The Room of Ever Closing Walls

In that dull and unvisited corner of the blogosphere that is outdoorbloggers.com the faltering flicker of a single candle flame spluttered its last, briefly illuminating The Room of Ever Closing Walls. Within the room the two remaining behemoths crashed unthinkingly into each other, never wondering where all the other behemoths had gone.  All the others had left…or simply lost the will to live.

As the dust temporarily settled the combatants took time out for a quick breather to consult their manuals of diatribe and insult.  They concentrated very hard but never noticed the silence.

 

Outdoorbloggers RIP?

Back to the Fuji

I bought a new camera on Friday.  I am now the proud owner of a Fuji F70EXP compact digital.  When I started walking a few years ago I was using a fairly decent Fuji Finepix (no idea of model) but added the more substantial Nikon D50 DSLR to capture some of the better views in more detail.  The Fuji was used for the “on the move” shots where I really couldn’t be a***d taking off the pack to remove half of its contents to haul out the bigger camera.  Sadly the Fuji’s sensor packed in and with limited funds available had to make do with a cheapy Canon…until now!

This time I wanted a small camera that might allow me to give the weighty Nikon a few days off as well as one that would take decent photos “on the hoof”.  The Canon had done well but its washed out images required a lot of Photoshop treatment to make them reasonably presentable.   It did not bad in days of high contrast and if the sky was blue it worked a treat.  Obviously it was not the most suitable camera for the Scottish weather.

The Fuji’s EXR sensor had been given great write ups in the camera mags and with a formidable 10x zoom it gave a wee bit of scope for the odd bit of wildlife photography…if it was up to the mark!  I was very sceptical on that point.  The piggy bank containing my birthday money (and what I’d sneaked in without J noticing) was metaphorically treated to the big hammer and so, with my cash in my sweaty little paw, I headed for Comet to make my purchase.

Thanks to a pretty awful weekend weather forecast I haven’t been able to give it a decent trial but I did get a quick shot on our Saturday morning dog walk (before the rain started).

 

 

Detailed but dark...needs a bit of work in photoshop

 

Larch "fronds" - untreated photo

 

croppped and tweaked to improve colour

 

on macro setting - untreated

 

untreated shot on full zoom...from 100m - amazed at clarity.

 

as ever The Fatdog is distinctly unimpressed

It’s an awful lot better than my cheapy Canon.  I had it on its EXR setting with pretend Velvia (high contrast) film mode enabled.  It picked out the detail (and there wasn’t much of it) in the traditional Scottish grey sky.  It did well in low light conditions photographing from under trees into open fields.  The result was a tad dark but not unexpected given the big zoom capability of the lens.  The colour saturation under low (and pretty mundane) light was good.  I was able to crop and enlarge sections of detail with acceptable results.  When I say acceptable results, I mean that when viewed in full screen mode the photos appear worthy of inclusion on the blog at up to about 800×600 pixels.

Anyway so far so good.  Based on what I saw today I think I’ll be able to use the wee Fuji and give my back a rest from the crushing weight of the DSLR.   I’m looking forward to taking it out for a decent test in the coming weeks – once this feckin’ rain goes off!

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So it’s time for yet another camera to be pensioned off.  One day I will find the optimum balance between portability and quality that will give me what I’m looking for.  I will leave you with a photo of the old camera seeing I’ve just managed to get it out of my pocket…

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Yes...this was my first camera. 2nd hand I may add!!!

A Big Thank You from the Fatdog Broadcasting Corporation

A big Thank You to all those who responded to my post “I’m Doing a Survey in the Area”, your responses were greatly appreciated as were all your comments.  A big thank you as well to those who continue to read anonymously – I’ll find you out eventually.

The exercise threw up a few surprises as I discovered quite a few people out there I had no idea were visiting the blog which was heartening indeed!

I’m pleased to say the blog is on the up in terms of readership (big round of applause to you all) so I hope I can keep coming up with enough ideas that will keep you reading.  The next few months will be a bit challenging in the writing department as FD and I tend to stick to lower ground through the winter (I have no intentions of carrying a 35kg Lab through 1m deep snowdrifts), with our access to the high ground very much dependent upon freeze/thaw cycles.

In the coming months I hope to write a few articles which might engender a bit of discussion although that might come back to bite me on the bum.  Where there are many blogs debating the pros and cons of outdoor gear there are not so many prepared to tackle some of the thornier issues which generally result in flame wars on the forums.  But you’re all grown ups and I know you will behave impeccably.  That notwithstanding I am a firm believer in censorship so all will go swimmingly well

Thanks again.

Ken

Dog Walking on the Edge – The “Tail”

With me it’s a problem of scale.  Three years of regular days out trekking have led to my developing a siege mentality.  Preparation is everything, so as soon as I rolled out of bed the cameras were put on charge, the computer was switched on to download a series of geocaches into the GPS and appropriate maps were printed off.  One must be prepared.

Today it was to be a relatively low level walk, so I hauled out my Kata backpack from the heap of gear piled up on the floor in what passes for my study.  The Kata is a photographer’s pack, superb for short days where I don’t have to carry all the mountain paraphernalia.  It’s a challenge attempting to cram waterproofs into its less than spacious compartments but it does have a lot of camera sized pockets which can hold a lot of gear.  Where it obviously scores over a normal backpack is that I can haul out the big camera with a minimum of hassle.

I started my usual routine of packing the cameras, food for the dog, food for me, map etc. but decided to leave the waterproofs behind as the forecast was reasonable.  Just before finally reaching the door I began to fluster.  “Did I have my spare glasses?”  “Did I have enough food?”  “Where did I put my phone for emergencies?”

I was taking the dog for a 2 hour walk less than 10km from the house – Doh!

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It may have been only 10km from the house…but I still managed to miss my junction on the narrow forest lined roads to the west of Bannockburn.   No formal passing places and a road surface to make most hill tracks feel good about themselves made for a less than enjoyable driving experience.  The “Tank” was earning its keep.  Within a couple of miles of Stirling, this out of the way corner of the ‘Shire had long since ceased to be a roads maintenance priority.  I expect the surfacing squads had given up trying to find a way in.  For the umpteenth time, the “Tank” hiccupped as we descended into yet another yawning chasm in the road.

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The Fatdog was happy.  Straight from the off she was into the woods and charging through the recent leaf fall.  In fact there seemed to be centuries of thick brown mould beneath the massive deciduous trees.  The area was a peculiar mix of ancient deciduous and younger coniferous planting.  I suspect the old trees were originals from the estate based around Sauchieburn House but that is pure speculation on my part.  From the old wood there was the occasional tantalising glimpse of North Third Reservoir.   Hopefully we would have a much better view of that in half an hour’s time.

Today we would take on the substantially less than arduous ascent of Lewis Hill (266m).  As we parked the car at about the 160m contour I accept that this might be considered less than challenging, given our 1130m ascent of Binnein Mor in the Mamores last weekend.  On the other hand it had only taken us some 20 minutes to get here (including the unfortunate detour) as opposed to the 2 hour haul last Sunday.   On the very positive side it looked as if the sun was going to make an appearance so I wasn’t even thinking of complaining.

In fact it would have been incredibly churlish to have complained because this tiny hill allegedly packs an incredible view.  I say hill, but that’s a bit of a misnomer.  I’m sure it’s called Lewis Hill to give the trig point at its “summit” an air of credibility.  This long flattish lump of rock is also called Sauchie Crag.

Our first clear sight of North Third Reservoir from the west end of the crag certainly had the “WOW!” factor considering there was only 100m of a height difference between our perch and the reservoir below.   The sun had kindly agreed to give the landscape a bit of a boost in the colour department so the late autumn shades of brown and gold were given a final fling before the onset of winter gloom.  The Fatdog was under strict instructions…no standing on the edge!

We strolled along the cliff aiming for the high point where a brilliant white painted trig point gleamed on the skyline.  On our way it seemed that we stopped to admire the view every 20m or so as the rock formations forming the crags continually changed.  There was even a pinnacle!

The map indicated that there was an old (iron age?) fort but the small mound at the east end of Sauchie Crag was covered in three foot deep decaying bracken so making out any detail whatsoever was nigh impossible.

Suddenly there was a dramatic change in the scenery as we plummeted downward into Windy Yet Glen, one of the major geological faults cutting through the crags, losing all of our 100m in one fell swoop.  Slowly up the side of the second crag we trudged…this was becoming just like one of our normal hill days!

Unlike on Sauchie Crag, where the path was set back from the big drop, the path on this smaller crag hovered on the brink of oblivion.  As we climbed the final section out of Windy Yet Glen squat pine, oak and larch battered by years of south westerly winds clung on, sometimes leaving only a short gap for the path to squeeze between them and 100m of free fall.  Thank God there wasn’t a howling gale blowing.  The Fatdog was by now on a short lead.

At the east end of the second crag we stopped.  It was geocaching time.  The normally flustered GPS appeared to have taken its medication today and steadily pointed its digital finger towards a collapsed tree trunk.  It took less than a minute to find the box and so another “remote” cache was chocked up.  (For geocachers the ref is GC13PQA)

http://www.geocaching.com/seek/cache_details.aspx?wp=GC13PQA

After its early afternoon exertions the sun was feeling a wee bit tired and had decided to have a rest behind the clouds.  The camera disappeared into the pack for the last time. Ahead of us the path plummeted once more into another fault so I decided not to continue the walk onto the next crag.  It was time to trundle our way back to the car

The Fatdog stopped for lunch on the way back.  It wasn’t her lunch, but FD is no respecter of ownership, especially that of food.  A seated party of four had made the mistake of commenting “Oh what a cute doggie!”  “Look at her pretty pink collar!”  On cue The Fatdog surrounded them, pillaging their plastic tubs of goodies seemingly at will.  Astounded by the ferocity of the raid the poor victims were powerless to intervene.  It was over in seconds.  Wagging her tail happily The Fatdog then marched off down the trail, leaving empty boxes and hungry walkers staring after her in disbelief.

As we once more passed the “summit” trig point the quiet of the afternoon was punctuated by the honking of geese overhead and the incessant screaming of weans whose distraught mother had failed to encourage them to play on the cliff edge.  I quickly distanced myself from the group before the poor woman resorted to pushing.  In any case I would have refused to testify against her.

And so the remainder of the journey back to the “Tank” was punctuated by the repeated honking of geese and, more regrettably, the continuing screaming of weans as all efforts to persuade them to do the decent thing met with abject failure.  We lost them in the darkening woods.  I hadn’t seen a gingerbread cottage but, with a bit of luck…

Dog Walking on the Edge – The Teaser

Sunday’s walk proved to be a cracker.  For the Fatdog and I it was a path as close to the “edge” as we’ve been anywhere.    It was surprising where we found it…(to be continued)

Creating a Stink at “Lush”

As J stared out of the side window of Lush on Glasgow’s Buchanan St. banners were being unfurled by a noisy protest group.  A nosey crowd was beginning to gather round as the protesters began to air their grievances, their faces now disguised by black scarves and headgear.  Within seconds wave upon wave of bright yellow appeared out of nowhere cutting the would be marchers off from the expanding crowd, slowly squeezing them into an ever tightening space in the side street.

The BNP activists hurled (what J describes as disgusting – so I didn’t enquire further) abuse at Glasgow’s finest as the noise of their protest increased markedly in volume.  But they hadn’t reckoned on Buchanan Street’s secret weapon.  The polis were merely a diversion.  The killer punch was delivered by that most devastating of all enforcement agencies…

The horrible wailing began as a hitherto silent bagpiper inflated the tartan whoopee cushion, while some 20m away the up until now invisible celtic drummers wellied into a cacophony of pounding beats, the cumulative racket effectively overpowering everything  within a half mile radius.   No contest.

A case of the unpalatable drowned out by the unspeakable.

Meet The Fatdog!!!

I know a number of you would like to meet The Fatdog…well here she is in action !  This is why she’s leashed up anywhere near a crag or ridge when there’s snow on the ground !

Bigger photos for Binnein Mor

I have uploaded a number of the photos of Sunday’s trip onto Flickr.  I think they look a lot better LARGE.  For those not familiar with Flickr – click on the link below, click on the thumbnail of the photo you want to see, then click all sizes on the menu – you should then see the big photo !  I hope.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fatdogwalks/sets/72157622777139350/

The Taking of Tea, Scones and Strawberry Jam

As the years pass by I have become increasingly edgy when I find I’ve led The Fatdog into an exposed situation.  Narrow summit ridges are a case in point.  Narrow summit ridges covered in snow promote me to a superior league of “edginess” altogether.   As we neared the final push up the white covered ridge to the summit of Binnein Mor I was feeling very edgy indeed.

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I hadn’t even considered doing a Munro when I scanned the weather forecasts during the week.  In fact I hadn’t been thinking much about hillwalking at all (“Burn the Heretic” they scream!).  For me and The Fatdog November is a time when thoughts turn to easier pursuits so I was quite surprised when, on Thursday evening, I began to plot a major outing.  The forecast had an optimistic feel to it with potentially a bit of brightness and a reasonable chance of walking cloud free Munros in the west.  Too good a chance to miss really.

The alarm went off at 6am and by 9am we were off on the wrong track from Kinlochleven to Loch Eilde Mor.  As usual the most difficult part of the day is getting out of the car park and once more we had failed the most basic of navigation tests.  Still we ended up almost where we had intended, we had just taken the roundabout tourist route to get there.  It did however give us our first photo of the day…

Loch Leven with the Pap of Glencoe (left)

I have no intention of detailing the route for the next couple of hours – follow track is about as detailed as it gets.  I couldn’t call the route scenic other than the early looks back down Loch Leven..  Mostly it was relatively bleak moorland on the right with the uninspiring south slopes of the easterly Mamores to our left.

We gained height as the path climbed gently across the south face of Sgor Eilde Beag, the panorama to the south gradually expanding in all its glory.  From Beinn a’ Bheithir in the west past the dramatic Aonach Eagach Ridge all the way to Schiehallion in the east, mountain top after mountain top became etched on a clear skyline.

It's a very nice path...

I found a great path!  Not just a good path…a great path.  On my Harvey map I noticed a zig-zag line, climbing from the main path across the south face of Sgor Eilde Beag.  It was where I wanted to go but I was dreading it.  I imagined a badly eroded trail with death defying scree.  Much to my amazement it was in perfect condition with the type of finished surface that allows you to ease your way upwards with barely any effort.  I couldn’t believe my luck.  The Fatdog and I virtually flew up the face of Sgor Eilde Beag to the ridge beyond!  It was there we caught our first glimpse of Binnein Mor…and the snow.

(Centre - unnamed top) - (Left - Na Gruagaichean) - (Right - Binnein Mor)

If you look at the photo above – we headed straight for the top in the middle – then cut east (right) to the summit of Binnein Mor.  But first I wanted to have a quick look down to Coire an Lochain and Sgurr Eilde Mor (off right of photo).

Sgurr Eilde Mor and Coire an Lochain below

A confident Fatdog demonstrated how to “arrest” in snow without the aid of an ice axe.

Sometimes you get the light, and sometimes you don’t.  Today we were lucky.  Although the sky didn’t look too promising on the way up when we gained the east –west Mamore ridge a localised band of sunlight floodlit both the Mamores and Ben Nevis on the opposite side of the glen.  The low, late autumn sun brought the panorama to life.  The mountains gleamed.  From the car park it had taken us 3 hours to reach this point but as I looked west along the Mamore ridge I had to admit it had been 3 hours well spent.

The Mamores

The Mamores and Ben Nevis

As we stood admiring the view the bright sunshine began to dull and the colours on the surrounding hills began to fade.  It had been spectacular while it lasted though.  For FD and I it was time to get down to the serious business of the day, the ascent of Binnean Mor.   I looked at the approach for a wee while trying to anticipate any problems for the Fatdog, but it looked a straight run in with only a couple of places nearer the top where things were narrowing a bit.  On went Maisie’s lead and off along the ridge we tramped.  I realise that the lead won’t stop a fall (which I really don’t anticipate) but it does at least stop her casually wandering near the edge or rushing off to the summit cairn in search of discarded food.

The east end of the Mamore ridge heading for the summit of Binnein Mor

Nearly there!

It went pretty much as expected with no real dodgy bits other than at the very top but it did narrow “interestingly” a couple of times.  I imagine it would feel nothing on a summer’s day but with a little snow on the ground there is always that wee doubt at the back of the mind.

Looking back

Na Gruagaichean

Summit done!  Hmmm…now, could I be sure that the point at which we were uncomfortably perched was the summit…or was it at that pile of rocks 20m away…at the far end of the rocky arête?   I looked closer…it didn’t matter.  No matter if it was, there was no way I was taking The Fatdog across that snow covered knife edge of jaggy boulders.  As it was feet and paws were jammed together while we shuffled around on very top of the mountain in an area some 600mm square with large droppy-off bits to either side.  It was time to beat a snappy retreat.  We stepped down.  I checked my watch 12.45pm, time for nibbles.

The summit arete - where Fatdogs fear to tread!

I scraped the snow from a flattish rock to make way for my foam mat and began removing various items from the pack.  Flask, lunch box, choccy bar, Labrador head…I retrieved FD’s goody bag from the bottom of the pack and gave her a chew to keep her occupied whilst I sorted out my snack.

The snow was a tad deeper near the summit...

...and the weather was having second thoughts about behaving itself - but it cleared!

The Fatdog was trying to stare me out.  I glared back, my fruit scone with strawberry jam wedged firmly in my gob. From somewhere behind us, hidden by the summit rocks, there was a determined scraping noise.   A lone figure appeared, slowly clambered off the arête and made its way down to where we sitting.

“What a great day!” the stranger exclaimed.

“Absullty fashntshc!” I responded, my mouth crammed full of scone and jam.

“Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” added The Fatdog, totally ignoring our new acquaintance, eyes firmly fixed on the remains of Asda’s finest home baking crumbling in my hand.

“Shooshhk!!!” I spluttered at FD, fragments of semi-chewed scone spraying into the chill mountain air..

“Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” insisted The Fatdog completely ignoring my unintelligible command.

With no discernable hesitation the new arrival continued to pretend he was talking to a normal human being and continued the conversation as if I hadn’t covered the summit in a fine layer of scone crumb residue.   I swallowed a big mouthful of tea to clear the last of the bun from my throat and made a stab at coherent conversation.

The Fatdog, persistent as ever, continued the demanding “Houw, Houw, Ho-uuwww!” until her gob was firmly in possession of the last drop of strawberry jam from the last crumb of scone.

Our man from Greenock was heading off to Na Gruagaichean and from there back down the corrie towards Mamore Lodge.  It would have been good to do the circular but I had no idea how difficult the rock section of Na Gruagaichean would be for FD.  We had had a good day so there was no point in pushing our luck.  We sat and watched our brief acquaintance quickly make his way along the ridge towards the adjacent Munro.

The "Man from Greenock" bids farewell...and heads west.

A quick look at my watch told me that, at our sedate pace, there was no chance of us doing another hill anyway, so for me and The Fatdog it would be a straight forward walk-out the way we had come in.  It was now 1.10pm and it would take us until roughly 4pm to reach the “Tank”.   I packed up the non edible remains of lunch and whipped my walking poles from the back of the rucksack.  Then, for FD and I, it was the long empty descent back to sea level at Kinlochleven.

Our homeward journey down the ridge to Sgor Eilde Beag - and from there to pick up the path back to Kinlochleven

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It’s 3pm and FD and I are sitting at a granite memorial bench just off the estate track looking down on Loch Leven.  Unfortunately the sun isn’t far enough round yet for a classic sunset and is lurking behind the dark solid mass of Beinn a’ Bheithir, but there’s a growing shine to the loch’s surface.  I pull out the camera for the last time today.  In the distance I can see the mobile phone mast just along from the high perch of Mamore Lodge Hotel so it’s time to call home.  J’s pleased that I’ve “clocked in” early (still daylight) and we have a chat as I pour the last of the tea into my cup with the light gradually dropping over Loch Leven.  I munch yet another choccy bar and The Fatdog pillages the pack for another Bonio.  We’ve about an easy hour’s walking to the car but it’ll pass pretty quickly as we drop back down through the native woodland to Kinlochleven below.  Another 5 minutes and we’ll start back down the track but for now we’ll just sit here and take in the view.

A View from a Bench

Not a Bad Day Out !

It was a pretty good day!!!  .  We only did Binnein Mor – which fitted into the alloted timescale just fine.  Here’s a few photos to whet the appetite   .

"Big Ben"

That's a Munro down there!!! (left of picture)

The Fatdog on Summit Approach

On the Summit of Binnein Mor