The Best Books: Expedition, Steve Backshall

A return to exploring as it was, in the good old days. Or as close to it as you get in our modern jet-shrunk, digitally mapped, satellite photographed, tourist-travelled, economy-centric world. Harking back to a time where you really didn't know quite what to expect from your journey. When journey times were quoted to the nearest few days or weeks, rather than the nearest minute - and then complained about when not exactly right. When evacuation was a medical procedure, not a hope if anything went awry.

The sort of exploring in other words that I, along with many others I daresay, have dreamed of since childhood, but never had a realistic hope of engaging in. Do I have any greater hopes of doing so as a result of reading this book? Perhaps not. 

I have admired Steve Backshall's approach to things for a while now. He is unusual in the arena of television presenters that he still engages in the getting your hands dirty side of exploration and adventure. He is also unusual in his combining both the knowledge and expertise of the natural world, and ability in the graft of getting to see it in its natural habitat - no matter how remote or inhospitable. 

He also seeks to encourage a younger generation to do the same through his Deadly 60 programmes among others, and his involvement in the Scouts programme, something which I greatly benefited from as a youngster myself. 

I am confident that if we are to make a significant difference in reducing the impact of the human race on the planet then we need to start getting young people more interested in it. Unless they are interested in it, they will not love it enough to give a damn about it. And when they start caring about it, they will pressure policy makers and corporations, governments and industry to start making the necessary changes, or rather stop turning a blind eye to the issues. 

Slightly off tangent, but what this book did for me is remind me of some of the original excitement I had, and still have, albeit buried a little deeper these days, about the natural world as a source of excitement. A source, the best source of the unknown, the untried, the untested, the new, the ground breaking, the earth shattering, the fascinating and the mind blowing. It reminded me as I shadowed Steve on his adventures, that behind the book study, the degrees and the desk job as a conservationist, that my admiration for the natural world goes right back to the little boy who doesn't actually know for sure what is around the corner, over the hill, or under the water, but is pretty confident that it will be cool. 

Mr Backshall has had an opportunity in the endeavours described in the book to live childhood dreams, not just his own, but those of many hundreds and thousands of others. But he has also reminded me, and hopefully the collective 'us' of his readers that we too can find fascination in the unknowns presented by the natural world. And hopefully, going one step beyond, this along with his other efforts will be a small piece in the puzzle of reminded us as a civilisation, that it is worth looking after and protecting. 

And if that wasn't enough, its a gripping tale of adventure, friendship and danger. Definitely worth a read. 

Richard

BEAVERS!!!

This is the second attempt at writing this - my internet did something funny and did not save the original! Not impressed)

Every child knows what a beaver is - with that big flat tail and those endearingly goofy and readily caricatureised incisors it is an easily recognisable and friendly creature. Sadly while they may be recognised, they could not have been seen in the UK until relatively recently. They have been absent from our shores for centuries having been hunted to extinction. They persisted in continental Europe and in North America too but even in these far less populous areas they suffered dramatically from hunting pressure.

Beavers are a fascinating animal. Experts far more knowledgeable and qualified than me have written about their value and importance as 'ecosystem engineers' and a 'keystone species'. This video about their return to Yellowstone was one which I enjoyed. Give yourself some time to Google 'Beaver Reintroduction' and enjoy the reading.


As with any reintroduction of a large mammal there are two sides to the story and not everyone is keen to see them back. Beavers perhaps even more so because of their ability and tendency to build dams (which raise water levels) and fell trees. This fundamentally changes the immediate environment around where they live and if your livelihood is linked to dry ground or trees there is a genuine economic concern there. All of this debate is fascinating and interesting and I hope to be able to take a greater part in it in the future but that isn't really what this blog post is about. This is about my trip to visit the River Otter Beaver Trial in Devon.


I've followed, if not closely then at least with great interest, the various Beaver Trials across the UK looking at the potential for re-introducing Beavers to the UK. While still controversial, they are perhaps a bit less so than some of the large predator suggestions. I've wanted for years to visit one of the trials and see for myself the ability of these big animals to engineer their environment for their own needs. In my current job for Staffordshire Wildlife Trust we have an organisational membership with the River Restoration Centre, and the RRC were arranging a visit to the River Otter Beaver Trial in association with Devon Wildlife Trust, which as a member, would be free... um, yes please and thank you, I'll sign up for that!

The visit was a whole day affair but Devon isn't exactly on Staffordshire's door step so my colleague Nick and I planned to go down the night before. This meant we wouldn't have to leave at the crack of dawn but also presented us with a window of opportunity to get out after dark and try to see the beavers in the flesh. Nick had visited before and knew the project manager so made some calls and got some tips as to where we stood a decent chance to seeing a beaver.

Equipped with some borrowed night vision binoculars (Thanks Dad!) and full of fresh Devonian fish & chips we parked up just as it was getting dark and headed down a path along the river otter. Not too far down river we found the first certain evidence that we were on the right track when we found a clearly beaver nibbled tree alongside the path. More excited than ever but shielding from a decent view of the river by the high vegetation we continued downstream to a point where we could get down to the bank itself and get a proper view up and down the river. Barely a few minutes after we arrived on the spot a subtle splash to our right heralded the arrival on the scene of a beaver effortlessly swimming against the current towing a bundle of vegetation. As it was by now pretty much pitch black and we were under the shade of the bank side trees too the Nigh Vision came into it's own and not only allowed a decent sighting but also records... I shared the video on social media at the time.

As we didn't think we were going to top that sighting, and by that time it was gone 11 we headed for our million-star hotel wild camping on the cliff tops overlooking the English Channel. It was well gone mid-night when we rolled out our sleeping bags under a sadly cloudy sky but boy what an evening it had been. Waking under pristine blue skies in the morning to bird song and the gentle murmur of water on the shingle. The millions-stars might have missed the mark the night before, but the hotel pool i.e. the English Channel was top-notch for a brief swim to get the day started.

From our overnight stop off it was just a few minutes to the start point of the day where we met with the RRC and DWT rep's who had organised the event and would be running the day. And what a day. It was amazing to see (in daylight) the scale of environmental modification which these animals manage. We saw dams ranging from tiny little collections of twigs you could easily write off as just natural accumulations of woody debris to huge constructions with a metre difference in water level on either side. Having tried my hand at daming streams as a child, like many others, and having managed a few decent structures in that time, I can tell you that a meter difference in water is quite an achievement!!

The Project Manager from Devon Wildlife Trust was knowledgeable and friendly and made the day not only an interesting wander but a genuinely educational few hours learning about beaver ecology, the specific circumstances of sharing land with such industrious little landscape architects. Obviously there is the potential for conflicts with land owners and managers - I am not blind to that reality. Particularly here in the UK we are a relatively crowded island and we manage our land accordingly, economic land use crowding the land designated and assigned as 'nature' or 'wild'. If you then start introducing animals which don't have a good grasp of the concept of boundaries and a physically capable of modifying their habitat beyond the boundaries of their immediate 'home' there will inevitable be compromises that have to be struck. That is just one, and there are still many other questions to be asked and answered about how a full and proper reintroduction would work.

But having seen this trial I would love for these amazing animals to be seen more widely in the British countryside. I could try to describe the day in detail but to be honest I am confident I could not do it justice - you just need to get to one of these trials and see for yourself what these fascinating animals can accomplish. Having the opportunity to stumble across a nibbled branch or a felled tree or a dammed stream while out for a stroll would be something I would love for my grand children. And maybe off the back of trial like this one they will do.

Richard

Daddy-Daughter Wild Camp: Summer Solstice Microadventure

"The longest day of the year" - that always sounds dramatic doesn't it. Is it also a little sad? Almost as if the year is saying, "You've got less sunshine from here on, sunshine, make the most of it!" Last year on the longest day I was making the most of it, I think so anyway. I was walking down a river in Wales - read about that adventure here. This year I had originally considered walking Hadrian's Wall around the solstice weekend but had changed those plans to do something I could include the family in - the end result was a plan to go camping with my daughter. Excellent.  

A month or so back Alistair Humphreys (if you haven't heard of Mr Humphreys you should check him out, I find his approach to encouraging people to 'live adventurously' both motivational and realistic) issued a challenge to #goniceplacesdonicethings over the summer solstice weekend; specifically encouraging people who struggle to fit 'adventure' into their life to get outside and do something attainable. Oh, and there were prizes too, you know, added motivation. In any event, any uncertainty there may have been that we would get out that weekend vanished. The fervent and hopeful weather forecast watch began and the specific plans started to materialise.  

The final resolution on location came when my old colleagues up in the Peak District informed me they were having a BBQ that evening and invited me to come along. We would drive up to the Peak District, drop in to the BBQ to see some old friends and then find a secluded, quiet spot for 'little wild guy' to experience her first wild camp*. She wasn't quite ready for the full bivvy bag only experience (which is a shame as the weather would have been perfect for it and I love my bivvy bag!!) so we took my small hiking tent along instead.

Suitably stocked with snacks, sweets and a large thermos flask of hot chocolate we parked Rhino (the family adventure wagon) below Mam Tor and walked up to Hollins Cross before turning right and heading for Lose Hill at the eastern end of the Great Ridge while the sun set on our left over the Kinder Plateau. To be honest, this was a greater distance than I had remembered from previous visits and the littler legs of the party were starting to lag before we reached the spot we were aiming for, but reach it we did. 

We tucked in to a modest supper of crackers, cheese, salami, M&M's and hot chocolate before putting the tent up in what was by then - about 10:15pm - fast falling light. Little wild guy was out like a light seconds after snuggling into her sleeping bag giving me a chance to do a bit of reading - "The Kindess of Strangers": watch this space for a Best Books entry soon - as the light blue darkened to navy and filled with stars, and the warm glow receeded from a significant chunk to a sliver along the north-western horizon. 

After a good nights sleep we did it all again, in reverse. The tent, the meal, the walk, the car - getting home mid morning on another beautiful sunny day filled with plans and chores. Little guy had slept well. "More comfortably than in her own bed" were the words she used. Our wildcamp had been a success then! It certainly was for me anyway - I had slept well too, enjoying the occasional awakening providing opportunities to glance up and out of the tent door (we may not have been in bivvy bags but I left the tent door open as a compromise) and see the stars, then the first hint of dawn, then a pre-sunrise glare girding it's loins behind scattered cloud before eventually full morning and daylight was upon us once again. This may have been the first daddy-daughter wildcamp but it won't be the last. And the littlest wild guy, my son, was extremely jealous of big sisters adventures and is desperate for one of his own ... Oh, alright then, if you insist son...

Richard  

  

The Best Books: Canoeing the Congo

I've finally finished another book - it takes me ages these days. I used to go through books by the shelf load but real life is busy and by the time children and full time job and other commitments come along ... reading time is sparse and frequently cut short by sleep! 

Anyway...

I came across this book by accident, I'm pretty sure it was a suggestion from Amazon when purchasing a couple of 'adventure books' from my long, very long wish list. But I committed that cardinal sin - judging a book by it's cover - and decided that this was a book I needed to read. 

It ticked several boxes for me straight off the bat: 1) I bought a canoe, sorry - kayak, earlier this year as a new tool in the adventure tool kit and 2) I've always loved the idea of source to sea river journeys whether by land following the river or on the river, and 3) Africa calls my name - I need to visit one day. 

I completed my first source to sea trip last year, almost exactly a year ago in fact, and it was a journey I had been thinking about since I was a little boy! It only took me 20 odd years to realise the plan. It was much smaller than the Congo and didn't go exactly to plan anyway, but was a great journey and learning experience none the less. My source to sea journey was following the Ystwyth river in mid Wales - you can read about it here. It will not be the last source-to-sea journey I do, that is for sure. 

But the book! Well it does what it says on the tin... or cover. It recounts the journey of Phil Harwood down the full length of the river Congo by canoe - the bits he could traverse without being obliterated by raging, white water anyway. Geography has always fascinated me and the Congo is a river I had certainly heard of, but could not have told you anything about the river, with the possible exception of fact that it flowed through the country of the same name.  I now know a lot more, but this book is a lot more than a geography lesson.

This certainly isn't one of those natural history books which waxes lyrical and poetic about the 'personal journey' or anything like that. It is more a diary of what by any standards is a blooming exciting and even terrifying journey. Crocodiles, Hippos, occasionally angry and threatening locals, biblical rapids, literally uncharted territory AND setting off to do it on his lonesome. Phil may not be the most gifted or flowery author but he is clearly a pretty brave chap. 

Of course the trip is not all danger and isolation. It also illustrates the diversity of the world we inhabit and that there are good people everywhere. And it is a cultural and sociological insight into just how easy I and others like me have had it; a relatively wealthy up-bringing in a peaceful, European nation. I like to think that I am a little more aware than some of the scale of the privileges I have been blessed with. I lived in South America and the Caribbean for a few years and while there was witness to unquestionable and genuine poverty, but one thing which wasn't present even in those poor nations was the aftermath of decades of war and civil unrest which are still making their presence felt even years later. 

Has it lessened my desire to visit Africa? No. Has it opened my eyes to what the realities of travelling in that continent may hold? Yes, I would say it has. Will I be disappearing off to canoe the Congo myself anytime soon? No, for starters my wife wouldn't let me! 

Which brings me on to the final point which this book highlighted for me - that long, solo canoe journeys and water travel in general are not to be taken lightly. I better get training then!

To anyone for whom adventure, travel, far flung places, the splendour of the natural world or the diversity of human culture and experience holds any interest, this book is worth the time to read, even if like me your reading time is short and precious!

Richard

Plans for 2019

Soo... 2019. How did that happen?!

As I've already mentioned (here), 2018 was a good year. About a year ago I wrote about my plans for the year ahead (click here). I didn't really stick too closely to those, but it gave me some targets and set me up at the beginning of the year to try and use the time wisely. So this is take 2 - another years worth of plans to be changed as needed, but to set the tone for the year.

Before I get into the exciting plans, something I would like to plan on is putting more conservation themed content into my pictures and blog posts - it's there in my day to day life, but perhaps because it is such a big part of my routine I often end up writing about other things. To me 'adventure' is really just a way to increase my enthusiasm and experience of the natural world around me, and a desire to conserve it is the natural result. I can't visit a mountain or a river or a wetland and appreciate it's natural beauty, or harshness, or diversity without in turn thinking "other people need to see / learn about / experience this for themselves" and "I need to make sure this is looked after". So I need to reflect that more in what I am sharing. A bit more of that sort of thing later on.

Adventure plans then. Pretty tame compared to many peoples; no international travel, no really high cost, long duration trips, just old school, relatively low cost, low complexity fun.
- March (probably) will contain a 'boys adventure' with my brothers, all 6 of them (including my brother-in-law) to mid Wales. To replace in part our delayed Three Peaks attempt last year. Mid Wales is an area I visited often last year, and an area I will keeping going back to - I love it over there.
- April: Extended family reunion in southern Scotland. We try to hold these every other year, and I've been looking forward to this since the last one finished!
- May: Re-scheduled family trip to the Isle of Skye. When we looked into it for last summer we were put off by all the accounts of how touristy it gets in the peak season. I am very excited about this, it will be my first trip to the Isle of Skye and will tick off a bucket list destination for me.
- June: Hopefully the full Hadrian's Wall path. 85 ish miles across the UK from coast to coast. This is another 'wanted-to-do-it-for-years' item. I haven't really looked into the plans for this yet, so I will need to figure out the specifics but I am looking forward to making it work somehow.
- Maybe another Snowdonia trip at some point later in the year, but that is TBC.

Is that it? I think it is at present. There are gaps through the year which can be filled with other bits and pieces. 'Micro-adventures' will be sprinkled throughout. Beach trips with the children, early morning wanderings round Cannock Chase before work, family walks, cycling to work instead of driving, sledging (if we get any decent snow), maybe even canoeing to work once or twice, plenty of options. In many ways these smaller, day to day 'adventures' will be more important. I fully subscribe to the thinking of Alastair Humphreys (look him up if you've never heard of him) that living adventurously is more about little things on a regular basis, than one off big trips or exotic travel. But also because these will be where my children learn about living adventurously, and appreciating the beautiful world around them. Those trips are where that desire to protect what they have come to appreciate, which stems from a love of what they have seen, will develop.


There is learning to be done too.
- I'm hoping to do some more water based stuff this year, possibly a canoeing / kayaking course of some sort to increase my current (very low) skill level to match my (pretty high) enthusiasm level.
- I have shelves of books to read which I would like to make more time for this year, leaving Youtube and social media behind for a bit and focusing on more tangible 'content' (does anyone else not like that word very much?). I'll try and increase the number of 'The Best Book' reviews I post on here.
- I'd like to do more with my website, share more through it, expand it a bit, make more use of it generally.

There is also the back ground stuff. For example, the home office (not THAT Home Office you understand) and / or Man Cave which I have been talking about since we moved into our current home nearly 7 years ago. This year needs to be the year that I make some progress on that. Rhino, my adventure wagon and workhorse needs a little bit of TLC - on an adventure trip last year I managed to kill the alternator with ( I assume) some water which was a little on the deep side for him. He is fixed, but I need to make sure that doesn't happen again - I will write about the story of that at some point.
In fact, he really needs to feature on this blog more often than he currently does.

Finally, I would really like to be a bit more proactive on getting these messages out to people. I don't really know how that is going to take shape yet, but I need to pull my finger out and figure it out this year. Maybe offering to talk in schools or help out on Duke of Edinburgh Awards or something like that. Who knows.

In any event, I intend it to be a full year, and going by the fact that a whole month of it has already passed me by that side of things is well on track

Richard

Looking back on a good year

2018, you were great, thanks!

I hope that every one of the two or three people reading this had a good year, and that you have another good one in 2019. I've been simultaneously thinking about the high points of the last 12 months, and what the next year is likely to hold for me. Highlights first, goals to be shared another day!

High points of 2018:

Early February - Starting with a literal high, Snowdon (click here to read by post about that). I'd procrastinated this for far too long and it was great to have finally done it. The weather was interesting (snow and ice on the ground) but really great in terms of the sights and experience they offered me. What a way to start the year!

April - Barra, Outer Hebrides. A treat for a significant birthday (but can you guess which one?!) this trip was the fulfilment of a dream I have had since I was a teenager, and it absolutely didn't disappoint. I was only able to scratch the surface of what the Outer Hebrides have to offer, but I will certainly be back to scratch deeper! I haven't even finished writing the blog posts about it yet, but that is not for lack of interest, it is more for concern that I can't do it justice! Parts 1 and 2 are done (click here and here respectively), Part 3 is yet to be completed, but will make an appearance at some point... soon... ish?!)

May - Extended family holiday to Wales. Wife and children, parents, siblings, their families, big cottage, middle of no where in the Brecon Beacons National Park, river in the garden, beautiful weather, whats not to like! Great company, great location, great times. Oh and Wales, which, while I am a proud Englishman, holds a special place in my heart.

June - Another bucket list tick here, a source-to-sea river trip on what has to be one of my favourite rivers (through personal experience) in the UK, the Ystwyth in mid Wales. I've wanted to travel it's whole length for years and this year was THE year. Along with one of my brothers we geared up and set off. We had planned to spend the majority of the journey in the water but between some gear issues and this trip coinciding with one of the driest spells in recent UK meterological history, that didn't quite pan out. But that's fine, because it means we can chalk this one up as a fact finding mission, re-assess equipment requirements and do it all again another time! Yes. Despite the set backs, a good trip! (Read about that trip here) 

Summer - New Job. This changed a lot of things, most exciting of which personally was the extra time each day I was able to spend with my family. I really enjoyed my old job - I mean, seriously, how many jobs pay you to ride in helicopters and hike round a National Park? - but my new job allowed me to spend more than 2 hours a day extra with my family. That is massive. The new job is exciting too, it is a step forward and up in my career path, earns me a bit more, saves me money on commuting costs etc etc, but the key reason this is a highlight, is the extra family time. (I think I'll be doing an update on my job situation for this blog soon)

July - We stole away for a family micro-adventure. We wanted to take the children to a decent beach and couldn't really think of one (we do live in a land locked county after all) that was close and we wanted to go to, so we just bit the bullet and drove all the way to Angelsey - because we knew there was a beautiful beach there. It was a cracking day out and both parents and children had a good time, even after the canoe capsized, whoops.  

August - 2018 was a year of bucket list ticking! Another one to tick off harks back to Wales again! (Were all of my adventures in 2018 in Wales...? Maybe), This had been on my list probably for as long as, or at least very close to my river walk dreams. Anybody who likes to explore off the beaten track on 4 wheels will likely be familiar with the term 'green lane', and anyone familiar with the term green lane may well have heard of Strata Florida Abbey in mid Wales, or more specifically, the 'road' which runs through the mountains behind it. The woods where this green lane starts were a favourite play ground when visiting my Grandparents in Wales most years and we would often see 4x4's heading up and off into what seemed like the back of beyond. Ever since then I've wanted to drive that route. That obviously required a vehicle which was capable of doing it (don't think my fiesta would have managed back when I first started driving). I've not written about that trip yet, but I intend to. We turned it into a family camping adventure and it was a hit, although by the end of the green lane the children were either bored or asleep. Maybe shorter green lanes if the children are coming along. Anyway, another dream fulfilled. Check. 

October - Finally, more than 2 1/2 years after I first started work on it, I took the whole family up too the Peak District to take a walk along the path which I helped build across Brown Knoll in the Peak District. It was pretty chilly and the whole path was a little too long for the littlest legs among us, but we had a great day out together and the weather as kind - no rain! There children enjoyed looking for fossils and patterns in the flag stones which we had laid out and hearing a few stories about how we laid them. I have some good memories from building that path, despite the cold temperatures and frequently atrocious weather!

December - I stole another quick solo visit to the Peak District with a spare day of holiday before Christmas. My wander round Kinder Scout was much needed to clear my head and give me chance to have some quiet time. I only wrote about that a few weeks backs so won't bore you with details, but you can read about it here if you missed it at the time.  

I've not covered everything. There were other family outings, sunrises and sunsets, fun when visiting family over the summer, but this was a highlights reel, not a comprehensive round up of the year. I'll share some plans and hopes for 2019 in the next few weeks. if your intrigued as to whether I can beat 2018 this year then keep tuned!

Richard

Back to the Peaks

At this time of year the alarm which wakes you for sunrise doesn't have to be early. Of course your chances of actually seeing the sunrise are somewhat diminished by the temperamental British weather, but that makes the nice ones all the more special. 

I had taken a day off work and decided that the best way to use my 'adventure day', perhaps ironically, was to go back to my old office; back to the Peak District National Park. I hadn't had a day to myself in the wild for a while and I wanted to make the most of it. To me 'making the most of it' means either out early or out late and with two children waiting for Daddy to come home the preference is always the former. So I set my alarm early enough that I could drive to Edale (which really is where my old office is) and hike up onto Kinder Scout in time to watch the sun rise. 

My plan more or less worked. I was a good way up the southern slopes of Kinder with a few minutes to spare until sunrise when I stopped at a vantage point below Ringing Roger. Overlooking Edale and the Great Ridge it was an ideal spot to watch the sun rise at the mouth of the valley, behind Lose Hill. It was great to be out in the fresh air, watching the world waking up for a short winter day - that never gets old. But my view of the sunrise itself was mediocre, there was just a bit too much cloud. As technically I shouldn't have been able to see it at all I didn't feel to complain too much - the weather forecast had been for thick fog. And anyway, this was just the start of my day.

I often forget how narrow the top of Kinder Scout is at this western point; only a few hundred meters from southern edge to northern lip. Having quickly crossed it, hoping across boggy patches and mini streams, passing the trig point on my way. Reaching the edge I turned west along the northern ridge to reach the head of a stream, Blackden Brook, which would lead my back down again.

A friend had previously remarked about how scenic Blackden Clough was, with its steeply falling stream and many waterfalls and cascades. Ever since that conversation I had been looking for an opportunity to see it for myself. This was my chance and it didn't disappoint, but like many beautiful spots you have to earn the sight. The descent along the stream required hands as well as feet particularly with the rocks slick from over-night rain. 

The tumbling water was clear and strong, the normal peaty darkness of the streams diluted by the freshly fallen. I followed it right down to the valley floor, to the Ashop River. I'd had a relatively crazy plan to make it all the way up to Alport Castles which I quickly realised wasn't going to happen that day - it was an extra 10 km or so, and I while I had been making a reasonable pace, stopping to take photo's and timelapses doesn't cover miles, and I wanted to get back at a reasonable hour to see the family. The long walk would have to wait for another time. 


I turned west and followed the river upstream, until I couldn't without getting wet! The valley slopes transitioned from steep to vertical and I backtracked to get up onto a passable grade. At another time of year, and with some company as a safety back up I'd have happily continued in the river itself, but not in December, flying solo and after a decent rainfall. After a few gentle kilometers, numerous dead sheep and dozens more mini-falls and cascades dropping off the steeply rising land to my left I crossed Fairbrook and started heading back up again. 

The weather up to this point had been changeable, the fog rolling in and out sporadically. As I started up the clough I could see Fairbrook Naze, and then I couldn't - the low cloud obscuring it from view, before breaking and flooding the hillside with sunlight. By the time I reached the top the fog was pretty well set it and remained for the rest of my time up on Kinder that afternoon. 


I crossed the plateau from the top of Fairbrook clough across to Kinder Downfall, a route I had taken before, but I was glad of the reassurance that the Ordnance Survey app on my phone gave me that I heading in the right direction as at times I couldn't see more than about 30 or 40 yards in any direction. I could barely see the downfall when I got there, having followed the Kinder river along its shallow gravelly course for a few hundred yards. The contrast between peat soils and sandy, gravel river bed has always stuck out to me - the Kinder plateau is a funny old place. If you haven't ever visited, I highly recommend it. 


The rest of the trip was really just a return to home. I followed the Pennine way south from the downfall along the edge of the plateau, veering off to pick up the second trig-point of the day and cut off the south-western corner before picking up the path along the southern edge and following past the Woolpacks and Crowden Tower to the head of Grindsbrook Clough. The path down Grindsbrook is a decent and a half, it's one that I have done many times and don't think I'll ever really get tired of it. 

Looking back up at Kinder along the flagstone path which leads you back to Edale and civilization I knew I had used my day off well. 

Richard  

Barra (Part 2)

This has been partial written for a while - finally finished it.

I love the routine of waking up in a tent. There are usually a few seconds of semi-consciousness before
I remember where I am, why the ceiling is so close and why it is moving. Then it all comes back and I
unzip the outside world and let the morning in. The famous adage that 'you only get one chance to make
a first impression' absolutely applies to this moment each and every day of each and every camping trip.

Of course first impressions can be misleading. Waking up after my first night on Barra I took a brief look
outside, promptly re-zipped the door and went back to sleep. I needed it, I hadn't slept well. Although I was
awake enough to notice I was feeling much better than I had the night before - thankfully. My alarm had
been set to wake me up before sunrise, to make the most of any photographic opportunities it may have
afforded. After all it isn't ridiculously early at that time of year. But the combination of extensive grey cloud
and the aspect of my campground meant there was little to be gained from such an endeavour, and the
chill air which invaded my tent during my brief reconnoitre made me appreciate the warmth of my sleeping
bag even more. I dozed for another hour or so, with my first impression of the day distinctly mediocre. At
least it wasn't raining anymore, silver linings and all that.   

But the British weather is fickle. My first impressions were misleading and by the time I peeked out again
the clouds had blown over and the sky was well on its way to a cloudless, brilliant blue. I scolded myself
for indulging my sleepiness. The sun, though not yet high enough to shine down into the valley where I had
slept, was strong and bright on the hills of Vatersay which filled the horizon to the south. They were my goal
for that day and what a goal they looked!.

Despite the sunshine hinting at relative warmth to come, it was a cold morning in my shady valley. I wrapped
up warm (my Buffalo Mountain Smock was worth more than its weight in gold on this trip) and made hot
chocolate in the lee of a large boulder. Wanting to leave my tent pitched until the sun rose high enough to
dry the remnants of the rain and dew off, I took my camera and explored the little cove I had camped above.
In the rush and the rain of my first day my camera had sat idle for much of the day. I wanted to make up for
lost time today. The rocky cove presented all sorts of visually pleasing scenes from the colourfully striated
rocks to the long, but quickly shortening shadows cast onto pristine sand by lonely boulders.

I say pristine sand, but sadly, despite the tangible isolation of these islands, they were still not immune from
the now commonly discussed plague of ocean plastic. Bits of rope, plastic containers, nuggets of polystyrene
long smoothed through years (or more) of being tumbled in the surf - all were present on 'my' little beach,
perhaps in lesser numbers than mainland beaches further south, but plentiful enough.

With the sun now well up I packed the good-as-dry tent and set off up the hill on the start of my frustrating
loop back around to the road (see Part 1). I was feeling much better than the previous day; my stomach
was no longer engaged in abdominal acrobatics and with a good breakfast inside me I was raring to go,
although some of the aches made for a moderate rather than brisk pace! As I got higher the views expanded
around me until I crested the ridge I was crossing and the whole of the sound between Barra and Vatersay
was opened to my view. The fishing fleet in the distance was active already - the first boat of the day had
chugged out westward past my camp ground shortly before I left it. From my distant vantage point the fleet
on the calm water bordered by the sinuous coastline appeared like a flotilla of toy boats in a park pond.

On my back down to sea level I passed the site of an ancient settlement tucked into the side of stream
valley, the subject of an archaeological excavation several decades earlier. I considered what life may
have been like for these early islanders. The coastline was just meters away, presumably their primary
source of nourishment. The peat of the moorland I had just crossed would have provided their fuel.
Doubtless the high ground I had just descended from would have acted as a good look out point, whether
looking for family and friends returning from a fishing trip, or keeping an eye for less friendly visitors. I
reckon I could have managed that life for a bit! Bleak and lonely winters though, I would hazard a guess.

My contemplation and accompanying rest over, I did something those early settlers could only have dreamed

of - I walked to Vatersay across the recent (relatively speaking) causeway.

It was about this time that I seriously considered pinching myself. The combination of the weather (stunning),
the location (breath taking), and the opportunity to explore it all for a few days was very literally the stuff
of dreams. Crossing a small stream at the apex of a coastal inlet I noticed half a dozen seals playing in the
water - they saw me as I saw them, and watched me as I followed the road south east. So I stopped and
watched them back for a bit - there aren’t many seals in Stoke-on-Trent after all.

A car pulled up as I prepared to move on. On rejoining the road I was heartily greeted by a local man out
to stretch his legs. We chatted for over half an hour while the seals continuing their play in the bay. He was
generous with his local knowledge and as welcoming as anyone could ask for. He answered many of the
questions which had been forming over the 24 hours that I had been on the island, and I found my new friend
to be both open and honest. He welcomed the tourists (like me) but was saddened and frustrated by a
lack of respect for his island which many of them exhibited, a sadness and frustration which I immediately
shared.   

A parting impression was that I had timed my trip well - given the choice my islander acquaintance would
take the winter rains and wind over the midges which plague the island in the summer. My trip hadn’t only
coincided with the last cheap flights before prices rise for the high season, but also some of the first ‘good
weather’ of the year - and not a midge in sight! Good is relative of course, it was pretty cold. I’d been wrapped
up, and with the miles I’d covered had been warming myself pretty effectively too, so I suppose I hadn’t
really thought much about it. But as the road continued east and rose a little above the shore line I could
see back towards the mainland of Scotland and the inner Hebridean islands - there were snow covered
peaks! I shouldn’t have been surprised I suppose, the forecast had suggested snow for the highlands, and
the morning before in Glasgow there had been a dusting on the surrounding hills.

The backdrop of snowy mountains and the rocky bays and inlets in my foreground gave a feel of landscapes
much further north, perhaps Canada or Fjord-land. But then my focus was distracted from the far distance,
because an Eagle was flying toward me! It was way up there, riding the late morning coastal thermals
against the bright blue sky, a distant silhouette. But what else is that big!? I was torn - binoculars or camera?
I settled on camera which meant a hasty lens swap was required. By the time I’d got my telephoto attached
the eagle had cruised directly above me towards the high moorland to the south of the road. I took a couple
of photo’s but they were never more than a proof to myself than I didn’t imagine it. I regretted going for
the camera as it disappeared behind the ridge; why couldn’t I have just enjoyed the moment? Nevertheless,
I had seen my first ever eagle - it was a noteworthy occurrence, and one which would prompt a change
of route a little later.

While feeling much better than yesterday I was still a little below par and not particularly happy with the pace
I was able to manage as I passed a view over the very literally named Castlebay, the main town of Barra
(more on that later) and the road doubled back on itself to head towards Vatersay's back-to-back beaches
and main village. A view point at the site of a World War II plane crash gave me another opportunity to
contemplate and enjoy the sunshine (obviously resting my legs was only a secondary consideration) before
pressing on for the last stretch to the beaches.

Few roads I’ve walked (or driven for that matter) reveal a better view than this one offers to its diligent
traveller. As it rises and turns a strip of white is unveiled, a strip tenaciously keeping the turquoise sea
at bay, backed up by a rear guard of dunes standing in readiness. Not since I lived on Caribbean islands
for a year have a seen water that colour. I’ve heard Barra referred to as ‘Barrabados’ and this view easily
justified that nickname! (It was Trinidad and Tobago by the way - and they are lovely).

My initial plan had been to go the southern extreme of the island, but consulting the map I decided that as
I didn’t have a kayak with me - darn those luggage restrictions - there wasn’t much to be gained from that
plan (that’s for another trip!). My new plan was height, as much of it as I could manage. But first it was lunch
time so I kicked back in the dunes between the two beaches and actually dozed off for a few minutes on
the short, rabbit nibbled turf in the warmth of the noon sun.  

Refreshed from lunch and a snooze I headed up, straight up to the highest point of the island. And what a
view wanted for me up there. The sun was starting to sink by this point, but still plenty high enough to highl
ight the stunning beauty of this island landscape. This was the ridge I had seen the eagle disappear over
earlier, and I had harboured at least a distance hope that I might see it again, but it wasn’t to be. The hills
themselves were a fascinating blend of stony outcrops and sodden peat bogs, not an ideal camp ground
especially when you throw in the bitterly cold and furious wind which blew consistently over its summit.

Deciding that there was room for comfort and a good night sleep as well as adventure on this trip, I descended
the hill to find a more sheltered campground. Preferably one close enough to the beach to enjoy the sunset
that looked like it was going to be pretty special. I hoped to find something suitable but I found something
better - probably one of the best wild camping spots I've ever had the pleasure of utilising. It overlooked
a white sandy beach dotted with black rocks, facing west, with the wide open horizon of the North Atlantic,
unbroken now until Iceland pounding waves energetically onto the shore. The grass was short, the soil
sandy and dry, and a natural berm provided a windbreak for my little tent to nestle under.

I'd allowed myself a relatively early night - I was there for fun after all - and settled down on the grassy rim
of the beach with a hot meal and a book to watch the sun go down - now that is the way to spend an evening.
After the views I had enjoyed during the day the sunset was a little disappointing to be honest, albeit
enhanced by the drama of the crashing waves on the dark rocks - but by then my standards of scenery had
been raised to a new level! I waited up long enough to see the stars come out before turning in to my warm
sleeping bag. I slept well that night, very well.

Final instalment coming soon!

Richard