Extreme Geography of Britain

Is it possible? To drive north from St Andrews to John o' Groats, and then back south to Fort William to climb to the top of Ben Nevis, and then home again to St Andrews in a single weekend? It took some driving and some serious walking, and a bit of snow climbing, and some more driving, but I left Saturday morning around 9 AM and was back in St Andrews at 8 PM on Sunday. All together my route (by no means the most direct) included around 600 miles of driving on the exciting Scottish roads, with around thirty of those miles on the famous single tracks.


Duncansby Head is a mile or two form John o' Groats and is commonly considered (like Lands End in the south) the extreme point on North end of the British Isle. From Duncansby head, to the north you see the Orkney Islands and just a short walk south over the crest form the car-park is a view of the Duncansby Stacks and the Thirle Door, a large tunnel carved through the cliffs by the North Sea.



Duncansby head is, by all accounts, one of the largest seagull rookeries in Britain and there were thousands of birds. With the tide out, I managed to get down onto the stony beach and was able to make my way across slick seaweed covered rocks to the Thirle door. There were gulls (mostly Fulmars) nesting on every tiny ledge and in every nook and cranny on the sandstone cliffs. At any moment, looking down the shoreline, there were a hundred birds in the air with thousands more nesting.

With the summit at 4,406 ft, Ben Nevis is the highest point in all of Britain. I ascended the so called tourist route which follows the old pony path used to supply the observatory that used to sit on top. Being out of shape and with an unusual snowpack for this late in the year, was as much of a climb as I could handle. The pony path zigzags up the slopes just to the left of the right skyline of the peak as pictured here. I was glad to have a borrowed ice axe kicking steps up the steeper part of the climb from the Red burn to the summit plateau. The actual pony track was buried in snow from there up. It is ten miles round trip from the car and the elevation gain is nearly the entire height of the mountain.

I have climbed rock and ice and mountains since I was in my teens and Ben Nevis has always stood high in my esteem. I learned many techniques from Alan Blackshaw's Mountaineering: From Hill Walking to Alpine Climbing published by Penguin in 1970. This book has a decidedly British take on climbing including many photos taken in mountains of Britain. Ben Nevis is where modern ice climbing was first developed. This weekend was, according to more than one climber I spoke to on the summit, the best conditions seen in fifteen years with many of the big climbs that are rarely in good shape perfectly formed. I saw many groups top out onto the summit plateau from the north face. A number of the most difficult climbs in Britain saw ascents this past weekend.

On Loch Hourn

Rite of Spring

Hill of Strone (above Glen Prosen)

Sunday, I climbed the Hill of Strone (512 m) on the south side of the road into Glen Prosen. Across the glen and to the north is another Hill of Strone (850 m). That larger hill is shown in the photo above. There had been a snow storm on Friday and Saturday that left the peaks to the north snow covered. There was patchy snow on Strone. I got there a bit late to try for the larger hill so I parked at the base of the smaller one and headed up. In Scotland, walkers have very liberal rights of access allowing anyone to walk virtually anywhere.

Not far up through the heather, I jumped a pair of grouse. And then more, and after seeing more than a dozen I lost count. Near the top of Strone, I jumped two up close and clearly saw that they were Black Grouse (Tetrao tetrix). The wind was high and so they did not hear me approach until I was on them. When they jumped I clearly saw they were large black birds with brilliant red wattles (patches) over the eyes. I had been assuming they were the more common red grouse and I am not sure that I wasn't seeing both species. All appeared to be black grouse whose numbers have been dangerously low but seem to be on the rebound. The photo shows three departing in high wind; it you click the picture you'll be able to view a larger copy of the image. They tend to take off rather slowly into the wind and then swoop left or right across the wind and soar low downwind with great speed.

We do not have these birds in North America. They are central figures in one of my favourite books, Turgenev's variously titled^&Dagger Memoirs of a Sportsman which is a collection of stories translated into English many times. I have read a number of translations and by far my favourite is Isabel Hapgood's translation in which the Black Grouse are called Black Cock, another common name for Tetrao tetrix. As far as I can tell, Hapgood's translation contains the most accurate translations of naturalistic terms. Others variously translate from the Russian as Black Grouse, Heath Grouse and as just plain Grouse.

On the walk up Strone I'd seen tracks in the snow (wondering to myself if they were hare or fox) and I'd watched a single hare run off at high speed over the skyline when I got too close. As I passed the col between Strone and Eskilawn (607) I saw an amazing sight, a drove of white hares frantically running in every direction except mine. These turn out to be Mountain Hares (Lepus timidus). I was able to capture part of the scene on video and I also captured (barely) some grouse in flight. I will include the film in a later post.

As I continued up Eskilawn, the weather deteriorated and the sun dropped lower in the sky and, as it did, I saw more and more wildlife. There are an amazing number of hares and black grouse, too many for me to count (and who could tell how many I'd seen more than once.) With so much prey about, I am quite surprised I only saw one pair of raptors early on in the walk. There are so many eagles and hawks at home in Wyoming.

^[&Dagger] Other titles include, Annals of a Sportsman, A Sportsman's Sketches, Sketches from a Sportsman's Album, Russian Life in the Interior: Or the experiences of a Sportsman, and A Sportsman's Notebook.

Bagpipes (and Art and Food) in Edinburgh

Spent the weekend in Edinburgh and caught this piper on High Street in Old Town. At least on the weekend, from almost anywhere in the heart of the city you can hear bagpipes somewhere in the distance. Personally, being a Philip Glass and Steve Reich fan, I like the music a lot. The background drone feels to me like Tibetan throat singing and the repetitive nature is (for me) like a traditional version of Philip Glass.

Edinburgh is a beautiful city and we were lucky enough to be able to have the use of the Dyckhoff flat on Jeffrey St. for Saturday night.

Seeing this Freud at the Modern Gallery was an emotional experience for Penelope. She (and I) have been studying Freud's work for years and (is it possible) have never seen a painting of his in person. The embarrassing thing for me is that I looked at this painting my first time through the gallery some weeks before and did not recognize it as a Freud!

While we were in town, we spent time in the National Gallery and in the Portrait Gallery both of which have wonderful collections. The famous Sargent Lady Agnew of Lochnaw is in the National Gallery. This is another painting Penelope has studied from reproductions for years. Aside from the permanent collection which is extensive, the portrait gallery was showing the BP sponsored portrait award which included 60 works chosen from over 1800 entrants. This show was both inspiring and frustrating. There seemed to be a rather too strong emphasis on photorealism with the more abstract work selected for the show being somewhat weak.

We had some very good meals, including lunch in the Dome on George Street where I had Haggis wrapped in Filo dough with a whiskey, mustard and cream sauce. This is the old bank of Scotland building. We had a good (but in no way exceptional) meal at the Barioja Tapas Bar on Jeffrey St. The best part was the nice Rioja we drank. Lunch the next day in an anonymous pub on High Street where I had a very good Steak and Ale pie.

Edinburgh is a beautiful city and we plan to spend more time there soon.

Penelope is here!

Penelope (my wife) is here for a month. Here she is, jet lagged by the North Sea.

Among other things, she's a painter, here's a link to her web-page PenelopeCaldwell.com. Trying to let studio space in St Andrews is turning out to be a challenge. She'll be here for a month now, and will be back for May into mid-June. I've taken out an ad in the St Andrews Citizen looking for space.

There is an charitable organization here in Scotland called Wasps Artist's Studios that has building all over Scotland for use as artists studios -- 16 in all. But the waiting list is quite long for space, and although there are a few within reasonable commuting distance of St Andrews, they are full.

The Lomond Hills of Fife

I climbed West Lomond Hill, the highest point in Fife. The day was blowy and cold, and I had a bit of a late start so I only did the West Hill which is the higher of the two. Starting from the Craigmead carpark, the walk up the West hill is about 4 1/2 miles round trip with an elevation gain of 656 feet. The walk up East Lomond hill is about half the distance gaining half the elevation. The path I took to the top (straight up the east side) is clearly visible if you click on the photo.

This shot shows the summit marker. Walking there I passed a very serious woman walking alone. She was dressed head to toe in a red Gortex suit and using a pair of ski poles for balance. She looked to be training for an expedition to Greenland. I asked he about the trail to the top up the east side and she told me that which ever way I wanted to go was my choice and that there were many trails. She volunteered that she'd already been to the top and was taking a different one round the south side. When I arrived at the summit the wind must have been gusting to 50 mph; I was almost blown over trying to take a few photos. There was a woman with about eight lightly clad children hunkered down in the rocks nearby. On my way down, I passed a few more people who all commented what a nice day it was.

The town just below the hills is Falkland, which was mobbed with walkers dressed to the nines for hiking wearing rain jackets and hiking boots, with many wearing breeks and carrying walking sticks or ski poles. The town itself is magnificent with beautiful stone houses, an old castle and a church and with streets barely wide enough for a single car to pass.

The hills are visible from many parts of Fife and I have used them for navigating while driving. In the panorama below you can just make out (on the right side) the Firth of Forth and (on the left) the Firth of Tay.