloway but on the ground it didn't feel like this. There were often sections with mixed woodland and huge areas that had been clear-felled a number of years ago were now exploding into new woods of birch and willow. I often head to northwest Scotland for my May holidays which can be barren and devoid of trees. But with all the woodland, the birdsong in Galloway in May was beautiful. I also really enjoyed the quietness of the route as I saw almost nobody on the trail itself and I loved the fact that the journey was not all through hills but passed through farmland, moorland and small settlements as well. It made for a really interesting walk. Here are some of the highlights from the route.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">From the bus stop at Glen Trool Village, a series of beautiful woodland paths took me up into Glen Trool itself. Bluebells dotted the woodland floor and eventually the waters of Loch Trool came into sight. Beyond this, the rugged contours of the Galloway hills started to rise ahead of me.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEpLu0cVsQxZvPW5618g0NWzKC2K1IzrJl8WuKuTgH3Dx1a-LzE-kkdU6iUufq44H9mOOdTkgYuRc5erDSCRufEiZ5_HYVxzWh3vd6aQ2A6mlMT8dZz8sm4DZb34-DTT8x60kAhu6C-ak30L8uPEaokgwWYlvB5GZ54IeFcONgleTVG_QFbw6rbSb1w/s4000/P1070677.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfEpLu0cVsQxZvPW5618g0NWzKC2K1IzrJl8WuKuTgH3Dx1a-LzE-kkdU6iUufq44H9mOOdTkgYuRc5erDSCRufEiZ5_HYVxzWh3vd6aQ2A6mlMT8dZz8sm4DZb34-DTT8x60kAhu6C-ak30L8uPEaokgwWYlvB5GZ54IeFcONgleTVG_QFbw6rbSb1w/w640-h480/P1070677.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccrnsrFjYp9vKEsy7JfkRfIN3IV5I8IMZ_VxyBzFzrAXB_sx2Eu3V9v3yv0ROK_kk47JFeiffVAA1RTqUpx5_cjebu_26IFGFnYRNQ1pvCfO2Edw6rxPqjeB38SJEl40XYTVaY1DM_SPU-SdsIbohwgOr2Znc8SWFzabs-NzR6gHr_MK2ZuQDAG5kXg/s2304/P1070686.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="2304" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgccrnsrFjYp9vKEsy7JfkRfIN3IV5I8IMZ_VxyBzFzrAXB_sx2Eu3V9v3yv0ROK_kk47JFeiffVAA1RTqUpx5_cjebu_26IFGFnYRNQ1pvCfO2Edw6rxPqjeB38SJEl40XYTVaY1DM_SPU-SdsIbohwgOr2Znc8SWFzabs-NzR6gHr_MK2ZuQDAG5kXg/w640-h238/P1070686.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I made a short detour from the trail to climb the Merrick, the highest hill in southern Scotland. It was late in the day by the time I was on the hill but I loved having it to myself because of this. From the top, I had a hazy view to the rock of Ailsa Craig, drifting off the Ayrshire shore. I descended part way and found a lovely spot for the tent that night beside the ruin of Culsharg. The cottage still had a good roof so was a great spot to sit out heavy rain next morning. The rain didn't deter the swallows that were nesting in the rafters and they swooped in and out through the glass-less windows. I sat here for hours, watching the world and listening to the birdsong.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljFbmZNhkFMQmv7shULdx0Rg48hEueEt9OSmD6jBX_UBJcIVx7EBkgDPudiV_8O1NMMCozDu1c41zT8YhQ_jakaaPLQcF9vRSOrWir7RoVLRkJRbIeKnXpD4vrrrAVHaGWCm64b3n8IZCcDD6Y5pOP966PWmTfYMfhUgsGC4Lob2aQM4BgACDMfCw3A/s4000/P1070701.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljFbmZNhkFMQmv7shULdx0Rg48hEueEt9OSmD6jBX_UBJcIVx7EBkgDPudiV_8O1NMMCozDu1c41zT8YhQ_jakaaPLQcF9vRSOrWir7RoVLRkJRbIeKnXpD4vrrrAVHaGWCm64b3n8IZCcDD6Y5pOP966PWmTfYMfhUgsGC4Lob2aQM4BgACDMfCw3A/w640-h480/P1070701.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA-wE915O7JCMWRuSaXAWuRFW2eTDbpHUpvTncWPeqQGJcxl99GtWBLz3iMlXTVFSWh2i2S81WB0ncOgq2QVgIZRTa3WX2xGFYGYW7E7HLVOOlHC6VSl4Bkk6IEpyRAO_DqVK8s1HGgeaxa8onlf9WnMeCSZT5yy417MsdY_lLnfNDplCgjC6M70nbA/s4000/P1070709.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvA-wE915O7JCMWRuSaXAWuRFW2eTDbpHUpvTncWPeqQGJcxl99GtWBLz3iMlXTVFSWh2i2S81WB0ncOgq2QVgIZRTa3WX2xGFYGYW7E7HLVOOlHC6VSl4Bkk6IEpyRAO_DqVK8s1HGgeaxa8onlf9WnMeCSZT5yy417MsdY_lLnfNDplCgjC6M70nbA/w640-h480/P1070709.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I eventually continued eastwards, enjoying the lush woods and wildflowers. My next camp was close to White Laggan bothy at Loch Dee. This was a lovely spot with remnants of old farm walls, mixed woodland including beautiful old hawthorn trees and a strong sense of place lingering from days gone by. A long walk beyond here took me through mile after mile of forest to eventually pass into gentler terrain and farmland to reach Dalry.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvK8TfFKPWFo8pTJ1LQCToAu41qazuvBQqeyJO44CHBmxuNAaUg2hntbi8WP4vZDsTnCqxJjU8Tj3j4iFlvY2jn8Yq039gcY4x-RoPG9d29Zag6eCncLvc7rcgAHbCuFuBiUU_xiKbVepfEi4rILpufenH8wdjMQQNozU5sptIurgOVChbWcz_AxzyTA/s4000/P1070736.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvK8TfFKPWFo8pTJ1LQCToAu41qazuvBQqeyJO44CHBmxuNAaUg2hntbi8WP4vZDsTnCqxJjU8Tj3j4iFlvY2jn8Yq039gcY4x-RoPG9d29Zag6eCncLvc7rcgAHbCuFuBiUU_xiKbVepfEi4rILpufenH8wdjMQQNozU5sptIurgOVChbWcz_AxzyTA/w640-h480/P1070736.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbHCqgJ5O6xPE0BjkorKXgNOhyl14xbJTtnz8uSu1ng0GebJJ8lagSU7GjvoWX1c-Y6aoRYV9vi75xjDgm71skBhh7O8_HB6fgNMWavqaQ4Ij62_ZTEvwB83RWTU4F13cs3vPTG5jZRK5o1ZTHoRg-udWz8TIwK4K6Mc8gq6O14WDpaq7n7WiV9l8qg/s4000/P1070767.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCbHCqgJ5O6xPE0BjkorKXgNOhyl14xbJTtnz8uSu1ng0GebJJ8lagSU7GjvoWX1c-Y6aoRYV9vi75xjDgm71skBhh7O8_HB6fgNMWavqaQ4Ij62_ZTEvwB83RWTU4F13cs3vPTG5jZRK5o1ZTHoRg-udWz8TIwK4K6Mc8gq6O14WDpaq7n7WiV9l8qg/w640-h480/P1070767.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Beyond Dalry, the Southern Upland Way crosses moorland and high pasture. The first morning out of Dalry was especially beautiful. I was up extra early from a riverside camp spot and the light was magical, casting a golden glow over the trail as it wound its way onward over the moor towards more hills.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXlivzDKNOLBt2lNQZI_8VoAxRmykKtxpq3rAes9DjG8089CuDpAEHn1dTGqykpbmJ4IMN8wB-FjacWohSTjCOLPMFbGtlu-uGoo8WtZRBERTi4579HgcUbBOVC8F016drn7ibvk6gZFI2fdMxPjl3A2K35TuD0NsMoa2AUf1KGg57aRJtGMfUudulQ/s4000/P1070825.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYXlivzDKNOLBt2lNQZI_8VoAxRmykKtxpq3rAes9DjG8089CuDpAEHn1dTGqykpbmJ4IMN8wB-FjacWohSTjCOLPMFbGtlu-uGoo8WtZRBERTi4579HgcUbBOVC8F016drn7ibvk6gZFI2fdMxPjl3A2K35TuD0NsMoa2AUf1KGg57aRJtGMfUudulQ/w640-h480/P1070825.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcPGMLLn0aoOHpjA84gljSD6EZa1yNxaafKvRTRFJwbjrlFh8WUm_38E_mMrLMZAsRMQyZpCf2AbDvIq50AwY0Xam7FG0oDlPdMrNnMYcCVSCigmjEEERhwnOaePAKK0XUcfYN1P13Wke37Cq7lub7oflgVllUgpaMe_YgeS307yAXY1pgj8Ws30m7Q/s4000/P1070834.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcPGMLLn0aoOHpjA84gljSD6EZa1yNxaafKvRTRFJwbjrlFh8WUm_38E_mMrLMZAsRMQyZpCf2AbDvIq50AwY0Xam7FG0oDlPdMrNnMYcCVSCigmjEEERhwnOaePAKK0XUcfYN1P13Wke37Cq7lub7oflgVllUgpaMe_YgeS307yAXY1pgj8Ws30m7Q/w640-h480/P1070834.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;">I was soon climbing back up into the hills and enjoyed one of the real highlights of the walk as I came upon one of Andy Goldsworthy's Striding Arches sculptures on top of Benbrack Hill. What a stunning sight it was and I could see two other arches on adjacent hills. They are made of local sandstone and are free standing so there is no mortar or framework holding them up. As if all that was wasn't enough, I then had a great view of a golden eagle as I descended the other side of Benbrack.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf8URmqbxv0_8UDQ8qmWC0qwu_PrOafexzbbckSHwtj1xTSrhjtdqmO9uVDtqKgM6dxF3pJ0oE_Tbk3ow9hsTn-2XlV9j9ITygHg6bpIOtbKRGKtqsGAC8ygHsSFwT7uNE_OSWgPj98NPyA75_FWrYOA5kITS3v2Iw65rmFP3TteY3OdRvcylKstCzw/s4000/P1070849.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf8URmqbxv0_8UDQ8qmWC0qwu_PrOafexzbbckSHwtj1xTSrhjtdqmO9uVDtqKgM6dxF3pJ0oE_Tbk3ow9hsTn-2XlV9j9ITygHg6bpIOtbKRGKtqsGAC8ygHsSFwT7uNE_OSWgPj98NPyA75_FWrYOA5kITS3v2Iw65rmFP3TteY3OdRvcylKstCzw/w640-h480/P1070849.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkNl9BA50BlM6_OvVpeqgqKUyW2ls6awdfH7Tx-r9KdIYh3YE9o6H8vIxIPxdWb_3pbTvoUP3HbyY4iB_HGE5RosuRXR0HAecA0Qvs89kVEhZSHuJCVpBFVGtTsAXDyIDieIjaeIMwbOVY0ntbDPvGrpKWo1VrqA8QuE2qofWXtmKQC6zLiK-siig4A/s4000/P1070855.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkNl9BA50BlM6_OvVpeqgqKUyW2ls6awdfH7Tx-r9KdIYh3YE9o6H8vIxIPxdWb_3pbTvoUP3HbyY4iB_HGE5RosuRXR0HAecA0Qvs89kVEhZSHuJCVpBFVGtTsAXDyIDieIjaeIMwbOVY0ntbDPvGrpKWo1VrqA8QuE2qofWXtmKQC6zLiK-siig4A/w480-h640/P1070855.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;">From Benbrack, the Way dropped down into forestry and on this warm, sunny afternoon the aroma of the pine trees filled the air. The path meandered through the woods and seemingly in the middle of nowhere, suddenly came upon Allan's Cairn. The cairn commemorates two Covenanters, George Allan and Margaret Gracie. Covenanters were a 17th century religious and political movement who refused to swear allegiance to the King and had to meet in secret. These two Covenanters had escaped capture for many years but were eventually tracked down and killed on this hillside. I camped a little way further on from the cairn for my final night out.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uTGOSrhtqtGbnubJMIzwRDKD34ptfbRjvxkxKB7U9FN0XoU8yWZBXiccn-3vmXhUq7VGSxkCDPP9qTziRgvvGwiOvpjY7K8euVkshiyirHKqqSzMO2d5VWt1wQd3N1VOYiyJihZ-C37qum-um5kwgfJDQ7iP82sxv0fA1aFb9YJscFXUT8uoLjl8Tw/s4000/P1070866.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uTGOSrhtqtGbnubJMIzwRDKD34ptfbRjvxkxKB7U9FN0XoU8yWZBXiccn-3vmXhUq7VGSxkCDPP9qTziRgvvGwiOvpjY7K8euVkshiyirHKqqSzMO2d5VWt1wQd3N1VOYiyJihZ-C37qum-um5kwgfJDQ7iP82sxv0fA1aFb9YJscFXUT8uoLjl8Tw/w640-h480/P1070866.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNBukcSxf9mS_0SnN5x8YUhBnqBRJ9MSzPb7lzn30ySm9AjbJpmOFnOPRqH46RW4Dh0CwgtbSiRCx6I8s1l_CvKDlAbm9WM6xwpYq73nZeYDAwYU2UftPBVighYi8OxrXzOlYlC9x5Zz4e1wUeDSzyggob-y7bgljjIJ1Kpw1dxS13GqFdeg4gBnm9g/s4000/P1070868.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNBukcSxf9mS_0SnN5x8YUhBnqBRJ9MSzPb7lzn30ySm9AjbJpmOFnOPRqH46RW4Dh0CwgtbSiRCx6I8s1l_CvKDlAbm9WM6xwpYq73nZeYDAwYU2UftPBVighYi8OxrXzOlYlC9x5Zz4e1wUeDSzyggob-y7bgljjIJ1Kpw1dxS13GqFdeg4gBnm9g/w640-h480/P1070868.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;">From Allan's Cairn the Southern Upland Way dropped to the valley of Scar Water before climbing again to cross Cloud Hill. There was a lovely surprise here as the waymarker posts had been cheerfully painted with dozens of different designs and mottos. They guided me through the hills and farms to my end point at Sanquhar. </div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25k4G5SyuVgNqG0wljtAFk-L92qBqECfd_7fvkNo4K3pqXB03ktZs629uUAaBArhuA5JdVqG-mgAijjCh76W-qxL-ihpDICDL0Y6uqq-5YM-gkvtWYAL5U1K6jZSJ_94IdRC51b6yJKE7laODDPE9pQ13O14i6NsnM3HK6WlFIFGeJWedI6OEvuQjOQ/s720/Posts%20collage.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh25k4G5SyuVgNqG0wljtAFk-L92qBqECfd_7fvkNo4K3pqXB03ktZs629uUAaBArhuA5JdVqG-mgAijjCh76W-qxL-ihpDICDL0Y6uqq-5YM-gkvtWYAL5U1K6jZSJ_94IdRC51b6yJKE7laODDPE9pQ13O14i6NsnM3HK6WlFIFGeJWedI6OEvuQjOQ/w640-h640/Posts%20collage.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtySuLVzi-3H5S-qu_G-RuuLqXrmEpJcJfBnNwjvGasnXmQfRZhGzWnJ593PKp7X7iqPW_o3yXADCd8CWpqJGEiQn_acK5Zuc756Kyhw2-y3KWQkV642TmBweu1om9sxz_iZ5ThIoJwhJ6jeAdq3LBrDOnte-QJmNb3Kof5HciUXU0xWAkWe7BuSU3JQ/s4000/P1070903.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtySuLVzi-3H5S-qu_G-RuuLqXrmEpJcJfBnNwjvGasnXmQfRZhGzWnJ593PKp7X7iqPW_o3yXADCd8CWpqJGEiQn_acK5Zuc756Kyhw2-y3KWQkV642TmBweu1om9sxz_iZ5ThIoJwhJ6jeAdq3LBrDOnte-QJmNb3Kof5HciUXU0xWAkWe7BuSU3JQ/w640-h480/P1070903.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720309658959" target="_blank">Flickr</a></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Glen Trool Village<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Sanquhar<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Train to Girvan then Stagecoach bus 359 to Glen Trool Village. Train back from Sanquhar.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: Woodland path connects Glen Trool Village with Glen Trool visitor centre where the Southern Upland Way can be joined. Stayed on the north side of Loch Trool to pick up the path to the Merrick then followed the Southern Upland Way all the way to Sanquhar. It is a waymarked route but it's not always possible to see the next post and I did find myself using the map regularly, especially to find the route across farmland. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></i></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-69772760649301494202023-06-12T08:32:00.004-07:002023-06-12T23:16:13.032-07:00Mull and Ulva - MacBraynes, trains and automobiles<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I'd just finished pitching the tent at Killiechronan on Mull and was taking in the view over the bay, when a familiar voice shouted hello. It was the very nice man who'd just given me a lift there from the Ulva ferry, enabling me to avoid six miles of road walking. He lives on Ulva and had been doing a wee trip to the Spar shop at Salen, another few miles away on Mull, when he thought I might appreciate a few groceries as well. So it was that I had fresh milk, tomatoes and cheese to supplement my rations that evening!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRIPISpcu8JMquW803onBX1aIoGY7jAo9_YaVhkgXw0GMiYK1c4i8RWOuAAyqHrgSVmGMvdiC2uviNMot0ozhJqFMCJ9TjNdIVRtBV2ruiNk8aMnot9tHhif6mF1WeJ85ZKGSBuLnzJnm7Ltbfsg_CwEatOCB1Ex3fJirl3IGFNL5ZdgmawyA9ek/s4000/P1070655.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRIPISpcu8JMquW803onBX1aIoGY7jAo9_YaVhkgXw0GMiYK1c4i8RWOuAAyqHrgSVmGMvdiC2uviNMot0ozhJqFMCJ9TjNdIVRtBV2ruiNk8aMnot9tHhif6mF1WeJ85ZKGSBuLnzJnm7Ltbfsg_CwEatOCB1Ex3fJirl3IGFNL5ZdgmawyA9ek/w640-h480/P1070655.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">It had been the latest mode of travel in a series of transport connections that got me to and around Mull and its neighbouring island, Ulva as a non car owner. Three trains, a ferry and a bus had transported me to Tobermory, the main settlement on Mull and thereafter I was mostly on foot except for the welcome lift that day. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZY0tZuooexzlBfv6OMf1cRhkZv6dxW9g41BgaIDmVSwtn6TCZBTjCSVVHk5rWl7QNgXj9sz5ipmGcuY5eu2wDRZb7fhXKk_Z5o_fb3a1ZoquFXSiPM0gAR5wlmk7Bp8cs6_Dv3ZlkKWMK1sIji7fE_DKIAzCmA-q10bfS_E_B1qXDUID0tK2_k3w/s3942/P1070533.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1616" data-original-width="3942" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZY0tZuooexzlBfv6OMf1cRhkZv6dxW9g41BgaIDmVSwtn6TCZBTjCSVVHk5rWl7QNgXj9sz5ipmGcuY5eu2wDRZb7fhXKk_Z5o_fb3a1ZoquFXSiPM0gAR5wlmk7Bp8cs6_Dv3ZlkKWMK1sIji7fE_DKIAzCmA-q10bfS_E_B1qXDUID0tK2_k3w/w640-h262/P1070533.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">My backpacking trip had first taken me north out of Tobermory to walk Mull's quiet and rugged north coast. I was amazed how quickly I left the hustle and bustle of town, initially walking a quiet back road then picking up tracks and footpaths through the forests and down to the coast. I was soon looking for my first night's camp spot as it had been a long journey from home by public transport, about seven hours. I found a spot in the woods amongst a scatter of old ruins above the rocky coastline. Waves broke over the skerries in white plumes and the view stretched over the Sound of Mull to the rugged reaches of Ardnamurchan. The air was full with early summer birdsong and bluebells and primroses dotted the woodland floor. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZgLo9W8hb6Rsz5roM5KouCjVLRi7R2WZJWHHqU6SPIY1bcP1OZ6irBTLMlejqFU-DvGEHm9JRSE7WZ3bkmrZ2ic8FIkRzXKYVcFggG-btwXEXdg6peiAzSyFwOiDhJEGIJPPa64jbhA0ijz8pEHgMkagG3qBn6Om5KXQIk19kHrhTk2_jDuf8Ng/s4000/P1070541.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZgLo9W8hb6Rsz5roM5KouCjVLRi7R2WZJWHHqU6SPIY1bcP1OZ6irBTLMlejqFU-DvGEHm9JRSE7WZ3bkmrZ2ic8FIkRzXKYVcFggG-btwXEXdg6peiAzSyFwOiDhJEGIJPPa64jbhA0ijz8pEHgMkagG3qBn6Om5KXQIk19kHrhTk2_jDuf8Ng/w640-h480/P1070541.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">From here an interconnecting series of core paths and forest tracks took me south through a mixed landscape of woods, forestry, farmland and loch. It was quiet with a barely another soul afoot. A long walk along the shores of Loch Frisa rewarded with moody views of Mull's hills and the discovery of a beautiful place to linger, The Fank. Here a stunning rusted sculpture sat amidst the walls of a old sheep fank while meadow grasses and buttercups swayed in a gentle breeze. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWgkQLwYKyn9ckgaW_0HMrtqz-OqrTlqko7l9TUtj2_nOZAIXDOlfUa5ZtDV1YXejtdV8Inermgt2PZ--TE2BkeCR-I9LtrvVA4hM6P0pA-hUJZd5NRScw0vWjhR4doHoy61y7_RfaWCqzE2fhYCKbRXjxGdz7oGAAqSbjgvNDfuRgXyjEjzG7M4/s4000/P1070580.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWgkQLwYKyn9ckgaW_0HMrtqz-OqrTlqko7l9TUtj2_nOZAIXDOlfUa5ZtDV1YXejtdV8Inermgt2PZ--TE2BkeCR-I9LtrvVA4hM6P0pA-hUJZd5NRScw0vWjhR4doHoy61y7_RfaWCqzE2fhYCKbRXjxGdz7oGAAqSbjgvNDfuRgXyjEjzG7M4/w300-h400/P1070580.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">But my main goal in coming to Mull on this occasion was to cross to Ulva, a small island that sits off Mull's west coast. Ulva was a successful community buy-out in 2018 and I was keen to visit as I'd never been before. A small, privately-run ferry takes foot passengers back and forward as there are no vehicles on the island. When I arrived at the jetty, the first thing I had to do was summon the ferry which is done by moving a panel on a white noticeboard to uncover a red panel underneath. This is the signal that alerts the ferryman! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmQAWOwJGRQ-mZNLPXOBXq96mwLHaelet96Gkwr5susR_gu0iQQ39ZrbBTww15XEzHwkypDvhV5jcc0wLtmThxRubDs2WyJePK4PxG7Cfhwpt1TJadudj4-EFBEgJ6Bjjg5o1ORlYurARX6WvBhamSX4BCdWAw0txixKXAcRPaPDFYca_TZTqdLM/s4000/P1070651.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmQAWOwJGRQ-mZNLPXOBXq96mwLHaelet96Gkwr5susR_gu0iQQ39ZrbBTww15XEzHwkypDvhV5jcc0wLtmThxRubDs2WyJePK4PxG7Cfhwpt1TJadudj4-EFBEgJ6Bjjg5o1ORlYurARX6WvBhamSX4BCdWAw0txixKXAcRPaPDFYca_TZTqdLM/w300-h400/P1070651.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Stepping off the ferry onto Ulva, the first thing that struck me was the amount of woodland with the main village of the island being scattered close to the ferry amongst the trees. There are no tarmac roads so dirt paths and tracks connect the farms and houses here and meander through the lush, green woods. Then beyond here large swathes of regenerating woods cloak the backbone of the island. Before setting out on my walk across the island, I lingered a while at its little church. What a beautiful spot it was, hidden away in the trees and the bluebells. A memorial to islanders killed during the war was especially poignant as it must have been heartbreaking to have been ripped away from such a peaceful and idyllic place to fight in a distant war. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK5R-BL1XKN0D5Ku8mub4GXMIbZMsagmK_PFFNXCRbEXbvHQMIMWTdCTtDg2ptHaCgYuNdQseS65f4DgRGQ4Hv1ynqgRWVcTXiyqtuw7n7xnBEH8eeGDrd7MEMhaTSfa7KTX1SeNhk4vUinJr2zDTp_Tpbzj_k8b7clw8o7hi1Int6Td3CvAu_fM/s4000/P1070594.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVK5R-BL1XKN0D5Ku8mub4GXMIbZMsagmK_PFFNXCRbEXbvHQMIMWTdCTtDg2ptHaCgYuNdQseS65f4DgRGQ4Hv1ynqgRWVcTXiyqtuw7n7xnBEH8eeGDrd7MEMhaTSfa7KTX1SeNhk4vUinJr2zDTp_Tpbzj_k8b7clw8o7hi1Int6Td3CvAu_fM/w640-h480/P1070594.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I left the church via a path known as the Minister's Walk which ascended through knarly, old woods to join the main track across the island. Here the view opened up and the coconut aroma of the gorse flowers drifted on the warm summer breeze. I walked west until I reached the end of the island but that wasn't the end of my walk as I crossed a causeway onto Gometra, an island offshore from an island that is itself offshore from another island!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBB2SADI9dEXsyGpzf9XJNPvNkLFwrUnwHO2BCTQaHLnBGjmYVoFD49GVSCZ1j_mL4mGn6c3Wo6bdZZ4QExj0YA83x6GU11ezXapjZYxkogmr5CK-KkxBZjlKW_1tn_CeOQYtfMYTUBJivgC4N4RsuIIFxqnHU9q7BfcWd9cIofmWlzdT-nRukaC8/s4000/P1070612.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBB2SADI9dEXsyGpzf9XJNPvNkLFwrUnwHO2BCTQaHLnBGjmYVoFD49GVSCZ1j_mL4mGn6c3Wo6bdZZ4QExj0YA83x6GU11ezXapjZYxkogmr5CK-KkxBZjlKW_1tn_CeOQYtfMYTUBJivgC4N4RsuIIFxqnHU9q7BfcWd9cIofmWlzdT-nRukaC8/w640-h480/P1070612.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It took a little bit of effort to find a camp spot that night as the land was mostly rough and tussocky. I picked my way down to a rocky beach through woods and emerging bracken to find a relatively flat, tent-sized piece of grass that looked out over the sea. It was a place of rich sounds with the song of the woodland birds behind me and the sound of lapping waves and sea birds in front of me. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CgMFNfd-6PLmXOC16LWoC6vj6b8EoKfsnslhL-rpk6zTiQZ5X5Vi0t9m0KoZfpA3Ib3uGcqFyPXQvUhva0BK9bresOOah33FwMFQ6bMwYlauv8fTfLe9mrigFUXuSqpLSkBGxsaYhBWDFKM4r0U7A1ZJOfvqdW4s1QbkKnAgRzrIfDtRyrOQo4M/s4000/P1070613.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2CgMFNfd-6PLmXOC16LWoC6vj6b8EoKfsnslhL-rpk6zTiQZ5X5Vi0t9m0KoZfpA3Ib3uGcqFyPXQvUhva0BK9bresOOah33FwMFQ6bMwYlauv8fTfLe9mrigFUXuSqpLSkBGxsaYhBWDFKM4r0U7A1ZJOfvqdW4s1QbkKnAgRzrIfDtRyrOQo4M/w640-h480/P1070613.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next day I wandered slowly back to the Ulva ferry on a slightly different path through the woods that brought me back via farmland framed by Ben More and its adjacent hills on Mull. Once back on the other side of the crossing, I then got my lucky lift to Killiechronan. This was my last night out in the tent on Mull before the lovely woodland walk through to Salen to start in reverse the journey home of bus, ferry and trains. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDDYuaFyTbZTrf6qdRKG7_hyCC_-GEaB4AjoR5n8MWNZHZdNkNx1t1TSJxv79wBYjcLsowj62tCaL67QI0FY5MgElFZOuTctyapDjQXSi3btzY7UpxaaRmr6EjO57xfDQRtnGaEAfZ_TgaIzwyPF1l_myvO5pJF8dYItna9WkzR3vav62aZwzV6A/s4000/P1070620.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1847" data-original-width="4000" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIDDYuaFyTbZTrf6qdRKG7_hyCC_-GEaB4AjoR5n8MWNZHZdNkNx1t1TSJxv79wBYjcLsowj62tCaL67QI0FY5MgElFZOuTctyapDjQXSi3btzY7UpxaaRmr6EjO57xfDQRtnGaEAfZ_TgaIzwyPF1l_myvO5pJF8dYItna9WkzR3vav62aZwzV6A/w640-h296/P1070620.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666;"><i>More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720308997621" target="_blank">Flickr</a>.</i></span></p></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-17396618375793000882023-04-24T07:03:00.005-07:002023-04-24T07:40:14.518-07:00Lammermuir Hills - The Herring Road<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Running from Dunbar through the Lammermuir Hills to Lauder, the Herring Road is the old route used by fishwives carrying creels of herring to market. The route has been in use since the 17th century and would have been used by a variety of travellers in the day as well as the fishwives. As we would be spending two and a bit days backpacking the route, we'd hoped that our heavy packs might give us a sense of what it must have been like carrying a heavy load through the hills here. Mind you, our packs were probably not as heavy as a creel of herring ... and certainly not as smelly.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiXQine5okJ9RhPw6XWZw6Ny_P8_PnjwZuw4gvGx148V6bdxAOu24mY3jG_eureVry-VjeFUpj8FVDQBhdQaJDqy2eO21MgurPD0ij_c0DzZLPhhFMF98NR3WrY-rTt_I7vnh3Gc3TGHy4SxjmAd2eP3nDhZ0LsaJn9NJVzv8b9vgWZu3NCsPVMI/s4000/P1070424.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRiXQine5okJ9RhPw6XWZw6Ny_P8_PnjwZuw4gvGx148V6bdxAOu24mY3jG_eureVry-VjeFUpj8FVDQBhdQaJDqy2eO21MgurPD0ij_c0DzZLPhhFMF98NR3WrY-rTt_I7vnh3Gc3TGHy4SxjmAd2eP3nDhZ0LsaJn9NJVzv8b9vgWZu3NCsPVMI/w300-h400/P1070424.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">The Herring Road is 28 miles long and uses a variety of countryside paths and hill tracks with the latter stages picking up a section of the Southern Upland Way. While there is some signage where the route crosses the hills, it's not a waymarked route so a bit of map reading was required to link together the network of trails and stick as faithfully as possible to the original "road".</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJWI7c5qv0_dnNfXUW8kg4rWb_wqU3e5rAjn--GW7RboXkoO_bIj7gQREl-O8Kw1Q8N3LxpPVjeoJUiT0NELbpSzzVBb8y9N6m6y9n0pARCVuzukUNHvMeSw_QodsZuAuMSAfEJEQsRK_xgEFUBkpGPCbhC8sxJZCzzK815FWsXF7AccKKK7flT4/s4000/P1070416.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJWI7c5qv0_dnNfXUW8kg4rWb_wqU3e5rAjn--GW7RboXkoO_bIj7gQREl-O8Kw1Q8N3LxpPVjeoJUiT0NELbpSzzVBb8y9N6m6y9n0pARCVuzukUNHvMeSw_QodsZuAuMSAfEJEQsRK_xgEFUBkpGPCbhC8sxJZCzzK815FWsXF7AccKKK7flT4/w640-h480/P1070416.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The online route descriptions take the Herring Road out of Dunbar via the back road to Spott and Halls. After starting at the harbour, we instead headed a little way south to the hamlet of Broxburn. This avoided several miles of road walking and allowed us to string together a lovely route that used farm tracks and core paths to pass south of Spott and onto Halls. It was beautiful along here in spring sunshine with daffodils and primroses dotted through the woods. Our weather was a bit hazy but we could just make out Berwick Law and the Bass Rock. The views over the coast must be lovely on a clear day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtik6lXkHkuE1Bfw_im4SZJCUSWHm8tCNISHsSIghY3f5IQSB8ZSZ2w4ezLhjHfBP7XpCtip6TzKk6YtFxDlNGpOCPChMHCcaz1QrewV0fcbfi1lGGmRYcSDK_spo6VfsGzMP6iEMiQRvBJ0BAShYQFY_Rc6BAdOfUrAB_YzOJAOezx22iC6MZgHE/s4000/P1070431.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtik6lXkHkuE1Bfw_im4SZJCUSWHm8tCNISHsSIghY3f5IQSB8ZSZ2w4ezLhjHfBP7XpCtip6TzKk6YtFxDlNGpOCPChMHCcaz1QrewV0fcbfi1lGGmRYcSDK_spo6VfsGzMP6iEMiQRvBJ0BAShYQFY_Rc6BAdOfUrAB_YzOJAOezx22iC6MZgHE/w640-h480/P1070431.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">At Halls we came upon on the first sign for the Herring Road which pointed us up into the Lammermuir Hills. We left the green fields behind and climbed up into a rougher landscape of moor and bog, eventually passing into the Crystal Rig wind farm. The road was hard to follow here, being just a suggestion of a path through the bog but eventually we picked up some signs again and knew we were on the right route. Despite the turbines, I liked the landscape here. There were open woods, a sense of remoteness and big, open skies. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefPWw5n8OTWzlBlv4Z0zJj-EUuhKBA_fKfC_ISPZ4NgvzD7lu7q30lexmJUrUHhlYdC4gwE5mx4cb7vVHi3u0LiuN4J14FlZC3nmVZRrjqDSJffl9hfIc0v9FopoyzH7LcNm1pWHhTc2ZUnurR_HmvaXo5NGLX5VKX-R0POs8No4o-63KSDt_WYw/s4000/P1070437.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjefPWw5n8OTWzlBlv4Z0zJj-EUuhKBA_fKfC_ISPZ4NgvzD7lu7q30lexmJUrUHhlYdC4gwE5mx4cb7vVHi3u0LiuN4J14FlZC3nmVZRrjqDSJffl9hfIc0v9FopoyzH7LcNm1pWHhTc2ZUnurR_HmvaXo5NGLX5VKX-R0POs8No4o-63KSDt_WYw/w640-h480/P1070437.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">By early evening, we were dropping down towards Whiteadder Reservoir and found a welcome spot for the tents in a quiet cleugh. We were tired as the going had been rough. Next morning there was a light frost on the tents, probably the last of the season. We continued along the Herring Road, briefly re-entering civilisation at the reservoir and its cluster of farms before climbing back up into the hills for a day of ups and downs. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oyxMjUBzaLIPOLa1mWZeETLRR2A5TTCn0hpLuU7UuugpczL6Vt50G-uOOiFBtbYjhUxmhBF2fpUGeJ4Bxw2YrzShzzvAbmRHG8hd7wQy1GQTXVs53D1LX1bQcnSAarYJQOuPpwiQ_V27lezM1GaI6TjZOOBtWfC4naMoMXrL-e8SvFWbIjymflA/s4000/P1070464.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6oyxMjUBzaLIPOLa1mWZeETLRR2A5TTCn0hpLuU7UuugpczL6Vt50G-uOOiFBtbYjhUxmhBF2fpUGeJ4Bxw2YrzShzzvAbmRHG8hd7wQy1GQTXVs53D1LX1bQcnSAarYJQOuPpwiQ_V27lezM1GaI6TjZOOBtWfC4naMoMXrL-e8SvFWbIjymflA/w640-h480/P1070464.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Wherever we passed through farmland on this route, we were amazed by the number of birds. Skylarks in the skies above; in the fields, curlews and more lapwings than I have ever seen. The lapwings were performing their spring display flights and the air was full of their bizarre, almost electronic sounding song. After the next rise, we dropped down to Dye Cottage then passed up and over the next hill to drop to Watch Water where we picked up the path of the Southern Upland Way.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Y3W1UFXSRCPhuuxrz-p1V77APexokvKtn5naOsGHcbdasLtM8ZsudK9UXOdm6Bm6HEm3pP9HIHjHymsdYt9yjZ3A0YLHqfHxc9fHBDuKmwInoRmAKGNFhMyRk_1lPXgpwfCpVDgZRxj67to8gac2L3LoIxrV8bmv5UQBNWQJwbt4y10O74XuMn0/s4000/P1070470.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Y3W1UFXSRCPhuuxrz-p1V77APexokvKtn5naOsGHcbdasLtM8ZsudK9UXOdm6Bm6HEm3pP9HIHjHymsdYt9yjZ3A0YLHqfHxc9fHBDuKmwInoRmAKGNFhMyRk_1lPXgpwfCpVDgZRxj67to8gac2L3LoIxrV8bmv5UQBNWQJwbt4y10O74XuMn0/w640-h480/P1070470.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />From every high point that morning, we had been able to see the two giant cairns of Twin Law, the highest point of our route. The Southern Upland Way took us gently up to the summit of Twin Law but the hazy day limited the views. We stopped of course to sign the visitor book which was placed inside an old munitions box in the bigger of the two cairns. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cfl9cV3xi4yCfK1OptizO_0WVTt6xz6S8jhyHmY7Asnk1bp85uAT4PLQ8mBxr_TXYKmxriRQN7geFlfphHt9nZgwoO_oOd8Bwi3goG27EPq1DKsTprMBDFwnXPrdfauvUNT1PdNeEMK0dm4rrsW6EKHXPqTOiWi2Bv8Ugxo6HDmKvJ1-biFoWXU/s4000/P1070478.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3cfl9cV3xi4yCfK1OptizO_0WVTt6xz6S8jhyHmY7Asnk1bp85uAT4PLQ8mBxr_TXYKmxriRQN7geFlfphHt9nZgwoO_oOd8Bwi3goG27EPq1DKsTprMBDFwnXPrdfauvUNT1PdNeEMK0dm4rrsW6EKHXPqTOiWi2Bv8Ugxo6HDmKvJ1-biFoWXU/w640-h480/P1070478.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlZbnHuTKqr8p94x6Qj3IdNMGs7ObSUn_372EnboLZ2QQoNATJ0dNtcFh1sBqKPjec8nw_prjyeIVcSZQmabXp1BZueSZXL-vyw8GF6C7AJoXLy6Q2NvrVKEyQ2BgfMryKL8lGydZ9KtwubEAYfl5KujPbWnRGeGFgYNQvqmvtlvpbOHPMIb4d0k/s4000/P1070479.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNlZbnHuTKqr8p94x6Qj3IdNMGs7ObSUn_372EnboLZ2QQoNATJ0dNtcFh1sBqKPjec8nw_prjyeIVcSZQmabXp1BZueSZXL-vyw8GF6C7AJoXLy6Q2NvrVKEyQ2BgfMryKL8lGydZ9KtwubEAYfl5KujPbWnRGeGFgYNQvqmvtlvpbOHPMIb4d0k/w300-h400/P1070479.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The Herring Road continued southwest in mile after mile of gentle undulations. Eventually we left the open hills and passed back into green farmland. The road briefly parts company with the Southern Upland Way at Braidshawrig Farm and just south of here we pitched the tents for a second night out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6F89uQv6CYugOAdFUY2Vx-4iaWrQ6k1vgrZOsakIQoMjA45ZCSRTso1TzABpXJsaZ9pIz-PMzHYriHtU183HKGxPpDH2zkFw90-ZM73s43y9lzDfHubEK5IEw2zs4kjjJEbiovE6qtvpxCoyzOPtMNWN3OQwlEgZpAg-TZXj4cxGajvNVQceclSc/s4000/P1070490.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6F89uQv6CYugOAdFUY2Vx-4iaWrQ6k1vgrZOsakIQoMjA45ZCSRTso1TzABpXJsaZ9pIz-PMzHYriHtU183HKGxPpDH2zkFw90-ZM73s43y9lzDfHubEK5IEw2zs4kjjJEbiovE6qtvpxCoyzOPtMNWN3OQwlEgZpAg-TZXj4cxGajvNVQceclSc/w640-h480/P1070490.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The last morning's walk was wonderful as the Herring Road rejoined the Southern Upland Way and passed through a landscape that I rarely find myself walking through. Here the road continued to Lauder through rolling green hills and woodland copses. At times the path cut across the middle of fields and other times, it kept company with old, stone dykes along the margins. Again, the fields were full with lapwings. To the south, the unmistakable outline of the Eildon Hills was our compass point for the final few miles into Lauder. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykWj7R5gChiXgyRmihOtUCB5Oj-CjiPuP7GLJasmD-BaoWP7-Wwj5LaRiiU0NPNHXy7sOQ6k3GdRRQxeGSbsIdhGnrfXoC5w2-TDSn6ifw-pF7YFgtqiGC15RRI7mEexflxXui76RsUvWGAOpoHZAcYxw6HOyx-W-QiEFoJhUkmRqjIOxo7tQGeY/s4000/P1070499.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykWj7R5gChiXgyRmihOtUCB5Oj-CjiPuP7GLJasmD-BaoWP7-Wwj5LaRiiU0NPNHXy7sOQ6k3GdRRQxeGSbsIdhGnrfXoC5w2-TDSn6ifw-pF7YFgtqiGC15RRI7mEexflxXui76RsUvWGAOpoHZAcYxw6HOyx-W-QiEFoJhUkmRqjIOxo7tQGeY/w640-h480/P1070499.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Waiting for the bus home with coffee and cake was a time for reflection on the walk. The Lammermuir Hills are far from being the most scenic part of Scotland and are largely heather-clad, shapeless lumps. But the route had delivered an unexpected sense of remoteness and an abundance of birds that livened each mile. As well as this, following the old road and understanding something of its past, really made our trip quite special. Hats off to the fishwives of the day who walked this route laden with herring.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfqW5r2LNJLNBD8wo3hjaofHY6Sp28VKttvhOdXpm0rKiC-A22yWG5Vk6YZPIfvb_onGDkcMKohakqDUtEn_XlYX1XkO7AP4SiDxlIyyWZ--kaYM57YjXDFEUBBvstbZxjmD1nfOJHmp_qp1fCCMUmM_ubyg1YA2dY_dXypgp1UiyuuOaOvpfDBM/s4000/P1070516.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkfqW5r2LNJLNBD8wo3hjaofHY6Sp28VKttvhOdXpm0rKiC-A22yWG5Vk6YZPIfvb_onGDkcMKohakqDUtEn_XlYX1XkO7AP4SiDxlIyyWZ--kaYM57YjXDFEUBBvstbZxjmD1nfOJHmp_qp1fCCMUmM_ubyg1YA2dY_dXypgp1UiyuuOaOvpfDBM/w480-h640/P1070516.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444;"><u>Fact File</u></span></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Dunbar harbour<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Lauder<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: East Coast Buses X7 from Edinburgh to Dunbar; Borders Buses 51 from Lauder to Edinburgh<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: From Dunbar walked south along the A1087 to Broxburn. Turned right at Broxburn and just before an underpass a dirt path heads south alongside the railway line. It reaches an underpass for the A1 and railway line. Went through this and followed the signed core path to Spott House. Continued passed Spott House and where the track met a road turned right, then first track to the left. Followed this which becomes a footpath and passes through the valley of the Black Loch. Path continued across a field and joins a track to Halls. Just before the farm at Halls, the footpath is signed across a bridge. It joins a road where we turned left and at the road end is a sign for the Herring Road. The rest of the route can be found on the <a href="https://scotways.com/heritage-path-of-the-month-september-2022-herring-road/" target="_blank">Scotways Heritage Paths </a>website. It is vague at points across Dunbar Common/Crystal Rig wind farm but keeps on a consistent trajectory and eventually picks up signage. Easy navigation once the Southern Upland Way is joined as it is waymarked but the Herring Road leaves it Braidshawrig Farm - pass in front of the farm, cross the Wester Burn and follow the grassy track on the west side of the valley skirting Wheelburn Law. It rejoins the Way after a couple of kilometres for the rest of the route to Lauder.</span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-76876416502471122272023-04-01T08:54:00.003-07:002023-04-24T07:05:50.364-07:00Corrour - Leum Uilleum<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Leum Uilleum is a rugged hill that rises to a shapely point above the isolated train station at Corrour on the West Highland line. Despite its isolation and lack of road access, it's usually a busy station as there are many trails and hills within striking distance and a remote hostel a short walk away. On this occasion however, being mid week at the tail end of winter, it was only me that got off the train. For the beginning of March, the hills were strikingly bare of snow, save for the higher tops. It's been a poor winter. But this didn't mean it wasn't cold and the day hung in a grey, icy grip. Arriving late in the afternoon, I only walked a short distance before making a basecamp below the hill. A nice spot for the tent on a bend in the river that I've used several times before. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9tggZSFiefLi66rEzorXvBFitA6d-dpUEDMSC8XnEnzEcTV5gHHbMD-fyIZJ0INAuclo6wU7vi1OeSLEmEoyQpcCFNV_1HV5hNG0GQXv6ek_f11J-W5wtqPyNJ3qiFztCCss2Y1vFLMQ3tc_oEGqquqKA5n6CMCVa3zbTlSURvkvftjMX_AoyYfw/s4000/P1070228.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9tggZSFiefLi66rEzorXvBFitA6d-dpUEDMSC8XnEnzEcTV5gHHbMD-fyIZJ0INAuclo6wU7vi1OeSLEmEoyQpcCFNV_1HV5hNG0GQXv6ek_f11J-W5wtqPyNJ3qiFztCCss2Y1vFLMQ3tc_oEGqquqKA5n6CMCVa3zbTlSURvkvftjMX_AoyYfw/w640-h480/P1070228.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">After a cold but calm night, I unzipped the tent next morning to the lightest of snow flurries. With no breeze the flakes fell gently and were mesmerising to watch. They'd blown through by the time I set off up the hill, ascending the north shoulder that sweeps to the top in a graceful arc. I love this route because once the steepest ground is cleared, the walk becomes an enjoyable high level amble to the top. It was easy going as well with the mud and bog half frozen. The pools and lochans, much like the day itself, were stilled by a layer of ice. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnnAIM_TwBHjzeuw4wXKoX8T8FG1yezjVlIbIJb7bwF1fD-6Z5krwgIEOlZfIAaKhX1XBODFc0bvHf6fvM00cVcbjqzJfRvEUqnREVUkNod826duvX5SZBpjhj_Sj91O4PO77fS8m1ityJFJcJ_lW7J7ZpiJGe4q6dY_92bPlqUd8qrGvgAk5Ibg/s4000/P1070251.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnnAIM_TwBHjzeuw4wXKoX8T8FG1yezjVlIbIJb7bwF1fD-6Z5krwgIEOlZfIAaKhX1XBODFc0bvHf6fvM00cVcbjqzJfRvEUqnREVUkNod826duvX5SZBpjhj_Sj91O4PO77fS8m1ityJFJcJ_lW7J7ZpiJGe4q6dY_92bPlqUd8qrGvgAk5Ibg/w640-h480/P1070251.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Higher up a smattering of snow lingered from the morning flurries. The day was colourless and the skies heavy with dense clouds. The view was extensive nonetheless and this is the beauty of Leum Uilleum. It's relatively isolated from other peaks so rewards with big panoramas. To the north, the Grey Corries ridge filled the horizon. To the west, the hulk of Ben Nevis remained mostly in cloud. Most impressive perhaps were the Black Mount hills, forming a formidable medley of rocky ridges to the south. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholDEWmIPPDOd59l3n_E9Z5xLlDyjks_uamabufyg1DR84HBEV1tzjUV1JAj5_l4AFeWM50y8FZ9vbxDTEU13b2lnbYd7YIGQ0MxfUu6ki7MbXM0XX8t7-yCYnTrqW9xrT2Dv8LhDjRI3-GUirSgkvCIpRXbiC6qIpLLSEmcNY4Nx4VTtErVC9Jlo/s2464/P1070262.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="2464" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEholDEWmIPPDOd59l3n_E9Z5xLlDyjks_uamabufyg1DR84HBEV1tzjUV1JAj5_l4AFeWM50y8FZ9vbxDTEU13b2lnbYd7YIGQ0MxfUu6ki7MbXM0XX8t7-yCYnTrqW9xrT2Dv8LhDjRI3-GUirSgkvCIpRXbiC6qIpLLSEmcNY4Nx4VTtErVC9Jlo/w640-h220/P1070262.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I spent ages up on the hill as even high up there was barely a breeze. I wandered round the subsidiary tops and enjoyed the solitude, as beautiful to me as the view. I loved this high place on that day. The grey, gripping cold of late winter; the peace and emptiness of the mountains. </p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I returned to the tent late afternoon for another night of watching the trains pass in the dark, the orange glow from their windows the only colour in the blackness.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><u>Fact File</u></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;">Start/Finish: Corrour station</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Glasgow to Fort William train stops at Corrour</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />My route: Left platform to the left and followed the well made path heading northwest before striking up the An Diollaid ridge after the path crosses the river.</span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-34761741895889342192023-03-13T08:32:00.005-07:002023-03-15T13:46:30.231-07:00Atholl - Déjà vu<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Did you ever finish reading a book and enjoy it so much that you straight away started reading it all over again? I certainly did that at least once. I was reminded of it because I did exactly the same thing in relation to a recent outdoor trip. I had a such an enjoyable walk and wild camp out of Blair Atholl that two weeks later, I did the whole thing again with a friend! </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">This wasn't a trip through dramatic scenery or remote landscapes. It was simply a very enjoyable walk with a nice wild camp and lots of interesting things to see along the way.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The walk headed north and west out of Blair Atholl, skirting behind Blair Castle and picking up a pleasant track which contoured round the hillside to Bruar. It afforded good views down to the castle and to Schiehallion which poked its head above the lower hills to the west. Here there was a grand avenue of redwoods that soared into a blue sky and a pretty duck pond tucked into the trees that provided a nice spot to sit for an early lunch. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYj-7GmU_mB2FV-x4_3gGUyWUxNli8HJr36TW2hTmwex0xZST9VpYbe0nxCkQmOR1H8noGX19MoZi0_rX9WZ8UskLYpv2y8jCToIw__dTSm3otHvSNIkmd0FZs9avhutZPRZAEWPux2tVgyzstFM4wgMhVLuGcIT2gbrHD4mnSn0IGjYc6hmetgo/s4000/P1070168.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKYj-7GmU_mB2FV-x4_3gGUyWUxNli8HJr36TW2hTmwex0xZST9VpYbe0nxCkQmOR1H8noGX19MoZi0_rX9WZ8UskLYpv2y8jCToIw__dTSm3otHvSNIkmd0FZs9avhutZPRZAEWPux2tVgyzstFM4wgMhVLuGcIT2gbrHD4mnSn0IGjYc6hmetgo/w640-h480/P1070168.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">As the track passed above Bruar, an easy ten minute diversion joined the path to the Falls of Bruar. It was strange to pop out from the quiet hill track to the busy footpath at the falls and squeeze by people on the narrow path. But the view of the gorge and the falls themselves is always worth the effort.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_vXwgYomvwj_VFLYL7WGeBa1AbH9HtCVbuHxRptDizi7Fgs9n2AJRbkHdUpVu0nglHR9DTWdu2iUxJGPuIg_G0Ejl6ZHOsuute8UNHXkdEBpUp-ZoTk_PVLjWnPYDj92IZGmtDp0Tp-bK294RCjH9pwVzxOD93C1cZHzDjCEK1DoMVlmVO3S2mg/s4000/P1070173.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_vXwgYomvwj_VFLYL7WGeBa1AbH9HtCVbuHxRptDizi7Fgs9n2AJRbkHdUpVu0nglHR9DTWdu2iUxJGPuIg_G0Ejl6ZHOsuute8UNHXkdEBpUp-ZoTk_PVLjWnPYDj92IZGmtDp0Tp-bK294RCjH9pwVzxOD93C1cZHzDjCEK1DoMVlmVO3S2mg/w300-h400/P1070173.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">From the Falls of Bruar, the track turned steeply north through Glen Banvie Wood. Although mostly plantation pine, the forest had some other tree species including an area of Scots pines which thinned to the open hillside beyond. This was the night's campsite and being at the edge of the trees, it was a perfect mix of woodland and open moor. This was advantageous later as it allowed us to have an open view of the night sky which was superb in the cold, crisp, winter air. Most prominent were the planets of Venus and Jupiter which were in alignment in the early part of the year. But the stars were beautiful as well with Orion and the Plough overhead.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsptKTArpQkhnMA4XbyqOlv7dzsw-g17DXlECK09w1xlD02KcYmQ5YVrG1k4Jq3tUDxFDHsEJTVsPYZPFqU6iiodyOpM3Yd3tMHVOtXN9tmD6cCsawSaIgil4lQtv1tJ5Mp8USzLv-hVSy4Q9IYSP4evEAWb0V0vJSeawCgil9hcgQkthwqHzLwc/s2592/IMG_0282.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsptKTArpQkhnMA4XbyqOlv7dzsw-g17DXlECK09w1xlD02KcYmQ5YVrG1k4Jq3tUDxFDHsEJTVsPYZPFqU6iiodyOpM3Yd3tMHVOtXN9tmD6cCsawSaIgil4lQtv1tJ5Mp8USzLv-hVSy4Q9IYSP4evEAWb0V0vJSeawCgil9hcgQkthwqHzLwc/w640-h480/IMG_0282.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A cold, frosty morning followed a chilly night with the temperature below zero. But this was another advantage of the camp spot at the edge of the woods in that the trees had maintained a slightly higher temperature than out on the moor. After packing up camp, we set out following the track down Glen Banvie through pleasant stands of pine. When I did the walk on my own, I climbed the low ridge of Sron Dubh to the north as I wanted to investigate a small cairn and shieling marked on the map. This was a rugged walk and the rivers that crossed the route cut surprisingly deep gorges into the hillside. However, the old, lichen-covered cairn was a good vantage point. I dropped down from here to the shieling and was amazed at how extensive the ruins were. This was obviously a small village in the past.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkgVniA-W7yka6yMZAtduCrcd4heiKYwXwboldxIvM6srSE8C7xb0D-OEnHB3iAtQRUR6fKJuaIYldlAPnwSpLuA3zmxb7aPDj4Jah2fiFsrW1jMn3ltlnk5axu0Hjgqkj0MADxzqK9baiqTN1FotlkGyesNKZx210KZcyR2p5wJOcIIcMkyjs10/s4000/P1070186.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvkgVniA-W7yka6yMZAtduCrcd4heiKYwXwboldxIvM6srSE8C7xb0D-OEnHB3iAtQRUR6fKJuaIYldlAPnwSpLuA3zmxb7aPDj4Jah2fiFsrW1jMn3ltlnk5axu0Hjgqkj0MADxzqK9baiqTN1FotlkGyesNKZx210KZcyR2p5wJOcIIcMkyjs10/w640-h480/P1070186.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8jzIvFOK2qfls-507OmIXk4rs7MAKe-vCc5DljPrAijIfqLiKC-a8SQp0asU2sEs0yyhf5clbdaK3H0nLMDIW56r1D_Yd03HRZ530fBZ1V8QWTZfqKgi_6D2BjFkWNftIP2tMmE5n_wJchi10k6FyjtyYk2BYRJ0h6VER1u16Ayhp9oXuK3Pywg/s4000/P1070185.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2235" data-original-width="4000" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8jzIvFOK2qfls-507OmIXk4rs7MAKe-vCc5DljPrAijIfqLiKC-a8SQp0asU2sEs0yyhf5clbdaK3H0nLMDIW56r1D_Yd03HRZ530fBZ1V8QWTZfqKgi_6D2BjFkWNftIP2tMmE5n_wJchi10k6FyjtyYk2BYRJ0h6VER1u16Ayhp9oXuK3Pywg/w640-h358/P1070185.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">When doing the walk with my friend, we stayed on the track down through Glen Banvie which meant we could see the shieling from the other side of the glen and this view reinforced the impression of a settlement of significant size. A little bit of googling later, revealed that the settlement was known as Riechapel or Chapelton and included dwellings with outbuildings, stock enclosures and possibly a kiln. It was inhabited during the 18th century and it's thought that a limestone-rich bedrock provided favourable conditions for agriculture. My friend created this image with the two parts of the old settlement superimposed on the modern OS map. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfzIx-X4buHZeZDmkz3C6I6i4hhVOk9PlvvTTJZ0wj3h8FJkjaZTtIqV57XhhS6oifncWFnx6jO3Xq99Fg1WuaiUULdakA8sweGVdPPmrksSXTFv1HY4axP0qzQYafT5Xp_r0tGymsjjswqrfBxkYymBRSj75WJUrSwxuIC5Gsetv_TWNZWVDXus/s2362/Riechapel%20map.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1730" data-original-width="2362" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfzIx-X4buHZeZDmkz3C6I6i4hhVOk9PlvvTTJZ0wj3h8FJkjaZTtIqV57XhhS6oifncWFnx6jO3Xq99Fg1WuaiUULdakA8sweGVdPPmrksSXTFv1HY4axP0qzQYafT5Xp_r0tGymsjjswqrfBxkYymBRSj75WJUrSwxuIC5Gsetv_TWNZWVDXus/w640-h468/Riechapel%20map.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We enjoyed our walk down Glen Banvie, marvelling at the patterns of ice in the frozen puddles and feeling on our skin the weak, late winter sun. The track here is an ancient route known as Comyn's Road. The road linked Comyn's Tower which pre-dated Blair Castle, with Ruthven Barracks to the north. You can somehow always tell when you are walking on an old route. There is something about its general construction that makes it sympathetic to foot travellers and perhaps there is an aura of the past as well that lingers today.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hd8b4KNAMNuM5oKrpvolJ6WE_8aNYlhcpLPFcISLEtR7P5YPQ6B8925O8G1LAqVbF-C8gpF1Wxl1bw7KY00AknhWLQ-57h_SrWmq3Go7noqNsqnU-Q9EVZVsUIMT1oebTDkuHHDFlaRPrQ-Q6Nr3RCgW6hoZbRg1aswxCVRK_q5cvHLGSJnS_g0/s2592/IMG_0284.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hd8b4KNAMNuM5oKrpvolJ6WE_8aNYlhcpLPFcISLEtR7P5YPQ6B8925O8G1LAqVbF-C8gpF1Wxl1bw7KY00AknhWLQ-57h_SrWmq3Go7noqNsqnU-Q9EVZVsUIMT1oebTDkuHHDFlaRPrQ-Q6Nr3RCgW6hoZbRg1aswxCVRK_q5cvHLGSJnS_g0/w640-h480/IMG_0284.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The track brought us down to Old Blair where we made a short detour to the Whim folly. It sits high on the hillside and affords a stunning view of the valley below which is dominated by Ben Vrackie, the pointed hill above Pitlochry. The woods here are also quite beautiful, set around a deep gorge and featuring many different species. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgTnLD8u9dUw8ysdA67FlypX4H_w67CUZtLWGPWvI__J68J-EFN5gl0GAXDDan3Wvcg8_E9vGXq_YfTmWwdClGlC3j7yi_BMCVQmltUqwljSHtdK-DAP4oTJPtYt46sH_yynFnjLVloZNoIDb3XowmGFVLyv_ZBf7kIOWNxPe_yDETFCWZ5UdPHs/s4000/P1070199.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgTnLD8u9dUw8ysdA67FlypX4H_w67CUZtLWGPWvI__J68J-EFN5gl0GAXDDan3Wvcg8_E9vGXq_YfTmWwdClGlC3j7yi_BMCVQmltUqwljSHtdK-DAP4oTJPtYt46sH_yynFnjLVloZNoIDb3XowmGFVLyv_ZBf7kIOWNxPe_yDETFCWZ5UdPHs/w640-h480/P1070199.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Just after Old Blair we made another detour along a lovely woodland path that connects to Glen Tilt via two interesting finds in the woods. The first of these is Tom na Croiche, the Hangman's Knoll. The pillar here was built in 1755 to mark the spot of the last public hanging in Atholl in 1630. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoYWkr_W1XEI9cZOg42BRmNEc8smbGg8gI_I_2ekXKaEJdS3A0pWoEDUf9AC3XVnfx8Pv8eSbFn0IAcPF-toJP_MjBwVQZLrGO7nEFvfB62YRoNNAcMQm5cBMRKtBvx-_SF8wcmbJIjjfMz_5001tVdUfpk2t2rXPkBQVwuIdhh7RKxUmdeP5SL4/s4000/P1070215.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoYWkr_W1XEI9cZOg42BRmNEc8smbGg8gI_I_2ekXKaEJdS3A0pWoEDUf9AC3XVnfx8Pv8eSbFn0IAcPF-toJP_MjBwVQZLrGO7nEFvfB62YRoNNAcMQm5cBMRKtBvx-_SF8wcmbJIjjfMz_5001tVdUfpk2t2rXPkBQVwuIdhh7RKxUmdeP5SL4/w300-h400/P1070215.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The second interesting find was a bird hide built in the shape of a yurt but out of wood. It had an open view to the adjacent fields where greylag geese grazed and beyond to woods and mountains. There were lots of different bird feeders hanging in the trees and the hide was an excellent spot to feed ourselves with a picnic lunch before catching the train home. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Kw8rBwnxWSJqUqdIr-wLU2fxYjX7esOfiC2pdE3JF8dKejKyd1TGno2xTZghi-kt-1jwIKxAIoGcussVGfW89uQ9PGu5T7YsXy2J9t2zN-1Y3lSIW-_pxEhesWHa--0eJQefxnwgqvC-KgdcDkEIecPKaeJ8_7WMn6iTLpU8FUqPRjZe-_40a7s/s4000/P1070214.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Kw8rBwnxWSJqUqdIr-wLU2fxYjX7esOfiC2pdE3JF8dKejKyd1TGno2xTZghi-kt-1jwIKxAIoGcussVGfW89uQ9PGu5T7YsXy2J9t2zN-1Y3lSIW-_pxEhesWHa--0eJQefxnwgqvC-KgdcDkEIecPKaeJ8_7WMn6iTLpU8FUqPRjZe-_40a7s/w640-h480/P1070214.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><u><span style="color: #444444;"><i><br /></i></span></u></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444;"><i><u>Fact File</u><br />More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720306693084" target="_blank">Flickr<br /></a>Start/finish: Blair Atholl<br />Public transport: Inverness-Edinburgh/Glasgow train to Blair Atholl<br />Route: Used the Tilt riverside footpath to the Glen Tilt car park then walked the dead end back road to Old Blair. At the crossroads, turned left down Minigaig Street and followed the road round to the right. At the next T junction, turned right onto dirt track. After approx 3km, a junction of tracks is reached. Turned right uphill then left at the next junction. After another approx. 3km the diversion to the Falls of Bruar is signed. Original track turned north through Glen Banvie Wood then after approx 3km it turns southeast down Glen Banvie and back to Old Blair. The path to Tom na Croiche goes up a flight a stairs at a gap on the wall on the road between Old Blair and the Glen Tilt car park. The path eventually links to Glen Tilt and where it does, turned right to the Glen Tilt car park to then rejoin the outward along the riverside path to Blair Atholl.</i></span></div></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-66134202222177850952023-02-18T09:29:00.006-08:002023-02-18T09:34:02.138-08:00Obney Hills - An exciting find<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Back in December we had a good cold spell and I was hopeful for a decent winter. But sadly that hasn't materialised so I was happy I got a camping trip fitted in when the weather was more wintry. Those cold temperatures at the end of the year also created a phenomenon that I was very excited to find - hair ice. It's quite rare as the conditions for it to develop are very specific - it only forms on dead wood in broadleaf woodlands when the air is moist, the temperature is just below zero and a particular fungus is present. It is also confined to latitudes between 45 and 55 degrees north. So it really was a special find.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2N88a0tpi9R6cSXrgEGAzVYLc-3iBneaZ7qC3QrrQrHI79VgRHq3tkOfiFRnthbP0-3xNRdfMAuoWaRwQAupsMHjGRp24YbWebHwgwCyg9sMP_KNXoS2FYlGXOor2W-vBGi9ZyEsXXa7oBvNrzJPmaugzIqniCBTV5Erh1i0u923sSXdzGH-XiiE/s4000/P1070049.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2N88a0tpi9R6cSXrgEGAzVYLc-3iBneaZ7qC3QrrQrHI79VgRHq3tkOfiFRnthbP0-3xNRdfMAuoWaRwQAupsMHjGRp24YbWebHwgwCyg9sMP_KNXoS2FYlGXOor2W-vBGi9ZyEsXXa7oBvNrzJPmaugzIqniCBTV5Erh1i0u923sSXdzGH-XiiE/w640-h480/P1070049.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I was out in the Obney Hills, west of Dunkeld. It's always a walk I enjoy in winter time. Snow was lying from about halfway up Birnam Hill and was glistening in the low sun of a mid winter afternoon as I pulled myself up the hill. On the top, the snow was dry and powdery so that it squeaked under each footstep. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHY9cdkIza3J09lrib_B8vwbVQBa2ZUUnOkGLPd7imz3elhNx1OXgdLzQ1Vgzq6rSOnoN3DBxAbNJZQAffMb0U586l1DNsBvxyLlx7dWDePhx5AF8Nl0bouYuKNPeGAkh1LaMoDHKX4LGSiQ1AeLZ-klOO3kufIz2h75i0JlTWea4lhRizzSewr9A/s2656/P1060992.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="2656" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHY9cdkIza3J09lrib_B8vwbVQBa2ZUUnOkGLPd7imz3elhNx1OXgdLzQ1Vgzq6rSOnoN3DBxAbNJZQAffMb0U586l1DNsBvxyLlx7dWDePhx5AF8Nl0bouYuKNPeGAkh1LaMoDHKX4LGSiQ1AeLZ-klOO3kufIz2h75i0JlTWea4lhRizzSewr9A/w640-h206/P1060992.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Dropping off the other side took me to a small, hidden valley where I knew a good spot for the tent. A cold night followed but the air was crisp and clear, affording good views of the stars.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-fOgCeR2w1dJCpAlGTK4Es7fO7sHiVc80eIFxZ26eAlhb0qh_6Qb92C6AMbZ0G8x7D2xaJm7_f7kqwXL0SNjAi50ezRYxWkjYIS55rtp-zKak3UhYE05fIqqAsS9-ZLsMQEuY3H_4IwUFaZ4mva25jmeek7X-fB4KmrUQGqJ_kvZgd7qSh-MxUA/s4000/P1070001.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-fOgCeR2w1dJCpAlGTK4Es7fO7sHiVc80eIFxZ26eAlhb0qh_6Qb92C6AMbZ0G8x7D2xaJm7_f7kqwXL0SNjAi50ezRYxWkjYIS55rtp-zKak3UhYE05fIqqAsS9-ZLsMQEuY3H_4IwUFaZ4mva25jmeek7X-fB4KmrUQGqJ_kvZgd7qSh-MxUA/w640-h480/P1070001.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A blue sky day followed for my walk up and over Craig Obney. A rough pull up through deep heather gave way to a pleasant high level amble to the top of the hill. The view was superb to Ben Chonzie above Crieff which presided over a snow-dusted landscape of woods and undulating hillscapes. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeiXS-T-wEWsP0npK-ZxLpxDsDQlMEoR14p957AnJ2IDx9ykUtRb4B_3jjv-hy8WR2OqqoYWz8PIgr_4Es8YZH0idYesKPBSBNVlshCLqagDUlIsWzifGLUdZN0vcP7eJr9mjQdkNUbDH9tT6qXVC9k_4_6CDfZbhSlP1cRypv_6K2ep9F7InXiA/s4000/P1070023.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifeiXS-T-wEWsP0npK-ZxLpxDsDQlMEoR14p957AnJ2IDx9ykUtRb4B_3jjv-hy8WR2OqqoYWz8PIgr_4Es8YZH0idYesKPBSBNVlshCLqagDUlIsWzifGLUdZN0vcP7eJr9mjQdkNUbDH9tT6qXVC9k_4_6CDfZbhSlP1cRypv_6K2ep9F7InXiA/w640-h480/P1070023.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">But it was perhaps the walk on from Craig Obney that I enjoyed the most. An ancient track passes through Glen Garr, a natural route slicing through these small but steep hills. There are straggly birch woods and pasture which is divided up by old stone walls. There is an overwhelming sense of quiet, of peace and of the past. Perhaps this is because I'm always here in mid winter when there are few people around and when the light covering of snow quietens the world around me.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Jm6da5Lfot0I_f4QqNnaA5J35kYOC1-25iijqI0tvPFfrixsiZxHTL0N0UtrEdCJwenH1y2ghLdWbVbscSK_3puZ6YWrbSkmkL1VUNwfVcngrGq1tqyVTGXPhPBKTVrOUXkfOlWu8jv44lRnbwm0xYrMBwy24g_3Ixf1TOj4FVh_R1JhXX9shQs/s2400/P1070041.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="2400" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Jm6da5Lfot0I_f4QqNnaA5J35kYOC1-25iijqI0tvPFfrixsiZxHTL0N0UtrEdCJwenH1y2ghLdWbVbscSK_3puZ6YWrbSkmkL1VUNwfVcngrGq1tqyVTGXPhPBKTVrOUXkfOlWu8jv44lRnbwm0xYrMBwy24g_3Ixf1TOj4FVh_R1JhXX9shQs/w640-h228/P1070041.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I ambled slowly north through Glen Garr, enjoying the open views and trying to make its special atmosphere stretch out for as long as possible. But eventually the old path came to an end as it joined the farm road to Balhomish. There was a choice here to walk back to Dunkeld via the Hermitage or to follow the Inchewan Burn back. I chose the burn route so that I could marvel again at the fascinating hair ice.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkmMgdQSw3ty-svmBb_9zUVKfLqAW4cTAplvg97uWURjZexpOu0uQUjDBqtR1b6wGpX7ezA8QOWhJp8TooJL4e-ep6Fa84MH031R4uFamYA6H7ZSPPBplfW6lp7wb82s7INhPYoG8MDU1QU6SscxNQTu3KfL4Gg2vOSz1lWo_Z6DT3vrWpT-a5pk/s4000/P1070044.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEkmMgdQSw3ty-svmBb_9zUVKfLqAW4cTAplvg97uWURjZexpOu0uQUjDBqtR1b6wGpX7ezA8QOWhJp8TooJL4e-ep6Fa84MH031R4uFamYA6H7ZSPPBplfW6lp7wb82s7INhPYoG8MDU1QU6SscxNQTu3KfL4Gg2vOSz1lWo_Z6DT3vrWpT-a5pk/w300-h400/P1070044.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><i><u>Fact File</u></i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><i>Start/finish: Dunkeld and Birnam train station</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><i>Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness train</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><i>My route: At the bottom of the station steps, turned left uphill to pick up the path up Birnam Hill. Descended a little way of the far side of Birnam Hill then turned west at an open bealach to the head of the valley that runs southeast from the farm at Balhomish. Next day up and over Craig Obney and decsended into Glen Garr. Walked north, turning off the farm road onto the forest track at Tomgarrow which eventually joins the Inchewan Burn to return to the station.</i></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-28290388194809262032023-01-16T01:40:00.002-08:002023-01-16T01:51:30.581-08:00Gear Review - Exped Ultra pillow and Kovea Spider stove<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A couple of new camping items that are small but perfectly formed! </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26Z2gtB9PFyV8F_B3E0kVVptAK-Tn5oU4XNFVO73mtwX3Lxd7hi9EjQkFbtYtWLDE3HKjI2xqrWeTDWitKuzVhBZZdJOfhRNnU3BRUW37cTC1uSzCUIoAUNVy5ifAHsqgCGcEQ9oKYmoyYQVc1pM7DHFPGS6jrV5aK-jAF2tEaD93HR8kEnkybz4/s4000/P1070012.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26Z2gtB9PFyV8F_B3E0kVVptAK-Tn5oU4XNFVO73mtwX3Lxd7hi9EjQkFbtYtWLDE3HKjI2xqrWeTDWitKuzVhBZZdJOfhRNnU3BRUW37cTC1uSzCUIoAUNVy5ifAHsqgCGcEQ9oKYmoyYQVc1pM7DHFPGS6jrV5aK-jAF2tEaD93HR8kEnkybz4/w640-h480/P1070012.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><u style="font-family: verdana;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><u><span style="font-size: large;">Exped Ultra Pillow</span></u></p></u><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">For all of my camping life so far, I have made a pillow out of my fleece tops and jackets folded into a stuff sack. Why on earth would I need anything else, I always wondered. However, I have been struggling to make a pillow deep enough with this method to be comfortable with a new air mattress which is a short length but quite thick. So I bought this pillow just for that purpose but decided to test it out on a winter camping trip with my usual, full length mattress. Oh my, what comfort. Never again will I make a pillow out of fleece tops!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx--kju--KjQmcx9pHlbERB7TxPXOFoq8Qmsio0-PYt-nqG7HFz8Dq5VFpBjOf_t4vsDrBhK8TzIMDlv8y243JGN6xwhPL_KjHHmFgTTHZmovWcYkzSthoLQ3b_aJRvfqbUa5OT08a_LFW_4ib8WjQcP7oNh59WDuOceLMP-9KypnFUkegjBR43fU/s2592/IMG_0243.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx--kju--KjQmcx9pHlbERB7TxPXOFoq8Qmsio0-PYt-nqG7HFz8Dq5VFpBjOf_t4vsDrBhK8TzIMDlv8y243JGN6xwhPL_KjHHmFgTTHZmovWcYkzSthoLQ3b_aJRvfqbUa5OT08a_LFW_4ib8WjQcP7oNh59WDuOceLMP-9KypnFUkegjBR43fU/w640-h480/IMG_0243.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">The Exped Ultra pillow is supremely comfortable but barely noticeable in the pack as it folds up into a tiny package measuring approx 12cm by 7cm by 3cm. It weighs only 55g (on my scales including the stuff sack). It has a soft outer fabric that is very pleasant on the cheek and inflates quickly with just a few breaths. It deflates easily and packs back into the stuff sack without a struggle. It stays firm all night and I found that this medium size fits nicely inside the hood of my sleeping bag so there is no risk of it sliding off the mat during the night. It cost £27 from Tiso. </p></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><u style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kovea Spider Stove</span></u></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">On cold winter camps when the temperature slips below zero, it can be painfully slow to get my usual canister mounted, three season gas stove to work. For years, I have put up with gradually coaxing it into life in the mornings by warming the canister repeatedly inside my sleeping bag whilst worrying that I may never get my porridge that day. So finally I bought this four season, remote canister stove.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv95riQKtd00KNPreVrhuFa9JmZrEmty4wUORh66aT7KQwPVJuUbtfORVeLtqiv2lZu8KoO5OshXfXIE_bhPf-_8w2X2km7xg8WOUEWZW4X6L5FG-g4qVfIHidALtiK3ktqn7RD5jautpO3nSLNXcWCOORnwzZNAIHIweueOs6rORYb5gcau4mlso/s4000/P1070009.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv95riQKtd00KNPreVrhuFa9JmZrEmty4wUORh66aT7KQwPVJuUbtfORVeLtqiv2lZu8KoO5OshXfXIE_bhPf-_8w2X2km7xg8WOUEWZW4X6L5FG-g4qVfIHidALtiK3ktqn7RD5jautpO3nSLNXcWCOORnwzZNAIHIweueOs6rORYb5gcau4mlso/w640-h480/P1070009.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">On the first test in a temperature of minus seven celsius, it worked very well and I was never in any doubt that it would deliver hot coffee and cook the porridge. The stove has a pre-heat tube which helps it to keep working in colder temperatures. A lot of remote canister gas stoves are quite heavy and bulky but not this one. It's really very compact for what it is. With the legs folded away and placed inside its stuff sack, it weighs 185g and measures 13cm by 9cm by 3cm. It's very easy to unfold for use and to then pack away again. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnzhQjL3LmtfO7hxWWAiZOfjT-5612DQbcPkGZQKVTwI59X27weHFRUq-fW8pTLlrWE_ecY4WPzm5r6emUqn8YyKfGGZ4JKDcdUJNsxs1T1Gfa-teM_CY_mJUldpf9kIph6EOHUSDqZhBneaJxFQ-lyFm10wBuc0UXC2Rlp-YmIWCtOITtQtrn98/s4000/P1070011.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRnzhQjL3LmtfO7hxWWAiZOfjT-5612DQbcPkGZQKVTwI59X27weHFRUq-fW8pTLlrWE_ecY4WPzm5r6emUqn8YyKfGGZ4JKDcdUJNsxs1T1Gfa-teM_CY_mJUldpf9kIph6EOHUSDqZhBneaJxFQ-lyFm10wBuc0UXC2Rlp-YmIWCtOITtQtrn98/w640-h480/P1070011.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">It boils water as fast as any stove that I have used and I'm really happy with it. I did notice that being so lightweight, the legs are a touch unstable as you unfold the stove but they are perfectly firm on the ground once there is a pot on top. Also, it did struggle to use the dregs of an almost empty canister but that's easily solved by always taking fuller canisters when using this stove. It cost £46 from Mercator Gear.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here is a photo of the pillow and the stove with a spork in shot for size comparison.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNA7bgMn6PGCvIK0FZVPnQFzQ-iaY8bVI46PX12goweCG0_4j68WMrjQHZmJRfVgk82JFjZ9htqVCaB_kjMCDm-yAtW2bn5TJD8IaVetDQxzipL8H2XGNvnBfKqFa6FSwMTrW6QdsaIGPJvhrz64rh674MuOGBygrdl0XsN7-8n4-0MlGBXQ1qm0/s4000/P1070013.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNA7bgMn6PGCvIK0FZVPnQFzQ-iaY8bVI46PX12goweCG0_4j68WMrjQHZmJRfVgk82JFjZ9htqVCaB_kjMCDm-yAtW2bn5TJD8IaVetDQxzipL8H2XGNvnBfKqFa6FSwMTrW6QdsaIGPJvhrz64rh674MuOGBygrdl0XsN7-8n4-0MlGBXQ1qm0/w640-h480/P1070013.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-32003422816426163572023-01-04T08:03:00.003-08:002023-01-08T07:21:44.579-08:00Cairngorms - Pathfinding<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I am a lover of maps and can spend hours of an afternoon gazing at my Ordnance Survey collection spread out over the floor. To me they are a work of art but incredibly practical as well. They hold wonderful secrets in the landscape features that they represent as I try to imagine what the places are like in real life that are set out in miniature on the sheets before me. Often something in particular on the map catches my eye such as a footpath that I have never walked. So it was back in autumn, when spotting a couple of paths new to me, led to an October backpacking trip to Glen Tromie in the Cairngorms. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The first path I wanted to find headed across the hills south from Ruthven Barracks just outside Kingussie. Footpaths on maps are tenuous things as the dashed line on the map may no longer be visible on the ground if it's a route that's not well used in modern times. This path is part of an old military route connecting Blair Atholl and Calvine to the south with Ruthven Barracks. Luckily it started right opposite the barracks as a good farm track, initially crossing a field of cows and passing a ruined house before ascending heathery slopes. As we gained the top of the rise, the other reason for coming here came into view - the beautiful golden colours of the Glen Tromie birchwoods. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3L-sqB2dAn44LBTZLcrCrtR2sBiHC6SiK-NtTJEve_lsGo8CXxNkVNIciJLh4z0PfNQ1RJzyRBV2riSv-GsRdTEjJ5pnwafSuk5iC_b7b-5KDK4ruMDX9ZAOAzNYiFuykGReTdTmJs_8nyt1mkGd4YgeBMWQHqRdL1afSDaHIhQY0u9PWa-vIRVU/s4000/P1060896.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3L-sqB2dAn44LBTZLcrCrtR2sBiHC6SiK-NtTJEve_lsGo8CXxNkVNIciJLh4z0PfNQ1RJzyRBV2riSv-GsRdTEjJ5pnwafSuk5iC_b7b-5KDK4ruMDX9ZAOAzNYiFuykGReTdTmJs_8nyt1mkGd4YgeBMWQHqRdL1afSDaHIhQY0u9PWa-vIRVU/w640-h480/P1060896.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">A narrower path left our track and descended sharply into the glen. We marvelled at the colours as we dropped steeply through the trees and enjoyed the atmosphere of this path which felt secretive and little visited. At the bottom we joined the main track in Glen Tromie. Croidh-la, a small but dramatic hill, rose above us here and was our objective for the next day. First I wanted to find another new path that climbed its north shoulder from the glen. The start of the path was a wee bit tricky to find but once located, it was another good path that climbed gently up through regenerating woods. Here the trees were barely taller than us but the display of colour was no less beautiful. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaw67h_RZeSlgr4FmY9h5HXbLlQep5hC0ULq6zKnNtnNDti0c1gA8KWvYwgTCK3vLz1Rgc0t8zMgBzfi7fs3_NdQ9jGxaT2AinCnxvtPv-3sltqR9A4ZNi3hndDRiy-cc4mKo6_xDTL91HxznARTcUaSMHFAO-NLcP6Q1-tTFxdrmuo-oOE9S35js/s4000/P1060886.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaw67h_RZeSlgr4FmY9h5HXbLlQep5hC0ULq6zKnNtnNDti0c1gA8KWvYwgTCK3vLz1Rgc0t8zMgBzfi7fs3_NdQ9jGxaT2AinCnxvtPv-3sltqR9A4ZNi3hndDRiy-cc4mKo6_xDTL91HxznARTcUaSMHFAO-NLcP6Q1-tTFxdrmuo-oOE9S35js/w640-h480/P1060886.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The path eventually gained the low saddle in the ridge. I was familiar with the the rest of its course as this was the point where I had joined it from Gleann Chomhraig to the east to climb Croidh-la last year. But the hill would have to wait for the next day as at the end of October, the light in Scotland is already fading by late afternoon. Instead we pitched the tents at the river, watched the sun sink and listened to the incoming sounds of evening.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_t_30q449-pGe5lr6WFt5Qbp47T76Qaeq6SROwsftIMjTVzX52jujOfk9SvT3oREz4LSQgB2HPID8XxS_DjygFwZnhLwWUrdEQS2vmSacLmpaIfFEqArZzRql_xcnTXKGOT8Z07OcfEesfX3-eMsfrBUFCXG2-hXxchfhKFEYe4-c-VmtNOnGpA/s4000/P1060858.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_t_30q449-pGe5lr6WFt5Qbp47T76Qaeq6SROwsftIMjTVzX52jujOfk9SvT3oREz4LSQgB2HPID8XxS_DjygFwZnhLwWUrdEQS2vmSacLmpaIfFEqArZzRql_xcnTXKGOT8Z07OcfEesfX3-eMsfrBUFCXG2-hXxchfhKFEYe4-c-VmtNOnGpA/w640-h480/P1060858.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next morning, we rejoined the path up Croidh-la and enjoyed the walk to the top. This little hill has become a favourite of mine. The path along its shoulder is so pleasant to walk, especially where it passes through the young trees. And the top affords uninterrupted views of the bigger hills all around. As we descended, the sun made an appearance for the first time of the trip and showed the best of the autumn colours all around us. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnLNGsaNiOUwfaNExjpLadzN0s74oMBCDeYoHm1tD_nh6U9435QGPQcfbx0wWWLb0eXQn69Rw4Kva--wW73ujRYh1ZzhVObMo5PCI7GG4mwd-sQesT-6W44tz9ZVkiGNMFE_581ctKY60OH46vTCMbQgcZA2YDhumoV-DSbSVDN8xYzfbcnFiXyY/s4000/P1060902.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirnLNGsaNiOUwfaNExjpLadzN0s74oMBCDeYoHm1tD_nh6U9435QGPQcfbx0wWWLb0eXQn69Rw4Kva--wW73ujRYh1ZzhVObMo5PCI7GG4mwd-sQesT-6W44tz9ZVkiGNMFE_581ctKY60OH46vTCMbQgcZA2YDhumoV-DSbSVDN8xYzfbcnFiXyY/w640-h480/P1060902.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">We took a different path back to Kingussie, using the newly laid section of the Speyside Way from Tromie Bridge. It reminded me how the footpaths on our maps are always changing and there will always be new paths to find.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoNFU_7JQjq6h7cLjEpaFdAMexI22VHgb9CSjplLXdnEjl1qIkXME1VPRuAbh0_vNL01inAtmhfUIiKVzpdDqqX14SBWTL28KvzBvymWmurZ_VIv25-SoVqOhCym_BubfYelKeTp0YDOCG3vO5QIGXP4RlY02EvrvzwDKLVKM7vPqiFhkHukJcWM/s4000/P1060917.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoNFU_7JQjq6h7cLjEpaFdAMexI22VHgb9CSjplLXdnEjl1qIkXME1VPRuAbh0_vNL01inAtmhfUIiKVzpdDqqX14SBWTL28KvzBvymWmurZ_VIv25-SoVqOhCym_BubfYelKeTp0YDOCG3vO5QIGXP4RlY02EvrvzwDKLVKM7vPqiFhkHukJcWM/w640-h480/P1060917.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #444444;">Fact File</u></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start/finish: Kingussie<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness train<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: Walked the B970 to Ruthven Barracks. Just before the car parking spaces the track heads south into the hills where the start of the new path for the Speyside Way is signed. The track crosses green fields initially to a ruin then continues on heathery slopes. Just before the top of the rise, a single width, firm path leaves the track to the left and this descends to Glen Tromie. A good way down, it branches and we took the fainter left branch to avoid the lodge and exit the woods at the bridge over the river. Walked down the main track and after about 1.5km after the river turns away from the track, the path up Croidh-la begins. There is a very small cairn to mark it though we didn't walk quite far enough to spot it on the way in. For the return leg, we walked back over to Glen Tromie then down to Tromie Bridge to pick up the Speyside Way path back to Ruthven Barracks. </span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-31501852969151251172022-12-13T13:32:00.004-08:002023-01-04T08:05:09.333-08:00Loch Lomond - Long live the weeds<div style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">What would the world be once bereft<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh let them be left, wildness and wet<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Inversnaid, Gerard Manley Hopkins</span></i></div></span></span></i></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I'm living in the past. Or at least my blog is. Scotland is currently gripped in winter with freezing temperatures and a blanket of snow but my blog is still enjoying the mild temperatures, gentle drizzles and rich colours of autumn with this multi day walk in early October. I guess it will eventually catch up.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Talking of the past, all the years that I have been going to the hills I have traveled up the west shore of Loch Lomond on the bus or the train and gazed across at the east shore where the West Highland Way path is the only means of travel. I knew it must be gorgeous walking there through the woods in autumn and finally got round to doing just that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The lunchtime train let me out at Crianlarich where I picked up the linking path to join the West Highland Way. Bucking the trend for walking the Way in a northerly direction, I turned south through Glen Falloch. The glen is quite lovely with a white water river, waterfalls, regenerating woods and a wall of Munros to the east. On this grey, wet day swathes of rain passed across the hillsides and the only bright spot was a friendly robin on a waymarker post.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMR_rF28M9V3pRZTMy9Sg0sMdyVXT_wVGbrEkGxxOfiKbPvQna09DXgTqXZfYIRQLKOK_TmyQK8L5FoCq3NeyJs3g8o3XqW70oBl4q39JUzUy2voqokPU7EEkbgWq1wuJuHyIchEecRxiL2WdH_P85Tx01p62AEn1CGRG48Nccvwtx0S-8aC73Gk/s4000/P1060613.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMR_rF28M9V3pRZTMy9Sg0sMdyVXT_wVGbrEkGxxOfiKbPvQna09DXgTqXZfYIRQLKOK_TmyQK8L5FoCq3NeyJs3g8o3XqW70oBl4q39JUzUy2voqokPU7EEkbgWq1wuJuHyIchEecRxiL2WdH_P85Tx01p62AEn1CGRG48Nccvwtx0S-8aC73Gk/w300-h400/P1060613.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">Towards the end of the afternoon, the waters of Loch Lomond finally came into sight and what a stunning sight they were. Drizzly, misty weather created the perfect atmosphere for the view down the wooded shores, the ends of which were too far away to see. Everything was moist and the musty smell of the feral goats grazing between the trees hung in the air.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSXcb2-T7dqhfOeIoW6wSn5Ws2VtoAaRAAcUj597Q2lBawmB6xLqbt8zlUKzMbowOS6QCqYe-eAygeGm98nLw4xAiwRApZkiBNK2iIi7_smp_DP1b1RSNi_mbnaV1_BRseN0Or_xOrxMsyD_wQE1WEpapQVrmMiI8xbWr2jASpVWfNTsnpo2_ATQ/s4000/P1060632.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSXcb2-T7dqhfOeIoW6wSn5Ws2VtoAaRAAcUj597Q2lBawmB6xLqbt8zlUKzMbowOS6QCqYe-eAygeGm98nLw4xAiwRApZkiBNK2iIi7_smp_DP1b1RSNi_mbnaV1_BRseN0Or_xOrxMsyD_wQE1WEpapQVrmMiI8xbWr2jASpVWfNTsnpo2_ATQ/w640-h480/P1060632.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It was time to camp and I loved the quaintness of the landing for the passenger ferry to Ardlui. There is no ticket office or dock. Here you just have to raise a bright orange buoy if you want the ferry to come over. There were some nice spots for pitching the tent amongst the trees here too and the gentle lapping of waves on a pebble shore.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m1DdZZ5f37-6jRa7wy-DSEiDE8aIalEkPjUvMKZpeYC97xBkn8K0LP25LZ8EkSIjg4CKzk2AMeTMEFzz8TSr2nIa7YF38QIr9-Op1COjvEP2oqmp9seWDbH2AFQemszvh6WstvyVFdU5_r6RaFeilJ9vz8jgqdnO15mKE5TS_bM-rdk7tf2aqvg/s4000/P1060634.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0m1DdZZ5f37-6jRa7wy-DSEiDE8aIalEkPjUvMKZpeYC97xBkn8K0LP25LZ8EkSIjg4CKzk2AMeTMEFzz8TSr2nIa7YF38QIr9-Op1COjvEP2oqmp9seWDbH2AFQemszvh6WstvyVFdU5_r6RaFeilJ9vz8jgqdnO15mKE5TS_bM-rdk7tf2aqvg/w640-h480/P1060634.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next day my walk continued south through the early autumn woods, still more green than gold but still beautiful. I was surprised by how rugged the route was with lots of scrambling up and over boulders, and ascents and descents as the path undulated with the shoreline. There was something primal about the woods here which were lush and dripping in the day's drizzle. Ferns filled in the understorey and here and there old walls covered with lichens emerged from the rampant undergrowth. There was a wildness as well to the sandy, driftwood strewn beaches that formed the boundary between trees and water. I loved it and wanted the walk to go on forever.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcd2fB-j7lNASnLjiiWR4E0dj5dvbHyfKuMbEFoIasQ803BtYHyTF1nQFBjZg-52FIfllyJL_keXnVcZaBjm6GRWy0TDx8Yz_U0v_0dGmn0gvyRWDGui_caJTJHAlyIPXKFzruPOiGHxSX32aW_jP_gvWtB15rA9dqA5lONz5ZkP7hCbWxi3D18Y/s4000/P1060668.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcd2fB-j7lNASnLjiiWR4E0dj5dvbHyfKuMbEFoIasQ803BtYHyTF1nQFBjZg-52FIfllyJL_keXnVcZaBjm6GRWy0TDx8Yz_U0v_0dGmn0gvyRWDGui_caJTJHAlyIPXKFzruPOiGHxSX32aW_jP_gvWtB15rA9dqA5lONz5ZkP7hCbWxi3D18Y/w640-h480/P1060668.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I passed Inversnaid where a road comes over the hills to meet the loch shore and enjoyed the waterfalls but didn't linger, eager as I was to re-immerse myself in the wilderness of the woods.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRq2A_JmkZEH_CYK4U1J7Om9SJxXsnMEE4t2Qool_Ow48pANPScxnTAFhqX1paLa1UrVAQ-hfEZsH7dRopK1edvlco5AVMo6X9eNz0Yi_kx2wTWtSWhQK3SkU5VSa71_WWhc-WzrD3wKt61anwd_9uHFKya5E3G0tuW53Tx-R4wEYxxpHS9gsmlHI/s4000/P1060659.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRq2A_JmkZEH_CYK4U1J7Om9SJxXsnMEE4t2Qool_Ow48pANPScxnTAFhqX1paLa1UrVAQ-hfEZsH7dRopK1edvlco5AVMo6X9eNz0Yi_kx2wTWtSWhQK3SkU5VSa71_WWhc-WzrD3wKt61anwd_9uHFKya5E3G0tuW53Tx-R4wEYxxpHS9gsmlHI/w640-h480/P1060659.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A little way south of Inversnaid I left the shores of Loch Lomond to climb up through the hills. The showers of the day cleared to reveal a panorama of the loch and the mountains at its back. As I climbed higher the dipping sun created subtle evening colours on the north, little seen side of Ben Lomond. This was me in Gleann Gaoithe now for another night out in the tent before the long walk through the glen to Aberfoyle. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9D7ma0ibwfSnbkDMB9JDMGhk8jcanxOolVO6N97oXgqGiwA6VaQqg2o2obkaSjTsxTgm9vuEoU-E0lio33KeQd74Kd5d5wqGV4cGodSf_MkLcR8PhL1u1vZofmHbX-rr6ERWeA8W4dib5ZOV94-3FMH2-nqQ_pRM5K6oBt9lNBjtvjxM6nuJIl0/s4000/P1060687.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu9D7ma0ibwfSnbkDMB9JDMGhk8jcanxOolVO6N97oXgqGiwA6VaQqg2o2obkaSjTsxTgm9vuEoU-E0lio33KeQd74Kd5d5wqGV4cGodSf_MkLcR8PhL1u1vZofmHbX-rr6ERWeA8W4dib5ZOV94-3FMH2-nqQ_pRM5K6oBt9lNBjtvjxM6nuJIl0/w640-h480/P1060687.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Gleann Gaoithe is open in its upper reaches with some straggly woods but lower down the trees take over, a mix of commercial and native woods. It is a place of richness dominated by the rocky outline of Ben Lomond. It is another place of wildness and wet. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmsNderNnnSyBW24Kif3Qy8LhuiLvxsjK7YkU6vz_36RaGiBACDzYFYGLZWrYsIb2R7giSxW28AB0X0c-mOSOHur4DTkjsbQ9qIQo7Pu1iKyu2UX1Y0b29azKsV9KJjDSWxi_-CNjj97NCUtkPVMDOYCY3EuiXunAZ6wlqw7WvQsENFVscABlpao/s4000/P1060694.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBmsNderNnnSyBW24Kif3Qy8LhuiLvxsjK7YkU6vz_36RaGiBACDzYFYGLZWrYsIb2R7giSxW28AB0X0c-mOSOHur4DTkjsbQ9qIQo7Pu1iKyu2UX1Y0b29azKsV9KJjDSWxi_-CNjj97NCUtkPVMDOYCY3EuiXunAZ6wlqw7WvQsENFVscABlpao/w640-h480/P1060694.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #444444;">Fact File</u></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Crianlarich by train from Glasgow<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Aberfoyle for a bus to Stirling then a train home<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: At the bottom of the platform steps at Crianlarich turn left and round the corner steps acsend to the road above. Immediately opposite is the link path to the West Highland Way. Followed the Way south to the abandoned cottage at Cailness and the track that climbs behind the cottage passes up into Gleann Gaoithe and ultimately all the way through to Milton near Aberfoyle. There is apparently a gap in the fence just before the cottage but I missed it and just squeezed through the gates. </span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-90969929859652733942022-11-21T13:03:00.003-08:002022-11-21T13:14:50.457-08:00Greenock - A cut above<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My friend was a bit surprised when I said we were going for an outdoors weekend to Greenock! And I'm not sure what I expected myself but we were to enjoy one of the best wee walks in Scotland on the Greenock Cut.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The Cut is a 19th century aqueduct that brought water down into Greenock from reservoirs in the hills above. At the time it was built, Greenock was expanding and industries were developing along the Clyde. Today, it's beautifully preserved and makes a stunning walk as it contours high around the side of Dunrod Hill to Cornalees Bridge and Compensation Reservoir. It's fascinating to see the old cattle bridges and the remains of stone-built bothies that provided shelter for the workers. There are several sluices dotted along the Cut as well which were known as "wasters" because they controlled the level of the water. Given the gradual gradient, it's also quite an easy walk. However, the feature that catapults the Cut into the outdoors hall of fame, is the view. For very little effort, you can enjoy a panorama that sweeps over the Southern Highlands including Ben Lomond, the Clyde Estuary, the Cowal Peninsula, Bute and Arran. It's spectacular on a clear day and we were lucky enough to get just that.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkUlsWNQjXgk1gXxojgD6T_ggiqe80BvkNez-QvfDPZlctxeAoAL569qWLLr-Szh7MBLpk7Z9JS6Nj3CSMzvxnmziXOxWtkfpq0KavsExYW0UiJvqyu5cJSTa0caSopoN88DSJ4Y3u2WsJ_Zgjg1mebP7VH_S6-mHIlCjCnO6u9ZpNiYF7iQCcZs/s4000/P1060508.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkUlsWNQjXgk1gXxojgD6T_ggiqe80BvkNez-QvfDPZlctxeAoAL569qWLLr-Szh7MBLpk7Z9JS6Nj3CSMzvxnmziXOxWtkfpq0KavsExYW0UiJvqyu5cJSTa0caSopoN88DSJ4Y3u2WsJ_Zgjg1mebP7VH_S6-mHIlCjCnO6u9ZpNiYF7iQCcZs/w640-h480/P1060508.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">We'd jumped off the train at Drumfrochar and from here the start of the Cut was about 15 minutes walk away. A good path follows the Cut as it meanders round the hill and we wandered dreamily along in the sunshine, soaking up the ever changing view. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fC04b3N2hSnCnz5SO5qCj3iB1OFvxjZ1ni-omZK5iKsbWPBUI1KkDT2e_qkBu6Rv91IaR1GxYijvdFWUFoZ5t4Lt9bih_qHlKKhntBWNkUrvhKlHOC5DGe8qlj39j3UYj3QPlArIjsDwtlfjl2zzDSOR0lTW6GRMeUqzABsMipAw0HU-1rxZBEI/s4000/P1060515.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2fC04b3N2hSnCnz5SO5qCj3iB1OFvxjZ1ni-omZK5iKsbWPBUI1KkDT2e_qkBu6Rv91IaR1GxYijvdFWUFoZ5t4Lt9bih_qHlKKhntBWNkUrvhKlHOC5DGe8qlj39j3UYj3QPlArIjsDwtlfjl2zzDSOR0lTW6GRMeUqzABsMipAw0HU-1rxZBEI/w640-h480/P1060515.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />Eventually the Cut arrives at Cornalees Bridge where there is a small visitor centre telling its story. I especially liked the huge, long poles with metal blades on the end that were used to break ice in the Cut in winter. The Cut ends at Cornalees Bridge but our walk continued on another 19th century aqueduct, the Kelly Cut. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6PqUVbn06BFrhRRtlr51P7-wYAW_aLgxQudXfh8S66oZ9tgs897nm8tNxOiV6bV_ccBipuaXCzg-J8ATl8EsVhtugW7TbDuk1XJO6t5oC0KzxLEqBXZMzxzVIsWv6lRKJg1Hs4owxkyy3SzJTrY2Uf4N3JgzwcOPkK1L2wLoA6G7eNy25B5xy10/s3951/P1060505.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1956" data-original-width="3951" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6PqUVbn06BFrhRRtlr51P7-wYAW_aLgxQudXfh8S66oZ9tgs897nm8tNxOiV6bV_ccBipuaXCzg-J8ATl8EsVhtugW7TbDuk1XJO6t5oC0KzxLEqBXZMzxzVIsWv6lRKJg1Hs4owxkyy3SzJTrY2Uf4N3JgzwcOPkK1L2wLoA6G7eNy25B5xy10/w640-h316/P1060505.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The Kelly Cut is not as well preserved as the Greenock Cut but can still be followed through the hills with a reasonable track running beside it. The track eventually comes out at Wemyss Bay, where we would catch a train home. Although the full walk could be easily done in a day, we had started late with the intention of making a camp in the hills above. So as the afternoon stretched into evening, we bashed our way up through heather and bog to find the only spot for miles that would accommodate our tents. The view from the camp spot stretched over to Cowal and as darkness moved in, we could see the streetlights of Dunoon twinkling below across the water.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSNv6jAdREebpmekB10rx2_N0ASsHxyCFVyXUWiKgwwZ7CPL1ENO-CoyH5lkaGwgCfZKDZ9gEoGK-Uk6xdbtYmMRrk6Arzpwb_X_kAnfs-FnHnHN8I42FWoY4cPdh_6c_jeFB8tzyZKW1NxUX6BXzrqjvDpbwKbkpbqCqzOl0AsARTYuqJ7QmNPg/s3922/P1060556.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2306" data-original-width="3922" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSNv6jAdREebpmekB10rx2_N0ASsHxyCFVyXUWiKgwwZ7CPL1ENO-CoyH5lkaGwgCfZKDZ9gEoGK-Uk6xdbtYmMRrk6Arzpwb_X_kAnfs-FnHnHN8I42FWoY4cPdh_6c_jeFB8tzyZKW1NxUX6BXzrqjvDpbwKbkpbqCqzOl0AsARTYuqJ7QmNPg/w640-h376/P1060556.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next morning, we followed the Kelly Cut to its end then picked up a beautiful path that descended a wooded gorge to pop out in Wemyss Bay. Who doesn't love to catch a train or a ferry there to enjoy the grandeur of the station. The station and ferry terminal were designed in curves to ease the passage of people and the curves are replicated in the circular ticket office and the glass ceiling. </p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOxjhxkDhH2QDTFgGmuWpcTiMLxwJko9p9j2ppbhzAmo9T5jKNW_QbhFAApFoS_mCwuBdt-X8DA_XwOhPxry4Nr8ExKeLs4xpzEYFB71-i77EHL5Fd79qpFWOmpw8J4vykxt21B5y0rhCe-I9saBzboSkiEgVAB4Usf8Dx2WMj_aOU-ANYIDHEzw/s4000/P1060595.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOxjhxkDhH2QDTFgGmuWpcTiMLxwJko9p9j2ppbhzAmo9T5jKNW_QbhFAApFoS_mCwuBdt-X8DA_XwOhPxry4Nr8ExKeLs4xpzEYFB71-i77EHL5Fd79qpFWOmpw8J4vykxt21B5y0rhCe-I9saBzboSkiEgVAB4Usf8Dx2WMj_aOU-ANYIDHEzw/w640-h480/P1060595.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">You could say that those curves were replicated in the Greenock Cut as well as it contoured gently round the hills, easing the passage of water to the towns below.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">More photos on <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720303891814" target="_blank">Flickr</a></span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Drumfrochar train station<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Wemyss Bay train station <br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Glasgow to Wemyss Bay trains stop at Drumfrochar<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: Headed uphill from the train station up Peat Road then Papermill Road. The Cut starts at the road end. Where the Greenock Cut ends at Cornalees Bridge, the Kelly Cut is signed onwards on the other side of the bridge. The Kelly Cut eventually meets a gravel track below Kelly Reservoir and this track descends to Wemyss Bay. A nice path leaves it to the left before the caravan park for a nicer walk into the town. It comes out opposite the train station.</span></span></i></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-15511919930366205982022-10-29T08:52:00.005-07:002022-11-15T13:23:51.776-08:00Fife - Fastpacking the Lomond Hills<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">If you've been reading recent blogs, you might think that I haven't been very far afield, since here is another blog from Fife! To be honest, I haven't been far over summer but I can assure you that blogs will be coming soon from other locations! However, the Lomond Hills were a good choice for my first ever fastpacking trip as they have good, run-able trails and are not too remote given that I was carrying very lightweight kit. Fastpacking is like backpacking but faster and lighter. It's about moving fast through the hills with minimal camping kit. It can be walking fast or running and on my trip I was aiming to run as much of the route as possible.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My trip started at Markinch and used some of the Fife Pilgrim Way to pick up a trail into the hills at Pitcairn. The trail was a long, climbing path up to and over East Lomond so I had to walk much of this, especially the steep flanks of the hill itself. But it was a pretty approach through woods, fields and heather moors. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIj9ss9z8cOlGogQHIIT2cB8BehUJDKM6vxeHsi7MtrAGW-5DFjs5farwRkxKT1UCmoTtTg2DIYek3tLF6I1G4ssgyenqsLvHIVwUYDlN2F_BRhvZtWkaOzEniNy5Vga-htPR8zJFFSDxlEtbxGNAzod0qZ4awanXld10wa0-NyFq2i7OH4MQ9Kg/s2592/IMG_0170.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIj9ss9z8cOlGogQHIIT2cB8BehUJDKM6vxeHsi7MtrAGW-5DFjs5farwRkxKT1UCmoTtTg2DIYek3tLF6I1G4ssgyenqsLvHIVwUYDlN2F_BRhvZtWkaOzEniNy5Vga-htPR8zJFFSDxlEtbxGNAzod0qZ4awanXld10wa0-NyFq2i7OH4MQ9Kg/w640-h480/IMG_0170.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">The descent down the other side was an enjoyable run and took me to the old lime kilns. This is a beautiful spot for a breather with wildflowers, a pond and the old kilns. The Lomond Hills are volcanic and were formed 380 million years ago. However, the limestone in the area was formed from shells on the sea floor and protected over time by the harder volcanic rock on top. The limestone was quarried in more recent history for use in construction and agriculture but had to be burned in the kilns to create lime. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XgqFM5OPH7L2Zp3CFUFTNdkQbg9mvI6sC0fiMn6pXmtDwlxliw-Vn-jQHC29o2J8hxPq85yxrnYcRVgJBD6lZBpmkUlZBgGp-0kVY1fJIfTyXrr1nkMx6Uzk5LxCeJ3n77Aq25vLPmLK1k-Nxhr_6Lw5y6y6_19wqdnr0uViGv_pq3MbhB1qKXI/s2592/IMG_0173.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XgqFM5OPH7L2Zp3CFUFTNdkQbg9mvI6sC0fiMn6pXmtDwlxliw-Vn-jQHC29o2J8hxPq85yxrnYcRVgJBD6lZBpmkUlZBgGp-0kVY1fJIfTyXrr1nkMx6Uzk5LxCeJ3n77Aq25vLPmLK1k-Nxhr_6Lw5y6y6_19wqdnr0uViGv_pq3MbhB1qKXI/w640-h480/IMG_0173.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">After my short break here, I set out running again, using a lovely track that heads west. It was actually built by the limestone quarriers to transport the lime out of the hills. It's very pleasing on the eye as it cuts a line through this high place and is dominated by the cone-shaped top of West Lomond up ahead. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlbIkDOD_7IHIUITEb6F1LQEa8Wjt948PzfWQhQ83pFX9ZvMgXJ9XkycHryt45KUFNNwtOYU-0tB1iU6cIwqQlRLSsY52Bx336ukQ6BVCFYxR_HLHv2aNHYKNHcYObxnsVpXoSeWoqhuQ7h-5O8AR6mEo8POrxIjfWDy2UBzOYApgKcxKJ0KS0uU/s2592/IMG_0176.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMlbIkDOD_7IHIUITEb6F1LQEa8Wjt948PzfWQhQ83pFX9ZvMgXJ9XkycHryt45KUFNNwtOYU-0tB1iU6cIwqQlRLSsY52Bx336ukQ6BVCFYxR_HLHv2aNHYKNHcYObxnsVpXoSeWoqhuQ7h-5O8AR6mEo8POrxIjfWDy2UBzOYApgKcxKJ0KS0uU/w640-h480/IMG_0176.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I wasn't running up West Lomond but instead picked up the farm track to Little Ballo and then onto Harperleas Reservoir. I love the path from here that climbs up through the trees to West Feal. Although it's a plantation wood, there is a mix of trees in places and some nice open rides where the sun filters through. It was another long climb so I was again mostly walking and that continued beyond West Feal also as I climbed up onto the ridge of Bishop Hill.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2OmvHyTERedVtT01o7twvVVhqVAySHZh0A0NM9YaiVQzXcfEX3j20AbjdI0wMd8mqojxi2o5fdFhZkqv9w578QOOlbrU2g5MJFRCs9iN5wdemiT2hrMBFBTH75sU_Y6C7HwV4IeGlR4qSVgbZ1K_kySnMb7DRIFuWEM2k0AnMCZaMKjhXtUczSM/s2592/IMG_0188.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM2OmvHyTERedVtT01o7twvVVhqVAySHZh0A0NM9YaiVQzXcfEX3j20AbjdI0wMd8mqojxi2o5fdFhZkqv9w578QOOlbrU2g5MJFRCs9iN5wdemiT2hrMBFBTH75sU_Y6C7HwV4IeGlR4qSVgbZ1K_kySnMb7DRIFuWEM2k0AnMCZaMKjhXtUczSM/w300-h400/IMG_0188.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It was a beautiful run along the ridge in evening sunshine with steep slopes sweeping down to Loch Leven below and some surprising rock features to inspect. However more often than not on this ridge, there is a fierce wind fueled by the thermals that rise up the slopes. So I dropped down a little and found a calmer spot for the bivvy in a larch wood. I'd packed the bivvy rather than the tent to save on weight and bulk. With this being the tail end of summer, I was also able to use my tiniest sleeping bag as well and a minuscule alcohol stove that heated water in my mug for a simple meal. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZYrfqaUlJ8bg3u2yyT1FhnNFDOXYwVnpZ2WFScnIeQ_oUbhRq7mOdAUOcbSEUJxvZAHilcuJNktDBOPyxnshlsaH0EXXsBG9n3KcjU0qKN2_RnzjryagKpfwak2Ie-nxAC1t8bSskIHG6-5_Vgg5m1WV5d5oDcayppnItHtERuI_Y-eEf_csPFc/s2592/IMG_0190.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZYrfqaUlJ8bg3u2yyT1FhnNFDOXYwVnpZ2WFScnIeQ_oUbhRq7mOdAUOcbSEUJxvZAHilcuJNktDBOPyxnshlsaH0EXXsBG9n3KcjU0qKN2_RnzjryagKpfwak2Ie-nxAC1t8bSskIHG6-5_Vgg5m1WV5d5oDcayppnItHtERuI_Y-eEf_csPFc/w640-h480/IMG_0190.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A beautiful sunrise kicked off the next day as I set out running down through Glen Vale. It's a magical spot with limestone rock features and a lush, wooded gorge. The path was soft and sandy and perfect for running. A thin drizzle of rain soon came on and cooled the morning. It provided an excuse, as if needed, to pull into Loch Leven's Larder for coffee and cake. A connecting trail from here took me to the main path along the shore of the loch.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOYqFZ6JMh-baRkUaQkYv9BRKt2GsSskwp9HLJpQImNVjP1uuyiVFKoHTI9VW3x4Fk2CaFjceOsSp9GH4--bvXas42I1CjjXb7J-UX3xI_Mg3x5wIWKVRo4vgy_hsL9PfeLTKJmPR7daVNGk4kVrC5FaAVc-KBhf4aRUC9C-F0_30b6fNeQ4hKQk/s2592/IMG_0203.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyOYqFZ6JMh-baRkUaQkYv9BRKt2GsSskwp9HLJpQImNVjP1uuyiVFKoHTI9VW3x4Fk2CaFjceOsSp9GH4--bvXas42I1CjjXb7J-UX3xI_Mg3x5wIWKVRo4vgy_hsL9PfeLTKJmPR7daVNGk4kVrC5FaAVc-KBhf4aRUC9C-F0_30b6fNeQ4hKQk/w640-h480/IMG_0203.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Being mid week and wet, it was quiet and I enjoyed the peace and solitude as I finished my trip by running into Kinross for a bus home. It had been harder than I imagined to run with camping equipment, even along the flat, and I wished I had done more training runs carrying weight. However, I was happy with what I had managed to run overall and I'd really enjoyed the trip. It was nice to experience a place well known to me in a completely different way through running it.</p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Markinch (Edinburgh - Dundee trains stop here)<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Kinross (buses to Edinburgh from the Park & Ride)<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: From Markinch to Pitcairn Centre on the Fife Pilgrim Way and then picked my way through a few streets to the centre. Path from the centre up East Lomond then down the other side and along the track to Craigmead. A short distance south on the hill road then track signed for Little Ballo. To end of this track then crossed the retaining wall for Harperleas Reservoir and turned right on the track at the far end. Path to West Feal is signed from this track a little further west. From West Feal up the track to Monduff Hill and along the ridge north to Bishop Hill. A vague path drops northeast from Bishop Hill eventually running beside a wall at a larch wood. This path eventually joins the main path that heads down through Glen Vale. Turned left where Glen Vale path met the road to Glenalmond and then right when it meets the A road. Just after here is Loch Leven's Larder and a path from here joins the Loch Leven Heritage Trail into Kinross.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Kit: Ultimate Direction Fastpackher 20 running pack; Outdoor Research Alpine bivvy; Sea to Summit spark sleeping bag; Thermarest Neoair sleeping pad; Speedster mini alcohol stove with titanium mug.</span></span></i></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-68388417402248428852022-10-09T07:19:00.006-07:002022-10-09T10:16:44.680-07:00Fife - Last of the summer rides<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The nights are drawing in and the temperature is dropping but before the season began its change into autumn, I fitted in a last summer cycle trip in Fife. The hot, sunny days through golden fields ready for the harvest, captured the essence of this time of year.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The ride headed northeast out of Markinch using the route of the Fife Pilgrim Way along field margins, farm tracks and ancient paths. The first section was especially enjoyable by bike, pedaling along between fields and hedgerows on single track baked hard by the summer sun. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJEIbZhD640cJ3fdoQDNtcdYtMGYR1iY3Rxp2ZyflsbIxgFMaboUwxYMY-1nxacvLrPOWEDauUm8yKALcgJmJqnHaizTWfRAjK6SKvEhMJRBO1XDh8VNxDq4LxcUcgVUHAbfr5xWzIHdmO73q8vYQDdE9h4NXkn2jGEqj01vlasIofzVr80D04O9g/s4000/P1060409.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJEIbZhD640cJ3fdoQDNtcdYtMGYR1iY3Rxp2ZyflsbIxgFMaboUwxYMY-1nxacvLrPOWEDauUm8yKALcgJmJqnHaizTWfRAjK6SKvEhMJRBO1XDh8VNxDq4LxcUcgVUHAbfr5xWzIHdmO73q8vYQDdE9h4NXkn2jGEqj01vlasIofzVr80D04O9g/w640-h480/P1060409.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">We soon left the fields behind to climb gently into the woods and forests of Clatto Hill. This section had a remote and empty feel to it that was hard to explain given its proximity to reasonable sized towns. Perhaps it was because we stuck to gravel tracks and forest rides so never crossed any roads. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmeLa1SR_a4hkmEoE28qH0pEZinlu5SMzjUaLkxZ6grXoOyDHbd0cFB_JrgA4WQaPMkm4upb5DrUG4r8Id2nSVJycH6G2HNaapIB98Mvy3_X3oFg_di_Ff-hI8hMZSVnyo3ZtSDq2A8KzFirmdjwH5zFAr0gh4z9CCttDDMijbv6-LvdEBfCORHw/s4000/P1060396.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmeLa1SR_a4hkmEoE28qH0pEZinlu5SMzjUaLkxZ6grXoOyDHbd0cFB_JrgA4WQaPMkm4upb5DrUG4r8Id2nSVJycH6G2HNaapIB98Mvy3_X3oFg_di_Ff-hI8hMZSVnyo3ZtSDq2A8KzFirmdjwH5zFAr0gh4z9CCttDDMijbv6-LvdEBfCORHw/w640-h480/P1060396.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">A lovely descent through Clatto Den took us to Clatto Reservoir. It was an idyllic spot in the sun with waterfowl on the loch and dazzling blue damselflies flitting around the bright pink of the rosebay willowherb that lined the margins.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXHxuZLuS3EWzXxWv0JsEkyXx2Dl2Xg3gcT7pcIEeeI1GDdXVESNoguQnp_cllfDpfH1eyaTGvc-0ooXiSwFM31JdumsG8K0UXIAMIjuvfzqR2d3Fvv8bZ-gMQ8oR-ryAEy-wGMvohHeU_xgP-nU2plrMu_lttfGUQFwp5tsXWUJVTszWRNyVtw0/s2048/P1060399.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaXHxuZLuS3EWzXxWv0JsEkyXx2Dl2Xg3gcT7pcIEeeI1GDdXVESNoguQnp_cllfDpfH1eyaTGvc-0ooXiSwFM31JdumsG8K0UXIAMIjuvfzqR2d3Fvv8bZ-gMQ8oR-ryAEy-wGMvohHeU_xgP-nU2plrMu_lttfGUQFwp5tsXWUJVTszWRNyVtw0/w640-h268/P1060399.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Our next path cut a meandering line across the fields before bringing us out in Ceres at the Bishop's Bridge. It was built in the 17th century and the gradient of its arch plus the cobbled surface defeated our modern day bicycles and we had to push over. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-4T17_dUcqnlWyFa4AwFtM_sVeLlYQ0FEPEbse-jgZJeBVzZk6RksW6liNNz1PktmBs-Q6zoDOBRKNJFufz8aYK4DoQlK3C5ScNrNa6GXMjPsm1O7JNZ3gp7xqrfVnHM2iroFTFZA8WUh8E9H_iTF4v-hR7GQjHXGo9v1Rzoe1kAz2jv7tPc4JM/s4000/P1060407.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr-4T17_dUcqnlWyFa4AwFtM_sVeLlYQ0FEPEbse-jgZJeBVzZk6RksW6liNNz1PktmBs-Q6zoDOBRKNJFufz8aYK4DoQlK3C5ScNrNa6GXMjPsm1O7JNZ3gp7xqrfVnHM2iroFTFZA8WUh8E9H_iTF4v-hR7GQjHXGo9v1Rzoe1kAz2jv7tPc4JM/w640-h480/P1060407.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Our ride continued northeast out of Ceres on countryside paths and then up a steep farm track onto Kinninmonth Hill. The stiff climb was worth the effort for the view back over our route and to the Lomond Hills beyond. The climb had also taken us to our wee campsite for the night at Drumcarrow Farm. It was basic, just a field beside the farmhouse with one toilet and a shower in a portakabin, but it was a lovely spot. The view was open and extended over rolling fields and woods. House martins twittered overhead and the craggy hill of Drumcarrow Craig behind the farm provided a pleasant walk to fill the evening.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBqJsYLWx2P5aqWJrXMyAATEN64GFJzdHyj-Vn6UPWpaHfsV95tzRTyfxgm0yFnqLjPN1TveTxbiKKE1ze19igOyJDkk2orOQ8q6nLrcJotv8-OBdN_DyFKG7XqLOyFZewhO4h4tCLgYzPlI7oGJdyuqz4i6On4aVIcpsDqB7_AcWgRcOmgm7k64/s4000/P1060405.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBqJsYLWx2P5aqWJrXMyAATEN64GFJzdHyj-Vn6UPWpaHfsV95tzRTyfxgm0yFnqLjPN1TveTxbiKKE1ze19igOyJDkk2orOQ8q6nLrcJotv8-OBdN_DyFKG7XqLOyFZewhO4h4tCLgYzPlI7oGJdyuqz4i6On4aVIcpsDqB7_AcWgRcOmgm7k64/w640-h480/P1060405.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />The campsite was also our turnaround point and next day we made our way back to Markinch on quiet, meandering back roads.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzHjf4GIgIehPeW0OYrSMk_DgXEgNofhco6IwvrO3LxWUm2d0B6MgFVFs9cSYDythIS6u2M4zHtVwhHSruE9ZsDR1NvhTe4gdRLjRX1qPBHOqHAWpYBYWZj24ZND4IP02gqFnrv3jnCMZDQGiZKtAJ3MBI5dIFEeZDoUtxUShEflQQ4PYbw50x88/s4000/P1060414.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAzHjf4GIgIehPeW0OYrSMk_DgXEgNofhco6IwvrO3LxWUm2d0B6MgFVFs9cSYDythIS6u2M4zHtVwhHSruE9ZsDR1NvhTe4gdRLjRX1qPBHOqHAWpYBYWZj24ZND4IP02gqFnrv3jnCMZDQGiZKtAJ3MBI5dIFEeZDoUtxUShEflQQ4PYbw50x88/w640-h480/P1060414.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #666666;">Fact File</u></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start/finish: Markinch<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public Transport: Edinburgh to Perth and Edinburgh to Dundee trains stop at Markinch.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: Fife Pilgrim Way from Markinch is all rideable with a loaded bike except for a couple of very steep but very short sections. It goes right by the campsite. Returned to Markinch via the National Cycle Network route through Craigrothie, Coaltown of Burnturk and Star.</span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-6332434813669789272022-09-19T09:18:00.006-07:002022-11-15T13:23:27.605-08:00Fife - Running in a quiet corner of the county<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">The north coast of Fife is a bit of a hidden gem. While Tentsmuir, Tayport and Newport are well visited, the coast west towards Newburgh is much more quiet. But the shore path here is beautiful and has become one of my favourite running routes when I'm staying in Newport with family.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmBZ0iGCEnZpONoimaPKDjknRzYbt7QG0DNGCou6LYZL7p9l3gm1rfftkIKqYhgKfBM2oMgMkuAu3sP3DjE6mTf9BlMOZaPNYOUhkxdo_pG8gtUhSjiYlooHf3XTaH2GODJej5YiRErCBvWRLK3Qkje4UChaIsq-paxofErBaHd6pIkaDFExhqRk/s2592/IMG_0018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmBZ0iGCEnZpONoimaPKDjknRzYbt7QG0DNGCou6LYZL7p9l3gm1rfftkIKqYhgKfBM2oMgMkuAu3sP3DjE6mTf9BlMOZaPNYOUhkxdo_pG8gtUhSjiYlooHf3XTaH2GODJej5YiRErCBvWRLK3Qkje4UChaIsq-paxofErBaHd6pIkaDFExhqRk/w640-h480/IMG_0018.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My run starts at Wormit Bay beside the memorial to the Tay Bridge Disaster. On 28 December 1879, the first rail bridge collapsed in a storm as a train was passing over it. It's thought that 75 people were killed in the accident and that the cause was poor engineering design. Today the memorial is a peaceful spot with Dundee and the Sidlaw Hills providing the backdrop for the rail bridge that was built to replace the original and still stands today. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS5_1dTJuwh08LZMYtGU0x0BrCQzGOj_8COfk6eogfOp8ZDA82B8PS8sOiPrZ1z6lhZSREAnpMSt00IEIZUzDHITzNK-falcda3QZwOawKu4-JcflG7tLswJbXFI7iaQ9mHD2a7TSGxOPuK0eyF10ACFFe6eMPPoBn4g07yxffJEe5iWAsts74d0/s2592/IMG_0016.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS5_1dTJuwh08LZMYtGU0x0BrCQzGOj_8COfk6eogfOp8ZDA82B8PS8sOiPrZ1z6lhZSREAnpMSt00IEIZUzDHITzNK-falcda3QZwOawKu4-JcflG7tLswJbXFI7iaQ9mHD2a7TSGxOPuK0eyF10ACFFe6eMPPoBn4g07yxffJEe5iWAsts74d0/w640-h480/IMG_0016.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>A single track, dirt path undulates west from the memorial, dipping in and out of woods and opening up views through the trees over the Tay and the Carse of Gowrie. In spring and summer the coastal woodlands here are a riot of colour with many types of wildflower. Once I also caught sight of a fox on the path ahead, the dappled sunshine picking out the rich reds of its coat. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9pQxK7rLf24brUz7k2Z32ImpqY1MdZtAseri5yTl98fdnb0z8_vzpo_iW3LbYXqa32rpzquUQw1yT52VG4JHr9FRmiCwMmrtR_9CSELUy1kg5cKHsGNxclDaAWdMWRnFi3UHO6qmBOsXQ-h3Yj7YYztGfVEFbZ3RSl303UV6uFBpTzmBP-_lH0/s2592/IMG_0023.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b9pQxK7rLf24brUz7k2Z32ImpqY1MdZtAseri5yTl98fdnb0z8_vzpo_iW3LbYXqa32rpzquUQw1yT52VG4JHr9FRmiCwMmrtR_9CSELUy1kg5cKHsGNxclDaAWdMWRnFi3UHO6qmBOsXQ-h3Yj7YYztGfVEFbZ3RSl303UV6uFBpTzmBP-_lH0/w300-h400/IMG_0023.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>After a few kilometres, the path arrives at Balmerino, a pretty cluster of cottages along the beach. Here I like to detour to Balmerino Abbey as its decaying ruins and overgrown grounds are a peaceful haven to spend a few minutes and catch my breath. The abbey dates from the 13th century and within its grounds is one of Scotland's oldest trees, a sprawling Spanish chestnut more than 400 years old.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJqc0pttV9Eg44tQULFxm5ToAhnkFV_94qxhZVldHsJE0c1ZDj_ItJOopvhDxBMTpftrS6oVJ8XSm-WWLDH0xFfnGSnmWWq7-o44jxijf0DOY_nT_Z9eF7IdnriVbgloxwARE59UXVbYLtIV_UHVg2d0SAyRCoKB7csMjES_k3npRwgXxME0kblc/s2592/IMG_0038.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJqc0pttV9Eg44tQULFxm5ToAhnkFV_94qxhZVldHsJE0c1ZDj_ItJOopvhDxBMTpftrS6oVJ8XSm-WWLDH0xFfnGSnmWWq7-o44jxijf0DOY_nT_Z9eF7IdnriVbgloxwARE59UXVbYLtIV_UHVg2d0SAyRCoKB7csMjES_k3npRwgXxME0kblc/w640-h480/IMG_0038.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">From the abbey, I run along the Monk's Road, an old path that loops through the woods back to the coast. Spring is my favourite time to be here because the woodland floor is thick with wild garlic and the path just a narrow line through the dense vegetation.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZCRDJnIQNlsDNhV-TrWstJirR1wRzDdBD8hdwXyubNZGlc9Se93Xfr0tZV5cntfdjOILSS7fpIwxg4lpZdcs-lZszuBFvU6fQCbzPlzEvKF2CGgYDHer1nhNrxT4xenQEdTdn_XRvdfSTRc0PUEC3pXtgVN_DIcbcyMOUBsDxBJLFjLdMkxqvbE/s2592/IMG_0051.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAZCRDJnIQNlsDNhV-TrWstJirR1wRzDdBD8hdwXyubNZGlc9Se93Xfr0tZV5cntfdjOILSS7fpIwxg4lpZdcs-lZszuBFvU6fQCbzPlzEvKF2CGgYDHer1nhNrxT4xenQEdTdn_XRvdfSTRc0PUEC3pXtgVN_DIcbcyMOUBsDxBJLFjLdMkxqvbE/w640-h480/IMG_0051.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>On the return leg along the coast path, I'm feeling the miles and every descent where a stream has cut a mini gorge on its way from the fields to the sea. I'm happy when my feet hit the flat path again at Wormit Bay. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OcisBYl3nCJLE_w20asXoYEIt0qIvf8Y9dRw68YNmGV78gYp9CwDUHQah7mZBqittIoRQt4d8moS_1lUtm8yde-mPgAFyLXT1DGnup0L3qZsYlBgnoRA4XD1uhVSYhL9lILJTVIY5gS2EH_0ZCrfo8vN_JRwVS8q6sZl8JxbkoldBXeVCcBNjvo/s2592/IMG_0028.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OcisBYl3nCJLE_w20asXoYEIt0qIvf8Y9dRw68YNmGV78gYp9CwDUHQah7mZBqittIoRQt4d8moS_1lUtm8yde-mPgAFyLXT1DGnup0L3qZsYlBgnoRA4XD1uhVSYhL9lILJTVIY5gS2EH_0ZCrfo8vN_JRwVS8q6sZl8JxbkoldBXeVCcBNjvo/w300-h400/IMG_0028.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><u>Fact File</u></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Start/finish: Wormit Bay</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Public transport: Stagecoach bus 77 </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">My route: Follow the Fife Coastal Path west from Wormit Bay to Balmerino. It joins the dead-end road here. Stay on the road a couple of minutes up the hill to visit the abbey. The roads here are single track and have barely any traffic on them. On the return take the road to the right, The Neuk, and then take the Monk's Road path signed to the right. Where it meets a road turn left, then left at the next junction then take a track down to the coastal path passed the Balmerino beach hut (ice cream, drinks) to return on the same path to Wormit Bay. </span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-63552860307917723992022-08-28T08:34:00.004-07:002023-05-15T09:43:28.052-07:00Cairngorms - To the heart of the map<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Ordnance Survey map 43 is probably one of my favourite maps. It covers such delights as the Cairngorms massif, the pinewoods of Mar Lodge, the upper reaches of Glen Feshie and the Atholl Munros. Slicing through all of this is the long line of a path which starts in the north as the Lairig Ghru and crosses wild country to pop out further south at Blair Atholl. Whilst I'd walked either end of this line, I'd somehow never got round to walking the whole route and the wildest terrain in the middle. My May holiday this year finally put that right with a crossing that took me through the heart of the map.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I started walking south from Aviemore which itself is just off the map but it wasn't long before I was climbing up through the ancient pinewoods of Rothiemurchus and into the deep defile of the Lairig Ghru. The Lairig Ghru is a dramatic route which cuts through the 4000 foot Munros that rise in sweeping, bouldery flanks on either side of its high pass. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXockpF9ncNT1L52WTqjrQtZdb_40oBtbovY0Je2X2HH0_x3P3Py3YiyJYO8NSRzEvE80jhT9BWOKDFcFkzLznHkOuXjrU0vp4d-UgvVQOXecaETj24ZPlFTKE18XIrdvTZSOe-AuO9OZ5I58_FwJZXVfZPHaw_YAnHCWkFICvpUkjJk3OFU_VCM/s3939/P1060124.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2017" data-original-width="3939" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeXockpF9ncNT1L52WTqjrQtZdb_40oBtbovY0Je2X2HH0_x3P3Py3YiyJYO8NSRzEvE80jhT9BWOKDFcFkzLznHkOuXjrU0vp4d-UgvVQOXecaETj24ZPlFTKE18XIrdvTZSOe-AuO9OZ5I58_FwJZXVfZPHaw_YAnHCWkFICvpUkjJk3OFU_VCM/w640-h328/P1060124.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I'd hoped to camp high here for the first night out but the wind howled through and I had to descend to the other side to camp by the river. It was still a beautiful spot, nestled below the rock architecture of Cairn Toul, Braeriach and Ben Macdui.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORdocr15AMerGtO2bPvyDM_asPS0-5LhIIypyJ9Hksr6p2anIjUTr_ZIgvGXo-U-72k9T9rD2XpVHqXSmyje_YBAHqxDiY6bhCImAx2jpc6SPEYI1Hehk4AIQyN3FQkLLTsqZvCvXtcBjeBrVapVLZ1jX5rNjz_3i0xflwedEbDh52y0NwsqkBg8/s4000/P1060131.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORdocr15AMerGtO2bPvyDM_asPS0-5LhIIypyJ9Hksr6p2anIjUTr_ZIgvGXo-U-72k9T9rD2XpVHqXSmyje_YBAHqxDiY6bhCImAx2jpc6SPEYI1Hehk4AIQyN3FQkLLTsqZvCvXtcBjeBrVapVLZ1jX5rNjz_3i0xflwedEbDh52y0NwsqkBg8/w640-h480/P1060131.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">With plenty of food in my pack, I could afford a detour to the east for the next couple of days to spend time among the pinewoods of Mar Lodge estate which are regenerating under the ownership of the National Trust. Heavy downpours doused the forests as I walked but afterwards I could enjoy the petrichor, the earthy smell after the rain. As well as a wander through the woods, I wanted to take time to explore an interesting landscape feature called Clais Fhearnaig. It's a glacial melt water channel that cuts a deep gash through the hills between Glen Lui and Glen Quoich. It was a fabulous walk with a secretive path meandering through crags and lochans. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYBoix-OQ18yGMJ1xXIQEUAl8kNkpne-w09zHFC0f7GukUu7S-RYA-fXfS8XRi39FpL9BHgzeuc7241rgLdfebmY_QEI703f_Y9YyF11z0jigJzmRIBkn9x0fuJ6bbqhaHgF9qU45ua-YRybcP7Wdtb-5sHoc65IgBKKQ68JB3c5Fqi6jHwNps90/s4000/P1060166.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgYBoix-OQ18yGMJ1xXIQEUAl8kNkpne-w09zHFC0f7GukUu7S-RYA-fXfS8XRi39FpL9BHgzeuc7241rgLdfebmY_QEI703f_Y9YyF11z0jigJzmRIBkn9x0fuJ6bbqhaHgF9qU45ua-YRybcP7Wdtb-5sHoc65IgBKKQ68JB3c5Fqi6jHwNps90/w640-h480/P1060166.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">At the far end of Clais Fhearnaig, I picked up a high level trail that skirted the upper fringes of the pine woods to take me to the top of Creag Bhalg, a little hill with a big view. It felt empty and open up here, and the dark skies glowering overhead added to the sense of wildness. The Cairngorms were stretched out to the north and the view south disappeared into the rounded lumps of the Glen Ey hills. I pitched the tent high where the pines were thinning out, taking the opportunity for a high camp as bigger winds were forecast to move in the next day. Things didn't quite go to plan.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQIpqKkpBU63X_4wwR04KrCnI9pJJRlTNqxNOs1yYkK1dafyc0GnfUxIFM3p419YmBJW7J5ifFDXEmUkFevxzNRX3MZghRxiC3lt6O3bwByxbLDeyuDjYuPl2eGF3rD9xMocmX21ni0V7XskpZUV0l3GJ1foQzjtmz5k5j8oFSEOoNEFSlWh6AWM/s4000/P1060183.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQIpqKkpBU63X_4wwR04KrCnI9pJJRlTNqxNOs1yYkK1dafyc0GnfUxIFM3p419YmBJW7J5ifFDXEmUkFevxzNRX3MZghRxiC3lt6O3bwByxbLDeyuDjYuPl2eGF3rD9xMocmX21ni0V7XskpZUV0l3GJ1foQzjtmz5k5j8oFSEOoNEFSlWh6AWM/w640-h480/P1060183.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The winds arrived early, around 11pm that night, and were accompanied by heavy rain. Both battered my tent high up on the hillside. The winds got so bad that I was worried the tent would come down so I packed up all my kit and sat dressed and awake, bracing the main pole of the tent against the gusts. When the heavy rain eased around midnight, I took the opportunity to break camp, find the path off the hill in the darkness and descend to the glen. By the time I was on the main track in Glen Derry, the wind still hammered through but the rain was off and the skies cleared so that I didn't even need the head torch on. It was actually incredibly beautiful walking through the woods at midnight with a few stars twinkling and a paleness on the horizon where the summer sun had not fully set. After a short walk, I was re-pitched in the shelter of the lower pines and back in my sleeping bag by 2am.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10n4IW4UYwfK-fnT8DLsKd10agnztDd9_XYod9ynJ-OAlDbptEfC-fc3fnqJc_dgXoUPtcmqWSLKN51Yk6ankzqL8aW8ibeDZl2zt0PWyzpTgt6eFvsfYu9nnJQYbWaUv8vYhLbe6jsmjlOdTEnHH4tN0F0-PEGOUFotMebtqyLKiS6Gz1RwOmfs/s4000/P1060186.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh10n4IW4UYwfK-fnT8DLsKd10agnztDd9_XYod9ynJ-OAlDbptEfC-fc3fnqJc_dgXoUPtcmqWSLKN51Yk6ankzqL8aW8ibeDZl2zt0PWyzpTgt6eFvsfYu9nnJQYbWaUv8vYhLbe6jsmjlOdTEnHH4tN0F0-PEGOUFotMebtqyLKiS6Gz1RwOmfs/w640-h480/P1060186.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The next day's walk took me south to the tumbling waterfalls of Linn of Dee and then west back into the bigger hills. I was heading now to the ruin of Bynack Lodge. Between me and it were two river crossings. The first, the Geldie Burn, is well known in hillwalking circles and I'd a degree of nervousness as I approached. The word "burn" is a bit misleading as this is a wide river but it was no trouble that day being quite gentle and shallow. The second crossing was the Bynack Burn and I found it a little more tricky as it was narrower and faster but again, I was across without too much trouble.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazZEIO5bQ-PEISYjEMvUYi3LZQ7goyGM0fwO-s5SBDMI2k17i3tVgNgx9Ppsq7ms2dTsNCoy-FUeOPjgbm4Ax6ji986k0v7KU3uKhxTaAMebaSoh4IQNbQwcZ4kbAAz26HWr7pRYH8cTkFsEKGrjey8PUDk_6gZWVlichh1ppV4YOoPc9bxzoARs/s4000/P1060236.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazZEIO5bQ-PEISYjEMvUYi3LZQ7goyGM0fwO-s5SBDMI2k17i3tVgNgx9Ppsq7ms2dTsNCoy-FUeOPjgbm4Ax6ji986k0v7KU3uKhxTaAMebaSoh4IQNbQwcZ4kbAAz26HWr7pRYH8cTkFsEKGrjey8PUDk_6gZWVlichh1ppV4YOoPc9bxzoARs/w640-h480/P1060236.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I'd arrived now at Bynack Lodge, a beautiful but remote spot if ever there was one, that sits right at the heart of map 43. The ruins were extensive and more of a settlement than a single lodge with the remains of several outbuildings and a set of steps that would have originally led down into an underground cold store. The ruins were enclosed by a drystane dyke and softened by a cluster of larch trees. There was a large area of cropped grass around the lodge where you could have pitched 50 tents and still had space. The sun shone and the absolute peace was broken only by the gurgle of the river and the chirping of chaffinches in the trees. I had a wonderful, relaxing evening pottering about my tent, exploring the ruins and soaking up the wild atmosphere of this remote place. After bed, heavy rain came on and hammered down all through the night. Next morning, the rivers were swollen and I wouldn't have been able to make the crossings had I passed a day later.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWZ4LrkPUWypTT_7FbMoVsH7OxuLhrh9kJy6sqINF7VU-0DSiOuXP4HCgBR8H3R4-hxdVQWKtRgaWKi4gM2SjDrkqxZQXD3nu0GUlgjIRB8fhpvDQdOyux0Tr3H0ArS9E1J-IBM91xMK1LwyhrhD9zfPeMSKccuOGcLqUnrPYr_jBoC-wZ-lj2FM/s4000/P1060258.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRWZ4LrkPUWypTT_7FbMoVsH7OxuLhrh9kJy6sqINF7VU-0DSiOuXP4HCgBR8H3R4-hxdVQWKtRgaWKi4gM2SjDrkqxZQXD3nu0GUlgjIRB8fhpvDQdOyux0Tr3H0ArS9E1J-IBM91xMK1LwyhrhD9zfPeMSKccuOGcLqUnrPYr_jBoC-wZ-lj2FM/w640-h480/P1060258.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">But the sun was out again as I continued my journey south. A good path picked its way through the watershed of the Geldie and the Tilt, and passed the remote waters of Loch Tilt which were sapphire blue under a sunny sky. I climbed a little top above the loch for a better view and sat a while munching a muesli bar. It was idyllic and empty and I wondered how many other people had ever sat on this top. I thought not many.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichAoZJsDl_ha6VjlQZqSl600Pu51ORsMkZO60Srz-6CxJ1DIKInPWadTgH40ykv06Ph6KUTzrQLzT0PhWA2ChtLGbnF9bbCcHpvdmdKlLAEe23ddhUXOpzMk4JOm63A9G8tT9hysTJIeC6Xerb2KBIzdmkkLrBdUOGA8V1bAw7ykr4MywekfMKY8/s4000/P1060273.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichAoZJsDl_ha6VjlQZqSl600Pu51ORsMkZO60Srz-6CxJ1DIKInPWadTgH40ykv06Ph6KUTzrQLzT0PhWA2ChtLGbnF9bbCcHpvdmdKlLAEe23ddhUXOpzMk4JOm63A9G8tT9hysTJIeC6Xerb2KBIzdmkkLrBdUOGA8V1bAw7ykr4MywekfMKY8/w640-h480/P1060273.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />The route passed now into the narrow, upper reaches of Glen Tilt and was dominated by the massive bulk of Beinn a'Ghlo, the Munro that forms the east wall of the glen. It looked impressive from this angle, all bulk and presence. The narrow path clung to the hillside above the river which had cut a deep, rocky gorge as it approached the Falls of Tarf. The Falls are beautiful and would no doubt be a major tourist attraction if they weren't so remote. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll0i_ZWH1oGJSDidgYCDKX5y-jaC7lup8tDQk-H4oKJlUTd7JbsuBku4k2j_PzX2YsR8OQhpKVHBRa07V-5YeGipVXiQGov-YVvciWQswO9gpiKwY0ep-5VLVDX2R7WUUzNRxuFMLXOFVwInq1RzWY3Q8qrXCsP9sP0mIfla5FEkSKVped4b_W6o/s4000/P1060291.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll0i_ZWH1oGJSDidgYCDKX5y-jaC7lup8tDQk-H4oKJlUTd7JbsuBku4k2j_PzX2YsR8OQhpKVHBRa07V-5YeGipVXiQGov-YVvciWQswO9gpiKwY0ep-5VLVDX2R7WUUzNRxuFMLXOFVwInq1RzWY3Q8qrXCsP9sP0mIfla5FEkSKVped4b_W6o/w640-h480/P1060291.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">This was me in familiar territory now and all that remained was the long walk down Glen Tilt to catch the train at Blair Atholl. I love a wander through Glen Tilt as it has such variety in its landscape with woods, rivers, mountains, pastures and beautiful old, arched bridges. It is a long walk though so I split the miles with another night out in the tent at a favourite spot to the west of the main route down the glen. I'd only used the spot in winter previously but how beautiful it was in early summer with trees in fresh leaf around the pretty bridge and the air filled with the calls of summer songbirds. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4DXR4hFQZUzakKH6OvxkfKY-lRozY2onDaOpY5fEXJDutcee1dirCH2EqOisUgRk9elrBIGA9ImZq_MpnXOaUCoLHD8WmYwrcy-2pfRR0ubTqn8mhvGbsfS6fSlWI0541qOHbHos4ickqrZevBpnHerYdDkL-ZdHQ00sP1zi_tdJyFGbnULWRjc/s4000/P1060316.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD4DXR4hFQZUzakKH6OvxkfKY-lRozY2onDaOpY5fEXJDutcee1dirCH2EqOisUgRk9elrBIGA9ImZq_MpnXOaUCoLHD8WmYwrcy-2pfRR0ubTqn8mhvGbsfS6fSlWI0541qOHbHos4ickqrZevBpnHerYdDkL-ZdHQ00sP1zi_tdJyFGbnULWRjc/w640-h480/P1060316.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">This left a short walk the next day into the village to complete my crossing of the map. As well as being a fabulous walk in its own right, I was delighted to have discovered the wild country at the heart of map 43.</p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Aviemore<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Blair Atholl<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Edinburgh/Glasgow to Inverness trains serve Aviemore and Blair Atholl<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: South out of Aviemore, picking up the Lairig Ghru at Coylumbridge. At Corrour Bothy, took the higher eastbound path to Luibeg Bridge and Derry Lodge. Took path up into Clais Fhearnaig about halfway down Glen Lui. From Glen Quoich side, picked up a trail that ascends through woods and passes to the west of Creag Bhalg. A path goes from this trail to the top of the hill. Descended to Linn of Dee and walked west to Whitebridge then south to Bynack Lodge, passed Loch Tilt and through Glen Tilt. </span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-17354654142960314892022-05-30T11:21:00.005-07:002022-06-01T13:39:08.568-07:00Glen Lyon - The Praying Hands<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Tucked away in a hidden corner of quiet Glen Lyon is a fabulous rock feature called The Praying Hands. I'd been desperate to visit since first becoming aware of it as the photos I saw online looked very atmospheric. A spring camping trip provided the opportunity to finally get there. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It wasn't a long walk to The Praying Hands but it was a pretty walk through springtime woods alive with bird song and the call of the year's first cuckoo. The track crossed the River Lyon by a vehicle bridge then traveled west before heading into the hills at the idyllic cottages of Balmenoch. A short pull alongside gently tumbling waterfalls soon had us standing below The Praying Hands. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv9eXDkrQAj25Bc3ih0CHv-YgslOA400s7P22CR5eVpPlmsM4pMrl_9xQfid4yqErQa3mYbtbmupJImJjlkdNV9lK5QG1r0rxLLP4Il4f9GmJ0SMqd2zaJ1HMu_4pzKn4QOMz2_DtQsh5aLa5K-GHIN4HxDpA8sZxYzkiSm5rQQo8rflNckJsftE/s4000/P1050972.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv9eXDkrQAj25Bc3ih0CHv-YgslOA400s7P22CR5eVpPlmsM4pMrl_9xQfid4yqErQa3mYbtbmupJImJjlkdNV9lK5QG1r0rxLLP4Il4f9GmJ0SMqd2zaJ1HMu_4pzKn4QOMz2_DtQsh5aLa5K-GHIN4HxDpA8sZxYzkiSm5rQQo8rflNckJsftE/w640-h480/P1050972.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I was mesmerised. It was such a beautiful spot with the rock perched precariously on a prominent plateau that gave a commanding view of this part of the glen. Their situation and their very appearance must have made The Praying Hands an auspicious place for the ancient people who lived close by. It was hard to drag ourselves away as they seemed to have some magical pull on us as well.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIPbD1GLpFLL6LpMYfEvtw5LvbaCsky1CaqqMVbHgQHqtj6YtJ0KzuaERuSsM-Qzn-HdJ2HFOwjTRRUjBDiUD_lP6yC5HBD2Ef6cuOpo31C5PVDD3pzQ0BvDNogrbbggw2JxhfBlmf48fP7XYAsYsM3tj1-bMqdSq3yfOYjYADqV4skZc4GG4de0/s4000/P1050988.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMIPbD1GLpFLL6LpMYfEvtw5LvbaCsky1CaqqMVbHgQHqtj6YtJ0KzuaERuSsM-Qzn-HdJ2HFOwjTRRUjBDiUD_lP6yC5HBD2Ef6cuOpo31C5PVDD3pzQ0BvDNogrbbggw2JxhfBlmf48fP7XYAsYsM3tj1-bMqdSq3yfOYjYADqV4skZc4GG4de0/w640-h480/P1050988.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">However the short walk to The Praying Hands was not enough to fill a weekend trip, so we continued further up the glen and pitched the tents at an inviting spot by the river. Freed from our heavier camping kit, we set out to climb the Corbett that rose above the head of the glen, Meall nam Maigheach. A shallow gully with craggy boundaries provided a pleasant pull onto the ridge and revealed a ring ouzel, also known as the Mountain Blackbird. It looks like a blackbird but has a necklace of white feathers and inhabits these higher, wilder places.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxvhIuGUX6rxZyMC3ncE6kR6YJ85WjpCtaOinm00SFwSU--hhYsUGaE1yGx79omX5EkJnoa4cNPu1KGQNqRYPMSxZzydj_3YLY9V62f-pNcOBNx1IfE5ccWYy3rrumFtpk56C8ZLjvEDKY9MURQ1_GH5saaSJeBqea4xSe9o7X7xrJ5tiZTmU21M/s4000/P1050999.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxvhIuGUX6rxZyMC3ncE6kR6YJ85WjpCtaOinm00SFwSU--hhYsUGaE1yGx79omX5EkJnoa4cNPu1KGQNqRYPMSxZzydj_3YLY9V62f-pNcOBNx1IfE5ccWYy3rrumFtpk56C8ZLjvEDKY9MURQ1_GH5saaSJeBqea4xSe9o7X7xrJ5tiZTmU21M/w640-h480/P1050999.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">The walk along the ridge to the summit was long and rough with a pathless trudge through deep heather and peat hags. But the views were superb and from the top I could look back to a couple of key moments in my life. To the south the view was filled by the Tarmachan Ridge. It was the first hill walk that I ever did with my friend Graham 27 years ago and Graham was standing beside me now on the summit today. To the west I could look further back at the pointed top of Stuchd an Lochain, the first Munro that I did on my own. That must have been about 30 years ago! </span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg081YQU7dMnxGHEyRlG0MNW3iwrx87nbwg1Vp5gXYffjTQNjsNX7t8NS8fAfvacL0hwn8nUSftEpqPhMGx_liJvjaftcbXO1G4BOTGEUAgwgXrhDAY7sObXkchaZ4SDkje8eAeSj08eIbDqropSh36-6Zhb3uC5xlmqpa-NmneYgzWype_VbYpjes/s3953/P1060008.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1763" data-original-width="3953" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg081YQU7dMnxGHEyRlG0MNW3iwrx87nbwg1Vp5gXYffjTQNjsNX7t8NS8fAfvacL0hwn8nUSftEpqPhMGx_liJvjaftcbXO1G4BOTGEUAgwgXrhDAY7sObXkchaZ4SDkje8eAeSj08eIbDqropSh36-6Zhb3uC5xlmqpa-NmneYgzWype_VbYpjes/w640-h286/P1060008.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We sat a while on the top beside a little lochan that reflected the blue sky above before making a more direct descent to the glen. Eventually the faint outline of a path alongside the river guided us back to the tents. The short evening left enough time for cooking supper, sipping tea and watching the sun set behind Meall nam </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Maigheach.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zLZ9BuYaxq_e5MgpK6W_P60G2OA1ruVa16A-scqtLfj30icNMpRcbXqc4a2qZGDW_2f52IyBkRsWLCJ7s-xUco0TwpZJ8rawTAv9oIRfa_lMg6vIpJs4O0Wf2flzWv1w198h_axk-Yl5SCpx_S2jIpezU9kz9kvDopv4TL1EnKq_Q_RguaBQ5SM/s4000/P1060024.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zLZ9BuYaxq_e5MgpK6W_P60G2OA1ruVa16A-scqtLfj30icNMpRcbXqc4a2qZGDW_2f52IyBkRsWLCJ7s-xUco0TwpZJ8rawTAv9oIRfa_lMg6vIpJs4O0Wf2flzWv1w198h_axk-Yl5SCpx_S2jIpezU9kz9kvDopv4TL1EnKq_Q_RguaBQ5SM/w640-h480/P1060024.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">A slow start the next morning allowed the rising sun to clear the ridge to the east and dry the dew from our tents. It was then a short amble back out though we couldn't resist their pull as we passed and made another visit to The Praying Hands.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQI-msFlScQm5ECDiGR5F_pwld367olaRy7MrPGvO97zTFUllK1mdUxCP3WN2g-IH58GPpXV3BI0OSFEcYFdP4inERAdDNFtSs5OXq1nxNKZTtZF_KZhq5B5y---f2gnLn_rJVrF-evrULEYLNHoDc0RB9WvbrCH2YPKPSJLrUR8mGwFRXME76iD0/s4000/P1060055.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQI-msFlScQm5ECDiGR5F_pwld367olaRy7MrPGvO97zTFUllK1mdUxCP3WN2g-IH58GPpXV3BI0OSFEcYFdP4inERAdDNFtSs5OXq1nxNKZTtZF_KZhq5B5y---f2gnLn_rJVrF-evrULEYLNHoDc0RB9WvbrCH2YPKPSJLrUR8mGwFRXME76iD0/w300-h400/P1060055.JPG" width="300" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></span><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><u style="color: #444444; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fact File</span></u></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444;">Start/finish: Camusvrachan, Glen Lyon</span></div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #444444;">Public transport: None to the start. I took the train to Dunkeld where Graham met me with his car but I have previously accessed Glen Lyon using the bus to Aberfeldy with the folding bike and then cycling up the glen.</span></div></span><span style="color: #444444;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: Crossed the bridge over the River Lyon immediately south of Camusvrachan and turned right when it met another track. After a pretty pond, reached cottages at Balmenoch and opposite the cottages on the west side of the river a grassy track heads uphill. Further up it's easy to see The Praying Hands to the right above you. Continued up the west side of Gleann Da-Eig and gained the ridge of Meall nam </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Maigheach at its lowest point just south of Creag nan Eildeag. Straightforward walk southwest to the top. On the return, we skirted the crags then descended to the bottom of the glen. A faint path traveled back on the west side of the river and made a pleasant walk.</span></div></span></span></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-63717176769344380562022-05-02T13:16:00.003-07:002022-11-15T13:19:25.396-08:00Borders - Dollar Law<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Some trips are not about having the biggest adventure or covering the most miles in the hills. Some trips are just about finding a nice spot for the tent and enjoying the evening pottering around your temporary home. This was such a trip.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Dollar Law sits at the head of the Manor Valley to the south of Peebles, in an area of hills I have not managed to visit before now. But this sunny, spring day created the perfect opportunity to get acquainted with them. Our route climbed up through sheep farm country with curlews calling mournfully in the fields while skylarks sang above. A steep pull put us up onto the heathery ridgeline but it was bone dry up here and we soon had to drop back down again to collect water, a slightly dispiriting diversion. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkStYe23ZXwVYNtcUwEgkxIj8SRu7szvJ03N3WZ9ZOfTZo4hmzTwrQnjU6b6ot5l-hgXMIhZnCsy5S0wCk3C_fJzylyadVF-djLYlTEUaJg2m3LJJONMFKsqjdd6AixDzHBALtP4o2sv_l9GhQfsuolAxhtJPhpC35NowNy7YqUdrMRzNNHedN9o/s4000/P1050921.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJkStYe23ZXwVYNtcUwEgkxIj8SRu7szvJ03N3WZ9ZOfTZo4hmzTwrQnjU6b6ot5l-hgXMIhZnCsy5S0wCk3C_fJzylyadVF-djLYlTEUaJg2m3LJJONMFKsqjdd6AixDzHBALtP4o2sv_l9GhQfsuolAxhtJPhpC35NowNy7YqUdrMRzNNHedN9o/w640-h480/P1050921.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">Weighted down with enough water to get us through the night, we continued west along the ridge to a flat bealach just below the top of Dollar Law, a perfect spot for pitching the tents. This high place gave wide open views. When you think of hills in Scotland, you more often than not picture the Highlands but here in the Borders hills and ridge lines filled every compass point to the horizon. Culter Fell dominated the view to the west with Tinto just poking above. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUBhCyGKuohTz-UAKWgDTbDfE4m6npd_DT7xSdtQGmI699zZlnsInl7Cb3Ojp6oA5OR2HJ9_4hbwcUi3UyFQRgm5l1a6FRvNruX2bBc0wmarkLEUDLwk9UhtmQBPzOKt3UcIZCYtHLNnc2o2i851r_qMczHfghMc7yfHnV3bPXqiVmQcBnh_85ik/s4000/P1050893.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJUBhCyGKuohTz-UAKWgDTbDfE4m6npd_DT7xSdtQGmI699zZlnsInl7Cb3Ojp6oA5OR2HJ9_4hbwcUi3UyFQRgm5l1a6FRvNruX2bBc0wmarkLEUDLwk9UhtmQBPzOKt3UcIZCYtHLNnc2o2i851r_qMczHfghMc7yfHnV3bPXqiVmQcBnh_85ik/w640-h480/P1050893.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The sun dipped and cast a golden light over our tents. Later it set with quite a spectacle, appearing as a bright red ball that dropped behind Culter Fell. It was equally beautiful the next morning when it rose to the east and our camp spot was perfectly perched to enjoy both sunrise and sunset.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0CmknnAxqW2r9SbRVh8o39glOdPgpRCcaYxjRK4tl4q1XVun-cbEsh7crNImw-h--Nl-m5Ad8owYWB6_KJl4EG0lzEp7iaAdPWvDKsu4QOCy-ml7icunlFzkhBH_ADKLmcObDIeWkwAvcOTcF4PMSn76U_aDh-wq3BQ1GR2ZVUDo3fcox7fXsq0/s4000/P1050924.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh0CmknnAxqW2r9SbRVh8o39glOdPgpRCcaYxjRK4tl4q1XVun-cbEsh7crNImw-h--Nl-m5Ad8owYWB6_KJl4EG0lzEp7iaAdPWvDKsu4QOCy-ml7icunlFzkhBH_ADKLmcObDIeWkwAvcOTcF4PMSn76U_aDh-wq3BQ1GR2ZVUDo3fcox7fXsq0/w640-h480/P1050924.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">After breakfast it was an easy stroll to the top of Dollar Law but a knee-crunching, steep descent to the valley floor to walk back.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9_moidvrG_Fqkl_-fXVi5cZqoIcwKhB_-yuFqbjkPrzrFRmoYgxupX9EqUWvnichHQKnu87N8KmQXvf0MesG54IoXKIR_Cz24MEc53y0mR-ta7cFr_oGQz6njzdb92xsfhvDB0jI-mqau6W-FGf76QPIbvAtjVfFCcKy-qM3O9D0BhOdtWnogoM/s4000/P1050926.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9_moidvrG_Fqkl_-fXVi5cZqoIcwKhB_-yuFqbjkPrzrFRmoYgxupX9EqUWvnichHQKnu87N8KmQXvf0MesG54IoXKIR_Cz24MEc53y0mR-ta7cFr_oGQz6njzdb92xsfhvDB0jI-mqau6W-FGf76QPIbvAtjVfFCcKy-qM3O9D0BhOdtWnogoM/w640-h480/P1050926.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u></span></span></i></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Photos on Flickr click <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pauline88/albums/72177720298584962" target="_blank">HERE</a></span></span></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start/finish: Manor Valley road at the start of the track to Old Kirkhope farm.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: None so we used my friend's car.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Route: Walked up the track to the old farm at Kirkhope and skirted to the left of the buildings to start climbing the grassy ridge above the river opposite Southey Hill. Followed the fenceline here for much of the way and gained the ridge at Newholm Hill. Picked up a path running southeast over the shoulder of Dollar Law and camped on the large flat area to the north of Fifescar Knowe. For the return, we dropped directly northeast of Dollar Law, coming down the side of plantation to rejoin the road to walk to the start.</span></span></i></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-61977728156058075192022-04-08T10:19:00.007-07:002022-04-09T05:39:19.672-07:00Southern Highlands - Backpacking from Callander to Aberfeldy <p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">I love a multi-day walk. It conveys the sense of a proper journey with a start and a destination. And using ancient paths on a walk provides a connection to the past, to a time before cars when people made long journeys by foot. I love the simplicity of it as well. Everything I need for a few days out is on my back and all I have to do is to walk, to put one foot in front of the other. I did have to map read as well though on this trip as I had not walked much of this route before and even where I had, it was many years ago. It looked fairly straightforward but that was deceiving as the tail end of winter created challenging underfoot conditions and some adverse weather to contend with. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">It was pleasant enough though when I set out from Callander in early afternoon. The track to the farm at Braeleny climbed into the hills and crossed to the south of the snow-dusted peaks of Ben Vorlich and Stuc a'Chroin. The inseparable pair provided the backdrop for the first night's camp spot above the river. It was a hard spot to find as the ground everywhere was saturated from the recent snow melt and I had scouted up and down for well over an hour.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnddB-BmdIvPHVPiunW2JJ7RMBOGxjghbY3WLnuYLe-l5yRJTdIc8gtMGv1qFVp7VwMedMomP9iUVg2A4xTF84XYE_KwDzzkwlJkySEIGZmWqc2p7ApAsuWEU_N6FMCNJfXquhD4qr9rwdDWxK-nfXzC7MApvn45lrWB9zT9hYD6r57XCR8B_DrA/s3977/P1050808.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1887" data-original-width="3977" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpnddB-BmdIvPHVPiunW2JJ7RMBOGxjghbY3WLnuYLe-l5yRJTdIc8gtMGv1qFVp7VwMedMomP9iUVg2A4xTF84XYE_KwDzzkwlJkySEIGZmWqc2p7ApAsuWEU_N6FMCNJfXquhD4qr9rwdDWxK-nfXzC7MApvn45lrWB9zT9hYD6r57XCR8B_DrA/w640-h304/P1050808.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">Once I had left Callander, I hadn't seen another person and that was the case the next morning as well as I walked through to Comrie. The night had left a fine dusting of frost on the tent and I lingered late until it dried off. Once on the move, I really enjoyed the day's journey. The track dropped down to the farm at the head of Glen Artney then picked up an old, rough path that headed towards Comrie on the north side of the river. It was a delightful route that switched between woods and open pastures, sometimes beside the river but often high above it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgtJyAIQwflPzkamD88BmVKKQHF5YSF96bWUGbeXYB1wbmZJbesbLEp9BvHDZQaAYCxv-JZP0j5YjUKIn0a09oeaUkVT_bor9KgRY3AlzUk9AeGlGdlQJaA5cKP9adY-f5s3_1hxKYNvlt2a28Y-jwLVy5MzHVxoFCGdYeC80YR1I2HHyWR-caJw/s4000/P1050815.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWgtJyAIQwflPzkamD88BmVKKQHF5YSF96bWUGbeXYB1wbmZJbesbLEp9BvHDZQaAYCxv-JZP0j5YjUKIn0a09oeaUkVT_bor9KgRY3AlzUk9AeGlGdlQJaA5cKP9adY-f5s3_1hxKYNvlt2a28Y-jwLVy5MzHVxoFCGdYeC80YR1I2HHyWR-caJw/w640-h480/P1050815.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">At Comrie I picked up the beautiful woodland path to the Deil's Cauldron waterfall. The snow melt may have made the walking routes boggy but it also filled the waterfall which was a thunderous presence in the gorge. A short road walk then took me to Invergeldie and from here I was climbing into the hills again on another old path that connects Glen Lednock with Loch Tay.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsccY3kIS88LzHf69SHO2EjdjriKztZxb-O1oAbACFgOxJt1-MMvAERuttEOS8rlhnfw7Vh6QNKo7lof1Ss-JWEcuG8QuApTbUtasHrKczJGPxxoeVWMcyByJWEMal4hNQr9BtmhuD_r214WAZffr_iL9Zk5BACGrSlmIYAJvPGw_XngjS4LF_QU4/s3977/P1050821.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1964" data-original-width="3977" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsccY3kIS88LzHf69SHO2EjdjriKztZxb-O1oAbACFgOxJt1-MMvAERuttEOS8rlhnfw7Vh6QNKo7lof1Ss-JWEcuG8QuApTbUtasHrKczJGPxxoeVWMcyByJWEMal4hNQr9BtmhuD_r214WAZffr_iL9Zk5BACGrSlmIYAJvPGw_XngjS4LF_QU4/w640-h316/P1050821.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I wasn't going that far but still had to cross a high pass that was clogged with melting snow and hard going underfoot. The hills here now were streaked with snow and though the scenery was bleak, there was a peace and wildness out here, and I enjoyed having this to myself. The descent from the pass put me at the head of Glen Almond and a river crossing took me to an old, drystane sheep fank that provided the second camp spot of the trip. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1STb5bmiDh2K-BcgKaKSc69f6AfEVPJgBjzrrKzX_hJGSjxtQZGxpWwtrRcEDZy-u9hyvpiZSWd_-vWiZTvvz-4L1Jn7KQTfcOWnULKUkQW6kPOgIA6mvM0nb87B0mok8O_aso7iId-LMjz0FiPVBwiBilDA2GGn8AE7kjgv1uffoQhr-3tK1AY/s3946/P1050832.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2247" data-original-width="3946" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1STb5bmiDh2K-BcgKaKSc69f6AfEVPJgBjzrrKzX_hJGSjxtQZGxpWwtrRcEDZy-u9hyvpiZSWd_-vWiZTvvz-4L1Jn7KQTfcOWnULKUkQW6kPOgIA6mvM0nb87B0mok8O_aso7iId-LMjz0FiPVBwiBilDA2GGn8AE7kjgv1uffoQhr-3tK1AY/w640-h364/P1050832.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I can't really say exactly what it was but this was a wonderful camp spot. It was relatively remote but the old walls gave it a sense of place. Snow-covered hills rose above the tent and there was no sound except the rush of the river. Temperatures plummeted in the evening and my damp socks turned as stiff as cardboard. But the clear, crisp night created an inky sky full with stars and I lay for ages with my tent door open gazing up at them.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcS_HXCw4ms9sgN3JOBR3KO5M0vTzE4_OoH5HEssOa7q8nv6Qj9_KQ_lUnS3healZFACxDFwhqycCgIRY-NXwNY5XPbsqUM0XUmT7LJPecg_v8pBa7B4XaOc0vlLof9o3xU8Z70TpSROtv1a_V5XzWcA_vD1Uj50D5KDX3j_8xxuDmqtiKgTkixU8/s4000/P1050829.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcS_HXCw4ms9sgN3JOBR3KO5M0vTzE4_OoH5HEssOa7q8nv6Qj9_KQ_lUnS3healZFACxDFwhqycCgIRY-NXwNY5XPbsqUM0XUmT7LJPecg_v8pBa7B4XaOc0vlLof9o3xU8Z70TpSROtv1a_V5XzWcA_vD1Uj50D5KDX3j_8xxuDmqtiKgTkixU8/w640-h480/P1050829.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It was the last of the clear weather though. The next day I started walking down Glen Almond under ominous, grey skies. In keeping with this, the glen had a quiet, empty feel in its upper reaches and there was nobody around. But further down farm buildings and cottages appeared with dogs barking outside and people working away in outbuildings. I left the glen via a wonderful route that climbed up through Glen Lochan. The cloud had lowered further, obscuring the hills, and the path wound its way through a tight pass where you could have imagined a pterodactyl swooping through out of the mist. Before I descended to Loch Freuchie on the other side, the rain came on and would accompany me for the rest of the way to Aberfeldy.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC38MLBqpsJnHQJRWJ29gGnzoV12TAlYa6NaDZZsxCWARVyfq3NfsWMWRhuX5hyrLICJVLqhiw7f_NA5QhxyV8cdnmfo7WgAJvPY0xBhdG5e_NjsAdztoxBr29rn-qBJXU6TOiUWRU3-6FlWap0eH2SA5leTfJ_3oE2G4Yy_qPiQtbNHJGjfeObfM/s4000/P1050844.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC38MLBqpsJnHQJRWJ29gGnzoV12TAlYa6NaDZZsxCWARVyfq3NfsWMWRhuX5hyrLICJVLqhiw7f_NA5QhxyV8cdnmfo7WgAJvPY0xBhdG5e_NjsAdztoxBr29rn-qBJXU6TOiUWRU3-6FlWap0eH2SA5leTfJ_3oE2G4Yy_qPiQtbNHJGjfeObfM/w640-h480/P1050844.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The route from Loch Freuchie used the single track, summer hill road to Kenmore to the top of the pass before picking up a track to Urlar and on to Aberfeldy. The road is closed in winter so I'd no need to worry about dodging traffic though I don't think it's ever busy. As the road climbed into the hills, the now torrential rain turned to snow and I found myself grinning. I do love a tussle with the weather. Having said that, I was still glad when the turn off appeared out of the blizzard and I started the descent to Aberfeldy. It was late in the day though and the light was fading, so I spent another night out in the tent.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHNFguo5wHYR5vhCb5cZAR6K5-Fi4fZg7LrkI_ILzBBttiMKqMoOx063yScCTcLryZ8Z4JtAsThg2UmBlHubBEQKjwyzFb5RQHc_0STQ8204xejf-Ly7I3KGpNAVmhktqx6U7NDa-fRuo89d_c2cD6ehg_x-CDkqF8hoCOxy9Ram2O51aeLw1Yy8/s4000/P1050803.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqHNFguo5wHYR5vhCb5cZAR6K5-Fi4fZg7LrkI_ILzBBttiMKqMoOx063yScCTcLryZ8Z4JtAsThg2UmBlHubBEQKjwyzFb5RQHc_0STQ8204xejf-Ly7I3KGpNAVmhktqx6U7NDa-fRuo89d_c2cD6ehg_x-CDkqF8hoCOxy9Ram2O51aeLw1Yy8/w640-h480/P1050803.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />By morning, it had rained all night and was still raining, so the final part of the journey down through the Birks of Aberfeldy was accompanied by the roar of the swollen river. But it was satisfying to complete my journey and to have covered the miles on foot.<p></p></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Callander<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Aberfeldy<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Train to Stirling and bus from Stirling to Callander. Bus from Aberfeldy to Dunkeld then train back to Edinburgh.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: Took the hill road to the north out of Callander which is signed for Bracklin Falls. It becomes track at Braeleny and passes over to Glen Artney. At the head of Glen Artney passed through the farm buildings and walked the rough route on the north side of the river which eventually meets a quiet road into Comrie. Took the path signed for the Deil's Cauldron and then joined the road in Glen Lednock above the falls. At Invergeldie took the track heading northeast which is the route up Ben Chonzie but left it where another track branches off to the northwest. Descended to the Glen Almond and crossed the river. The bridge marked on the OS map is no longer there and the bridge just downstream was not one that I would cross! Down Glen Almond then through the farm buildings at Auchnafree to pick up the path through Glen Lochan. Where it meets the road at Loch Freuchie, turned left and walked up and over the hill road to Kenmore until reaching a loch with a hut on the shore. Took the track on the south shore of the loch and it eventually reaches Aberfeldy via the farm at Urlar.</span></span></i></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-31291717673148267422022-03-19T09:42:00.006-07:002022-03-19T14:26:09.111-07:00Glen Finglas - Contrasting days<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">With hindsight, it was a terrible place to pitch the tents but the grassy knoll had been the only dry oasis in miles of bog and heather. Plus the forecast had said the winds would be light but instead they hammered through like a freight train, creating a vortex around the knoll and bending my tent inwards in an alarming fashion. It was 5am in the hills above Brig o'Turk and I was wondering if the tents would remain standing, never mind if I'd be able to cook breakfast in the blasts. But then something magical happened.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixMOCCf98jpIY6qHjx4BFdRA8fy7ZVjXVI8IJgLkRtOqk7G32IC9Ig2wN3UcR80z2-FOyc6rkW1hNY7uGsXDazasyDH2uG2rWFV1KNew85w84xj-czoeUrpM9hJWSU2Sp5DJ_YXjLq73FgLndvYuxu0xPiJzHWXqLzfrfninqb1kpk7ccA07QS7P4=s1975" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="1975" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEixMOCCf98jpIY6qHjx4BFdRA8fy7ZVjXVI8IJgLkRtOqk7G32IC9Ig2wN3UcR80z2-FOyc6rkW1hNY7uGsXDazasyDH2uG2rWFV1KNew85w84xj-czoeUrpM9hJWSU2Sp5DJ_YXjLq73FgLndvYuxu0xPiJzHWXqLzfrfninqb1kpk7ccA07QS7P4=w640-h184" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I'd been aware when I woke up during the night of there not being full darkness so guessed a decent moon must be up behind the clouds. Then a little before dawn, the winds eased off and I unzipped the tent door to poke my head outside. A stunning sight greeted me. The tents were facing west with an open view from the knoll to the shapely twin peaks of Ben More and Stob Binnein. Above the peaks was an incredibly bright full moon that shone gold rather than silver. Behind it was the thinnest veil of cloud that picked up the golden light of the moon and silhouetted the two peaks. Over the next half hour or so, the moon sank such that it looked like it was rolling down the side of Stob Binnein to set perfectly placed in the bealach between it and Ben More. It was a spectacular moment and the terrible camp spot became the perfect grandstand from which to watch it. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqTDVGQVVV7_JS00oS772ZP0_Q5H0Vvf_Os5Ct91u6tKDLmFODywdp3LT4_rFzz-6q3ecZA3OH63QpT6YzFTT2I1c77LJerhsuyPeRCo7jUsegdehtdytyi_g7hGRe9fGFepj5yLYcwJYC3FEcaablz5y1CbR8e47DmKkrLq-JZ0g86KIdfp_Wd4E=s3975" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2154" data-original-width="3975" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiqTDVGQVVV7_JS00oS772ZP0_Q5H0Vvf_Os5Ct91u6tKDLmFODywdp3LT4_rFzz-6q3ecZA3OH63QpT6YzFTT2I1c77LJerhsuyPeRCo7jUsegdehtdytyi_g7hGRe9fGFepj5yLYcwJYC3FEcaablz5y1CbR8e47DmKkrLq-JZ0g86KIdfp_Wd4E=w640-h346" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Those overnight winds had cleared the cloud and dense drizzle of the day before when we'd walked in from Brig o'Turk. It hadn't been at all unpleasant as it created a secret, other-worldly atmosphere and we saw not another soul. The colours were monotone and there had been barely a breath of wind to shake the water droplets from the birch branches. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAYU62YcbeErS_0YJKjcvowPblhHajuXboY7q7JgGwzHs1XVSFid7DajCKASQG30JDqW1HYnOkM1Rl9xahvmzF2B_IvcFlaG9urQAqeaSf7FlSbxPLX52e5YFY2o4yOOpQbxbYxctGXkSJZW-DAablpCS7IM8S7q1bt9gIk1N8-NQ6shzeChVq97M=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgAYU62YcbeErS_0YJKjcvowPblhHajuXboY7q7JgGwzHs1XVSFid7DajCKASQG30JDqW1HYnOkM1Rl9xahvmzF2B_IvcFlaG9urQAqeaSf7FlSbxPLX52e5YFY2o4yOOpQbxbYxctGXkSJZW-DAablpCS7IM8S7q1bt9gIk1N8-NQ6shzeChVq97M=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">But this second day was a real contrast with brash, bright colours in the cobalt sky, the straw-coloured hillsides and the hi-viz mountain-bikers. Our camp spot had been at the highest point on the Glen Finglas loop so while yesterday's walk was all climbing, today's was mostly downhill. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGb2Io2CxFvaOIQEkeUAFLcDxkJADSCMBlXydPrOcv2bEaQkPkYetzMUmRoik7iphBtv80Adom-eB3W6Ym1Va3DLQ1xHu_yi-zz-mrqdtA8PLRNSgubjSBftoxAxmaf4YbpnRiBsFMN9yokWvQ0oNjXP9Qkx_AqrM9iZoB9j-4G6C4Q6QcT4O2kfM=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGb2Io2CxFvaOIQEkeUAFLcDxkJADSCMBlXydPrOcv2bEaQkPkYetzMUmRoik7iphBtv80Adom-eB3W6Ym1Va3DLQ1xHu_yi-zz-mrqdtA8PLRNSgubjSBftoxAxmaf4YbpnRiBsFMN9yokWvQ0oNjXP9Qkx_AqrM9iZoB9j-4G6C4Q6QcT4O2kfM=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The low winter sun cast a gentle golden light over the day in the same way the moon had over the night. It encouraged us to linger at the river and brew a second morning coffee before completing the walk out.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDX1xUuMECGKOkcYmfHEPPpCekiFTJ83fpRo-yG7MKfRIHJEXFig7xz5LcqkHFrdjcdkouoHrFuvpTFOiB-BAPf-Hel2btwjsfDvNBlqpqN4O6OkJHR4CFXPJ0g46BBfB0VsW_a8pkWSPj-zIRRFRulN6Zb4GHl61t-ZKdgHk9SVAOOyCbW88EuD0=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgDX1xUuMECGKOkcYmfHEPPpCekiFTJ83fpRo-yG7MKfRIHJEXFig7xz5LcqkHFrdjcdkouoHrFuvpTFOiB-BAPf-Hel2btwjsfDvNBlqpqN4O6OkJHR4CFXPJ0g46BBfB0VsW_a8pkWSPj-zIRRFRulN6Zb4GHl61t-ZKdgHk9SVAOOyCbW88EuD0=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><u>Fact File</u></span></span></i></p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start/finish: Brig o'Turk<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: No regular buses to the start but you can use Stirling Council's Demand Responsive Transport service. Alternatively, if you have time, you could take the regular bus from Stirling to Callander and use the Great Trossachs Path to walk to Brig o'Turk.<br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: Took the quiet road that passes through Brig o'Turk and heads uphill. It eventually becomes a dirt track where the public road ends. Passed farm buildings and took the track to the right signed for Balquhidder. Stayed on the track to make a big loop behind Meall Cala and return alongside the Finglas Water which is now bridged where the track crosses it. </span> </span></i></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-81447999591970992562022-01-31T12:44:00.009-08:002022-02-01T05:10:07.267-08:00Dunkeld - Everything has changed<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"Nothing has changed, except the thing that changes everything". </i></span><i style="font-family: verdana;"><span> </span><span>Adam Nicholson, The Sea Room</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">I love that quote. He is talking about the wild geese on the Shiant Islands off the west coast of Scotland and how their seasonal presence, or absence, transforms the whole character and atmosphere of the place. The quote was in my mind a few weeks back when I was in the hills beyond Dunkeld. My walk took me out passed Mill Dam, a pretty, tree-fringed loch that I must have visited a hundred times. But this time one thing had changed and that thing changed everything else. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was en route to a favourite wild camp spot which occupies a lonely place far beyond Mill Dam and the popular trails around Dunkeld. It's a long walk and on this occasion it was an arduous walk with a surface that varied between bog, water, hard snow, melting snow and ice. Also thrown in were some wind-felled trees that needed to be negotiated and a mid winter day that barely seemed to get light.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMDcouul1dgRju5qSHSBfXvOnZz87efUxnwirXF_NXmpdkQA6mHyHUk6Xah09eFfj7oztMVe6awFV-oupMJqPtGMcL6xg-9DUi_FiDiPWewLFhKQl0_K-kzDdAFydwg2rRADWiEORjXgz1LW-0LwAG6vYYkWygJInlkXNTwJgzebDV-f-H7Qu1JOw=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMDcouul1dgRju5qSHSBfXvOnZz87efUxnwirXF_NXmpdkQA6mHyHUk6Xah09eFfj7oztMVe6awFV-oupMJqPtGMcL6xg-9DUi_FiDiPWewLFhKQl0_K-kzDdAFydwg2rRADWiEORjXgz1LW-0LwAG6vYYkWygJInlkXNTwJgzebDV-f-H7Qu1JOw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">I was happy to reach my spot in the last of the light and throw up the tent. It's a perfect place with a patch of flat grass nestled among a small cluster of larch trees. The landscape all around was snow-streaked and monochrome, and the frozen loch below my tent glowed ghostly pale in the fading light. When you are camping beside frozen lochs you often hear the creak and groan of the ice as the wind shifts it around but tonight there was barely a breeze and all was quiet. </p></span></span><p></p><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpCAKLKsa0KhWPWmqZTrQP_-FZJ69I3hefY1IF4WWmCxyhUfjlX-XJ5840Ho2xJWtgxxMvyUv8xGfiXc5TpoXz2J-QgAov_Z78Lgy0AObBKGddZknQm0Q1CBbnhagWW7XvPWCrjGoFUJqC6PC6ZNwh14axKfDwJ1UIGKRipHt22OPVvQi29k8RsGQ=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgpCAKLKsa0KhWPWmqZTrQP_-FZJ69I3hefY1IF4WWmCxyhUfjlX-XJ5840Ho2xJWtgxxMvyUv8xGfiXc5TpoXz2J-QgAov_Z78Lgy0AObBKGddZknQm0Q1CBbnhagWW7XvPWCrjGoFUJqC6PC6ZNwh14axKfDwJ1UIGKRipHt22OPVvQi29k8RsGQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Lying in the tent, my mind drifted back to Mill Dam. With no wind it had been flat calm with a thin crust of ice further out. Autumn's colours had faded but there was still a purple haze of bare, winter birch trees and splashes of green in the rampant mosses and lichens. The woods climbed above the loch, cloaking the slopes of Deuchary Hill whose top disappeared into the low cloud. I sat on the usual bench on the shore and admired this usual scene. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrFU_ot6F6_W1p1U0pkOX7P69K9RVY3gWWWwpEYAquT6UGWU5gqVj-2AnOrgo1ib8N_InH7i_Wsp5PW4iDOTVpGnYpHJdzE6CiQoSV5Dsch7ns2twORwViMk9A5a-VolI9kXubtviXU9Flo8dW7T5BVIJh9e0pmkjY4Mr8458Rb6q_Ktcm1GSW6kc=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgrFU_ot6F6_W1p1U0pkOX7P69K9RVY3gWWWwpEYAquT6UGWU5gqVj-2AnOrgo1ib8N_InH7i_Wsp5PW4iDOTVpGnYpHJdzE6CiQoSV5Dsch7ns2twORwViMk9A5a-VolI9kXubtviXU9Flo8dW7T5BVIJh9e0pmkjY4Mr8458Rb6q_Ktcm1GSW6kc=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">But then my eye was drawn to a number of felled birch trees lying half in the water, stripped of bark and with teeth marks down the length of the trunk. Then just beside my bench a small tree had gnawing marks a foot up its trunk. As I looked around I saw these signs everywhere. I felt a rising sense of excitement but also couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. This was the work of beavers! At that moment, their presence after hundreds of years of absence immediately changed the atmosphere of this place to something wilder, something more primal.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Beavers are native to Scotland but were hunted to extinction in the 16th century. In 2009, a trial reintroduction took place in Knapdale on the west coast. Around about the same time, beavers appeared on the River Tay on the east coast from an unofficial reintroduction. These Tay beavers are now obviously spreading and if they are in Mill Dam, they must have come up the Tay to Dunkeld and accessed the loch by a tributary. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEH2R7YSqmOyVhkSZgsut5ajV_9_UwK1tbeeaJLsJEFe1t58QmqP14_VCw_R-muLPLyaZH3lNxJhkgykR5t1WyZb5avsDxM136WeIBd6E_8ihkcE1NyrBDnY8knHd2YACP0wk0g81RMO4UKvLhnphe6NyAe-kVw3zXwkBKX0uXc1QzoNgBISovO2k=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiEH2R7YSqmOyVhkSZgsut5ajV_9_UwK1tbeeaJLsJEFe1t58QmqP14_VCw_R-muLPLyaZH3lNxJhkgykR5t1WyZb5avsDxM136WeIBd6E_8ihkcE1NyrBDnY8knHd2YACP0wk0g81RMO4UKvLhnphe6NyAe-kVw3zXwkBKX0uXc1QzoNgBISovO2k=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It's wonderful news because beavers really do change everything. They are known as nature's engineers. The dams that they build create new wetlands, increasing biodiversity by providing habitats for all sorts of insects, amphibians and fish which in turn support the birds and mammals that feed on them such as otters. These new wetlands also act as a natural filtration system, store water and mitigate downriver flooding because they slow the flow of water. As well as these practical benefits, beavers hark us back to a time when Scotland's wildlife was much more rich than today and their reintroduction is an important step in returning our nature to a more healthy state.</p></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">As they are nocturnal, I didn't actually see any beavers that day or the next day when I passed by Mill Dam again. But that didn't matter. It was enough just knowing they were out there, changing everything around them.</span></span></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9088786286035139489.post-692037982481096332021-12-31T08:36:00.003-08:002022-01-11T22:53:12.239-08:00Speyside - Out of office<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">How wonderful it was to finish up for a week's holiday. With the rucsack packed and the train ticket booked, the final act of work was putting on the out of office reply. It was even better to be heading off in the shoulder season when the trails were quiet and the crowds of summer dissipated. So for my October week off, I chose to do a multi day walk from Carrbridge to Newtonmore. Much of the route I'd walked before but some of the trails would be new to me and either way, I had never walked the whole lot in one trip so I was looking forward to it.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;">Grey was the colour of much of the walk with a perpetual ceiling of low cloud and nights that were fair drawing in. But the weather was calm with no wind, no precipitation and only brief moments of sunshine. There was one such moment at the start of the walk at Carrbridge as a few rays penetrated the gloom hanging over the Cairngorms while I walked to Boat of Garten via the Carr Plantation. The dense commercial forestry added to the gloom as trees crowded in and so I was happy to leave it behind at Boat and continue through the native pine woods to Loch Garten. It was already dark as I skirted the loch shore looking for a flat spot for the tent.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKS1C-7mSwwZMV-JuYipGj4UJsMQDT9GETa__ZRZsPnN094NH84IGeXNcvSJzzlN7G3HZGAidFTf9z30Prjq2Mks_1VbzWfwYUGnqKAwelzwvZhoTKsiOB6-uyO2sngSOrR1ATHrit_8iThPXWEXYwxZBB65hToiJBfmpe_liA_QDoeaD0Lb_XdwI=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjKS1C-7mSwwZMV-JuYipGj4UJsMQDT9GETa__ZRZsPnN094NH84IGeXNcvSJzzlN7G3HZGAidFTf9z30Prjq2Mks_1VbzWfwYUGnqKAwelzwvZhoTKsiOB6-uyO2sngSOrR1ATHrit_8iThPXWEXYwxZBB65hToiJBfmpe_liA_QDoeaD0Lb_XdwI=w640-h480" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><p style="text-align: justify;">From Loch Garten I followed the Speyside Way the following morning to Aviemore and was amazed how the open moor it once crossed was regenerating into dense forest. To my left the bulk of the northern Cairngorms rose into low cloud, a presence hinted at rather than seen. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_rdJQ0GKAO4Dy01KwKqXnSOop-E-BbHwqjIJoE5C1MDmJOyS4p9m1YP7COuWegqOVVA60W4OiS9L0l4SY-x_IAdMwAXmSMnMKocE3EzXd6bh5qL3EmZFxsZXMoxkSyU97H8YUJ6IUpidgJM-DMnwSz2VX4Op-_PqJHU6OI5O4hZtjNGVD4o7F7Ks=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_rdJQ0GKAO4Dy01KwKqXnSOop-E-BbHwqjIJoE5C1MDmJOyS4p9m1YP7COuWegqOVVA60W4OiS9L0l4SY-x_IAdMwAXmSMnMKocE3EzXd6bh5qL3EmZFxsZXMoxkSyU97H8YUJ6IUpidgJM-DMnwSz2VX4Op-_PqJHU6OI5O4hZtjNGVD4o7F7Ks=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Popping out of the other side of Aviemore took me to the tree-fringed waters of Loch an Eilean and then onwards to a favourite camp spot deeper in the woods. A jay flew by, small birds twittered in the canpoy and two owls hooted in the evening darkness, one so loud that it must have been right above my tent.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTUvEtZyGxOyy7F9M4MjVrlzyHUFH5qfh0fi2QQtkluahKCPxr7hFza7LlecC_p8HtJeF_4kPWLLgOO17SElbWMjSWAVl60RGCOJmOHFDaJ_qWLPki5p9WqDW-MxXKcuid7_PZOCwLCSC8wFrlpKMUA3JoIVnNwUw6niYijXVAoDP8F7moyA_QiC0=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTUvEtZyGxOyy7F9M4MjVrlzyHUFH5qfh0fi2QQtkluahKCPxr7hFza7LlecC_p8HtJeF_4kPWLLgOO17SElbWMjSWAVl60RGCOJmOHFDaJ_qWLPki5p9WqDW-MxXKcuid7_PZOCwLCSC8wFrlpKMUA3JoIVnNwUw6niYijXVAoDP8F7moyA_QiC0=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The next day I continued walking along forest trails to Feshiebridge and then picked up a favourite path up the early part of the glen that follows the river through old birch trees. There was a quietness and stillness here far from human generated noise. The woods held some lingering autumn colour and a wild, boreal atmosphere. I wandered up the glen as far as the outflow of Coire Garbhlach, a giant gouge in the side of the hill sculpted by the river that drains the Moine Mhor, the vast plateau above. I pitched the tent close by in a small copse of pines whose canopy brought the darkness in even earlier. With not getting away last year at this time because of lockdown, I think I had forgotten how long the evenings are in the tent in early winter and that night I started the second reading of the small book I'd brought.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6t4T5LQu9gC_6HVDUNjsKVkb_V9zFmDKW-xmhrZgQK9yu7Pqx8B6Lhg4FDiGEor0hwewhsUfo2m0cpbFJ4E2mfejTL_zyZfvDeG21lVKQAsh8JEBhnNa3q9Fok4ZTeIYlgbmrSqv9g00LalguuznLniHxN9YhKEgYnIaQykka7X4IKkdTSKoJpxo=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj6t4T5LQu9gC_6HVDUNjsKVkb_V9zFmDKW-xmhrZgQK9yu7Pqx8B6Lhg4FDiGEor0hwewhsUfo2m0cpbFJ4E2mfejTL_zyZfvDeG21lVKQAsh8JEBhnNa3q9Fok4ZTeIYlgbmrSqv9g00LalguuznLniHxN9YhKEgYnIaQykka7X4IKkdTSKoJpxo=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">The next day was my favourite of the trip. I took a new trail (or new to me at least) from Glen Feshie over the hills towards Drumguish. This was a lovely walk, quiet and empty, and placed me in a good position for a climb up Croidh-la, a little hill rising above Gleann Chomraig. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYqEf6EXLgVd7rAlY83vcjImJmbQ4MEpVQLfwrPkHgZpPw7Ll8I1Sg841EF2JNOZBolWYICG05JAsT4wVLCffsOyeRoEZQr-dlVa62YdrJvgTyZbBKL33m5R0QnoMsI8pCzFIJQljPm0BRd5XZeT5U2AVVXAAFSs0PfPvLDfTj8S945mB4cULNBrs=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiYqEf6EXLgVd7rAlY83vcjImJmbQ4MEpVQLfwrPkHgZpPw7Ll8I1Sg841EF2JNOZBolWYICG05JAsT4wVLCffsOyeRoEZQr-dlVa62YdrJvgTyZbBKL33m5R0QnoMsI8pCzFIJQljPm0BRd5XZeT5U2AVVXAAFSs0PfPvLDfTj8S945mB4cULNBrs=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Here again were regenerating woods where miniature birch trees and pines grew free of the grasses. A thin path climbed the ridge of the hill and was really pleasing to walk. It gave lovely views down to Drumguish and the Spey Valley beyond. Then the sun broke through as I approached the top. It turned the early winter hills to shades of gold and burned off a little of the mist on the bigger tops to reveal a dusting of snow. As is often the way, this smaller, slightly detached hill afforded fantastic views of the bigger hills all around. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiC2DaaGOFzrHk7HtsQKCadg3i9MbAExSf09cuELTwzI7Wq8K1aO_wGZi9AzNQeYz5gQJxbP0Fgsnj2FdLhtZ7VSNcK9BuMFlWb6mfPkvR7Gem5IJ7JM0kGHXmmHjl4kHcDr3SYl88N04B53xjI8BM_UW1vpFpXK5b0TT0WagfjpfxxigQ5OmNOCuo=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiC2DaaGOFzrHk7HtsQKCadg3i9MbAExSf09cuELTwzI7Wq8K1aO_wGZi9AzNQeYz5gQJxbP0Fgsnj2FdLhtZ7VSNcK9BuMFlWb6mfPkvR7Gem5IJ7JM0kGHXmmHjl4kHcDr3SYl88N04B53xjI8BM_UW1vpFpXK5b0TT0WagfjpfxxigQ5OmNOCuo=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">Despite the sunshine, there was a bitter wind on top and I didn't linger long which proved to be lucky. The west face of Croidh-la drops almost sheer into Glen Tromie and as I descended a white-tailed eagle glided right by me on thermals pushed up by the steep hillside. I continued downwards as the sun began to dip and after a bit of hunting around found a nice camp spot beside the river with a view to the Feshie hills.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2eKcb_mVAmeAWnGoPmAog2etavuPKDOMXMVxy1-ZF2YSVWjH3Q0XwAcjtlDK8gAEn-ZvmWzfcc_EpmkGA5irDRKd59bq1d1LCPAra8sZTrm7sScMWJPDw5aklQaiNA_CUfUbRzmBWhoePMGdAI9HPxR9d_JaosUoUq8RF-jYc91WHfndyycCkSrY=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2eKcb_mVAmeAWnGoPmAog2etavuPKDOMXMVxy1-ZF2YSVWjH3Q0XwAcjtlDK8gAEn-ZvmWzfcc_EpmkGA5irDRKd59bq1d1LCPAra8sZTrm7sScMWJPDw5aklQaiNA_CUfUbRzmBWhoePMGdAI9HPxR9d_JaosUoUq8RF-jYc91WHfndyycCkSrY=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">After a peaceful night, I packed up the tent for the last time on this trip and continued the walk to Drumguish then onto Kingussie via pleasant paths through more old birch forest. I left Kingussie out the back of town for a favourite walk to Netwonmore via Loch Gynack. I love the old woods here that fringe the loch and smother the path up Creag Bheag, the wee hill above town. I like the contrast of this walk too as it leaves the woods for a section of open moor before descending to Newtonmore and back into the woods.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLQVh9FfXu1YaKv-zrPAZBnrdmMB1YJq8eiDMUWGZrTcBVzQ36jXn2wLAYt5hCYB2iQj0ZgYEzgbP2eOHCFvAHhocLsAlgRhPVYqtAgJ12t3zPNpXBfhaJZfwxJ8YU6qcv99retLqrdwIyG-b-QFO62sy0U2GZxml3XrfvU2eMX6Ka0FOqqC-X1zw=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLQVh9FfXu1YaKv-zrPAZBnrdmMB1YJq8eiDMUWGZrTcBVzQ36jXn2wLAYt5hCYB2iQj0ZgYEzgbP2eOHCFvAHhocLsAlgRhPVYqtAgJ12t3zPNpXBfhaJZfwxJ8YU6qcv99retLqrdwIyG-b-QFO62sy0U2GZxml3XrfvU2eMX6Ka0FOqqC-X1zw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I'd timed my route today to get the late train home so that I would finish my walk in the dark. I like dusk with its change in sounds and atmosphere. And I like to see how far I can walk into the darkness before having to switch on the headtorch to illuminate the path or tree roots or the gushing river below. Newtonmore was dark, quiet and deserted. With the summer tourists gone and not enough snow yet for the ski season, it must also have had on its out of office reply.</p></span><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><u>Fact File</u></span></i></div><span style="color: #444444; font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Start: Carrbridge railway station</span></i></div><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finish: Newtonmore railway station</span></i></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">Public transport: Glasgow/Edinburgh - Inverness trains</span></i></div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">My route: From the train walked to Carrbridge village centre and turned right on the main road then took the first road out of the village to the left. After the houses end, a trail is signed for Boat of Garten to the right. Continued to far side of Boat and opposite where the Boat road joins the B970 is the trail to Loch Garten. Returned to Boat then took the offroad cycle route to Aviemore signed opposite the wee shop. From Aviemore walked up the ski road to Inverdruie then took the path from Inverdruie behind the field to Loch an Eilean then onto Lochan Gamhna. A rough path leaves the east shore of Lochan Gamhna and crosses the Allt Coire Follais twice to pick up forest trails to Feshiebridge. At Feshiebridge took the right of way signed up the west side of the river which eventually joins the road up Glen Feshie. Took the right of way signed for Drumguish via Baileguish. Forest tracks connect to Gleann Chomraig and the path up Croid-la. From Drumguish a new trail on the other side of the bridge heads to Ruthven Barracks then it's road walking for the final section into Kingussie. Walked up the road up Glen Gynack then path to Newtonmore and Creag Bheag is signed to the left. This path eventually joins the Wildcat Trail which I followed into Newtonmore via the lower reaches of Glen Banchor.</span></i></div></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></i></div></span></i></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14893037362362564351noreply@blogger.com0