Mercury is always difficult to spot as it is often quite faint and is so close to the Sun that it either sets very soon after sunset or rises only just before sunrise. For that reason it’s always good to have a brighter marker to locate Mercury by; for the next few days that marker is Venus.

Last week on April 3rd and 4th, Mercury and Venus were at their closest to one another, seperated by only a few  degrees (or a bit more than a thumb’s width held at arm’s length), and Mercury was at its brightest.

Mercury (faint) and Venus low in the west

As the month of April draws on, Mercury will set earlier and earlier, getting fainter and fainter, until by the middle of the month it will be all but lost in the western twilight.

So get out tonight (or the next time it’s clear over the following week) and have a look.

You can find out more about observing Mercury and Venus on the British Astronomical Association’s website

Average ascent per hour: 389m

Average distance walked per hour: 4.1km

(these are averages over the whole walk, so present a skewed impression of ascent and walking speeds, but they allow for a pretty accurate account of how long a walk is going to take).

My Average Walk

Ascent 923m
Distance 14km
Time 5h 48m
i.e. something like Ben Vane, but a bit longer

My Top-3 Longest Walks

1. Ben Dearg group near Ullapool: 32km, 1625m ascent, 11 hours walking
2. Tolmount, Tom Bhuide, Mayar and Driesh: 28km, 1138 ascent, 6.5 hours walking
3. Sgurr nan Each, Sgurr nan Clach Geala and Meall a’Chrasgaidh in the Fannaichs: 28km, 1075m ascent, 9.5 hours walking

My Top-3 Most Ascent

1. South Glen Shiel Ridge: 1884m ascent, 26km, 10.5 hours
2. Ruadh Stac Mor, A’ Mhaighdean and Beinn Tarsuinn in Fisherfield: 1729m ascent, 18km, 9.5 hours walking
3. Eastern Mamores: 1726m, 18km, 8 hours walking

My Top-3 Most Strenuous (i.e. combined ascent and distance)

1. Ben Dearg group near Ullapool: 32km, 1625m ascent, 11 hours walking
2. South Glen Shiel Ridge: 1884m ascent, 26km, 10.5 hours

3. Tolmount, Tom Bhuide, Mayar and Driesh: 28km, 1138 ascent, 6.5 hours walking

My Walking Companions

Although I go walking with a variety of people, there are some who can be considered regulars. Those are: Alan Flisch, Ben Craven, John Hutchison, and Nick Richardson.

Fastest / Fittest Walking Companions

Solo 83% (when walking alone I finish my walks in 83% of the estimated time, based on my ascent and walking speeds above)

John 98%
Alan 102%
Ben 110%
Nick 114%

To be fair to Alan and Ben these results are skewed by the extra long expedition walks we tend to do with heavy packs.

[map]

Total distance walked: 4km

Total ascent: 324m

Time: 1330 – 1715 Sunday 14 September 2008

Does it really count if you drive to a height of 500m? I say “yes”. A bag is a bag.

This was my 150th recorded outing, and as such deserved better than what was the easiest hill I have ever bagged (easier than Dumgoyne, easier than The Cairnwell, easier even than Meall nam Maigheach near Ben Lawers).

It wasn’t a bad hill at all. The views were good, and after six weeks of rain-stopped-play I was thankful of a little sunshine.

The route, for what it’s worth:

We drove along Glen Lochay from Killin, winding through the narrowest road I’ve seen in some time. Near the end we found ourselves in a genuine bona fide sheep-jam, as what must have been five hundred sheep were being herded along the road in the opposite direction from us. This slowed us down for five minutes as we waited for them to pass.

At Kenknock farm where the road officially ends there is a tarred track the zigs and zags uphill to the pass into Glen Lyon. The potholes were the main feature of this road, and we inched slowly upwards. The guidebook said to stop at the gate, but we didn’t see any gate before the road started to descend again. We parked here, about 500 metres south of the small Locan Learg nan Lunn, and struck off uphill.

Within 40 mins we were on the wide ridge that led over many lumps to the summit, with great views across and up Glen Lyon. We sat here for a bit and ate, before we barrelled back downhill, gaining the road just by the lochan, a short distance from the car.

One hour forty-five minutes. Bagged.

[map]

Total distance walked: 12km

Total ascent: 712m

Time: 1200 – 1700 Sunday 31 August 2008

A fitting end to the wettest August since records began, this was the wettest walk I’d done in three years. Climbing with me was my good friend Jo, who as a hill-walking novice wanted something easy-but-not-too-easy, and Ben Venue fits the bill.

I’ve been up it several times, always by the same route, and it’s never become dull, especially because of the fun second half – the descent from the summit.

Ascent-wise, we parked at the Loch Achray hotel (amongst the couch-tour buses) and headed up into the forest, following the signposts colour-coded for the summit. The first four kilimetres or so are within the forest, and not too interesting, but at least the good paths allow you to march them off with little effort, and soon you find yourself deposited at the start of a mud-path to the mountain proper.

We stopped briefly here for munchies before the midges hurried us on our way, and soon the mud-path dried out a little and rose higher above the stream pouring out from the coire west of Ben Venue. In the higher parts of this coire the path steepened and began zig-zagging up through some rocks, eventually depositing us at the flatter up reaches of the coire.

The wet path climbed gradually up to the huge cairn marking the turnign point in the trip. At this point we were on the mountain proper. The path wound up through steeper rocks to begin with before leveling out later. There were a few lumps and humps making for some up-and-down before the final “ascent”. In the mist it was har to tell where the summit was, but a good path kept us going in the right direction and eventually we wandered up to it.

For some reason (which was probably the weather) there were hardly any other people out today, despite it being a Sunday in the “Summer”, but we met the only other two walkers of the day here at the summit cairn. We didn’t linger in the drizzle, instead diving straight down into the mist SE towards the next litte top.

As we got to the col between the two tops we turned NE towards Loch Katrine and dropped quickly down grassy slopes. The clouds thinned the lower we got, but the rain also turned more persistent. What had been a light refreshing drizzle for most of the day was a moderate shower by the time we got to the birch woods on the lower slopes. In between we slip-slided downhill on the wet grass, Jo spending more time on her backside than upright.

The birch woods (always my favourite part of this route) were dripping with water, and as we swung downhill using the trees for balance we dislodged lashings of water onto ourselves. The final section of the birch wood, as we struggled around ferns, fallen trees, gorges and muddy slopes, was the most entertaining of the day (for me at least – I think Jo might have began to lose a little patience).

Once we emerged sodden from the woods the rain was tending to persistent, and the path back to the loch was more of a stream. Eventually though we arrived (soaking) back at the forest track, and with only a frustrating detour due to felling between us and the car we got our heads down and marched it off.

A stop at the Carbeth Inn for dinner on the way home rounded off an altogether enjoyable day. It says a lot for this hill (or rather this specific route – if we’d descended by our route of ascent it wouldn’t have been nearly so much fun) that we still enjoyed ourselves on it despite the weather.

Gradient profile of route - Beinn a' Chulaiste

[map]

Total distance walked: 10km

Total ascent: 642m

Time: 1115 – 1545 Saturday 09 August 2008

Well, well. The only two reasons to climb this hill are (a) for the views it affords of Glencoe and the majestic peaks sweeping upwards from the road, and (b) for The Tally. When you set off and the cloud base is at 400m and the drizzly rain is horizontal, you know you’re just in it for the bag.

Susan (not a regular hillwalker) put a brave face on it as the drizzle began to dampen us and our spirits as soon as we left the car at King’s House Hotel. Crossing the West Highland Way we struck off along a faint muddy track that followed the Allt a’ Bhalaich up into Coire Bhalach. Some highland cows and their calfs guarded the east side of the stream, so we struck well to the west until past them.

Deciding against heading directly for the steep slopes of Beinn a’ Chrulaiste’s south face, we followed the stream to about 420m before turning west and heading uphill. We stopped in the shelter of a large boulder to eat lunch and watch the wind blow the rain UPHILL in the coire.

The final climb was relatively easy, meandering as we did along the broad flank. We saw nothing but cloud all around us, so the conversation had to suffice to encourage us uphill.

With no difficulty we reared up to the trig point. We didn’t hang about long as it was a little windy and damp, so we set off west to Stob Beinn a’ Chrulaiste to vary our descent route. Once we’d dropped to this little knoll at 639m the clouds began to thin below us, allowing views if the road arcing through the glen. The best view we got of any mountain was the path from Lagangarbh rising into Coire na Tulaich on Buachaille Etive Mor before steepening to near vertical as it vanished into the clouds.

The path from the stob followed the top of the crags to the south, which enlivened the walk somewhat. Before long we were below the cloud base with the West Highland Way track in view. Once past the crags, rather than follow the ridge’s easy slopes we headed straight down the steep southern side, which meant some gingerly steps amongst scree and ferns before we reached the track, about 4km west of the hotel car park.

We trudged and marched along this separately; whenever I stopped to let Susan catch up I was immediately swarmed by thousands of midges – even in the persistent drizzle and rain. Swarming almost as much as the midges were the walkers doing the West Highland Way. I silently pitied them their misty trudge up the Devil’s Staircase and the subsequent interminable descent to Kinlochleven.

[map]

Total distance walked: 8km

Total ascent: 759m

Time: 1245 – 1715 Thursday 24 July 2008

This excellent little hill is nestled in Glen Etive and surrounded by far grander and more impressive mountains. From the road in Glen Etive this hill presents quite a steep and unrelenting face, but its true charms are well hidden from view.

There’s a bridge across the River Etive at NN198513 that has a rather intimidating two-metre fence topped with barbed wire. The SMC guide book suggested that it was normally locked and that a river crossing was inevitable, but when we went to check there was no sign of a padlock. In fact, it looks like the owners of the gate (and the cottage at Alltchaorunn) were expecting walkers, as just through the gate a sign directs you to follow a series of wooden posts towards the path, and avoiding disturbing the cottage’s privacy. If the gate had been locked it would have meant a rather tricky crossing. Even at the height of a fairly dry hot spell in summer, the river was knee-deep in some places.

Once we got to the path we followed it uphill along the east bank of the Allt a’Chaorainn, which had plenty of beautiful deep clear pools which would be excellent for a dip in hot weather. We passed them by though, despite the rising temperatures and blazing July sun.

About a kilometre from the cottage there is the start of a narrow ravine, and through the trees and undergrowth, quite well hidden, we caught sight of a narrow single-plank bridge across the river to the south bank. Wire hand-rails guide you down the steep rock to the bridge, and then an airy crossing sees you at the other side, with a faint track striking off directly uphill to catch the main path about 30m away.

Once on this track the v-shaped ravine scored by the river narrows into a spectacular valley, and the path skirts the upper south flank. Half a kilometre past the bridge there is an obvious stream coming down from Coire Aiteil via a rocky gully. In this dry spell the stream was rather small, and the sense of remoteness as we climbed the gully was enhanced by the trickling of the water under the rocks. Only occasionally did it surface and offer the opportunity to slake our thirst. A cool breeze added to our comfort levels as we got higher up.

After 300m of ascent up the river-bed at the base of the narrow gully we turned east into a closed amphitheatre of cliffs and steep grass. We picked our way up increasingly steep slopes, through a beautiful series of small cliffs and rocky outcrops, following the main course of the stream until the gradient lessened at about 750m. While we rested before the final push to the summit a lone stag appeared on the higher horizon, but soon fled to quieter slopes.

From here it was an easy ascent to the summit, which gave excellent views of Buachaille Etive Mor to the north and Creise to the east. We stopped only briefly by the cairn amidst the rocky top, before barrelling downhill.

The plan was to follow the north ridge down to the river, and have a 2.5km walk along the road back to the car, but once we started on this ridge the route down the slopes east of Coire Leacach looked do-able, so we headed off that way. 650m of thigh-shaking descent left us knackered and deposited on the south bank of the River Etive, just to the east of Allt Leacach. A minibus-load of lads were diving off the rocks above a deep pool in the river, and we picked our crossing place a little upstream where the river widened.

Still, despite the dry weather we were up to our knees as we gingerly waded across barefoot. Once we’d dried our feet and booted back up again we had about 1.25km of road walk back to the car.

This is an exceptional little hill up to a height of about 750m. Beyond that the summit is fairly mediocre and the north ridge isn’t the most exciting. Ignore the guide books that direct you to ascend and descend by this north ridge, eschewing the wonderful ravine of the Allt a’ Chaorainn and the gulley hidden in Coire Aiteil.

To Drink

Water from the nearest stream (2 litres)

Breakfast

Alpen Original (80g) + powdered semi-skimmed milk (20g) = 350kcal

Morning Snack

7 x oatcakes and honey (80g) = 323kcal

Lunch

Biscuits Brown

Tin of mackerel fillets in sauce (125g) and 6 x biscuits brown (84g) = 629kcal

Afternoon Snack

Chocolate (50g) = 289kcal

1 x granny smith apple (150g) = 80kcal

1 x pack of fruitellas (41g) = 170kcal

Dinner

Expedition Meal

Expedition ready meal (170g) = 660kcal

6 x biscuits brown (fruit) (84g) = 259kcal

TOTAL

Weight: 884g

Energy: 2760kcal

Hilleberg Akto in action

The Hilleberg Akto is described by the manufacturer as offering “near luxury all-season shelter for the solo traveller”. I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s a damn site comfier than a bivi bag.

Pitching the tent is surprisingly easy, and takes a matter of minutes. Pegging out one end first allows you to forget about the tent being carried off by the wind while you unfold the single aluminium pole or root about for the lightweight tent pegs.

A minimum of four pegs are need to pitch the tent, but ten are recommended to give maximum stability. The ingenious positioning of the guy lines mean that the shape of the tent can be kept, making it stable in the wind. One downside to the pitching is the area needed; with the side guys fully extended the tent is around 3.5 – 4m by 3.5m, a big area.

Once up, the tent is surprisingly spacious. For me (at around 175cm tall – that’s 5’9″ in old money) there was just not quite enough height to sit up comfortably in the middle, but there was more than enough length and width for me to be fairly comfortably spread out, with camping detritus surrounding me.

Akto dimensions

The porch too is nice and big, good for storing packs and boots, and more than ample for cooking in. Another design flaw is the fact that the toggle to tie back the outer door is near the bottom, so once you roll the door up and toggle it in place, the top can easily unroll and flop onto your face (or your stove, more worryingly).

There are vents at each end of the outer tent to give good airflow past the inner, and it’s advisable to sleep with these open to reduce condensation. There’s also a small mesh pocket at one end for valuables (glasses, torch etc) and a fold-away panel on the inner door which when un-velcroed gives a mesh view-hole to the porch or outdoors.

Weight: 1.5kg

Cost: RRP £290 (I got mine for £220 via Field and Trek online. so worth shopping around)

Pros:

• Light and robust (not as light as, say, the Terra Nova Laser Photon at 740g, but so much more solid)
• Good space inside and in porch for such a light one-man tent
• Quick and easy to pitch on your own
• Pitches and stores with inner attached

Cons:

• Needs quite a large area to pitch for such a small tent (about 3.5m x 4m)
• Not quite tall enough to allow people of average height or greater to sit up in without crouching
• Poor fastener for outer door makes it tricky to leave it open while cooking in the porch

Overall:

• A brilliant tent that will do in all seasons, ideal for short solo backpacking trips where weight and pack size aren’t too crucial. The only flaws are minor.

Gradient profile of route - Moidart

[map]

Total distance walked: 36.25km

Total ascent: 2857m

Time: 1500 Friday 04 July – 1630 Sunday 06 July 2008

What a belter! On my third-of-a-century birthday (I was 33.33 years old on 04 July) I headed into Moidart with Ben Craven for a three-day walking and camping trip.

We got off the train at Lochailort and were met by Gill Russell who drove us to Glenuig to see her Starwheel and Solis astro-art installation. The weather was grand and we half toyed with the idea of camping out on the beach beside Solis, to take in the eerie pale-blue glow of the seven fallen stars perched on the edge of the shore.

But we bit the bullet and headed into Moidart. Gill drove us to Kinlochmoidart and we set off from the end of the road at Brunery and along the large landrover track into the heart of the wilds. My pack was dragging heavy on my shoulders as we made our way across the river by a rickety old bridge and onto a less-solid, slightly wetter track leading to the ruins of Assary.

At the ruins we turned uphill into the Coire Ladhair Mhor and after a slow climb to the beallach we dropped the packs and scouted out for a campsite, finally settling on a nice mossy patch sheltered between two stone shelfs.

Friday Camp

After we pitched our tents we had some dinner (tasty-ish expedition ready meals of veg casserole) before heading up to the summit of Sgurr Dhomhuill Mor for the sunset. At 713m it isn’t a Corbett, and at less than 150m above the col it isn’t even on any list at all, so I lounged around the shoulder below the summit while Ben scampered up. By half ten the sun had gone down over Eigg and Rum, finally setting behind Skye, and we meandered back to the tents.

That night, after the delightful calm of the sunset and evening, the wind whipped up something rotten. My first night in my new tent and it was getting a hell of a beating. I slept fitfully, finally getting up at eight. My first reaction on opening the door was that Ben’s tent had blown away, but there he was, wrapped up in his sleeping bag, lying exposed to the gusting wind. He’d got so fed up of the noise of his tent flapping that he took it down at 0500, preferring to lie in the open air.

Friday Sunset

After we’d warmed up over breakfast we set off for our first big mountain day. I felt rather tired after the night of so little sleep, and we fair dragged up the 300m to the first summit of Rois-Bheinn. The views west were spectacular, but soon we headed inland to the true summit about half a kilometre away.

The drop to the Beallach an Fiona was a relief after the uphill slog, and here we dumped our packs and headed north to An Stac, dropping another 150m before climbing to its summit. Unencumbered as we were, I still found it pretty slow going.

The final Corbett of the day, Sgurr na Ba Glaise, was pretty easy, and we headed from that onto Druim Fiaclach, which led us to our next camping spot. The wind was still blustering about, as it had been all day, and we were intent on finding a sheltered spot out of the wind. On this final narrow-ish ridge we got a spot of rain, but nothing too dramatic.

At the end of the ridge we dropped steeply north into the upper fastness of Coire nan Gall where we found a lovely little grassy spot wedged between two streams. We had the tents pitched by 1730 and dinner on and eaten by 1900.

The luxury of a tent over a bivi bag! I lay in the tent all evening, resting tired legs, nursing my sore heel, reading a book, and drifting in and out of consciousness. Ben went off to take in another hilltop sunset, but I stayed put, finally succumbing to blissful sleep around 2200, and slept right through till 0600, woken only by the need to break wind at regular intervals, as a result of the expedition meal curry (bad, bag idea).

The next morning broke blue-skied and we set off a little earlier than planned, at 0800, aware that we had to catch the last train from Glenfinnan at 1653.

Moidart from Beinn Mhic Cedidh

First task of the day was the descent to the boggy marsh west of Beinn Mhic Cedidh, and then the inching slow drag up to the summit, 450m up.

From there the drop was steep to the beallach before Beinn Odhar Bheag, and the last long ascent of the trip, a 400m slog that Ben took in a oner, and I took at a more leisurely pace. The ridge along to Beinn Odhar Mor is pleasant, and saw the very last ascent we’d make this trip. Just as well; by the final summit my legs were done.

Having said that, the last part of the trip, 6km of rough-as-you-like terrain via Loch nan Sleubhaich to Loch Shiel and Glenfinnan, was pretty tough going. We stopped regularly, notably for a morale-boosting shite (there’s nothing like it!), but I was beginning to be conscious of the fact that we were pushed for time.

Cream-crackered

The last section, a frustrating hack through ferns, tried my patience, and the first July-hot weather of the trip was wearing me down, but eventually we made it onto the track, and got back to the station with 20 mins to spare, just time for a dizzyingly refreshing can of Fanta!

“A High and Lonely Place” by Jim Crumley

No doubt about it, Jim Crumley has a fair turn of phrase, and this book, subtitled “Sanctuary and the Plight of the Cairngorms”, reads on occasion like a poem rather than the polemic that it is.

Crumley’s basic point is that the Cairgorms are too important to the spiritual well-being of our planet to permit of any human intrusion save on the very smallest scale, the scale of the individual who is completely in tune with the wilderness.

One can’t but help agree in principal to most of his arguments, as he leads the reader on a circuitous approach to the massif itself, as though he is stalking some especially skittish deer. Beginning on the Speyside fringes of the plateau he inches inwards, step by step, season by season, exploring the corries, the glens, the lairigs, and ultimately the mountain itself.

In practise though, Crumley’s message, if taken to heart and enacted in full, would restrict access to only a tiny few, not by actively barring admission, but by making it such an undertaking that only those most dedicated of mountaineers would ever make the journey.

That might not be a bad thing – it would certainly allow the mountain to heal, once the infrastructure of decades of tourism was removed – but then again I can’t help but feel that allowing access on a wider scale (certainly not the massively over-simplified access provided by funiculars) might engender more sympathy with the landscape than Crumley realises.

Maybe the salvation of the Cairngorms will come from the consciousness-raising experience you get from just being there, in wilderness.

Agree or disagree with Crumley though, this is a beautifully written book, with much to recommend it. It’s an irony that a book that argues to make the Cairngorms less accessible is likely to make anyone who reads it long to go.