This last weekend around Scotland has been a bit tense, what with the Scottish Independence Referendum being successful for the Better Together campaign. But Glasgow was one of the few councils that voted in a majority to secede from the UK and as such the mood around town has been a bit....glum at best. Huge rainstorms Saturday morning cleared into sunny skies and a new day, and Sunday promised to be the same, so my usual hillwalking partner-in-crime, Hazel, and I decided to do a "short" walk. Beinn Chabhair has been on my list for a while. Not so much because it was promising to be a great walk, but because the walk into the Munro seemed to be long and boggy - not something to do in poor weather.
Looking out over the misty mountains of Loch Lomond National Park
from the Meall nan Tarmachan ridge en route to Beinn Chabhair
The walk from Inverarnan up the first steep bit of the walk, through dense ferns in the Loch Lomond valley was definitely not the best part of the walk, though there is a brilliant waterfall where Ben Glas cascades down into the valley. We saw an elderly couple on their way down and had the usual, "Hiya, how's it going?" banter. Usually, the response is a, "Good, and you?" But today, this couple decided to warn us of a tick infestation higher up on the hills, full-on with warnings about how they were jumping all over you, swarming out of the bracken, and you want to get them off before they bury their heads into you with, "THEIR FOUR JAWS!" Coming from anyone, this seems a bit scary, but add in a thick, gravelly Scottish accent, and we were - well, Hazel was - downright terrified! We were warned to put troosers on and cover up. Well, I only had shorts and wasn't planning on turning back so quickly, but Hazel threw on all of her waterproofs, and so covered head to toe - we carried on.
We made it up onto the moorlands, above the supposed tick-zone, and Hazel took off her protective gear and we started the long trudge through the moors. It was a good thing we weren't doing this in the rain, or under poor conditions because navigating the undulating boggy terrain would have been near impossible and certainly not dry. But today, the sun was out, and not a cloud was in the sky, though the atmosphere all around Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park was thick with a light-white haze, saturating each mountain with a blue hue that made them seem like paper cutouts, layered one behind another.
Finally we reached the trail to head up Meall nan Tarmachan and left the bog behind. A few sheep watched us trudge up the hill, and listened to our calls as we tested out the awesome echoing acoustics of the rocks we were climbing through. The trail up to the summit was kind of like a rocky and grassy playground as the trail weaved around large outcrops, up and over some scrambly sections, and finally to the summit of Beinn Chabhair, all the while the misty haze hung draped over the surrounding mountains.
We didn't linger for long at the summit, but enjoyed ourselves, but we could tell that our short walk wasn't going to be too short. We'd left the car at 11:20 am and checked the time at the summit at 3:20 pm. Knowing we had to traverse the moors again, we started off back down the track, but it didn't take nearly as long because we were back at the car by 5:30 pm. Though we just ticked off one Munro, it was about all we wanted to handle for the one day, but it sure was a great day to be out!
In Scotland, during the summer, you want to spend as much time outside as possible (and as little time updating your blog) because the nice summer weather doesn't last forever! While there were a lot of exciting things going on around Glasgow this summer like the Commonwealth Games and visiting friends from the US, my friend Hazel and I spent a decent amount of time out in the Highlands bagging more Munros - which has now become an obsession of ours.
Beinn Eunaich & Beinn a'Chochuill
20 June 2014
This was was actually one I did myself. Hazel left for Greenland for a few weeks, so I was on my own and really itching to get out into the hills. The problem without a car is that you're reliant on the bus and train. Luckily for me, the train from Glasgow to Oban stops at the beautiful Loch Awe at the foot of four massive munros. I wanted to do all four, but having only gone hillwalking once on my own, I thought I'd at least get two in, so I started off down the road to the footpath up to Beinn Eunaich, which looked easy since it's a farm road heading into a water reservoir stored within the mountains, but it was steep and I was not prepared! I was doing the loop backward and started up the side of Beinn Eunaich which is this relentless grassy hill that ever so slowly arches its way to the summit - you know the kind where you think you're almost there, but then you see the summit still looming in front of you? But the climb was a breath-taking one with incredible views down over Loch Awe and the picturesque Kilchurn Castle on its shores. Well, eventually I made it to the top of this slightly cobbly top (989 m/3,245 ft) and was met with even more views down the other side (which to the north was a vertical dropoff!) over the waters of Loch Etive.
Great day for a hillwalk above Loch Awe. Looking north on the way
up Beinn Eunaich
The wind had started to pick up and bringing clouds in from the ocean. Nothing that really threatened rain, but low enough that the summits of all the mountains around me were shrouded in mist. I carried on down to the saddle between Beinn Eunaich and Beinn a'Chochuill, back into the world of visible distances, but then it was up, up, up to the next Munro. One the way, I passed an elderly man who'd walked in from the nearest town - a much farther distance than I walked from the train station - and was impressed he was still trekking on. I mean, he was old! Back in the clouds, I relied on the path being clear enough for me to see my way to the top of Beinn a'Chochuill (980 m/3,215 ft). It was dry and I had my lunch here, and the summit was high enough that the clouds going over the summit were thin, but it forced the rest of the clouds to flow between it and its neighbouring munros. Not being able to even see the rest of the 4-munro circuit, I decided it was best to head back to the Loch. After all, I had time to check out Kilchurn Castle and have a pint from the hotel at the train station! Overall, it was a nice day out in the crisp air, clouds, and two munros (nearly) all to myself!
(More to read below the slideshow!)
Stob Dearg & Stob na Broige
25 August 2014
Hazel finally returned from Greenland which made getting out to further-flung munros much easier with her car, and though the Matiz is a wee one, it got us where we needed to go. The weather was perfect for late August and we couldn't believe our luck and decided to head up north to the famous Glen Coe - probably Scotland's most recognisable valley (and home to James Bond's Skyfall, in the movie at least). I'd still never been and was pumped to go!
It took a few hours to get there, and another while carefully off-roading Hazel's car into the packed parking lot (did I mention Glen Coe is popular?). We started off to the trail heading up the ridge at the eastern end of Glen Coe - Buachaille Etive Mor. The walk up was brilliant! Right through a very rocky but gently sloping Coire na Tulaich. Having not been hillwalking for a few months, we were a bit nervous about whether we'd be in shape to do it, but the walk to the ridgeline was over before we knew it! We still had another few hundred meters to get to the summit, but we were there, enjoying the absolutely perfect views of the mountains of Glen Coe and over to Ben Nevis, Britain's highest elevation, looming a few ranges away.
Beautiful peaks of Buachaille Etive Mor, guarding the
entrance to Glen Coe. Who says that middle peak isn't a munro?
C'mon!
It wasn't much more effort to reach the summit of Stob Dearg (1,021 m/3,350 ft), and we were rewarded with one of the most breathtaking views I've ever seen. The summit is perched right at the end of the ridge and it quickly drops off on three sides leaving you with unimpeded views down into Glen Coe to the west and the immensely expansive Rannoch Moor to the east. There was not even a stitch of wind all day and the waters of Rannoch Moor lay perfectly still.
Back down the ridge we went, off to find the next munro, but there was a massive mountain between us and where the map said the next munro was. We were very disheartened to learn that not all mountains in Scotland over 3,000 ft are classified as munros as we trudged up the trail to the summit of Stob na Doire (1,011 m/3,317 ft) - which is boringly classified as a "munro top." Apparently, there is no exact definition of a munro other than that it must be over 3,000 ft (which Stob na Doire clearly meets), but a munro must also be its own mountain, standing prominently from any neighboring ridge or mountain. Stob na Doire was massive, but clearly not "a mountain in its own right" to be classified as a munro. We took a photo at the top anyway, in case the rules change in the near future and it earns classification as a Munro.
After Stob na Doire, it was almost a joke to reach the "summit" of Stob na Broige (956 m/3,136 ft) - almost 200 feet below the summit of Stob na Doire! But it still felt good to reach its top and look out over the road to Loch Etive. The weather couldn't have been better and after a quick bite to eat we started off down the mountains back to the car through a green valley lit up by the golden setting sun. It was a bit tricky getting the car out of the dirt parking lot as the ground was eroded where the pavement from the road ended, but we got her out and started the long drive back to Glasgow.
(More to read below this slideshow, too!)
Binnein Mor &na Gruagaichean
27 August 2014
We just couldn't get enough of the good weather and thought that while it lasted we should get out once more. The weather report called for clear skies, light wind, and no rain, so once again Hazel and I hopped in her "gran-mobile" and drove back up to Glen Coe. We wanted to do the Aonach Eagach ridge on the north side of Glen Coe, but after looking reports of its treachery, we decided against it until we had someone with us who could urge us along Britain's sharpest ridge walk. We decided to try some other ridge walks first before tackling that monster! So we drove through Glen Coe and then tucked east to Kinlochleven where we parked the car and headed off up to the Mamores peaks.
I'm not sure we realised just how long of a walk this was going to be. The first few miles are just a constant slight increase up a long valley (though with nice views over Loch Leven and the town below), until the path dumps you out into a beautiful valley perched up between Binnein Mor (our first destination) and the neighbouring munro Sgurr Eilde Mor. While the day was just as sunny as the previous walk, the air was not nearly as still and we were being buffeted by very stiff and strong gusts of wind! We worked our way up to the ridge overlooking Coire an Lochain where we had spectacular views of Ben Nevis across the valley, and even though our legs were about to give out, we still weren't at the top! Out of 282 munros, Binein Mor is the 28th highest and we still had to get there. We met some nice Dutch tourists and caught up with a single hillwalker who was bagging his 200-and-something munro. He reassured us that Aonach Eagach's bark was worse than its bite, but that with the stiff winds, it was better we weren't on that ridge. We made it to the summit of Binnein Mor (1,130 m/3,707 ft) which is perched on a little point in the sky with very steep and long drop-offs on either side! Vertigo definitely set in a few times, especially with the wind, but once we sat for some water, we got over it pretty quickly.
Chilling out on top of Binnein Mor. Munro #10!
We didn't linger at the summit long due to the wind. It was incredibly brisk and chilled us even with all the layers we were wearing! But we did have a little celebration as this was my 10th munro! We found a little spot tucked away from the wind for lunch, but since the walk was so long, we pressed onward along a nice ridge to na Gruagaichean and enjoyed a good scramble up to the summit (1,056 m/3,465 ft) where we celebrated once more as this was Hazel's 10th munro! Ben Nevis just stared us down while we had the rest of our lunch. Time was getting on, and the sun was already setting and we still had to get back to the car and drive back to Glasgow! The walk down the ridge was nice and grassy with stunning views of Loch Leven and we could even see the jagged ridge of Aonach Eagach in the distance. But the nice grassy ridge soon gave way to a massive, steep, pathless, grassy hillside that we essentially bushwacked our way through before reaching the trail that would return us to the car. It was definitely one of the longest walks I've done so far (almost 9 miles), but it was definitely worth it!
(There's one more section to read below this slideshow!)
Ben Lui & Beinn a'Chleibh
14 September 2014
The weather's been changing a lot around Scotland as Fall starts to set in but the weather report suggested we'd have clear skies and cloud-free munros over the weekend, so my intrepid munro-bagging-partner, Hazel, and I went for it. We drove west to Ben Lui, which was described as one of the finest munros in scotland with amazing views, but we had the feeling, as we parked the car, that those views would not be for us today. Clouds were low and the peaks of all the munros were shrouded in mist. But we were here so might as well go for it anyway!
Carefully keeping to the path in the fog along the ridge to Ben Lui
We forded the River Lochy and trudged our way up through the muddy pine timber forest which was nice as there were a few waterfalls and the leaves were already changing colour. But soon we found ourselves in the massive bowl-shaped valley between Ben Lui and Beinn a'Chleibh, both covered in clouds and a brisk wind blowing through the gap between them. We headed up east along a long, steep, grassy slope that just kept going, and going...and going, until we were in the clouds. But the grass stopped and was replaced by broken boulders and alpine-climate plants. We'd reached the ridge that would take us to the summit, being careful not to lose our footing lest we trip and fall down the cliff into the valley on the other side, which incidentally is where a 4-person aircraft tragically crashed a few decades ago. We wanted to see if we could find the wreckage, but the clouds were too thick and we didn't want to go wandering off trail.
After a few fun scrambles and photoshoots, we made it to an open plateau with a cairn that we thought was the summit, only to realise we had a little further to go before reaching Ben Lui's true summit (1,130 m/3,707 - the same height as Binnein Mor, but ranked 29th). It was too cold and damp to linger there much longer so we headed down to the bealach and it was pretty much a hop, skip, and a jump up to the summit of the neighbouring munro, Beinn a'Chleibh (916 m/3,005 ft) which was cloud-free for a while. But there was no reason for it not to be cloud free - after all, Beinn a'Chleibh is the 281st highest munro out of 282! So, not spectacular, but fun to check it off the list nonetheless. Clouds eventually did roll in and we never really got a good clear view of Ben Lui all day. We ran into many people who were doing one or two more munros after Ben Lui and Beinn a'Chleibh, but I'd injured my knee running the day before so we decided to head back to the car, which didn't take long, and it was nice not having a three-hour drive back home. Not sure how many more nice days we'll have, but so far, nothing can stop us!
Right, so continuing on this trend of finally writing backed-up blog posts, this one's a monster simply because of the photos I had to reorganise to get here! Last December, though, I had the great pleasure of being able to tag along and help teach a glacial geology and geomorphology field trip to the central region of New Zealand's South Island. Having been to the North Island and having experienced the northern- and western-most points of the North Island and explored the watery wonderland of the Bay of Islands, I was totally pumped to get to some of the more staggering New Zealand scenery we all know from Lord of the Rings!
After three hours of one of the most turbulent flights I'd been on in a while (and I'd just return to Sydney from a trip to Denver and Vermont), we landed in Queenstown, the adventure capital of New Zealand. The flight in over the Southern Alps was beautiful. Being early December, New Zealand was just emerging from winter and all of the mountains still had substantial snow on them! We wasted no time in picking up our three passenger buses and trailer, and with 24 student in tow, set right off out of Queenstown to the Kawarau Bridge, famous for being the original bungee jump in New Zealand. Of course, we were there to learn about New Zealand's past glacial geology, climate, and geomorphology - or how the landscapes develop and change through time. Along the first few days the students would be presenting small mini-reports on different aspects of these topics and we weren't letting any second go to waste!
After learning about New Zealand's loess deposits, accumulations of wind-blown dust that were deposited under colder dryer conditions during the last glacial period, we headed off the main highway, taking the Crown Range Road to Wanaka where we'd spend the first night. We stayed at a small hostel/motor park near the shores of Lake Wanaka, which fills one of the many glacially-sculpted valleys east of the Southern Alps, including Lakes Wakatipu, Ohau, Pukaki, and Tekapo. Early the next morning, I got up early for a short walk along the lake, looking out across to the beautiful Mt. Alta rising across the shores. Our destination by the end of the day was Mt. Cook Village in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park, but we had plenty of stops to make before calling it a day.
Purple lupin growing at the Clay Cliffs near Omarama
We took Lindi's Pass toward Omarama before doubling back across the Ahuriri River to the Clay Cliffs, a geological formation of very soft rocks exposed along the active Osler Fault. The cliffs are a deeply dissected feature that is the site of an ongoing battle between the uplifting tectonic fault and erosion. We stayed here for a short while and had lunch along the Ahuriri River, a beautiful place to dip your feet in the refreshing water and have a bite to eat. We made one more stop to the former river outlet of Lake Pukaki before it was dammed and diverted but also had time to stop at the southern end of Lake Pukaki to get a sense of what we were in for for the next few days.
Aoraki/Mt. Cook (3,724 m/12,218 ft) looming over Lake Pukaki
The weather was bright and sunny and fairly few clouds against a blue sky, and from here, far off in the distance, was the brilliantly majestic peak of Aoraki (or Mt. Cook), the highest point in New Zealand at 3,724 meters (12,218 ft) above sea level! We had to stop here because the view was simply breathtaking, and because Aoraki is apparently often shrouded in clouds, we thought this might be our only chance to see its entire height! And I should mention Lake Pukaki because it was amazing in its own way. There is so much powdered rock, crushed by glacial erosion that gets washed into the lake that it takes on a very milky appearance which reflects the sky on a sunny day, turning it a turquoise colour that is really only best matched by a Crayola crayon of the same colour!
It was windy, so we got back into the vans and started the fairly long drive down the Mt. Cook Road toward Mt. Cook Village, the views along which were absolutely stunning. I'm jealous of the students in my van because they got to stare out the windows the entire time, while I had to keep my eyes on the road. But if you want a fun road to drive along, this is one of them. It just rolls and wraps its way long the lake and the ever-impressive Southern Alps just keep looming in the distance! Well, if the drive wasn't thrilling enough, once you're past the head of the lake, you begin driving through the wide and flat river valley that drains the Mueller, Tasman, and Hooker Lakes which are all fed by glaciers. And while you can't see the glaciers, as they are hidden by huge glacial moraines and tucked away around the mountains, you do see the incredible wall of ICE that is known as the Huddleston Glacier, which frankly, I thought was one of the most impressive things I've ever seen! It's just this massive, steep wall of ice that you just couldn't stop looking at!
Looking down to the Mt. Cook Village from the Red Tarns. The Huddleston Glacier is the big wall of ice plastered
on the side of the Southern Alps in the distance. Mueller Lake and its end moraine seen in the bottom of the valley.
Aoraki (the Maori name for Mt. Cook) features prominently in Maori history. The Maori people believed the South Island to be a canoe that Aoraki and his brothers were using to voyage the world. It tipped and the brothers climbed onto the top of the overturned canoe and turned to stone. Geologically, Mt. Cook is positioned in the Southern Alps which are the result of convergence along the Alpine Fault which is the boundary between the Indo-Australian tectonic plate and the Pacific plate. The fault is mostly a dexteral strike-slip fault, but there is oblique convergence which has uplifted the mountains on the South Island. It is the Alpine Fault that causes most of the earthquakes in New Zealand, and also as it cuts across the north part of the South Island it goes offshore east of the North Island where subduction of the Pacific plate under the Indo-Australian plate results in the volcanism the North Island is famed for!
Well, while all of the students were excited to get out of the vans and start eating and drinking for the night, I had picked up a wee trail map and having heard that weather is rarely clear in the park, I thought I'd take advantage of it by doing a short hike up to the Red Tarns, some small ponds perched high up the mountains above Mt. Cook Village. Luckily summer in the Southern Hemisphere means plenty of light late into the evening, so I didn't have much to worry about - other than breaking my ankle with no one around! Well, the hike up was unrelentlessly steep, but I eventually made it to the tarns, which in and of themselves aren't that impressive, but you don't make that kind of hike to look at a pond, but for the view of the rest of the valley. Up here, you're so high up above the valley that you can see up and over Mt. Wakefield to Mt. Cook as well as up the Tasman River valley to The Armchair and Malcher Peak. The weather was holding up, so I decided to climb even higher to the shoulder of Sebastopol, the lowest peak in the National Park. Catching my breath, I decided my hunger would win over my want to reach the summit, so I raced down a big scree slope and headed back to dinner at the Mt. Cook Village.
The Huddleston Glacier and Mt. Sefton (left), Aoraki/Mt. Cook (right), and the Mueller
Glacier's end massive end-moraine (centre-bottom)
Weather was clear the next morning again, blue skies and few clouds, so I walked up toward The Hermitage - the famously fancy resort hotel in the National Park that looks directly over to Mt. Cook - for a few morning photos before joining back up with the students. We drove up to the Mueller Glacier overlook for a few more student talks. During one of the talks, we all of a sudden heard this huge crack that sounded like thunder, followed by a cascade of booms and crashes. It was so startling that everyone turned their heads to the glaciers behind us. Though we couldn't see anything, it was pretty obvious we'd just heard a massive block of ice break off the Huddleston Glacier, falling down onto the Mueller Glacier below. Coincidentally, the student giving his report was just talking about ice falls. Talk about timing!
Icebergs from the Hooker Glacier floating in Hooker Lake
Once the student talks were done, we started the long hike up to Hooker Lake and the Hooker Glacier that sits right at the base of Mt. Cook. We continued to hear booms of breaking ice behind us during the hour-long walk up to Hooker Lake, which was cool, but the weather turned, which was not. We could see the clouds rising up from the west and flowing over the mountain tops to our left as the wind picked up and threatened to rain us in. But, being geologists, we go out in anything and this certainly didn't stop us and the last few students presented their mini-reports. You couldn't really see the mountain peaks by this point, but you could still get great views over Hooker Lake which was just chockers full of icebergs in various stages of melting, all shapes and sizes! By the time we left Hooker Lake, the weather had cleared up once again, permitting us to drive around to the next valley over to the Tasman Glacier and Lake.
Lake Tasman is a recent feature to the landscape, having only formed in the last 40 years after the Tasman Glacier (left)
retreated to its current position!
Lake Tasman is impressive, if not for its size (7 kilometres long!), for the fact that 40 years ago, it was not there! Forty years ago the Tasman Glacier's terminus was at the lookout most visitors take the short walk up to from the car park. Now, however, Tasman Glacier ends in the lake and icebergs calve off its front. Though the retreat is impressive and offers the opportunity to take speed boat tours around the lake, it just means our changing climate is killing off these magnificent glaciers!
We headed back out of Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park toward the town of Twizel where we'd be based for the remainder of the trip. Over the next 5-6 days, the students would be working on small group projects in the area, and we, the trip leaders, would drive them wherever they needed to go. But first, we had another stop to get to up beyond Lake Ohau on the other side of Twizel. By the time we got beyond the shores of Lake Ohau, the weather came back with a vengeance.
The next day was fairly uneventful. The rough weather had cleared up and the students used the day to plan their projects. Twizel itself is a pretty dull town. It was founded as a working camp during the construction of the dams that were built on Lake Ohau, but remained a popular stopover point for travelers going to Mt. Cook (not to mention cheaper than staying in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. While there are some nice coffee shops and cafes in the main shopping area, there isn't much to speak of - especially of the locals. While eating dinner at the Power Station Bistro I noticed one man down his beer outside and promptly walk to a short brick wall and urinate on it! Welcome to Twizel, indeed!
I played chauffer for students heading up back into Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park over the next three days to collect data for their projects. Depending on which group was where, and when they needed to get to their next stops, I often had anywhere from an hour to a few hours by myself before I had to meet any of the students and move them. This was nice because it gave me time to do a few shorter walks and explore the park a bit more. One of the days I walked up the Mueller Glacier trail to see the head of the glacier which had retreated around the corner of its valley, out of sight from the main view point. Right at the bottom of the Huddleston Glacier. No one else was up this far and I enjoy sitting in the sun in the middle of this amazing landscape. I felt so fortunate to be able to experience it in all its sun-shiny glory!
Suspension footbridge over the Hooker River. Aoraki/Mt. Cook shrouded in clouds
I also joined a few student groups on their quests to collect field data. This varied from walking up along the crest of the lateral moraine along the edge of Tasman Lake looking for students who had gotten well-ahead of me, helping students measure boulder dimensions in streams coming down from creeks draining the steep valleys to the west of Mt. Cook Village, and taking one more walk up to the iceberg choked Hooker Lake.
I had no plans to see any more of the South Island on this trip, and though I was a bit let down about not being able to do that before arriving, I don't think I could have asked for a more amazing experience that just being able to wander and explore the Hooker and Tasman Valleys in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. It really must be one of the most spectacular landscapes I've been to. It's drastic, but accessible; staggeringly expansive, but easy to get around; busy with tourists, but big enough that you don't have to go far to get away from them!
Pianist playing his own music during a beautiful Queenstown sunset
over Lake Wakatipu
The students had a final day in Twizel to write up and hand in their reports, so the last day near the mountains wasn't all that exciting. Finally, we were ready to leave Twizel and made the long drive back to Queenstown for our last night in New Zealand. We arrived early afternoon and many of us had previously signed up to go whitewater rafting to celebrate the end of a long week. We dropped our things off at the hostel and met down in the town at Queenstown Rafting where we were fitted up with wetsuits and packed into large vans with a trailer packed with rafts in tow behind us. This is no big deal, except to get to the launch site, we had to drive down Skippers Road, a long, very tightly-winding road that is cut into the side of mountains with very steep slopes! To put it in perspective, if you sat next to the window, you couldn't see the edge of the road and it looked like there was nothing beneath the van! In fact in one or two places, there almost wasn't anything beneath the van... One tight turn has been so abused that the edge of the road has eroded to the point that side of the van on the inside of the road gets scratched by the rocks sticking out of the slope! At another point on Skippers Road, the road appears to be intact, but when you look back up at it from the river, you see that a big chunk of rock, that would otherwise support the road, has simply fallen away! If you're afraid of this kind of driving, there's no hope for you because no matter which side of the van you sit on, you're going to be exposed to one of these hazards!!!
But the rafting itself was awesome! I've only been whitewater rafting once before on the New River in West Virginia where the water levels that year were low enough that the big rapids had diminished many of the rapids, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Well, the Shotover River is pretty much a narrow, narrow canyon with rocky cliffs on either side and in most places the river is as wide as the raft! I've got to give it to the raft guides because they have some of the hardest jobs in the world in keeping us all safe! While we didn't flip, like we did on the New River, there were so many times I thought we were goners! Two girls did fall out at one point, but we safely got them back on the raft just before they were pinned between the rocks and raft! The trip culminates a tunnel that was blasted into the mountianside to funnel water for gold mining in the mid-1800s, the final rapid is shooting down the mill run right where every raft in front of us was waiting and watching, hoping someone would flip. We didn't, but had a great time and it was an awesomely adventurous way to end a week in New Zealand!
That night was spent out in Queenstown watching a beautiful sunset over Lake Wakatipu and eventually some mechanical bull-riding in one of the town's innumerable options of Western/Cowboy-themed bars. Flights back to Sydney the next afternoon gave me a little bit of time to walk around the local Saturday markets along the lakeshore in what ended up being a very nice sunny relaxing way to end my last visit to New Zealand in a long time! Definitely not the last, but a long time at least!
A few weeks back, Glasgow experienced a rare weather phenomenon: we had eight days of beautifully sunny and warm weather! The first of these days, we'd been coming out of rainy doldrums and being Scotland we weren't sure how long the sun would stay, so even though it was a Tuesday, a friend of mine from the University and I decided we'd take advantage of the weather while it was still good, made plans, and drove out to Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park, taking a small one-lane windy road around the north shore of the famous lake to the foot of Ben Lomond - the southernmost of the Scottish Munros.
Scotland is famous for its brilliant hillwalking everywhere, but especially in the Highlands. Here, any peak that is over 3,000 feet above sea level is classified as a Munro - anything less is classified as either a Corbett (2,500-3,000 ft above sea level) or a Graham (2,000-2,500 ft asl). There are 282 Munros, and anyone who attempts to climb them all is called a Munro Bagger. Having never done any hillwalking in Scotland before (save maybe the walk to the Old Man of Hoy in the Orkney Islands), I figured what better way to claim my first peak than to hike up to the summit of the southernmost Munro as well as being the peak with the name of the National Park it is in!
The walk took us about six hours, round-trip, and while it was not a challenging hike, per se, it was a beautiful one, nonetheless. Ben Lomond is tall (974 meters, or 3,196 feet above sea level) and since you start very near sea level, the whole elevation is yours to climb. Well...climb is a bit of an overstatement. The walk up Ben Lomond is a pretty easy ramp along a well-marked trail. About three quarters of the way up, the ramp does steepen and the going gets a bit slower, but it's still not challenging if you take your time.
Beautiful views of Loch Lomond all the way up to the summit
My friend and I kept a good pace the entire way up to the top. We had to since even though the sun was out, the wind was a bit chilly, but the views from the walk of both the summit - which would be hidden by clouds for short periods of time - and the beautiful lake beneath us were stunning! There was still snow up at the top on the steep, north-facing slopes, and though we enjoyed it at first, we quickly steered away from it, realising that the possibility that any of the snow packs could collapse and avalanche down the mountain was pretty high!
By the time we got to the summit, the weather had cleared up enough for some good photos and the views of the Arrochar Alps across the lake and the Trossachs to the north were great! We had lunch up there shortly after 1:00 pm, but didn't stay long since we still had to descend. Rather than going down the same way we came up, we headed down a smaller ridge that ran parallel to the lakeshore, bringing us right back to the parking lot. Once down from the top, the wind died down a bit more and the clouds all but vanished. We stopped for a wee snack and watched a Royal Air Force jet fly through the lake valley below us for some sort of training mission. By the time we got to the car, it was nearly 4pm so we had one last little snack on the lakeshore before heading back into Glasgow.
(there's more below the Ben Lomond slideshow!)
Ben Vane
Date: 19 April 2014
Later on in the same week - again, the weather couldn't have been better - a larger group of my friends from the office and I carpooled out to the south side of Loch Lomond to climb Ben Vane, another Munro, 915 metres (3,002 feet) above sea level. While not as high as Ben Lomond, Ben Vane offered up some extra challenges. Mainly, we had to find our own path from the access road up to the path on the trail guide, and higher up the trail got quite steep and we zig-zagged our way up between large rock outcrops, scrambled over boulders and other rocks, and slipped our way over some small snow patches, all the while dodging sheep and trying to keep our feet dry while walking over purely soggy ground!
One of the many sheep that dotted the hillslopes on the way up Ben Vane - keeping a keen
eye on us as we summit the Munro. Ben Lomond in the background.
It was great, though. We started off at the Inveruglas parking lot on the shores of Loch Lomond and had to walk up a very long access road past a hydro power station. We couldn't find the trail from the access road up to the ridge we were supposed to follow to the summit so we just marched on up a big long slope, dotted with boulders and massive rock outcrops sticking up from the water-saturated muck beneath our feet. We had perfect views over Ben Lomond and Loch Lomond and with plenty of shaggy sheep running every which way, there were plenty of pure-Scotland moments!
Once we got to the top of the ridge, we followed its gradual path up to the base of the real mountain. Here, the path took steep hairpin turns with large steps up over rocks with a big outcrop every so often that offered a good place to take a break for a moment and steal some fantastic views of the surrounding Arrochar Alps!
The walk was a long and steep one - a bit more strenuous than Ben Lomond. It was one of those mountains that every time you think you reach the summit, there's more to go! The path eventually gives way to some scrambling up and around some rocks, down some rocks, and over some snow banks, but we finally reached the top and were rewarded with stunning views of Ben Lomond, Ben Ime, A'Chrois, the Cobbler, and Beinn Narnain. The schist rock that underlies the Arrochar Alps stuck out in many places at the summit, showing off its beautifully warped and metamorphosed structure, giving the whole summit an incredibly unique geologic feel!
The thing with Munro Bagging (at least from what I've experienced in the two hikes I've done), is that you don't linger at the summits for very long. We stayed up at the top for maybe fifteen minutes before turning right back around and heading down. But the whole walk was well worth it. We had a good group of people, a fantastically nimble dog, and stunning weather! And I can't wait to tick-off the other Munros of the Arrochar Alps off my list soon!
