A return to mid Wales

This is mostly a photo post: it was the second visit of the year to the Rhayader/Elan Valley area and, coincidentally, the walking was mostly defined by the heavy rains which had preceded our few days there. ‘Coincidentally’ because this had been exactly the case back in May; sustained spells of heavy rain – not exactly a rarity in mid Wales – can turn some of the hills into a quagmire, and a misery to walk.

However, there are compensations to be had from arriving in the aftermath of a good deluge…

The overflowing dam at Penygarreg reservoir – viewed from Penbont

As above, but from a little closer. Or possibly zoomed

The rain was just about over by the time we arrived, but there was still plenty of low cloud around and a heavy clinging dampness hanging in the air. This is Wales – come prepared!

The fire in the distance looked more appealing the closer we got. It turned out to be forestry workers on clearing duties, rather than wild campers

By mid afternoon, the combination of clearing skies and steadily lowering sun had lent an altogether different feel to the water and surrounding hillsides…

Better had been promised for the next day, and was duly delivered…

Inevitably, in this part of Wales, there would be red kite…

Looking for feeding opportunities among the boulders

And taking advantage of thermals, conspicuously absent on the previous day

 

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Glen Einich (and its Loch): 06/08/17

The imposing crags of Sgoran Dubh Mor and Sgor Gaioth

How to describe Glen Einich? If it’s picturesque then it’s in a pretty uncompromising sort of way; speaking personally, I think that – for almost its entire length – there is a ‘presence’ about the place which is totally compelling. I can understand though that it wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes.

There was no definite plan: the weather forecast was changeable and likely to remain so; some cloud; possibility of showers, but interspersed with clear spells. Okay, so waterproofs and anti-midge cream accessible at all times. We parked up alongside the road leading to Whitewell; this has become probably our favourite start point over the last couple of years and allows a last look at the conditions across the hills before setting off. Some cloud; the possibility of showers; maybe clear spells, looked about right; in fact – in an arc from Cairn Gorm to Braeriach – all of that was already happening.

Braeriach in cloud; the path into Glen Einich just visible

The early part of the walk is probably best described in a single word – Rothiemurchus; that should convey more than any amount of waffle from me. It’s all here in this amiable walk in – shifting cloudscapes; views of hills, near and distant; mixed woodlands, including welcome indications of regeneration in places; the sounds of water moving through the landscape, sometimes unseen.

Lochan Deo had an unruffled air about it, although there have been times when we’ve seen it looking a little more blue. It’s a useful reference point, being immediately adjacent to a junction of paths leading to/from Aviemore; Coylumbridge; Glen Einich; The Cairngorm Club Footbridge and the Lairig Ghru. We frequently see wild campers who’ve pitched up close to the lochan; even when there are midges about. There are certainly some lovely spots around there; easily accessible but still discreet without needing to travel too far from the path.

Lochan Deo

Foot and cycle bridge over the Allt Beanaidh

Once you’ve picked up the Allt Beanaidh, flowing north from Loch Einich towards its confluence with the Rivers Druie and Luineag at Coylumbridge, it remains pretty much a constant companion all the way to the loch. It needs to be crossed a couple of times: once by means of a handy bridge (which also seems to act as a repository for a mysterious assortment of single gloves).

And once with some improvisation…

It’s okay, I’ll carry everybody’s kit…

We’d been barefoot in the river on a previous outing, so it didn’t come as a total shock. If anything, it wasn’t quite as cold as I’d remembered it, but the current felt strong, even though it wasn’t particularly deep. Every few minutes the skies seemed to change and, with the variations in light, those changes were reflected in the landscape. Those buttresses along the face of Sgor Gaioth can look pretty intimidating, even from the safety of the path.

Sgor Gaioth’s mood not quite reflecting the blue skies and fluffy clouds

Eventually we began to get teasing glimpses of the grey, then blue, then grey again sheet of water which was Loch Einich; disappearing and reappearing as the path twisted and dipped…

By the time we reached the gravelly shoreline, alongside the outflow into the Allt Beanaidh, a spell of squally wind and rain was arriving just in time to greet us; there was barely time to take a handful of photos before the visibility was all but gone. From this aspect and in these conditions, the loch itself looked quite unprepossessing, although the same couldn’t be said about its setting. Fortunately, a few days later, we would see it from an altogether different vantage point – the path along the rim of Sgor Gaioth – and come away with better pictures and an altered point of view.

On the walk out we’d turn now and again to look back at the view; the rolling low cloud and rain hung around the semi-circle of hills surrounding Loch Einich for a long time and it would have been a mistake to stick around there waiting for the weather to clear. However, as we headed back towards Rothiemurchus, the skies were gradually lightening, although the cloud cover had eliminated most of the blue gaps by then.

Routebuddy made the out and return distance 21.6 kms (13.4 miles). Total ascent, out and back, was a surprising 568 metres (1,864 feet); a far higher number than I would have guessed on a route which never seems more than undulating. I suppose spread over thirteen plus miles it’s actually not that much.

All photos should enlarge with a click.

 

 

 

One picture, twice…

Following a muddy path under trees showing just the first signs of new growth, we came across this confluence of minor river and tributary. Tributary, in this part of the forest, can be a euphemism for just about any gully running with water – sometimes their intended use is as a path rather than a watercourse. In this case, the stream joining from the left is always just that – a stream.

None of which actually matters that much; what had really caught our attention was the rather odd light as the path dropped down towards the level of the water. The sun, hitherto hidden by a steep bank, came into view as we rounded a corner, casting a late afternoon, watery yellow glow. The effect was amplified by flickering reflections from the surface of the water, itself running the yellowy brown it often takes from the heavy clay soils of the area. A single, still frame does inadequate justice to the properties of the light, obviously captures none of the movement, and yet somehow (we’ve been here before) turns out okay. Inaccurate, maybe, but okay…

dscn1154The same picture, photoshopped into monochrome, makes the day look considerably colder, more gloomy, and even less like the scene as I recall it. Then again, what is more subjective than memory?…

dscn1154_edited-1Not always the case, but the pictures – particularly the top one – benefit from being ‘clicked’ and expanded.