Wicked Garden

There was a day not too long ago where the sunset was so dramatic it made the news.

Social media was flooded with gorgeous purple and orange skies that I would normally have burned rubber to get myself in the right position to view.

Instead me and the girl were joyfully fannying about in Granny’s garden.

She’s a high school girl now with interests and opinions expanding ever outwards but she’ll always be my girl and I’ll take and keep every moment of our banter filled messing around that I can.

Where The River Goes

An old favourite seemed like a good bet when the weather was going to be unpredictable. I also had to get gear testing properly underway so me and Linda took two new Vango packs for a walk round the Glen Loin loop from Arrochar.

There was some sun, but the wind kept blowing clouds across it. The rain was not quite constant, but not really showers, not heavy bit not light. The upshot being I got wet then I got hot because I couldn’t be arsed continually messing with my clothes.
What I’m taking from this is that I’m going back to baselayer, 100 weight fleece and a shell. Sue me.

Everyone else we saw was going the other way, doing it anticlockwise. Done it both ways many times and I think I prefer our way, you get the mountains teased through the trees as you circle round A’Chrois.
Met some ladies who were very concerned about a dropped banana skin on the other side of the glen. They even gave me a bag to put it in should we find it on our way back to Arrochar. I had low optimism for this which given how the weather went, was well founded. I’ll go back one day.
Maybe.

It’s all about fleeting glimpses until you get to the weir where suddenly exposed the wind decided we were not going to have a relaxing lunch. No it said, your Jetboil is going to teeter and totter and you’re going to have to pack up and run for it. Yes, thanks for that.

It is wonderfully dramatic though, being deep in amongst the hills here. Steep and craggy, now dark and wet with a fresh dusting of snow, the littlest of tops with the biggest of wows.
The rain properly set it as the light faded. There’s a good few miles to put in from here and we were walking by torchlight by the time we left the Sloy Dam tarmac to head into the forest to get back to Arrochar.

And I’d missed the banana skin by this point.

The mood got a wee bit serious at times, it’s rough ground, especially in the dark and when you don’t know it. I knew where we were and how long we would take but when all you have is a little pool of light which is full of wet rocks it’s a little unnerving.
I’ve been doing this along time, but I’ve never forgotten those first times where I learned by my mistakes, and my wee victories. Hell, still learning by both methods.

Cold and tired we got there quicker than Linda expected, despite a few sideways and er, horizontal moments and all we wanted was hot food and dry socks.
It’s a magic wee walk, I say wee but it’s got plenty miles to stretch your legs.
Great views, interesting terrain and because of where you are you can be an honorary Macfarlane for the day. This magic affect will improve your appeal to the opposite, same or both sexes, increase the mpg in your vehicle, give you a remarkable ear for music and expand your appreciation of the full colour pallette.*

*Affect depth and duration will vary depending on exposure.

South of Heaven

The rain also runs down our river facing window like we’re in a car wash.

Luckily my phone has the ability with it’s limited editing capacity to turn the view into a black metal album cover.

Tide Marks

The storms have have caused a lot of very real problems elsewhere but here by the River Clyde we’re just been having some of the highest tides in living memory.

The old stone harbour breakwater is underwater, it’s just the grassy clumps and bollards that are sticking up. I really wanted to go out there with the camera but the walkway was under a foot of water just over the railway bridge where you access it. Naw, I’m good.

From the old ship yard the wooden dock looked like a raft. The river was red with sediment from the hills, the same red that causes me so much trouble at the Lang Craigs.
The rain was battering down, the drops clearly visible in the river like bullets landing despite the wind and choppy surface.

I was soaked within 30 seconds, the rain saturated my jeans and ran down to fill my boots, but I had to get one last wee look over at the other dock.
My camera was soaked, the lens was wet and I knew I was pushing my luck with it. I took the last snap below which when I downloaded I couldn’t believe had a spot of perfect rain free focus right in the middle.

It’s wild, it’s dramatic, it’s photogenic. But lets stay safe.

 

Roadside Assistance

Valentine’s Day would have been easy to dismiss for us, we’ve been there, seen it, done it, fought over the t shirt with our ex’s.
We’d discussed that it’s just a commercial opportunity, that love needs no cross on a calendar that you have to present product to your partner upon.
But the fact that we’re both just kids at heart and are full of the joys of life meant that it was kinda disappointing that we wouldn’t see each other at all from Thursday to Sunday at the earliest because of work.
So we made Thursday Valentine’s Day.
February 13th was also the 50th anniversary of the release of Black Sabbath’s first album, so it was a day to be celebrated on many levels.

With schedules rejigged, suitably colourful clothes picked out, it was perhaps unavoidably, and a definitely little wonderfully late when we left.

The clouds cleared as we passed Loch Lomond on our way north. There was blue above in increasing amounts.
The hills had snow, not too thick, but it was a fine sight. In Glen Falloch the snow cover thickened to a smooth blanket on the higher slopes.
The little flutter in my chest wasn’t just from the back to back coffees or the girl in the passenger seat, this was country I love at it’s most glorious.
I know what could lie ahead on this wondrous ribbon of northbound ashfalt, Linda doesn’t. I hoped it would be clear for her, I hoped it would be perfect, I hope I wouldn’t shriek like a little girl when I pulled up the hill over Loch Tulla.

Breakfast in the afternoon got in the way though. Ben Lui was in cloud which I took very personally, saying “Look! Look!” only works when there’s something dramatic to see.
But fueling up at Tyndrum soothed the disappointment. Macaroni cheese with ham in it. Baby Jebus.
Linda thought “We could just go up there…” looking at the snow covered lead mines across the glen. “I just want to play in the snow!”. Yes, yes.

The pull up from Tyndrum was too long, the sun was bright, the sky was clear, the hills were hidden but then we were there. I shrieked like a little girl far too many corners too early.
Glorious, just glorious.
Shining white against azure as far as we could see. It was late but the light was still clear, no warm filter yet, but it was close. We pushed on.

We stopped at the Black Mount, you know, the bit where everyone stops. Time to play in the snow.

The light was slipping, but I had to show Linda more. Back in the car, keep going. The Glencoe ski centre was full to overflowing, literally, cars all along the roadside. The police would be sorting it when we passed on the way back.
The sun shone up Glen Etive, low and yellow. It tracked us through the gaps all the way to Bidean where we pulled in to have a quick wander up the old road. It’s a nice wee walk this, overlooked in this grand neighbourhood. We shared laughs and photies as gold bled into the blue overhead.

One stop on the way home. It’s the eternal photie opportunity this spot.

We were tired when we got back, it was late and it was dark. The fridge was full with the dinner we’d planned and it was more bravado that enthusiasm that put the contents on the worktop and started heating the pan.
The smells fired the enthusiasm for real after a quick cooking rethink because the steaks (M&S meal deal, awesome btw) were too thick to cook and eat today without still being raw inside to some degree.
Sizzling, chopping, bubbling.
A perfect end.

I suppose highlighted days on the calendar are what you make of them. Turns out making them a whole different day works just fine.

Time Out

Doing a bit of admin and I found this post from ages back that I never published. It’s grey and stormy out there, so a few thoughts of a summer evening past will brighten my day.

Let’s go dad, let’s go.

That must have been about eight o’clock, so we had to shift. The sun was already well down and the last folk were trickling down the paths towards the Lang Craigs car park. Had the place to ourselves.

We used to hide the seedlings under this tree until it was time to plant them. I thought it would be a neds den by now, but it’s not. I am pleasantly surprised.

It got cold fast and we marched back down to the truck.

A short one tonight but we’ll be back. Oh what would we do if this place wasn’t so close?