Monday 9 September 2024

Sgurr a' Mhaoraich

Sgurr a' Mhaoraich
Saturday, 7 August 2024

Ascent:          959 metres
Distance:       13 kilometres
Time:             3 hours 53 minutes

Sgurr a' Mhaoraich.   1027m.   2hrs 7mins

John had to return home on Saturday so we cleaned the cottage and took advantage of the exceptional weather to drive to Loch Quoich and climb Sgurr a' Mhaoraich. It is a long 20-kilometre drive from the A87 alongside Loch Garry. The single-track road had been closed all week for electricity transmission work but John had read that it would be open on Saturday. The car parks for Gairich and Gleouraich were full but we were the first takers for our chosen hill. I had remembered Sgurr a' Mhaoraich as a reasonably easy climb and the path, whilst steep, is much better than most in these parts. I thought that three and a half hours would suffice but the heat and the effects of four longish days on the hills must have taken their toll.

I made a steady start climbing 350 metres before stopping for a drink. The visibility was perfect but the midday heat was stifling. Keith and John went past as they continued their ascents so I decided to extend my break, eat an orange, admire the Knoydart skyline and recall the many inspiring days in this wildsome paradise. I hoped that the photographer from the Glomach Falls had managed to capture their essence.

I restarted up to the outlying hill of Sgurr Coire nan Eirricheallach which is almost a Munro at 891 metres but does not have a sufficient drop to be a Corbett. There is a pleasant undulating ridge that continues for a couple of kilometres to the summit. It is decorated by a magnificent stone wall at a height of over 800 metres. The blocks are massive and often laid vertically, the wallmakers must have had backs of steel and muscles of rubber. On a more mundane level, the heat had brought out the flies and for much of the ascent, it was a case of swatting them away. The last section of the climb is by a steep ramp below a north-facing cliff below the ridge that was still holding snow in late May during a previous visit. 

It had taken 21 minutes longer than my last visit but that was first thing in the morning on a cooler day. The views to the Saddle and into Knoydart were impressive as was gorgeous Gleouraich to the east. The South Cluanie Ridge looked a stone's throw away and prompted many happy memories of the ridge including charging along the ridge with Gregor when he was just eleven and then hitching back up to the Cluanie Inn with a Newcastle musician. There were a couple of walkers at the summit and whilst we had some lunch a Glasgow walker arrived, he had lost his glasses on the ascent and asked us to keep an eye out for them on our descents. 

The descent was not much faster than the ascent although we seemed to be going at a good pace, It was still very warm when we arrived back at the road and we were out of water, there had been no burns on the route down. Keith and I contemplated a swim but the Loch was a little too far away. The Glaswegian walker arrived down and to his delight, the other couple of walkers had found them and left them on his car bonnet. He gave us a slice of patter and a full bottle of water to slake our thirst. 

The traffic going north on the return journey was continuous, summer had brought it out in full flow but at Fort William, the traffic was going our way. The Fort was clogged up, it was the day of the Ben Nevis Race. Keith had competed on a couple of occasions during his long and impressive list of events that he has competed in over the last forty years. Today he had charged up the hill after I had stopped for a break to test whether he was fit enough to win his age group for the Lakes 50-mile race from Caldbeck to Cartmell in October, he had already done this on two occasions. The roads from Glencoe were not as busy as expected and we were back home by 8pm,  I made a meal for us all while showers were had and after eating Keith returned to Glasgow and I went to Stirling to collect Gregor who was staying the night before a half marathon tomorrow.
Sgurra' Mhaoraich and Sgurr Coire nan Eiricheallach
The Saddle from the summit
Sgurr Coire nan Eiricheallach and Gleouraich from the summit
Wall at 850 metres
Knoydart peaks across Loch Quoich

A' Ghlas Bheinn and Glomach Falls

Falls of Glomach

Friday, 6 June 2024

Ascent:       1269 metres 
Distance:    27.5 kilometres
Time:          7 hours 36 minutes

A Ghlas-bheinn     918m     3hrs 10mins
Falls of Glomach   331m     4hrs 38mins


It was another magical day with added heat from the September sunshine. John was to climb A'Ghlas-beinn and Beinn Fhada with Keith, I had decided to give Beinn Fhada a miss, I had been up a couple of years earlier and made a long intended walk to the Falls of Glomach instead. We parked opposite the Morvich campsite and began walking to Gleann Choinneachain, which bisects the two Munros and leads to Bealach na Sgairne. The path rises steadily through woodland first and then on the open hillside crossing the fast-flowing burns that drain the northern corries of Beinn Fhada. We were joined by a young woman walker from Edinburgh and we learnt of her progress towards completing the Munros, she had climbed 216 and saw A'Ghlas-beinn as a warm-up for her climb of Liathach tomorrow. 

We halted at Bealach an Sgairne, we had once contemplated dropping over to Sgurr nan Ceathramhnan from here to add another three Munros to the usual walk of A' Ghlas-bheinn and Beinn Fhada. Our ambitions have been moderated since those crazy days of Munro bashing. The temperature was soaring as we began the steep and relentless 400 metres ascent to A' Ghlas-bheinn, it is now the lowest Munro following the sad demotion of Sgurr nan Ceannaichean and Beinn a' Chlaidheimh.  We caught a couple of walkers ahead as we sweated it out and then dropped at the summit and drooled at the magnificent vistas in all directions. 

After a lazy lunch stop, Keith and John returned south to the beach and headed for Beinn Fhada whilst I spent 10 minutes rebuilding the cairn before beginning a romp down the crags to the north of the hill and over to the Falls of Glomach path. I had done this walk in the opposite direction on my previous visit. It has a lonely but mellow wildness as you navigate through the pathless undulating landscape, several deer were grazing close to the lochans. The heat had brought out the flies in huge numbers, I retrieved the midge spray but to little avail. As I scooted down the hill, the path was invisible from the convex slope of Meall Dubh and I was getting concerned until the path appeared complete with a woman returning from the Falls of Glomach. 

We slipped into an easy conversation, she was a photographer and had hoped to capture some shots of the Falls but the lighting had not fulfilled her photographer's eye. I usually speak briefly to passing walkers but this was a long and fascinating conversation with someone who clearly loved the Scottish hills, seemed to have had a life of adventure and was wedded to outdoor pursuits. She had 16 Munros to reach her compleation and, as is often the case, they were all in remote locations. She felt that it would be useful to do these with others but was not in a club. I suggested that Keith may be able to guide her to some of these, he has guided dozens of others from his walking club to Munro compleations over the years. The conversation confirmed that one of the great delights of hillwalking is meeting like-minded folk who inspire you to keep going, although when she recommended a book 'Fit at Fifty' that says you can keep improving until you are 76, I thought I might have missed the boat.

It was with some reluctance on my part that we were going opposite ways.  I started on the path down to the Falls of Glomach, it was a pleasant stroll at first before a series of zig-zags down 200 metres to the top of the falls. There is a final boggy section through long grass and then just the glorious gushing Abhainn Gaorsaic as it approaches the precipice and plunges 150 metres into the dark cool abyss. I sauntered down the path for 50 metres to take some photos, you can never capture the sheer force of a waterfall but I was probably 90 minutes later than the photographer and may have secured better lighting later in the afternoon. After twenty minutes or so I began the long walk back. I reached the high point of the path at 508 metres and took a break to decide whether I would have time to climb the nearby hills of Suie Dhu and the Graham, Carnan Cruithneachd which was 3 kilometres away over boggy ground. I figured it would add an hour and a half to the walk and we had arranged to meet back at the car at 6:30pm.  It was already 4:15pm and a 7-kilometre walk back so I decided against it.

The path back from the high point of the Glomach path was rougher than I remembered. The compensation was the north-facing slopes of A' Ghlas-bheinn scored by dozens of burns that serrated the hillside. Even reaching the track through the forestry plantations .left me with a walk of 5 kilometres back to the car. I then received a message from Keith that they would not be down until 7:30pm. I was down by 5:45pm and after visiting the campsite to see if drinks were on sale, they weren't, I trudged another two kilometres to the Pitstop cafe, formerly known as the Jacobite. A beer and some chips helped me while away an hour in the warm late evening sun whilst the sound system played an appealing collection of Dire Straits, Fleetwood Mac and similar music. Another sun-filled day was forecast for tomorrow, life was good.

Looking across to Beinn Fhada from A' Ghlas-beinn

A' Ghlas-beinn with KY cairn

My route down from A'Ghas-beinn

Top of the Glomach Falls

Burn sculpting on the north slopes of A'Ghlas-beinn

Pitstop Cafe

The Saddle and Forcan Ridge

Forcan Ridge

Thursday, 5 September 2024

Ascent:         1302 metres
Distance:      17 kilometres
Time:            6 hours 41 minutes

Sgurr an Forcan        965m     2hrs 52mins
The Saddle              1011m     3hrs 32mins
Biod an Fithich.        646m     5hrs 20mins

The forecast was good and we decided to climb the Saddle, ideally by the Forcan Ridge. John had to climb Sgurr na Sgine as well to complete his fourth round. I had done it a couple of times in recent years, once to climb the Corbett, Buidhe Bheinn after the SMC changed the position of the summit 3 kilometres to the south despite both tops of the ridge being 885 metres. The excellent path from Glen Shiel rises to 500 metres below the impressive peak of Biodan Fhithich before it doubles back and climbs another couple of hundred metres to the northern end of the Forcan Ridge. There is a small cairn that is easily missed that marks the narrow path that shimmies its way to the rocky crest.

The climb is steep and becomes a bit of a scramble but it is an entertaining ascent. During our first long weekend of Munro bashing in 1989, John and I had reached the Forcan Ridge during a temperature inversion and I was mesmerised by appearing in the glory rings of a Brocken spectre, It had happened once before on MacGillycuddies reeks in County Kerry in 1975 but never since. Until today, when the Forcan Ridge and the sun's angle conspired with the dispersing cloud to provide several minutes of a repeat. As the ridge steepened and the scramble became more challenging, the sun took over and we entered the joyous pleasure of ridge scrambling on a perfect day for half an hour.

We passed the summit of the Saddle just before the Vanessa Trig Point and walked on for 50 metres to a point that provided views across to Knoydart. It was lunchtime and we dallied in the warm September Indian summer. There is a path down to Bealach Coire Mhalagain from here, a drop of 300 metres. John and Keith began the climb up Sgurr an Sgine whilst I traversed along to the footpath at the start of the Forcan Ridge. Time was on my side but I continued to the next bealach below Biod an Fhithich and made straight for the summit. A man and his dog were just ahead of me and I settled down for an hour on this superb viewpoint. The man from Perth was going to Skye for a couple of days to complete his final two Munros on the ridge.  I took photos, ate an apple, sent some messages, browsed the map and was slowly baked. I eventually descended back to the bealach at 500 metres hoping that John and Keith would appear but after 15 minutes, the sun retreated behind the hill and there was no sign of them so I decided to walk back to the car. 

It turned out to be a long wait but the van parked next to John's car belonged to Thistle Trekking and David Battle, the Director was eyeing up a place to camp for the night. We chatted for an hour, he even provided me with a biscuit and said I could stay in his van if John and Keith did not return. We eventually spotted them through his binoculars before he decided to head upwards hoping to find a pitch out of the strong winds that were forecast but high enough to enjoy the possible temperature inversion in the morning. John and Keith arrived shortly after he left and for the second day, we were only just back at the cottage before nightfall. The electrician had fitted a new electric switch box so I sent a photo to my brother who was above the Arctic Circle but able to switch the heating on from a smartphone.

Forcan Ridge


Me in the Brocken spectre from Forcan Ridge

On the Forcan Ridge, rebuilding the cairn

Keith and John on the Saddle

Forcan Ridge from the Saddle

Looking south to Knoydart

Sisters and Brothers of Kintail

The Saddle from Biod an Fithich

Loch Duich from Biod an Fithich

Five Sisters

Biod an Fithich

End of a perfect day - Glen Shiel

 



A' Chrailaig and Mullach Fraoch-choire

Glen Shiel and South Cluanie ridge from A' Chrailaig

Wednesday, 4 September 2024

Ascent:       1182 metres
Distance:    18 kilometres
Time:          6 hours 37 minutes

Mullach Fraoch-choire      1102m.    3hrs 31mins
Stob Coire na Craileig.      1008m.    4hrs 12mins
A' Chrailaig.                       1120m.    4hrs 56mins

Before leaving London on Monday, I had a message saying that there could be a good weather window from Wednesday and could I manage a few days helping John as he neared the completion of his fourth round of Munros. I contacted my brother to see if we could use his cottage near Strathcarron for a few days, and the answer was yes, it was game on. John and Keith came to stay at my house on Tuesday evening so we could make an early start, it would save John a couple of hours. We agreed that the two Munros above the Cluanie Inn would be the sensible choice on the way up, it would take over three hours to drive there and would only take an hour from there to the cottage.

It was after 12 noon before we began the walk from the layby before the Cluanie Inn. The cloud was down to about 700 metres and it was a coolish grey day. The first couple of kilometres are on a reasonable track but it becomes a wet tramp thereafter and the recent heavy rains made the going a reprise of bogtrotting days with my trainers acting like blotting paper. There were several fords marked on the OS map but it was really a focus of fords. 

We continued for another 2 kilometres where a small cairn indicated the route up to Coire Odhar. We made slow progress and we had to don waterproofs as the rains began when we were in the corrie. Three walkers were on their descents having ascended by the A' Chrailaig path, they had obviously decided not to return by that route, we were to learn why later in the day. There is a final 100 metres of ascent from the core to the bealach at 949 metres. It is about a kilometre along a pleasing rocky ridge with some easy scrambling to the summit of Mullach Fraoch-choire. It was a late lunch at 3pm before we retraced our route along the ridge and climbed the top of Stob Coire an Craileig.

On the next leg to A' Chrailaig, the clouds began to disperse and we saw occasional glimpses of nearby hills. The massive cairn of A' Chrailaig prompted another stop to clear our rucksacks of any food before we began what at first was a delightful descent down a grassy ridge. Blue skies appeared as did some moody views of the South Cluanie ridge and the nearby distinctive profile of Ciste Dubh. The final 500 metres of descent were a rude awakening, a steep twisting path that knifed its way through wet boggy ground with rocks that hindered every step. And the midges had arrived with the sun. It made me realise that most of my previous jaunts on this hill had been far more enjoyable because I had climbed the five munros together and there was no need to use this path. It was 7pm before we reached the car and checked the forecast for the next day, it sounded more promising and that proved to be an understatement.
On the Mullach Fraoch-choire ridge

A'Chrailaig Cairn

Moody Glen Shiel Munros


First part of descent from A' Chrailaig

 

Ciste Dubh from A'Chrailaig


Tuesday 3 September 2024

Out and About in London

Thames from Blackfriars Station

Francis Crick Institute

Chinatown

Mo Mowlem in the National Portrait Gallery

The Last Portrait by Sasha Sokolova in National Portrait Gallery 
\
Courtauld Institute - 

Van Gough's Presidential pose


Local breweries are flourishing in London.

Three days after walking out and about in Paris, I was back in London and had some free time. I am no plongeur but I decided to do the same in Central London. The days were perfect with the late August sunshine having lost its midsummer heat and humidity. I had walked 29,000 steps in Paris and I managed 23,000 in London where I spent more time visiting museums and buildings that represented the old empire and the new digital London. As in Paris, I had no preconceived plan but followed my instincts, taking in any scene or building that tickled my fancy. It was a good way to compare Europe's two great capital cities.

I caught a train to St Pancras, not from Paris but from Tulse Hill in South London. I chose St Pancras because it is one of my favourite buildings that was rescued from demolition by the Poet Laureate, Sir John Betjeman. The red brick Gothic Hotel that fronts the station was designed by the Victorian architect Sir George Gilbert Scott and the massive cast iron vaulted roof was the largest in the world when it was built. St Pancras like most of London's buildings had suffered from smoke, fog and underinvestment after the war and, unlike Paris, demolition and replacement by commercial retail and office blocks were the modus operandi of developers. The outcomes were dire and whilst there have been many remarkable buildings constructed in the past twenty or thirty years, London is a smorgasbord of architectural styles whereas Paris has retained most of the buildings that Hausmann incorporated within the planned development of the core of the city in the nineteenth century. The lack of high rise buildings makes Paris more uplifting than the chaotic mix of new and old and low and high buildings in London on a street pattern that evolved over the centuries with no overriding design.

I visited one of the new buildings across the road from St Pancras, the Francis Crick Institute and looked at an exhibition of the workings of the brain. A massive foyer with the innards of the lift system revealing the glass dominating The coffee was bland unlike the cafe coffee in Paris which is freshly ground, served quick and enjoyed slowly as you observe the street life. I went into the British Library and joined so that I could look up a review for a robot mower in Which Magazine. After finding the right floor and section, I had to queue to make my request. Ten minutes later I was told that they didn't have the recent edition I requested because they had not yet re-ordered the magazine twelve months after the cyber attack. It was a different reason than Lambeth Library had given me the day before, they had not renewed membership as part of their austerity savings. Still, I managed to have a good look around the library. 

I walked to Tottenham Court Road and the retail areas and pottered round some furniture shops before seeking somewhere to eat. The number of homeless people in tents and empty shop entrances was far higher than I had noticed before and the homeless seemed a lot younger. The pubs were too McPuby, the sandwich bars were overcrowded and the restaurants too expensive for lunch so I drifted into John Lewis so I could have a look at some trail shoes and furniture and grab a quick meal and a sit-down. I have occasionally bumped into long lost colleagues and friends here so I always keep a sharp eye for people who may now be thirty or forty years older than our last acquaintance. It can be one of life's pleasures meeting someone from the distant past and discovering the bones of their life's journey.

The afternoon began with a jaunt down Oxford Street and Regent Street. As I approached Trafalgar Square, I was tempted to spend some time in the National Portrait Gallery, a place that never disappoints. I was greatly taken by John Keane's portrait of Mo Mowlem and enjoyed the 2024 Portrait Annual Award exhibits, there is a people's award ao I voted for Aleksandra Sokolova's portrait of her elderly father who had also been an artist.. 

I meandered through Chinatown towards Covent Garden and called in at the hotel where Aileen and I had stayed for her 70th birthday on our last trip to London together. It was a perfect weekend and I wanted to recapture the memory. I had never managed to visit Somerset House so I dropped down to the embankment and walked along past the solid sandstone buildings that were built in Victorian times. The traffic was heavy, although most of the cabs are electric nowadays. The bar outside Somerset House in full swing with lots of office workers taking a late lunch or swanning off early to steal a bit of the summer that had only just turned up. I walked through the courtyard where children were running through the fountains and found the entrance to the Courtauld Institute. I wnnt up three flights os stairs to the Impressionist room and spent half an hour in a near-empty gallery admiring the fine collection. I was amused to see Van Gogh's interpretation of the Trump assassination attempt, the bandaging was far better than the Trumpian swab. 

It was time to head home and I decided to travel from Blackfriars Station. Its platforms are on the bridge over the Thames and provide an amazing view of the city skyline and the boats on the Thames. On the train home and later in an outside bar attached to the local brewery afterwards, I tried to draw some reflections from my time out and about in Paris and London. 

The Thames is wider and murkier than the Seine and it seems to divide the city into north and south. There are many bridges but mainly for rail and traffic. Whereas the Seine seems to unite the right and left banks by numerous bridges some of which have been pedestrianised and provide public spaces where people do yoga and other workouts. London's South Bank is an attraction in itself but it seems a distant add-on to the central area apart from where the Millennium pedestrian bridge links across to the Tate Modern.

Paris was more tranquil and quieter despite the wonderfully executed 2024 Olympic and Paralmpic Games but Paris is always empty of many of its residents in August. Paris seemed full of Americans and visitors from the rest of Europe. London was hoaching with tourists at the end of the school holidays with visitors from all over the globe, particularly from the developed Asian countries. Parisians seems more laid back as they glided round their city with restful cafes and independent shops always on hand, Londoners seemed more on edge as they dodged the traffic, queued for lunch and shopped in the mainly franchised stores

London had many areas where mini campsites had grown for those sleeping rough. Paris seems different although there were stories about shipping out rough sleepers for the duration of the Olympics.

London has the better range of museums, cultural and sport stadiums to visit but Paris has the intimacy and charm of its cafe culture.

As a visitor, prices appeared cheaper in Paris for food, drink and even clothing. Train fares are certainly a lot cheaper but rail travel in both cities was working well. If you throw housing and other services into the equation, various studies have found that Paris is 15 -20% cheaper to live in than London. Housing and travel being the main areas of difference.

On architecture and urban design, Paris wins hands down but the often eccentric new buildings in London have created a skyline of modern art and the fine adaptions of old buildings like power stations and railway buildings (King's Cross) provide examples of less coherent but more imaginative buildings. Paris does this less often and even the Pompidou Centre and the new Westfield shopping centre at Les Halles goes 3 floors underground They do not break the symmetry of the city centre skyline.

In short, Paris slows you down and London pumps you up. They are both successful world cities adapting in different ways to retain their primacy in countries of comparable size and lingering self importance. In this respect they have hollowed out the investment in other cities by their agglomeration of political, cultural, academic, financial and sporting activities. Other European cities do not have the same level of primacy which is why Munich, Barcelona, Milan and their non capital cities provide alternative nodes for the economic well being and equality in their countries. Devolution in the time of primacy is a necessary condition for sustainable development.






Monday 2 September 2024

Out and About in Paris and ....

Hotel de Ville, an Olympic venue

Monday 26 August 2024

After one and a half days in Eurodisney, I needed to escape the queues, fast food and saccharine-fuelled atmosphere. Never had I queued so long, whether for short rides or for overcharged franchised food, drink and commodities. Nevertheless, I had to admit Disneyland created a vibrant and happy clientele and Minnie had said she liked me. After a morning with the family reprising favourite rides from yesterday and gently baking in the late August sunshine, I caught a train to Paris. It is only 35 minutes away by the double-decker RER train that serves the eastern suburbs. I alighted at Les Halles, now the location of the massive underground three-story Westfield des Halles Shopping Centre.

I had no real plan other than to spend some time in the Musee d'Orsay and meander around the glorious streets, and buildings and walk along the Seine. I pitched out on the west side of the Westfield des Halles centre and sauntered along to the nearby Bourse de Commerce, but was captivated by the gothic splendour of Eglise Saint-Eustache providing some architectural elegance. I followed my nose through the narrow streets, alive with lunchtime cafes, towards the Louvre. I found a passage into the courtyard and then drifted towards the Pyramid. There were gobsmacked visitors from around the world but it was far from crowded. I lingered awhile absorbing the magnificent public space inside the Louvre Palace with the epoch-defying Pyramid taking the limelight. 

Crossing the Seine to the Left Bank reminded me that I should sample a Parisian cafe and I found a corner cafe not far from the Musee d'Orsay. The service was instant, the food was good and relatively cheap compared to the UK and Disneyland.  A beer conveyed me into the mid-afternoon as I watched the street scene from a pavement table. It was dominated by bikes and pedestrians with the occasional vehicles that were mainly electric adding to the peaceful ambience of summer in the city. The Musee d'Orsay was closed, it was Monday so I would have to find other impressions.  

It was easily done, I recrossed the Seine by the impressive Passerell Léopold-Sédar-Senghor, a footbridge to view the river traffic and watch Parisians doing exercises. The massive river boats were conveying hundreds of tourists in perfect conditions that the Olympic athletes were denied on the wet Friday when the Games started. I was excited to see Catherine Deneuve pass under me while on the bridge. I walked westwards along the quayside past the Orangerie to the Place de la Concorde which was sealed off for the start of the Paralympics the following day. 

This gave me the chance to saunter back along the Seine Quais to the Pont des Arts where the Institute of France houses the various artistic and scientific bodies that have been the drivers of French cultural and scientific advance. I drifted deeper into the left bank towards the Sorbonne with the density of cafes and art galleries increasing as the age of the crowds decreased. Returning to the Seine, I crossed over the Pont Neuf to examine progress on the Notre Dame. Even here the crowds were light but a viewing gallery, presumably for the Olympics, gave a splendid place to sit and observe the near completion of the restoration.

There was time to visit the Hotel de Ville which had hosted the start of the marathon at the Olympics, just one of the many significant buildings that had infused the Games with historical references. I drifted back towards the Centre Pompidou that was being refurbished. Still, the quirky fountains in the nearby Place Ivor Stravinsky provided the artistic humour that Richard Rogers had bestowed on Paris when he designed the Centre Pompidou in the 1970s. It was time to return and the hardest part of the day was finding the Platform for the Cessny train back to the alternative world of Disneyland. I was in no doubt which I preferred but I was still looking forward to another session in Walt's World.

Eglise Saint-Eustache

Louvre Palace and Pyramid

Pyramid as Prism

Left Bank cafe view

Belle de Jour

Quai Francois Mitterand

No silos just a synergy of knowledge

Notre Dame- almost repaired

French Humour in Place Igor Stravinsky 

Place Igor Starvinsky