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  

Digital Photography without the computer.

This isn't a photography blog, and I don't think it ever will be. There are lots of people far more experienced and technically minded than me writing about photography and cameras. So many that I'm not sure there is anything I could add that hasn't already been said or written many times before. Having said that, photography does play a pretty big part in it. I hope the images I include help tell the stories as well as illustrating them, and maybe even light a spark inside somebody to travel a bit farther, dream a bit bigger. 

And as a big plus for me, I enjoy taking them; the process adds an additional enjoyment factor to the time I spend outside and makes me look longer and more intently at the world around me. So I thought I would take a few minutes to describe how my images make it from camera to my blog or social media posts - the ones that do make it that is, it is a relatively low proportion which do! 

First off a brief note on my camera equipment. At some point in the future I will write more about the various bits and pieces of my camera gear.

I use an Olympus OM-D EM1, I've had it for 2 1/2 years or so, and I bought it second hand from... Ebay - good old Ebay! By the latest standards its lagging a bit behind in some areas; but it was Olympus' flagship camera in 2013 and considered to be a 'professional' level camera at the time, and I am still pretty happy with the results I get from it. I've always worked on the basis that I'd rather have good quality old gear than cheap, brand new gear. I have a few different lenses for it, a couple of Olympus lenses and a Panasonic telephoto. I also have a GoPro (free gift with a new internet contract) which I am still getting to grips with - early days. Tripods come in useful now and again, and I have a couple for different scenarios. A few other odds and ends like a few cheap, second hand filters and a set of extension tubes make up the sum total of my photography gear.

So far, so normal - pretty standard story, pretty standard photography gear. But unlike many photographers, my pictures never make it onto a computer except to back them up for storage. I suspect I am only one of a growing number who work this way - I do all my image editing on a smartphone.

There are a few primary reasons for this: 

Firstly, the cost of decent editing software and the fast computers required to run it put me off. As I don't make a regular income from my photography I couldn't justify the price of a full suite of editing software. Plus, because I only ever tweak my images I simply do not need the full range of abilities offered by something like Adobe Photoshop.  

Secondly, I found a touch interface a far more intuitive and faster way to input edits than mouses and keyboards. I've never gone particularly heavy on editing, I never add things and only very rarely remove things from images. When I do it is small distractions not large components of the composition so inventive use of the 'heal' function for removing dust spots and similar is normally good enough. As such the free, or substantially cheaper editing apps available on the Android operating system suited my purposes (and I'm sure you could say the same about iOS as well).

After a fair bit of trial and error I've found a system that works well for me, as follows:

- I have an SD card reader which plugs in to a micro USB port, this allows me to off load images, including the RAW files, direct from my cameras SD card to my phone.

- I have a model with expandable memory so I can use a large Micro SD card as an image store and back up a decent number of images.

- I then add raw images for editing to Adobe Lightroom Mobile. This is a paid for app and costs a few pounds a month. It is more limited than the full desktop version but is also significantly cheaper and gives me most of the functionality I want at the minute.

- Having made initial adjustments on Lightroom I export the image and perform final adjustments in an app called Snapseed, a free app developed by Google, and then save a final version of the image. Snapseed has a few functions which Lightroom does not, otherwise I would stick to just the single application. 

- The final step in the process is to backup both original and processed images to an external hard drive. This is one element of my 'workflow' which still requires a bit of work. At present I have to back up via a computer, because I am using a standard hard drive as back up. With an SSD I could work directly from the phone. At the minute the cost of high capacity SSD drives are a bit on the high side for me. But they are coming down in the price all the time and I am sure that before too long they will be within reasonable financial reach.

The main players in this process are the two editing apps. There are pro's and con's to both. On balance I prefer Snapseed I think. It has an almost bewildering array of options of which I use perhaps 10%, but it is layed out very well and is very simple to use I find. Of course the perfect app would be a combination of the features and functionality of both, preferably with the price tag of Snapseed, i.e. none. 

So that's it. Start to finish; camera to Instagram and beyond without a computer. Of course these days smart phones are computers. I recently bought a 'new' phone - a Samsung Galaxy S7 Active (from Ebay again, but it is new to me) - the model is several years old and already superseded several times over but the processor in it has as much RAM as the laptop which got me through two University degrees! And it's screen has a higher resolution than any other device I've owned. 

The final advantage that I will mention of this work flow is that I can do it anywhere and have done it in many different places. Waiting in an airport, sitting on a bus, in bed, on top of a mountain. And so far as any watching is concerned, you are just like everyone else in the world, looking at a phone. Quick, fuss free and easy. 

Of course this method won't work for everyone. People doing extensive and complex editing on massively high resolution images for sale to high paying clients for example. But the last magazine article I had published used images I had edited in this way and the art editor didn't say anything about the quality of the imagery. I have yet to try printing large images edited in this way on anything other than canvas, but I will one day. In the mean time I will focus on the fact that I can afford to because I havent had to buy a new and expensive computer which I would only need to use for one thing. 

Hopefully this may give one or two people some food for thought. 

Richard

  

End result ready for sharing on social media or as part of a blog post.

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

Autumn Colours: my favourite season?

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before that I love living in a country with very obviously different seasons. I like all of them in their own way, but if you were to press me for a favourite it would have to be Autumn . . . . I think.... ask me again in Spring.

It's the variety that appeals. Some days just as warm as summer, other days waking to early frosts and steaming breath. Sunrise at a time of day which still feels early (without being ridiculous), but not robbing too much precious daylight. Some wildlife arriving for a protracted visit; some preparing for an elongated sleep, others still bidding us fair well and good luck with the cold weather as they abandon ship for warmer climes. But of course it is the colours that are the headline act - anyone who cannot appreciate the aesthetic beauty of the changing colours of Autumn, at least to some extent, is a truly hard-hearted individual.

My new job is keeping me pretty busy at present, by which I mean I'm not getting out of the office as often as I would like. But my office is right on the edge of Cannock Chase AONB, a thoroughly suitable place to appreciate the changing colour palette of the natural world. Particularly when the forecast suggests clear skies and cool temperatures - a combination which often means mist! 

And so it turned out earlier this week when I left home an hour or so early to take a sunrise walk before settling in front of my desk and screen for the rest of the day (working in conservation, contrary to what many people seem to think, does not equate to endless days out of doors enjoying the sunshine!). It was well worth the effort: the colours are really getting into their stride. With the bracken and silver birch working together with the low sun to create truly stunning 'colourscapes', and the mist and rolling heather covered hills gradually fading into a distant haze, the scenery was as good as I have ever seen it there - and I've seen it look pretty nice! Hopefully the handful of photo's here demonstrate even a hint of the pleasure I derived from my short walk that morning.

The Fallow deer are on the move as well, I didn't hear any bellowing but it can only be a matter of time, and I did see several bucks of various sizes moving around the heathland on their own. a sure indication that the rut isn't far away because the rest of the year they tend to form groups. I'm looking forward to try and capture some deer rutting activity before the autumn is through! But that is for another time! 

The new job is one excuse for why this blog hasn't been updated regularly of late - but in reality it is more to do with my personal procrastination. Hopefully I'll make time for the next installment in a more timely manner!