ALL PHOTOS CLICK FULL SCREEN.
On the road back from the overnight bothy we stopped off at Morrisons in Fort William, seen here. While we were there we looked across at Nevisport and Gavin remarked that he'd not been in it for ages. Just shows you how things change as Nevisport, in my active climbing/hill-walking days in the 1980s and 1990s, early 2000s was always our main port of call on any trip up to Fort William. It was the place to visit. To buy outdoor gear, to visit the pub downstairs, to eat in the restaurant upstairs. A large part of most hill-walkers/rock climbers outdoor life. Must be five years since I've been in for a brief look yet that fact only registered now at this time with something of a jolt. Like a glimpse of an old, sadly neglected, girlfriend from the past where you just drift apart slowly then bump into each other again many years later in the street.
The reasons are :- Nevisport was always an expensive shop for gear when it had a monopoly of the outdoor market. I visit Go Outdoors now if I need anything as its handy- five min drive away in a retail park instead of city centre hard to park locations- and cheaper. Same as we always go to Morrisons now in F.W. as that is also handy and fast to get in and out of with sandwiches and a soft drink/newspaper/carry out all in one place. And a free car park. The other reason being we are all older, have different tastes, and visiting Fort William is a rarer experience now whereas we used to be up here at least a dozen times a year as a club. Plus pub nights and a few pints each evening made up the main Highland entertainment back then. But it just shows how you can change your habits and years pass by without even realizing it.
On the way back down the road, more surprises, when we stopped off at the new Kingshouse Hotel on the edge of Rannoch Moor just before it snakes down into the stone trench of Glencoe. I didn't even know it had upgraded so this was my first look at it, roughly on the same spot where James Bond's fictional ancestral mansion in Skyfall resided before it was blown up. Watching that film as someone who knows the area well was funny as most of the lochans are at most waist deep so crashing through ice and fighting under deep water would be hard to achieve in this shallow puddle landscape. As would the usual film cliche that any bog in a movie means sinking chest deep into the mire- at most knee deep here and only if you are really determined or stupid... to sink. You have to really work at it.
I didn't bother going inside but Gavin and John went in while I wandered around the outside. The main thing I noticed was that it was very busy. A huge number of cars filling the large car park, some staying overnight presumably but many arriving and leaving after a drink and a curiosity visit. Just like us. This is looking one way.
And this is looking the other. The white building is part of the original pub/hotel- the wooden extension is the new part.
The back view. Nice wood paneling but it resembles a new Scottish distillery here I thought from this angle. If I didn't know what it was I might guess that option. Slightly industrial in scale and appearance. Hides the mountains. Separate bunkhouse accommodation available from £35 a night. I'd imagine the extra size and facilities here have created a few additional local jobs in the service and retail sector.
The front view. I found myself thinking that the best views would be inside the building itself looking out at the surroundings rather than looking at the building from outside which did seem to dominate and even detract from the scale of the moor and mountains it sits in. Handy though as it rains a lot here year round so a large indoor area to stay dry and warm in is a bonus. The majority of tourists travelling around the Highlands are not serious walkers anyway, many like their comforts, and its only ever been a minority that wild camp nearby. This group do not spend a lot of money either, except in the bar.
There are magnificent views looking out the windows. Buachaille Etive Mor here.
And plenty of fine rock peaks surrounding this hotel...
But although the peaks are rugged and dramatic they are only 1000 metres high (3,400feet) not 12,000 feet so its easy to diminish them in size by architecture that's even slightly out of scale. Maybe I just have to get used to it but the old modest white painted hotel seemed to get it right- size wise... making the surrounding moor seem vast and the habitation small and insignificant- a white dot from afar....whereas the new structure feels too large a footprint somehow- shouts in your face- I'm over here!- and introduces a city type development and supermarket style traffic comings and goings into the wilderness. Maybe this is what modern travellers want and expect though and it needs to be big to capture the extra folk visiting Scotland then motoring up for the 500 tour around the popular north coast route. According to the guys it was ok inside but a bit bland and corporate, hotel chain feel, lacking the down at heel spit and sawdust character of the old climbers bar, which was rustic and basic admittedly, but then again the old Kingshouse was never my favourite pub anyway although I've had many memorable nights there camping beside the river... hill-walking and rock climbing- but only in the past...20 to 40 years ago. My favourite memories centre around wild camping on the nearby island in the middle of the river and the strategy involved getting back onto it if ....A. drunk and unsteady, performing half seen boulder jumps in pitch black conditions , B. raining hard and river swollen double sized after a night in the pub. C. replicating the sheer perfection of waking up in a tent with a crystal clear day ahead, no hangover, and great mountains to climb. It was not indoor memories at all, but the general surroundings that made it special.. Some of my favourite pubs in this area have shut anyway so you have to evolve to survive.
Scrambles on the nearest peak to the Kingshouse. Buachaille routes. A rough line only- consult a proper guidebook if attempting them.
Red deer sheltering in the woods near the hotel. If only they knew what was happening inside.
Hinds. Plate them up I'll have them on a sandwich.
John on Crowberry Tower in the 1980s.
Where the tower is on the mountain.
A winter view of the scrambles and rock climbs.
High on Curved Ridge in Summer 1980s.
Alex in Glencoe.
The 5 star Glencoe House Hotel above Glencoe Village. This building is much higher than the new Kingshouse yet it fits in better with the surroundings I think. Several large ponds and forest trails with a car park lie behind this building. One of the few low level sheltered walks in the area so good to remember for a wet day. It's probably because it's so flat and empty at the Kingshouse it stands out more as the dominant feature in that desolate landscape. No woodlands to soften the profile of the building, just surrounding moor.
Or maybe I have too many memories of youthful times invested here around the Kingshouse to give an unbiased opinion and if I had no memory of anything else existing beforehand I might think it was fine as a building in this situation. The curse of age perhaps is falling into the trap of viewing the world as it used to be ( in simpler, more basic, times) and not how it currently is. Younger folk coming up today will probably view this building as perfectly normal for its setting and size to cater for an increase in tourist numbers and greater expectations as to where to stay.. You decide if it fits in. Link below.
https://www.kingshousehotel.co.uk/
Funnily enough the other Kingshouse Hotel at Balquhiddder has also gone upmarket as the Mhor 84. Popped in for a drink there a couple of years ago. Not my kind of pub and well out of my price range for meals or to stay in. Mind you, I'm perfectly happy in a shed overnight in my sleeping bag with a tin of meat for dinner so my standards and expectations aren't high.
Monday, 15 April 2019
Sunday, 7 April 2019
North of Fort William. Bothy Trip.
ALL PHOTOS CLICK FULL SCREEN.
Received an invite recently from old friends John and Gavin to go on a weekend bothy trip. As this is not an MBA bothy but an estate one I'll keep the location to myself. Even John, a 50 plus bothy night walk in veteran didn't know of this one which is weird considering Gavin and myself have known about it for decades. We just assumed he knew so never mentioned it.
When I mentioned in my book, Autohighography, that we often used to walk into remote bothies at night, some without a track or path, even mild scrambling and crossing unseen rivers knee deep in the dark, several of my non climbing/hill-walking friends just didn't believe it. They thought I was making it up ... so here we are walking into a Highland bothy at night with head-torches, next to a deep mountain river. Nothing to it really, provided you know where you are going and are aware of any serious rivers, gorges and cliffs en route. We had a few brief snow showers on the way in but they are preferable to rain as snow doesn't soak you the same- in fact it can be fun and a snow covered landscape is often easier to cross at night.
Fine dining was had on arrival....
And a bothy fire is a must. Being old school you cant beat an open fire rather than a sealed off wood burning stove. You really need to sit beside dancing flames and flickering candles to get the full bothy experience.
There was not a lot of snow on the peaks on the way up. Blackmount Hills here near Glen Etive. Snow flurries most of the journey.
Glen Etive ridges.
The next morning John and Gavin went up a hill but I stayed around the bothy as I had climbed it before.
Hill in the distance over the horizon. I waved them off with a grin. Such intrepid mountaineers.
Meanwhile, I prowled around the river, spotting frog spawn in puddles and even a lone frog guarding its spawn from harm.
At least I assumed that was the reason it was sitting on top of the jelly lump and never moved. Laying eggs is hard work for a frog. Maybe it just needed a rest while they hatched into dragonflies. Understanding the complex wonders of nature is my best subject.
Sheep came to visit me as well, then a few folk on a long distance hike from one glen to the next. I sat outside and soaked up the sunshine, reading a book. One long distance walker seemed a bit peeved by my lack of enthusiasm for energetic pursuits. "Where are your mates" he asked, noticing the extra sleeping mats and gear inside the bothy.
" Up the hill," says I cheerfully.
" How come you're down here then?" He demanded. " Are you injured?"
" Nope. Done it all before. A living legend sits before you. A human dormouse now. Only move fast these days if I'm on fire. Mostly I'm asleep. Hibernating through the winter months."
By his expression this didn't seem to be a good enough reason for avoiding uphill punishment.
"It's a suntrap here." I explained patiently. "Fairly sheltered... but I already know there's a bitterly cold wind up there on the heights so that's why I prefer this cosy option. It was grey, freezing, and dull up there only half an hour ago. I'm a honey and sunlight creature me. Comfort first these days inside the nest box."
He seemed to find this idea of sloth inexcusable.
" Plenty of other hills to climb. ", He elaborated, waving his arm vaguely around the neighbouring slopes.
" Done them all as well in my hasty youth." I smiled a winning smile, perfectly content in my chair. " I'm very busy here as you can see." I held up my book. " Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. A modern Gothic classic. Over one thousand pages of English magic to get through and learn. Hard graft and dedication required." I waved him away to his own urgent devices as his friends were keen to move on.
" All this"... he turned in a slow circle to demonstrate the wonders of the surrounding upwardly rising scenery... "and you're reading a book!? " he complained.
"Yup. It's a free country. Even the flat stuff. "
I tried a disappearing spell on him and sure enough he soon vanished from sight... but I can't take any credit for it as he used his legs, catching up with his departing companions, leaving me with peace and sunshine again.
I got my exercise when it dulled right down an hour later... so starting to get cold, I warmed up by hunting around for fallen wood and branches by which time the boys had returned and we tidied up then walked out to the road.
An enjoyable trip.
Fort William ridges on the walk back out to the road. Snow showers on and off all day.
Bitterly cold once in the wind and out of the sun but not much snow for late March.
The end.
Received an invite recently from old friends John and Gavin to go on a weekend bothy trip. As this is not an MBA bothy but an estate one I'll keep the location to myself. Even John, a 50 plus bothy night walk in veteran didn't know of this one which is weird considering Gavin and myself have known about it for decades. We just assumed he knew so never mentioned it.
When I mentioned in my book, Autohighography, that we often used to walk into remote bothies at night, some without a track or path, even mild scrambling and crossing unseen rivers knee deep in the dark, several of my non climbing/hill-walking friends just didn't believe it. They thought I was making it up ... so here we are walking into a Highland bothy at night with head-torches, next to a deep mountain river. Nothing to it really, provided you know where you are going and are aware of any serious rivers, gorges and cliffs en route. We had a few brief snow showers on the way in but they are preferable to rain as snow doesn't soak you the same- in fact it can be fun and a snow covered landscape is often easier to cross at night.
Fine dining was had on arrival....
And a bothy fire is a must. Being old school you cant beat an open fire rather than a sealed off wood burning stove. You really need to sit beside dancing flames and flickering candles to get the full bothy experience.
There was not a lot of snow on the peaks on the way up. Blackmount Hills here near Glen Etive. Snow flurries most of the journey.
Glen Etive ridges.
The next morning John and Gavin went up a hill but I stayed around the bothy as I had climbed it before.
Hill in the distance over the horizon. I waved them off with a grin. Such intrepid mountaineers.
Meanwhile, I prowled around the river, spotting frog spawn in puddles and even a lone frog guarding its spawn from harm.
At least I assumed that was the reason it was sitting on top of the jelly lump and never moved. Laying eggs is hard work for a frog. Maybe it just needed a rest while they hatched into dragonflies. Understanding the complex wonders of nature is my best subject.
Sheep came to visit me as well, then a few folk on a long distance hike from one glen to the next. I sat outside and soaked up the sunshine, reading a book. One long distance walker seemed a bit peeved by my lack of enthusiasm for energetic pursuits. "Where are your mates" he asked, noticing the extra sleeping mats and gear inside the bothy.
" Up the hill," says I cheerfully.
" How come you're down here then?" He demanded. " Are you injured?"
" Nope. Done it all before. A living legend sits before you. A human dormouse now. Only move fast these days if I'm on fire. Mostly I'm asleep. Hibernating through the winter months."
By his expression this didn't seem to be a good enough reason for avoiding uphill punishment.
"It's a suntrap here." I explained patiently. "Fairly sheltered... but I already know there's a bitterly cold wind up there on the heights so that's why I prefer this cosy option. It was grey, freezing, and dull up there only half an hour ago. I'm a honey and sunlight creature me. Comfort first these days inside the nest box."
He seemed to find this idea of sloth inexcusable.
" Plenty of other hills to climb. ", He elaborated, waving his arm vaguely around the neighbouring slopes.
" Done them all as well in my hasty youth." I smiled a winning smile, perfectly content in my chair. " I'm very busy here as you can see." I held up my book. " Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. A modern Gothic classic. Over one thousand pages of English magic to get through and learn. Hard graft and dedication required." I waved him away to his own urgent devices as his friends were keen to move on.
" All this"... he turned in a slow circle to demonstrate the wonders of the surrounding upwardly rising scenery... "and you're reading a book!? " he complained.
"Yup. It's a free country. Even the flat stuff. "
I tried a disappearing spell on him and sure enough he soon vanished from sight... but I can't take any credit for it as he used his legs, catching up with his departing companions, leaving me with peace and sunshine again.
I got my exercise when it dulled right down an hour later... so starting to get cold, I warmed up by hunting around for fallen wood and branches by which time the boys had returned and we tidied up then walked out to the road.
An enjoyable trip.
Fort William ridges on the walk back out to the road. Snow showers on and off all day.
Bitterly cold once in the wind and out of the sun but not much snow for late March.
Monday, 1 April 2019
Animal Farm. Southern Uplands Day Out.
ALL PHOTOS CLICK FULL SCREEN.
A day out with Alex and a trip to the Southern Uplands. Once upon a time, in a far away land, two small hills he had his eye on lived within a private estate but public entry and a network of trails made them accessible.
It was also children and family friendly down on the farm which suited me- not for the children though, It was cold, grey and closed with no-one around during our visit- probably opened at Easter- but interesting for the attractions that families like- as I like them as well... occasionally. I liked this mural for instance.
And the small pond with ducks, chickens and baby goats. Alex with a horny youngster.
Happy free range feeders.
Grumpy sheep- a stand in for Eeyore the donkey." Wot are you looking at!"
Me. My new selfie as they took my old one off, presumably because it was deliberately tiny and out of focus.... so no use to 'them.' Due to facial recognition technology anybody that's ever put a clear photo of themselves or anyone else online will be automatically tracked and ID'd, linked with everything they have ever done in their life from birth to death carefully charted out. This will be used to keep track of you for 'advertising purposes', for government files on every UK person and for companies selling data. Your data. Selling you basically. Which is why I try to avoid selfies. Already there are electronic spies in many households, placed there voluntarily by the residents. The next generation of cars may well record every journey you make as standard practice whereas now you have to willingly enlist a free app to do the job.
Another inhabitant of planet Earth keeping a low profile. Recently my Blogger account and Email account seems to be linked to various other companies- Google, auto blog, Huff Post etc- all things I never asked for but I get them anyway whether I want them or not. I deleted my Facebook account and signed up for Twitter instead out of curiousity but it immediately knew a lot about me already. I've never been on Twitter before. That pisses me off right away. Even house prices in every street... street views of front and back gardens and what's in them... everything you buy online is tracked and filed away. And anybody can find it. I might as well tell random strangers in the street every single thing about me and give them the keys of my house for safekeeping. Another reason governments and companies increasingly have you by the b***s will occur when paper cash disappears altogether. Happy Days. It's the modern version of ancient tribes that thought photography could steal your soul from you. Well, now it can. 'One image to rule them all... and in any darkness find them.'
Daffodils in the woods.
Black goat and ducks.
A young goat. Farmers tag their animals so they can keep an eye on them better. Goodbye freedom.
A secret empty mansion house in the woods. Home of the 'Raven King' perhaps. A notorious collector of lost souls.
Primroses.
Red Deer. Presumably farmed for meat here but they do not know that yet.
Red deer herd. Do you know of any other animals that are chip and pinned with their own individual bar codes children?
Springtime within the 'Grand Estate'.
Pond Life.
Village Church. And that is the story of Animal Farm boys and girls. Take heed. And thank you George Orwell for the heads up.
Probably pointless in the long run but I was born in an age of free range humans and I'd also quite like to die as a free range human. A simple wish to avoid stepping into the cage with inviting open door and a filled seed tray inside.
The end.
.
A day out with Alex and a trip to the Southern Uplands. Once upon a time, in a far away land, two small hills he had his eye on lived within a private estate but public entry and a network of trails made them accessible.
It was also children and family friendly down on the farm which suited me- not for the children though, It was cold, grey and closed with no-one around during our visit- probably opened at Easter- but interesting for the attractions that families like- as I like them as well... occasionally. I liked this mural for instance.
And the small pond with ducks, chickens and baby goats. Alex with a horny youngster.
Happy free range feeders.
Grumpy sheep- a stand in for Eeyore the donkey." Wot are you looking at!"
Me. My new selfie as they took my old one off, presumably because it was deliberately tiny and out of focus.... so no use to 'them.' Due to facial recognition technology anybody that's ever put a clear photo of themselves or anyone else online will be automatically tracked and ID'd, linked with everything they have ever done in their life from birth to death carefully charted out. This will be used to keep track of you for 'advertising purposes', for government files on every UK person and for companies selling data. Your data. Selling you basically. Which is why I try to avoid selfies. Already there are electronic spies in many households, placed there voluntarily by the residents. The next generation of cars may well record every journey you make as standard practice whereas now you have to willingly enlist a free app to do the job.
Another inhabitant of planet Earth keeping a low profile. Recently my Blogger account and Email account seems to be linked to various other companies- Google, auto blog, Huff Post etc- all things I never asked for but I get them anyway whether I want them or not. I deleted my Facebook account and signed up for Twitter instead out of curiousity but it immediately knew a lot about me already. I've never been on Twitter before. That pisses me off right away. Even house prices in every street... street views of front and back gardens and what's in them... everything you buy online is tracked and filed away. And anybody can find it. I might as well tell random strangers in the street every single thing about me and give them the keys of my house for safekeeping. Another reason governments and companies increasingly have you by the b***s will occur when paper cash disappears altogether. Happy Days. It's the modern version of ancient tribes that thought photography could steal your soul from you. Well, now it can. 'One image to rule them all... and in any darkness find them.'
Daffodils in the woods.
Black goat and ducks.
A young goat. Farmers tag their animals so they can keep an eye on them better. Goodbye freedom.
A secret empty mansion house in the woods. Home of the 'Raven King' perhaps. A notorious collector of lost souls.
Primroses.
Red Deer. Presumably farmed for meat here but they do not know that yet.
Red deer herd. Do you know of any other animals that are chip and pinned with their own individual bar codes children?
Springtime within the 'Grand Estate'.
Pond Life.
Village Church. And that is the story of Animal Farm boys and girls. Take heed. And thank you George Orwell for the heads up.
Probably pointless in the long run but I was born in an age of free range humans and I'd also quite like to die as a free range human. A simple wish to avoid stepping into the cage with inviting open door and a filled seed tray inside.
The end.
.
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