98.8 Leith FM and Blackwells Bookshop

Have you ever wondered about the great conspiracy between TV executives and publicans? It is fairly blatant. It's Saturday night, and you're wrapped up in the house, fancying a cosy night in front of the telly with a cup of tea. You switch it on and flick through the channels. What's on? X Factor, Big Brother, I'm A Celebrity, Britain's Got Talent, Celebrity Come Dancing?! "Sod this," you think, don your coat, and go down the pub.

It's a conspiracy, I tell you.

And nearly as blatant as the one between the daytime TV executives and the jobcentres. No fit and healthy person would choose to watch daytime telly over even a mind-numbing, repetitive job.

Both examples of conspiracies by TV executives to help mould society's behaviour.

However, the one night that you should stay in, the night you should be done with your weekend's fun and mentally preparing for another week's useful toil, is Sunday night. And well, have the powers that be arranged some fine entertainment for you on Sunday night! Perhaps not telly entertainment but, you wouldn't want to get too stimulated. No, something nice and intellectual as the last sands of the week slide down the neck of life's eggtimer. Something like a Leith tonight arts and culture interview with me on 98.8 Leith FM on Sunday 22 November at 22:00. It's supposed to be about The Weekend Fix: do you think I can squeeze Tokyo in there as well?

Oh, and if you miss 98.8 Leith FM at 22:00 Sunday 22 November, there's always Blackwells Bookshop Edinburgh South Bridge 18:30 Thursday 26 November.

I can't say that my publishers aren't doing their bit to get the book publicised! If only the woman at the Edinburgh Evening News would answer her phone...

Caledonia Dreaming

As I walked up the glen to the hill this Saturday in the rain, I kicked myself for not getting out the weekend before. The weather was beautiful the previous weekend. But circumstances prevailed against, as they often do these days. Now I get away when I can, the days arranged in advance and fixed in stone. No more am I flexible, my hill time ruled by the weather forecast. I thought about the last time I went up a hill in decent weather. It was fourteen months ago, last September. I am the antithesis of Blue Sky Scotland. I dream of the hills in sunshine.

Bridge over the Allt Mhairc:


But there were compensations for Saturday's soggly slog. The rivers were full and brawling, the Allt Mhairc especially picturesque at its confluence with the Allt Diridh, crossed by an old packhorse bridge.

Crofting ruins in Glen Tilt:


And after a good bout of exercise and exposure, slopping drenched back through the forest, a red squirrel dropped the used case of a beech nut at my feet. Better than an afternoon sat in front of the telly I suppose.

Tokyo and the South Africa Connection

This has got nothing at all to do with Scotland, so you'll have to bear with me. A South African music webzine has picked up on a song I wrote a while ago about a South African politician turned businessman called Tokyo Sexwale. Yes, it's a real name, and you can hear all about it here:

http://www.speakerbox.co.za/content/video.aspx?id=412

Unfortunately the interview text is not included. Perhaps it was too boring, or perhaps, when they suggested I write a song about politicians Blade Nzimande or Terror Lekota, they were disappointed when I told them no, I would not write a song about these people. Tokyo is their daddy.

Gig punter with Tokyo Sexwale mask:

Top 100 Walks: A Challenge

Have thought further about my top 100 Scottish Walks. They wouldn't all be hillwalks, unlike many other lists. The Buachaille via Curved Ridge would be there of course, as would the traverse of Liathach: but so would a stroll round Edinburgh, or the West Highland Way from Bridge of Orchy to Kinlochleven. But I've come across a problem. There are so many areas of Scotland about which I have little first hand experience. What do I know of walking in Shetland? Nothing.

Moray and Buchan? Zip.
Orkney? A little.
Lewis? Nada.
Islay? Jura? Coll? Eigg? Duinish on Skye? Never even been there.

And there are even many classics I've not done. A traverse of Fisherfield, from the shores of Loch Maree past A'Mhaigdean; the Lairig Ghru; the Gaick. And who's to know if, say, the Mull of Kintyre to Machrihanish Bay isn't a great walk, until you try it? You can't really have a definitive best 100 until you've walked everything.

The good thing is, there's lots of walking and exploring to look forward to.

In the meantime, a random selection from a top 100:

Liathach


Start at the Coire Dubh car park, walk round the back of Liathach and make your way into impressive Coire na Caime. Head SW for Meall Dearg, supposedly the hardest of all the Munro tops. (Though I am sure the Bastier Tooth and Knights Peak are harder). I must confess to not having done it from this direction yet, but from above, from Mullach an Rathain. After Meall Dearg come Liathach's Northern Pinnacles, an exciting scramble whose hardest part, you'll be glad to know, is near the bottom. A great sense of achievement will be had on topping out on Mullach an Rathain. You can head down from here, but the day is only half done - head east along the fearsome Am Fasarinen Pinnacles to Liathach's summit, and continue along a delightful airy ridge to the eastern top, Stuic a Choire Dubh. Retrace your steps a little to find a steep, knee-grinding but safe path all the way back down to Glen Torridon, where a day of fear can be rewarded with a pint in the Beinn Damph hotel.

Beinn a' Chrulaiste


There's not much to this hill, conveniently situated an hour and a half (at the most) of a walk from the Kingshouse Hotel, but the view is extraordinary, the best of all of the Buachaille. Either head up the west side of a shallow corrie just to the north of the Kingshouse, or walk along the West Highland Way for a short distance until you see a rib of pink granite above you and climb this - it barely counts as scrambling. Keep your head down till the summit to enjoy the view. Extend the descent by going over Meall Bhalach and take a look at the ruined shielings by the Allt a' Bhalaich. Navvies working on the Blackwater Dam used to take this route to the Kingshouse, and a number died on the return journey, their bodies still somewhere out on the moor.

Carsaig Arches, Mull
Take a minor road to Carsaig, where there is parking for a couple of cars. Chose a windy, sunny day for the best atmosphere, Staffa-like basalt columns in the cliffs above you, sea eagles soaring, the sun shining through the surf and views of the Paps of Jura in the distance. It's not a long walk along the coast, but there is plenty of interest, so allow lots of time. The Carsaig Arches are unusual basalt formations. I suppose returning along the cliff top would be pretty cool but I've not done that.

100 Best Walks: Loch Faskally

Somebody like myself, used to the obvious, the explicit, the big hills and clear lines, has driven past Pitlochry perhaps a hundred times, zooming along the A9 bypass, thinking that perhaps it would be worth having a look at Loch Faskally, but being seduced instead by those hills towering above the road - Beinn a'Ghlo, the Cairngorms further north: the explicit, the obvious. But this was a walk I had fancied doing for a while - along Loch Faskally at Pitlochry, up the riverside to Killicrankie, round the Linn of Tummel, and back, along an unclassified road, to Pitlochry. I'd had an intimation earlier this year of how beautiful this hidden area was, paddling down the River Tummel on my stag do.

Looking across Loch Faskally (from Faskally House area):


Yet this walk was still a revelation. Dog walkers, young families, ramblers - the path was as busy as Shiehallion on a Sunday, yet these people knew a secret, it seemed to my hillwalking mind, that I had only just been let in on - the beauty of the area around Pitlochry. The reason this was a surprise, I suspect, is that the hillforms around here are no match for those of Glencoe or other areas in the Highlands, and therefore I had dismissed it out of hand. But there is more to the outdoors than hilltops, and the autumn colours and watery reflections around the rivers Tummel and Garry are, in the words of Louis Stott about the The Waterfalls of Scotland 'worth gaun a mile tae see'.

River Garry:


The forecast had been for sunshine and showers - and it was half right! But the rain wasn't too bad once we set off; the area around Faskally House and Clunie power station, a masterpiece in the mould of St Andrew's House, is especially beautiful. The sun even came out briefly as we crossed the footbridge over the Garry, and we saw a red squirrel near the Linn of Tummel.

The Linn of Tummel:


Rowan Berries:


I'd been given a copy of Cameron McNeish's Scotland's 100 Best Walks a while back and was gratified I'd already done most of the walks. This was one of the few I hadn't, though ours also included the dam at Loch Faskally, where at the right time of year, you can watch salmon climb the salmon ladder. I'd recommend this extension, and would have this walk in my own personal top 100.

Above Clunie Power Station:


I wonder what that full list would be?

What would be in your top 100?

Landscape Photographer of the Year

I've been sworn to secrecy until now, but now that the feature in yesterday's Sunday Times is out, I can tell you - I've been commended for a picture in this year's Landscape Photographer of the Year competition. Being commended means I don't get any prize money. I do get my picture in Landscape Photographer of the Year - Collection 3, but no money from the sales of that book. The honour of being featured is supposed to be reward enough. There's also to be an exhibition of the pictures in London's National Theatre from 5 December this year to 24 January.

My entry to the competition:


The competition mainly revolves around English National Parks - the park authorities are the main sponsors, and there are special prizes for best pictures taken in each of them. What is interesting therefore is how many of the pictures chosen represent Highland landscapes - the obvious place to look, perhaps, for a landscape photography prize, but I liked very much some of the less obvious and subtle entries. Mine was taken above the Cairnwell near Braemar, and features Billy battling against spindrift on a winter's day. It's not the best quality of picture - taken on 35mm film and scanned a while ago for my website, it could have been scanned better. Compare it in sharpness and detail to the technical quality of the winning picture:

The winning entry:


I don't like obviously faked landscapes, and confess I presumed a heavily photoshopped entry might win; but the processing in this enhances, rather than detracts from, the picture. I like it very much, and it encourages me that such a normal looking, albeit spectacular (and well composed - look how the rays of sun hit the Old Man), landscape won the competition. Perhaps next year??

Billy - if you'd entered the pic of me and Dave on Beinn Mhic Mhonaidh, you might have won something!

A Great Glen Adventure

The rain stopped before dawn, mountains still wrapped in cloud blankets as the sun rose red across Rannoch Moor. Reflections of sky and boulder dotted the moor, the water glass-still, and two deer crossed the road in front of my car. A monumental atmosphere entering Glencoe. A primevally perfect day for a paddle.

Lunch stop, Loch Lochy:


The aim was to travel from Banavie locks to Fort Augustus along the Caledonian Canal, taking two days, staying on the side of Loch Lochy on Saturday night. We had sea kayaks hired from Snowgoose Mountain Centre in Corpach, and enough gear to take care of ourselves.

Weather closes in:


The Caledonian Canal was a revelation. I had always previously considered the area from Fort William to Invergarry to be dull, a lull on the road to Skye between the crescendoes of Glencoe and Kintail. The reason for this is that the car-bound hillwalker doesn't see much except trees on either side of the road. From the water, and at a slower pace, far more is revealed.

Put in next day, Loch Lochy:


The paddlers:


I was especially impressed with Loch Oich. This is a place I want to return to again. Oak, birch, scots pine and other trees are turning for autumn, the water full of fallen leaves, a romantic ruined castle perched on a crag above the loch, one whose existence I never even knew of.

Old Invergarry Castle, Loch Oich:


There had been a couple of hairy moments crossing Loch Lochy, with squalls and a building swell that threw us onto our last beach of Saturday. But the canal itself was beautiful and quiet, and we glided past swans, dippers, and ducks, unconcerned with our passage through their territory, brambles bushes fat with fruit hanging over the sides of the broad handsome canal, acessible only to canoeists.

Caledonian Canal:


This was my first canoe trip, but I hope it won't be my last.