Thursday 11 December 2014

Radicondoli street art






The streets of the Tuscan hilltop town of Radicondoli are enhanced by bronze figures - this one seems to be listening for something.

I sometimes slip out of Scotland for a wee meander and when I do, Tuscany is up there in my places of choice.

Friday 21 November 2014

loch cluanie

It was a misty morning last week as we headed to Skye from the south. As we meandered along the north shore of Loch Cluanie the mist rolled back to allow the rays of the morning sun to spotlight, on the far shore, the isolated Cluanie Lodge, nestling in a protective copse of timber.

A must stop rummage and point moment. With a camera I must add.



cluanie lodge


Tuesday 18 November 2014

the Minch on a dull autumn afternoon

Whilst crossing the Minch from Uig to Tarbert last week onboard MV Hebrides on a dull autumn afternoon, a watery sun broke through cloud cover to lay a gold carpet and enlighten the day.




Then a prawn fishing boat hove into view floating on a golden tide.


The Minch on the way to the Outer Hebrides can be a magical place.

Wednesday 4 June 2014

peewit decline





I read somewhere recently that the peewit, or green plover, or lapwing, whatever name you might wish to call this splendid bird, has declined in numbers by about fifty percent since 1970. The article brought to mind a poem I once read about the bird. The poem is by Steve Sankey and it is eerliy prophetic. I do not know Steve and hope he does not mind my use of his wonderful poem. I take no credit for the photograph, I have no idea who took it. Enjoy:


The Teuchit Storms

In March the teuchit storms
rolled doon the Carse.
Birds an’ weather the baith.

Black an’ white
agin black an’ white.

Every year the teuchit storms came:
doonblasts an’ upwellings o’ air
each ane mair furious than the last:
until the teuchit storm was past.

White an’ black
agin white an’ black.

Then,
ae year they were nae mair,
nae teuchits stormin’ doon the glen.

Auld Archie stood wi’ a tear in his e’e,
for he loved the peessie’s piet ways.
For sake o’ the birds he’d aye sheuk up his harra
tae answer the calls roond his heid:

ye’re safe wi’ auld Archie ye daft sprauchlin’ teuchit,
ye’re safe wi’ auld Archie”, sighed he.

For he lookit aroon and he lookit aboot,
An’ it was plain for auld Archie tae see,
That ae year there wid be nae mair,
Nae teuchits tae storm doon the Carse.
Jist black an’ black 
                                       agin black.                       (steve sankey)

teuchit/peesie=lapwing, baith=both, e’e=eye, piet=pied, aye=always, sheuk=shake, harra=harrow, sprauchlin=clumsy, lookit=looked


skua clout

I spent some of last week in the far north west of Scotland. One evening I clambered onto a headland to give me a look at the sunset. I did not bargain with the resident landowners. A pair of Arctic Skua.

They are a sturdy bird, typically 41 to 46 cm body length with a 110 to 125 cm wingspan. When I watch them flying I am reminded of the old British warplane, the Buccaneer. I read somewhere that the word “skua” comes from the Old Norse term for seagull. As winter approaches they head south to the Southern Hemisphere before reappearing in Scotland about April each year.

Anyway that be as it may, the pair I encountered last week were firmly settled on their patch and I was not welcome. I saw them in the air some distance from my spot. I settled to catch the sunset and my next encounter with the Arctic Skua was being struck forcibly across the back of my head. I was wearing a hat. I had not seen the attack materialize. I forgot the sunset at that point and for the next few minutes I dodged their attacks. I tried to catch my discomfort on camera and swung about clicking as best I could. A difficult operation. After a few minutes they settled on a nearby rocky out crop and I managed a couple of snaps of the sunset over the North Minch.

After a short breather and no doubt a discussion about their tactics, they were up in the air again and my head was the centre of more aerial bombardment. The following photographs evidence the whole process, from surveillance to attack.

On the left a skua circles, to distract me.
On the right its partner launches an attack.




The last picture, a bit rushed, obviously, is the moment of impact as I get a clout on my head.
I packed up and left the pair sitting on their usual outcrop. As I vacated the hill, watching my footing whilst picking my way down through the heather and rocks I was victim to their last sneaky attack. I never heard the approach, but I did feel the clout on the back of my head. Brilliant. I am so impressed by these fearless birds. They are beautiful birds and real characters. It was my privilege to be allowed so near them.

Now I know what it feels like to work for Jethro on NCIS.

Tuesday 3 June 2014

flanders moss

a lone birch amidst the bog
 I am lucky enough to live in an area of Scotland where, in a trice, then a blink, followed by a coffee, I can transport myself and my dog, to some wonderful spots. A couple of weeks ago I was stravaiging in the Kippen area and decided to take in a wander around the National Nature Reserve site at Flanders Moss, situated on the Carse of Stirling, about ten miles or so west of the town of Stirling. Or should that be city? 

buff tailed bumble bee?
So what is special about Flanders Moss? Apart from simply being just a nice place to be, it teems with history, geology, wild life and plant life. 


 Here are just a few examples of why one might find this an interesting place to visit and wonder, well perhaps wander, but always to wonder.
looking west over the moss




north facing escarpment of the gargunnock hill
The Carse lies between the Ochil Hills to the east and the Gargunnock Hills to the south, both near and visible from the moss. Interestingly the Ochil Hills, with their fault line scarp being one of the best examples of such a feature in Britain, display their steep side, the scarp, to the south. The Gargunnock hills on the other hand are the exact opposite. In their case the fearsome crags tower along their northern aspect, with their more gentle features rolling to the south. Geographically the steep sides of both lie along the same plain and at the same angle. The impression being that at one time they formed the same range and were torn apart by a geological fault over many millennium. I have no idea the truth of that impression, however when standing atop the steep escarpment of one and looking along to the other, it seems to make sense.

The boggy feature of the Carse formed some fifteen thousand years or so ago after a short global warming period which caused Scotland's ice and glaciers to melt. The melting ice flooded the Carse and the sea flowed in from the east. Over the next three thousand years the land rose, the sea retreated and left the Carse under a layer of estuarine mud. Plants, then mosses colonised this, and a thick layer of peat was formed. The climate then chilled again and glaciers returned, in an event known to geologists, of which I do not number myself, as the Loch Lomond Readvance. Then, if that was not enough, particularly if one owned a holiday cottage on the Carse, the ice age really did retreat and the north sea flooded in, almost to where Aberfoyle now stands. Over time the north sea retreated. So by a quirk of nature, Aberdour became that nice wee seaside place with a beach and Aberfoyle became that wee place for bus trips and bloody midges. But, that's how the cookie crumbles. As the sea retreated more peat formed and a network of bogs formed across the Carse of Stirling.

Apart from features, like raised beaches and areas of marine sediment found some forty metres or so above present day sea levels in areas east of Stirling, that are more for the geologist, the best clue for the layman like myself as to where the sea extended west of Stirling, is the Blue Whale skeleton that, until recently, hung in the Chamber Street Museum in Edinburgh. The skeleton was unearthed from the boggy carse in the Blair Drummond area. Even I know it did not fly there. Other clues can be found in place names, one being Hill of Row, between Dunblane and Doune. Row sits to the north of the Carse on raised land opposite Kippen, itself on raised land on the south of the Carse. It is my understanding, although I forget the source of that understanding, that the word Row is from the Gaelic or perhaps Norse and means a promontory over water.

So who or what might have cast an eye over these famous bog lands. History buffs amongst anyone reading this will know that there was much Roman activity in the area. Sometime about 305 the then Roman Emperor, Constantius 1, would have surveyed the Moss during his successful punitive campaign against the Picts north of Antonine's wall. The Carse would have looked somewhat different then as much of it would have been covered in dense forest. A serious barrier between the Romans and the wild northern tribes.  

antoninus pius
 Antoninus Pius that famous 'brickie' who built Antonine's wall to keep the wild tribes of Slamannan and Avonbridge away from the genteel folks of Cowie and Fallin, was obviously there before Constantius 1. Antonine's adoptive father Hadrian, built that other wall a bit further south, seems to run in the family. Agricola was also in this area even before then. But enough of the Romans, what did they do for us?

A famous Scot was seriously close to the Carse in 1745. General Montrose and his Jacobite army had to wade across that dangerous bog in the summer of 1745 on his way to do battle with Baillie and the Covenanter Committee of War headed by Argyll, at Kilsyth.
montrose

 Montrose recorded a famous victory. His last as it turned out. Why did he cross the Carse? He had to keep away from the sentries at Stirling Castle and making that 'impossible' crossing kept him out of their sight and gave him the advantage of surprise at Kilsyth. Not a bad thing really.

During the Clearances several families moved south onto the Carse and cleared away much of the bog, turning it into one of the most fertile areas in Scotland and famous for, amongst other things, Timothy Grass. I do believe that is a crop and not a police informant. Who knows? The hard working clans people responsible for this transformation will forever be known as the 'Moss Lairds'.

ben lomond on a stormy evening

 Don't take my word for it, go, have a look and walk through the National Nature Reserve that is Flanders Moss. It is a wonderful place, just let your imagination go free and remember who was there before you.





snow holes on crag meagaidh

(penned, Sept.’07 after watching Aberdeen play in Europe)
I see it was snowing at Pittodrie tonight. The north east can be snell, not that the team from Moscow would have worried, should be used to that by now. Mind you I don't think many of their team will have spent many winters in Moscow.
It can get cold in Scotland and as I watched the game, my mind drifted, it does a lot of that these days, to a very cold weekend some years ago in the mountains of Scotland.
A group of us set out one February to climb the 1130 metres that is Creag Meagaidh. A big lump of mountain with complicated topography, sighted between Spean Bridge and Newtonmore. It was a lovely day when we set out. Strands of whispy mist in the valleys with a bright winter sun negotiating with the clouds over who should reign supreme that day. The cloud won that day’s argument, although the compromise left us with a bright glow for a time. A last minute decision saw us attack the mountain directly from the south across Moy Forest. We were heading for Moy Corrie, a beautiful bowl of 250 metre high cliffs, surrounding and protecting a lovely lochan, nestling cosily and secretly at about 800 metres.


The lochan shelters under the crook of the south shoulder of Meall Coire Choille–rais. It stays hidden from t
he gaze of all but soaring eagles until one enters the amphitheatre of cliffs and snow from its secret door on the east of the corrie, just at the outfall of Allt Coire Choille-rais, where it commences its twisting, tumbling cascade down the flank of the mountain as it rushes to replenish the waters of Loch Laggan a few hundred feet below. It was so quiet, so wonderful and in the trick of the light, brought about by the sun shining through the cloud onto snow plastered black beetling cliffs; it looked like a scene from a black and white film, the only colour coming from our clothing and gear. After a break and some fuel, we carefully pick our way over ice covered rocks to the far side of the lochan to seek what looked like an escape route onto the summit plateau.


There followed a slow trudge up a very steep snow and ice filled gulle
y in single file into the cloud, hoping the route we had chosen would lead where we needed it to. After about forty minutes or so we reached an overhanging cornice and our brave leader was given the task of breaking through. We followed like lemmings onto a cloud covered summit plateau and care was taken over our compass bearing to get us over to the cliffs on the north flank of the mountain where we would dig snow holes to stay overnight. At midnight, in a gale and in the pitch black, aided by our head torches, we summited. Then it was a dram and to bed. Sleeping in a snow hole is not like being in your own bed under a duvet; it is cold, but with the correct gear, just about bearable. Then there is getting up in the middle of the night to answer nature's call, but hey, that is another story.

Enjoy your duvet.

the weather woman said

The weather will be fine said the weatherwoman;
her London studio a cocoon of truth,

I struggle into the stinging sleat,
soon to be a blizzard.

Sweat or rain nipping my eyes,
or a partnership?

I navigate the ridge leaning into gale blown snow,
a blizzard in truth.

interesting start to 100 metres sprint

blue bell


I meandered up Dun da Ghoaithe on Mull today. It is a Corbett and sadly I am reduced to ticking the Corbett book. Weather was reasonable if a bit clagged in on the summits. I even had time to take a couple of snaps, included in this bit of nonsense. Nothing too fancy. Whatever, I enjoyed my day and considering this was my first mountain in a few months, I was going well. Bonus of the day, apart that is from the giggle I had on my way home, was the woolly hat I found on the hill.

As I said, I did have a good day. Scotland's mountains are like that. So many prizes if a wee bit effort is put in.

Later, when driving home and listening to the Olympics on the car radio I realised that, whilst I had enjoyed my day, it was nothing compared to the enjoyment some others were experiencing.

The radio commentator announced that a heat of the women's 100 metre sprint was just about to start and that all the runners were going down on their blokes. I'm sure that's what he said.

I nearly drove my car off the road.

I will never see that race the same again.

cargo ship between mull and knoydart


Maybe I am spending too long alone in the hills?

Thursday 27 February 2014

isle of harris


cirrus cloud over the north harris hills from the beach at losgaitir


I spent a few days on the Outer Hebrides, a chain of islands off the north west coast of Scotland, during June 2012. I just thought, through the medium of a few photographs, taken by my own fair hand (well camera), I could let you see some June images of this lovely spot. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a few holiday snaps:

northern marsh orchid


blue roofed bothy at losgaitir


 beachcombing at losgaitir
depth of blue

harris tweed maker

primrose cluster


sun heads for new zealand via taransay


That will do for now. Trust me, just get yourself to the Outer Hebrides it's better than these few holiday snaps. 

On another front, just thought it would be nice to bring a little beauty into your life to take your mind off cheating bankers and all the other dire news that abounds, most of it based on pure greed coupled with complete, 'I am untouchable' arrogance.

Enjoy the honest photographs, nothing on any of the images is trying to screw you. Although I would check out the ram, have you noticed the way it looks at you.


raw material for harris tweed

Wednesday 26 February 2014

around dun buirgh on harris


A wet early morning stroll behind the house at Borve, finds a fascinating selection of sights and splashes of colour. You have choices. Look up and out over Taransay to the wild Atlantic or look down. Today it is down. 

A rock band with clinging purple ling makes a lovely foreground for lochan lochtabhat snuggling under the northern flank of Bleabhal, West Harris.The bogland is a perfect spot to observe a rich variety of human and natural wonders; small yellow tormentil clustered around muddy pool, 


a meadow brown butterfly, a lovely orchid, perhaps a northern marsh. 
















For those with an historic bent there is what remains of the stone age Dun Buirgh, very accessible, with an easy to find rock a short distance to the east displaying neolithic or bronze age cup marks. Just north of the dun one can easily observe acres of runrigs, an agricultural relic from nearer history. All within a forty minute round before breakfast. 




Then one encounters Charlie's gate in the middle of nowhere. Now one is ready for fresh eggs, Stornoway black pudding and a pot of hot tea. What a perfect start to a day in a beautiful corner of Scotland in the Outer Hebrides.