New Camera

Cosmos

My new compact camera arrived this morning, an Olympus XZ1. It has good reviews, a top rated lens and the price has dropped in recent weeks. The last camera, a Lumix TZ8, was only two years old. It had taken over 8000 photographs and went everywhere with me but the lens got scratched. It certainly achieved a lot more than all those 35mm cameras that had seen me through the 1970's, 1980's and 1990's. They had weighed me down, the films often waiting for months before being developed and then costing a fortune. My all time favourite camera nevertheless remains the Pentax ME Super.

The test shot was on Cosmos in the garden which we have grown each year since walking through harmonious meadows of Cosmos in the Ardeche a few years ago. We will be back there in our favourite corner of France next month after a tour through the Midi Pyrenees.

Thoughts of a couch potato

Sisters are doing it for themselves

David Rudisha - athlete of the games

Well, that's that then. Seventeen glorious days to enjoy the best of the Olympics, well served up with generous crowds and the bonus of more Team GB medals than I had anticipated. If Danny Boyle's opening pageant was creative and studded with humour, good stories and better values; then the closing ceremony was an over-elaborate pastiche of pop celebrity, patriotic pomp with a playlist that failed to reflect either the best of British music or the  Olympic ideals. It was delivered by a cast that must have emptied the Priory. The duped athletes, arriving in a fabulous phalanx of flags and oozing energy, were assigned to mosh pits that must have made them wish that they had gone real clubbing; and where was Usain?

An extra £41million had been sanctioned by the PM and the Culture Secretary, Jeremy Hunt, in addition to the £40million set aside by LOCOG to stage the ceremonies. According to the Daily Telegraph, the Prime Minister after being presented with a range of possible options had personally insisted on including the elaborate elements of the closing ceremony in order to maximise and promote London for the global television audience. Kim Gavin, the artistic director, used his windfall on extravagant set designs that sampled the very worst of the culture we are supposedly trying to escape from - all flash and no substance. Jessie J in a white Rolls Royce is the opposite of the 'Price Tag' sentiment; there were many over the hill performers including catwalk models and the playlist sadly missed the moment.

After truly spectacular games, where were the Stones with 'It's All Over Now', Dire Straits with 'Love over Gold', Pink Floyd with 'Time' and why did Annie Lennox not celebrate the success of women at the London Olympics with 'Sisters are doing it for themselves' instead of an underwhelming version of 'Little Bird'? The only A-listers were John Lennon, Freddie Mercury and the Spice Girls, the first two dead and the Spice Girls miming badly. John Lennon's 'Imagine ... there's no countries' was an interesting message for the assembled nations. Kate Bush's 'Running up that Hill' has long been a favourite on my running playlist but she at least wisely refused to perform. Oasis are no more and neither is Wonderwall when left to Liam - 'by now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do'; I bet Noel has a beady eye on that take. It might as well have been done by the Kaiser Chiefs who seemed to be the standby band for most other absent groups on the night. Elbow kept it going for a while and Eric Idle proved that humour is timeless. The press had by this time lost their critical faculties and were in total gushing overload, although it was notable that Hugh Edwards, the lead presenter, hardly said a word, what was he thinking?

The games themselves were a triumph for the selection or building of venues that worked. If only the ticketing had been as good, the locals in Newham seem to have no more luck than the rest of us in getting tickets. Meanwhile, David Cameron, the PM and fat cats played musical chairs around the venues with the army and volunteers keeping their seats warm whilst they sped round London in the fast lanes. The spec for the games seemed as much for elite chauffeured spectators as elite athletes. 

The most inspiring shots came from the velodrome, athletics, gymnastics and then events such as handball and the triathlon. Football, at last, got its comeuppance - people couldn't be bothered with summer football, the stadiums were difficult to fill. There was something very unolympian about overpaid footballers competing on the same programme as athletes who have given up jobs and careers to be at the games with little or no financial reward. There are too many sports now at the games and men's football would be top of my list for eviction, although the women's game probably deserves its place. And archery, fencing, table tennis, BMX cycling and golf (an Olympic Sport in 2016) could also be evicted without any loss to the spectacle. I would prefer darts to any of these if only as a tribute to the late great sid waddell.

Another assertion that needs knocking on the head is the rant by Lord Monaghan, the BOA chairman, who claimed that the high proportion of privately-educated Team GB medallists was "unacceptable". He said that "just 7 per cent of the population go to independent schools – but more than half of Britain’s golds in the 2008 Beijing Games were won by former private school pupils." Well this proportion dropped sharply in these games to less than 30%. If you were to exclude the two sports of rowing, a sport hosted in the grounds of Eton, and equestrian events from which the vast majority of the privately educated medallists are found, then the state schools provided almost all UK's medals. 

Yes, we need a curriculum that provides all youngsters with the opportunity to sample sports but the collapse of school sports came in the mid 1980s when the Thatcher government went head to head with the teaching unions, presumably with one objective being to increase the number of pupils at private schools. And then the present coalition government refused to fund the two hours of compulsory PE that the previous government had introduced. It is this sort of instinctive elitism that has been the cause of poor performances in previous games.  What has happened over the past ten years is that state funding has provided the support for athletes from less wealthy backgrounds to train with top coaches and excellent facilities. This has made the difference and is in danger of being lost in the raft of austerity measures that the government are intent on delivering. We should also recognise that whilst cycling and running are universal activities that take place in almost all countries, rowing and equestrian events are minority sports even in the UK.  Few other countries participate in these top-end activities which means that it is far easier to win medals in these sports.

The National Audit Office had identified that there was virtually no contingency fund set aside for the games. Fortunately, the volunteers played their part big time responding to any crisis with a flexibility that G4S had omitted from their business plan. So did the army and if things got tricky then Boris Johnson became an emergency clown: seats empty - rotate blundering Boris and the army around the venues; no medals after two days, stick Boris on the zip wire to divert the press; crap closing ceremony - get him to dance to the Spice Girls. Meanwhile, the PM continued to be accident-prone. After his first two years when he seemed to have the knack of coming out smelling of roses every time he fell in the shit, he has become a Frank Spencer figure - accident-prone and the guarantor of plucky British losers every time he turned up at an event.  His tendency to make policy on the hoof shows no sign of abating and meanwhile the economy just gets shafted by George, no not the one performing at the closing ceremony, the two Georges are a double whammy of disasters.

My athlete of the games has to be David Rudisha of Kenya for the way he took the race on and with consummate ease destroyed a class field and broke the world record as well. Lord Coe was right to highlight this but then he has been on the ball on most things, as even Steve Ovett graciously acknowledged. The American female sprinters Alyson Felix and Sanya Richards Ross were all elegance and grace in winning the 200m and 400m respectively and then the 4x 400 metres relay. The Brownlie brothers were superb in the Triathlon, Alistair even having to install a hot tub in his front garden to keep his training going during a stress fracture. 

Gabby Douglas, the flying squirrel, was sublime in gymnastics. The 15-year-old Latvian swimmer, Ruta Meilutyte, trained in Britain did what none of the British swimmers could manage and was a surprise gold medallist. She showed that the innocence of youth is no deterrent. I was pleased for Kath Grainger winning gold on the fourth attempt, I remember meeting her after the Sydney games and being impressed by her determination. And on the BBC website that allowed you to put in your height and weight to find your competitor nearest in size, she emerged as my match. And then the cycling, Laura Trott was the outstanding performer - all humility and bubbling fun and a role model for girls in sport. Bradley was the supreme professional and only Victoria Pendleton could lose her last race and still be a winner.

The BBC coverage was exceptional and, as well as the superbly professional Claire Balding, Michael Johnson, Hazel Irving, Chris Boardman and Gabby Logan we also had some new knowledgable and engaging presenters emerging as Mark Cavendish and Mark Foster took to the mike. Only the terminally smug Gary Lineker dropped the baton for the BBC proving once again that ... it's not about the money, money, money.

Rūta Meilutytė

Brownlee Brothers in Triathalon

Gabby Douglas in full flow

Bradley Wiggins

Victoria Pendleton and Anna Meares

Alyson Felix

Sanya Richards Ross

Kath Grainger and Anna Watkins

Forlorn Mayor of London stuck on Zip wire

Inspiring an older generation

Q4 cyclist

Herb Elliot

King Bradley

Yes the Olympics have worked for me as they always have done since watching the Rome Olympics in 1960 and being inspired by middle distance runner Herb Elliot to take up running which has continued for over 50 years. Yesterday I switched allegiance to cycling in homage to Bradley Wiggins and took the road bike for a spin for the first time since April. I have recently fitted a cycle computer to measure distance and speed. The gears needed adjustment so I decided to take a flatter route rather than trust my workmanship over the Duke's pass and around Loch Katrine which is my usual route. 

A couple of miles out, having negotiated the potholes and jetpatcher drumlins leaving the village, I hit a rare section of smooth tarmac and I was cycling at 20mph with no discomfort. I was wearing a helmet and shades as well as cycle shorts and a cycling jersey for the first time, although it was a mars bar in my rear patch pocket not a gel (whatever that is!). A club cyclist acknowledged me and I overtook a tractor. My route included a road that was closed for bridge work but I pressed on thinking that I could carry the bike through the road works. There was no need the road men waved me through and then the district nurse pulled in to let me pass and she apologised for slowing me down. Cyclists are now the kings of the road thanks to Bradley and co. 

On the long smooth section of road into Arnprior I was pedalling at 23mph and it seemed easy, there was probably a tail wind. I had intended to stop after 10 or 12 miles and have a drink and my mars bar but that seemed a bit wimpish so I drank as I rode and replaced the bottle in the cage rather than throwing it to the passing crowds. There was no drop of pace over the 21 miles which I completed in a respectable 70 minutes, my mars bar had melted.  

Why had I not become a cyclist like Bradley? When I was 32 I had better sideburns, enough hair to not need a crash helmet and my right leg was reinforced with 5 titanium screws. 

Creag Meagaidh

Path from Aberarder

Coire Ardair

Not the summit

Coire Ardair from Stob Poite Coire Ardair

Above the window and Creag Meaghaidh summit - far right

Exercising my Access Rights above Loch Laggan

Loch Laggan and Gael Charn 

Thursday, 9 August 2012
Distance:  23 kilometres
Ascent:    1180 metres
Time:       5 hours 44 minutes
m   Creag Meagaidh                 1128m      2hrs 23mins
m   Stob Poite Coire Ardair       1054m      3hrs 18mins
t     Sron Coire a' Chrochairein    993m
m   Carn Liath                           1006m      4hrs 35mins

A text from Alex who was in Aviemore for the week, would I fancy climbing the Monaliadhs? No, I had made my five yearly pilgrimage to these hills a couple of weeks ago and they are not that alluring. We negotiated other possibilities and settled on Creag Meagaidh. The weather was promising and I could be home in time to watch David Rudiche (certainly the athlete of the games for me) in the 800metres. I left home at 7:45am but with the A9 in one of its elastic traffic days (you chug along in line for 4 or 5 miles and then shoot forward at the next section of dual carriageway) it was a slow trip and 10:15am before I arrived at Aberarder. The sun of the Trossachs had given way to cloud in Perthshire but as I headed west through Laggan the sun was promising to come through.

The Scottish Natural Heritage facilities at the start of the walk are first class including display boards, leaflets, toilet provision and a graded path for the first 6 kilometres into Coire Ardair. This is a National Nature Reserve where deer management has allowed the regeneration of native trees in the glen. We were mobbed by butterflies, caterpillars littered the paths but the cloud cover remained. It was easy walking along a superb footpath until Coire Ardair. Then 300 metres of climbing to the Window, the gap and entry to the Creag Meagaidh plateau above Coire Ardair. We climbed the steep grassy slope to the upper lip of the cliffs and peered down, the famed deep corrie with its lochan was lost in the mist.

It is an easy ramble across the grassy plateau to the summit. We lunched on the top of a large cairn that looked like the spoils of some mining activity. At the back of my mind, I had a premonition that this was not the summit but it looked like a giant Balti Pie so Alex was happy. Before we finished our food the cloud lifted to reveal an unassuming cairn on the top of a gentle rise about 500 metres away - the real summit of Creag Meagaidh and we sauntered across as I recalled that I had spent twenty minutes  in poor visibility on a previous visit going round in circles with a compass in hand before finding the summit, I have not invested in GPS .

We wandered back across the plateau and then dropped back down to the Window meeting a pair of Irish walkers who were climbing 52 munros for charity during the month of August - they seemed very content. From the Window there is only one more real climb for the day and that is a quick 10 minute slog up to Stob Poite Coire Ardair. At last it was becoming brighter. The long easy ridge walk to Carn Liath is a pleasant stroll in the park with open views to the north over the Monalaidhs and south to Ben Alder.

The visibility was excellent and the sun arrived as we caught a couple of older walkers with dogs, whom we had met as we left in the morning. They had an easy cadence, wore wool, bonnets and had the demeanour and easy manner of  previous generations of walker. They knew their hills and the wildlife and we spent 10 minutes with them on the top of Carn Liath admiring the panorama of Scotland from the Cairngorms and Glenshee, Glen Lyon, the Roy hills, Glen Affric, Ben Wyvis and as far as Morven in Caithness. They had binoculars and we charted the ground works and new track for the upgraded Beauly to Denny power line through the Corrieyairack pass.

We headed south down the grass and scree slopes to Aberarder. It was easy walking down to 600 metres and then a muddy path that skirts east of the outlier of Na Cnapanan before dropping through dense vegetation that needed some thinning out - where are the deer when you need them - to the well engineered path below. We were down well ahead of expectations - I had assumed 7 hours for the walk and I was home for 7pm in time to watch the women's football final but I forgot; I will need to get a report from my friend who had bought tickets for the game, it can't have been as bad as the men's final.

An Teallach

An Teallach above Loch Toll an Lochan

An Teallach

Friday, 3 August 2012

Ascent:    1430 metres
Distance: 16 kilometres

Time:       6 hours 45minutes 

t   Sail Liath                         954m      2hrs 29mins                     

t   Stob Cadha Gobhlach     960m      2hrs 45mins

t   Lord Berkeley's Seat      1030m     4hrs   2mins

m  Sgurr Fiona                   1060m    4hrs 16mins

m  Bidein a' Ghlas Thuill   1062m    4hrs 56mins

We had stayed at the cousins' holiday house in Gairloch overnight and awoke to the sort of day that makes this corner of Scotland seem like paradise. We drove around the coast road by Poolewe, Aultbea and Dundonnell stopping at Gruinard Bay for photos and to soak up the magical views. We picked up John and Alex who had gone on ahead to Dundonnell to drop their car and continued to Corriehallie where we started the ascent up the track to Shenaval. The blue skies were accompanied by a gentle breeze making the conditions ideal for hill walking.

The Shenaval path splits after 4 kilometres and there is a faint boggy path across the lower slopes of Sail Liath. Eventually, the path kicks up and there is a slog up 500 metres of ascent including a scree slope of boulders to the first top of Sail Liath. The compensation is the panorama of the Fisherfield mountains including Bheinn Dearg Mhor, a shapely and favourite Corbett that provided the backdrop for a feral goat herd.

The fun begins here with a steep drop and climb to the next top, Stob Cadha Gobhlach. It is a longer drop again before the scramble up Corag Bhuidhe, a massive wall of stepped Torridonian red sandstone that provides good grip and lots of exposure. The ptarmigan were friendly, the sun was out, the saxifrage twinkled and this was hill walking at its best. The gullies that fell to Loch Toll nan Lochan could easily induce vertigo and the Ravens were calling. Lord Berkeley's seat was the next top, an armchair perched on the edge of a precipice.

The final haul up to Sgurr Fiona was the end of the scrambling and provided the perfect patio for lunch. We spent 20 minutes relaxing in the sun. John commented that he was taking it all in as it may be his last visit here. I was a bit taken aback, it is the fourth time that I have been on An Teallach with him and they have always been on good days. There are some hills that I have been up recently when I have thought 'thank goodness this may be the last time' but An Teallach never disappoints once you reach the airy and exposed sections. It merits as many repeat visits as the mind permits and the body allows although the descent is a bit of a drag.

The walk over to Bidein a Ghlas Thuill reveals a constantly changing view of the corrie below and the summit was mobbed with more goats. We decided against going out to any of the Glas Mheall tops, I had already done them several times, and began the path down the stony slopes to Dundonnell. I had blistered my heel badly for the first time in years, my socks were too thick for my trainers and the path down was not kind to my feet. It is stony and boggy all the way down with no compensating views, the sort of path that is easier to ascend but the Corriehallie route is so much better. We simply battered on, the afternoon becoming ever warmer as we descended, and made the car park by the hotel by 5:15pm.

Gregor and I were given a lift back to Corriehallie and were soon travelling back to Inverness on a bright summer evening. My impression that Beauly Firth and the Black Isle is blessed with perpetual sunshine was reinforced as it has been on dozens of occasions over the past twenty years. Come to think of it, the sun shone constantly during the summer of 1970 when I resided on the Dingwall campsite for two months.

The intention had been to eat, camp in Glen Feshie and climb a couple of the Cairngorm hills in the morning. We stopped for food in Aviemore but with the news of cycling gold medals at the Olympics and my heel stinging we decided to drive straight home to watch the Olympics. A decision that was absolutely confirmed as it became Super Saturday.

Above Gruinard Bay looking towards Ullapool

Corriehallie path

Sail Liath and the pinnacles

Sail Liath screes

Bheinn Dearg Mhor and Feral Goats

Saxifrage provides an oasis of colour against the red sandstone

Corrag Buttress

Ptarmigan

Sgurr Fiona from Lord Berkeley's Seat (LBS)

Sgurr Fiona nd Bidein a' Ghlas Thuill from LBS

LBS and Corrag Bhuidhe from Sgurr Fiona

Loch Toll an Lochain and ridge from Corrag Bhuidhe to Sail Liath

Goat walk

Ghlas Mheall Liath

Sgurr Fiona and ridge from Bidein a' Ghlas Thuill

Job Done

A'Chralaig

Carn Ghluasaid

Sail Chorainn from Sgurr nan Conbhairean

Sail Chaorainn from A' Chralaig

A' Chralaig cairn

Mullach Fraoch-choire

A' Chralaig

Five Sisters from Mullach Fraoch-choire

A' Chralaig
Thursday, 2 August 2012

Distance:      26 kilometres

Ascent:        1680 metres

Time:           8 hours 5 minutes

m      Carn Ghluasaid                  957m      1hr   37mins

t        Creag a' Chaorainn            998m           

m      Sgurr nan Conbhairean     1109m     2hrs  27mins

m      Sail Chaorainn                  1002m     3hrs    0mins

m      A' Chralaig                       1120m     4hrs   55mins

t        Stob Coire na Cralaig       1008m     

m     Mullach Fraoch-choire      1102m     5hrs 51mins

We had invited ourselves to the cousin's holiday house in Gairloch for the night intending to climb An Teallach on Friday. It seemed folly to refrain from using the drive up to take in some hills and the five Munros north of Loch Cluanie were well positioned. I began to doubt the decision when I checked my old logs to find the times for these hills. The last time it had taken over 12 hours in atrocious May conditions with most of the walk in deep snow. Before that there had been a couple of 10-hour excursions but when I was carrying camping gear and taking in all the tops. I figured we should be able to do the five hills in 9 hours so we planned to leave home at 7:30am for the three-hour drive to Cluanie. We were late leaving and then held up by summer traffic all the way so it was 11:45am before we started walking from a layby just beyond Coire nan Clach. We walked back and found a rising path from Lundie, where we had camped a few years ago in a layby with stony ground, eager midges and all-night traffic hurtling past.

It was overcast but warm and the good path made for a speedy ascent although the ground was very boggy following the months of summer rain and then increasingly steep through the rocky upper slopes. Finally a pleasant lollop over to the cairn where a cheery lady welcomed us, she was waiting for her husband who was climbing another two munros. We had some food, admired the corrie below to the north and set out over easy stony ground for the climb to Sgurr nan Conbhairean. We caught up with a couple by the summit and the man was holding a glove he had found and complaining that people only ever lost one glove, what good was that for those who found them! We didn't stop but headed north down the steep stony ground to the bealach before the gentle rise towards Sail Chaorainn.

Sail Chaorainn is more of an outlier than a separate hill and far less worthy of being a Munro than Beinn a' Chlaidheimh in Fisherfield which I understand is under threat. We returned and found a route across to A' Chralaig by undercutting Sgurr nan Conbhairean to reach Bealach Coire a' Chail. It was a steep traverse with some outcrops to negotiate but saved half an hour or so. The pull-up to A' Chralaig was tiring in the heat, almost 400 metres of steep slopes covered in long grasses.

The A' Chralaig cairn is one of the largest of all Munros. It was almost 5pm, we were ahead of schedule and the evening was looking up with the sun emerging and creating some excellent views of Mullach Fraoch-choire. The ridge walk between the two munros is a real pleasure with a final kilometre along the rocky knife edge ridge to the summit of Mullach. We were enjoying the walk and making good time. At the summit, we spotted all the mountain ranges from Ben Nevis to the Torridons. Sgurr na Ciche and the Five Sisters were particularly prominent, moments like this on the Scottish hills are totally uplifting.

We returned along the ridge to Stob Coire na Cralaig where we had left our rucksacks and then descended down Coire a' Ghlas -thuill. A herd of deer scattered as we headed for the Glen below. There were 3 kilometres down the path to the road from where Gregor ran back 4 kilometres to collect the car whilst I carried our rucksacks to the Cluanie Inn to order some food and drink. It was 8pm as we started our drinks and reflected on a long but very good walk. It took us almost 2 hours to drive to Gairloch where we had a good reception from the 8 adults and had a few drinks in a holiday let that, coincidentally, Aileen and I had stayed in when it was a hotel 5 years ago during one of our sorties around the West Coast. We found a suitable floor to sleep on, relieved that on a warm night, we were not sharing a tent with a few thousand midges.