Although we were excited to be going up to the caravan again, it was with some trepidation as we were expecting Storm Ophelia the following day and hoped that we would not get blown away. In the event we need have had no worries. Our journey north went well and we had an enjoyable evening with Thomas.
We awoke the next morning to absolute flat calm and lurid yellow skies which we discovered later were the result of Saharan dust and smoke from Portuguese wild fires being carried aloft by Ophelia. Wanting to make the most of the pre-storm calm, we headed to Skelwith Bridge in the Langdale Valley, partly for a walk, but mainly because we wanted to sample the delights of Chesters by the Bridge coffee shop. Having managed to park the car on the road we set off along the riverside path towards Elterwater passing Skelwith Force on our way. Autumn colours abounded, although they were somewhat muted because of the very mist conditions. The river was flat calm and gave superb reflections. Although distant views were very muted I was really pleased with the shot from Elterwater looking towards the Langdale Pikes.
To view large, please click on an image.
Calling at Skelwith Force for some photographs on the return walk, it didn't take us long to reach Chesters where we enjoyed an excellent lunch and a potter around the shop. It was noticeable that a slight breeze had suddenly sprung up and the sky was beginning to clear completely. Thinking that it was time to head back to the van to batten down the hatches, we paused only briefly for a quick food shop in Ambleside. By the time we reutrned the sun had come out and we even contemplated a cup of tea outside, but it quickly clouded over. After our tea we decided to walk up onto the fields to photograph my favourite isolated oak tree, kept stunted by growing out of the limestone rock. I think that I have photographed this tree every time we have stayed here over the last couple of years. It was amazing how quickly the wind had risen and out in the open it was becoming difficult to stand up never mind take photographs. After a few quick shots we retreated to the van for our evening meal and to see what the night would bring. Winds reached gale force and we could hearing roaring overhead, but we were sheltered by the hillside and trees and apart from the odd buffet we survived unscathed.
The next day dawned late but with a fine day in prospect. With sunrise not being until after 7.30 it was an effort to drag ourselves out of bed. When we did eventually get going we pottered down to Glasson Dock near Lancaster where we enjoyed an excellent walk on the Lancaster Coastal Way which follows the Lancastrian coast for 137 miles. Our section was across the fields from Glasson Dock, which was developed after the port of Lancaster on the River Lune silted up, to Cockersand Abbey. Although the sun was out the wind had certainly not died down and it made walking very tiring. The views from the sea wall out to the lighthouse at Plover Scar and beyond to Heysham Power Station were excellent. Curlew, redshank and oystercatcher called from the marsh, the bubbling song of the curlew making the hairs on my neck stand up. Flocks of lapwings were already on the fields but as yet no winter thrushes: rewings and fieldfares, which will arrive shortly to spend the winter with us. Satisfied after our walk, it was time to head into Lancaster for tea and stickies before meeting Thomas for a meal in his excellent local pub.
Another grand couple of days.
Having recovered from our exertions of the previous two days, we decided on a drive down Glen Torridon past the towering giants of Beinn Eighe, Liathach and Beinn Alligan to Diabaig, beyond Torridon. In this superbly remote location we enjoyed a lunch of seafood chowder at the Gille Brighde (oystercatcher) restaurant and wandered on the shore photographing the local wreck. Out on the loch were divers, but too far away to identify the species.
From here it was back to Torridon village and further on to Shieldaig looking, unsuccessfully, for otters. Once on the Applecross Peninsular, though, the bonus was to photograph the honeypot shot of the most pictured red tin roof in Scotland. We had passed this cottage some years before and I had neglected to capture any images. Normally I avoid honey-pot locations and seek out my own landscapes, but I couldn't resist this one, especially as there was a rainbow in the background.
The next day it was time for Heather and myself to head home in time to get ready for the Open Studios weekend. We left in pouring rain, but it was galling that the further south we travelled the better the weather became. Ah well such is life; Scotland is amazing whatever the weather.
The main reason for our trip to Scotland was to backpack and wild camp in order to complete a round of The Fisherfield 5, the most remote Munros (mountains over 3000 feet) in Scotland. The Fisherfield Forest has an alternative name of The Great Wilderness of Scotland and also has, allegedly, the worst bog in Scotland. To make matters worse it is guarded by river crossings of which the guide book has to say: in spate these rivers can trap the unwary! A daunting prospect in good, settled weather, but in the prevailing conditions we held out little hope of success. Nonetheless we opted to 'go and have a look'!!! The support team dropped the four of us off at the beginning of a landrover track which led up through the beautifully wooded Gleann Chaorachain with the sound of the river thundering through its gorge to our left. The weather, however, was optimistic at this point with the sun putting in an appearance and lowering clouds looking as if they might clear from An Teallach towering above us. Soon we left the trees behind us and climbed steeply past impressive waterfalls to pull up to the high point of our walk in. Here we left the landrover track and followed an ever fainter and increasingly boggy path across the shoulder of An Teallach before descending steeply to the bothy at Shenavall with excellent, if murky, views into the Fisherfield Forest and our campsite for the night. We were still full of hope at this point and the weather looked as if it might not be too bad so we pressed onto the river. At this juncture the wheels came off. Despite wandering up and down the river and getting our boots full of water in the process, we could find no possible crossing point without having to swim. What should have been an ankle deep paddle at the crossing point had turned into a waist deep swirling current. Although disappointing and frustrating, it was not entirely unexpected; at least we didn't have to face the bog!!! We opted to return to the bothy and, if necessary, put up the tents for the night. In the event the heavens opened and we decided to retreat into the bothy which, for the time, we had to ourselves. This was no hardship for me as this remote croft is well-known in mountaineering circles and in 1950 the famous mountaineer/explorer, W.H.Murray, stayed here while he made a winter traverse of An Teallaich; the bothy being in much the same condition as his description.
During the night I have never known such rain, the noise exacerbated by the fact that we were sleeping underneath the tin roof. We felt ourselves fortunate that we hadn't managed to cross the river. Early the next morning when I went out we were surrounded by red deer, what a beautiful experience. After breakfast we packed and then went to have a look at the nearby loch where the river entered - we should have needed a boat to cross!!! What a stunning situation this was, though, surrounded by magnificent mountains and the furthest from a road it was possible to get anywhere in the country and the most remote ordnance survey grid square. Wilderness indeed. At the loch I had a most enjoyable time studying and photographing an amazing moss and lichen covered bog pine, perhaps thousands of years old. Eventually there was only one thing remaining: a very wet and boggy walk out and when we we finally got a phone signal to ring for the cavalry to come and pick us up.
