Recording an unmeasurable loss

I've been taking part in the RSPB Beached Bird Survey and have surveyed 16km of Arran's beaches.  I'm just one of many hundreds of volunteers who are counting the cost of the winter on our seabirds, and reporting disturbing findings. I can only speak for my own small patch but I've been finding dead birds every 200m or so along the shore.  Most of these are razorbills, members of the auk family, who nest on Ailsa Craig, a rocky island to the south of Arran.

Eslewhere in the UK, the news is little better, with stories of mass puffin deaths along the coasts of Wales and France and as many as 600 washed up on beaches in Jersey. Puffins are close relatives of razorbills, and it seems succumb to similar pressures when wintering at sea.

Mass strandings of dead seabirds are known as "wrecks", and their causes are often complex and hard to determine.  What is known about this particular wreck is that members of the auk family are particularly badly affected, and that the weather is likely to be a factor. Post mortems have shown birds to be undernourished, and unable to feed in the bad weather, they have died of starvation. These brutal winter storms this season are not just bad for humans, but for our seabirds too. The Met Office has said that we can expect more and more winters like this, as climate change tightens it's grip. Our seabirds are under seige from all sides, with worsening weather patterns coupled with diminishing fish stocks through over fishing and changes to the temperature/pH of the oceans.

It's vital that we record wreck events as they happen, but we probably won't know the full extent of the damage until the birds return to their breeding colonies in the spring. Then the living can be counted, compared to previous years, and the catastrophe measured. It is easy to feel powerless in the face of such loss, but we must find ways to help these birds if we can.

I take this all quite personally, I have to admit.  These birds are a part of who I am. Childhood holidays by the sea, boat trips to visit seabird colonies, me lying belly down on cliff tops watching the swirling mass of squawking, bickering bird life below. I took these things for granted as a child, and seeing them as an adult brings the child out in me all over again. It is a joy that never diminshes, and I think it is a tragedy if our children's children don't get to enjoy these sights as well.

Kirstie Boot Camp

I've been concentrating far too much learning to ski this winter and I'm starting to feel a little soft, so I messaged my friend, photographer and fellow Arran MRT member Kirstie Smith, with a request that she and her energetic collie dog drag me round the hills today, to remind me of what it is all about.  Now, Kirstie is a small but perfectly formed powerhouse, someone that storms around the Arran hills whenever she gets the chance, so I knew I'd be in for a fun day.....Kirstie is an awsome photographer by the way- check out her website here.  for lots of stunning photos of Arran and mountain rescue training.

After a relaxed start we headed up Glen Rosa, easing ourselves in to the day and enjoying the views at the lower levels.  Crossing the Rosa Burn was unproblematic, despite heavy rain overnight (it often runs in spate and catches people out here).

Glen Rosa

We headed up on to the Saddle, the halfway point of our day, (the easy half).  We were treated to immense views down Glen Sannox, which we took time to enjoy, as we knew we'd soon be in the clouds.

Looking in to Glen Sannox

Before long we were sweating our way up on to North Goatfell.  Its a big pull up from the saddle, and the path, always eroded, is in a treacherous state after this winter's heavy rain. 

From North Goatfell, the fun began, with a traverse under the buttresses of Stacach, in deep snow.  It's steep ground here, and the snow was soft and wet.  It was slow going along here, working from memory of where the path is- there are some nasty rock slabs on this side of the hill that we did not want to stray on unwittingly!

Traversing under Stacach- photo by Kirstie Smith

The summit of Goatfell eventually loomed in to view- although views were as usual, elusive....

Finally, we began the descent down the "tourist path" from Goatfell to Brodick, although you will see from the photo below, its not very touristy at the moment.  It may be mild in the glens, but there are still full on winter conditions on The Goat.

No sign of the path today, and lots of steep ground!- by Kirstie Smith

Glens and peaks...

The weather today was a lot better than forecast with the predicted showers skirting the island and cloud billowing around the high tops but never closing in.  It was a glorious day for photographs and I took a visiting photographer on a journey through the big glens and over the Saddle.  We were treated to a flypast by a couple of golden eagles, and some great views of a bachelor herd of red deer stags. My wildlife photos are useless but hopefully my landscapes will stand up to a bit of scrutiny!  My photographer companion Ann Holmes' photos on the other hand are astonishing, follow this link to see the photos she took during her visit to Arran including on her day out with me. 

The morning mist clinging to Cir Mhor as we set off up Glen Sannox

The Sleeping Warrior resting in the clouds. 

The view along the ridge from The Saddle. 

Looking south to Glen Rosa with the low winter sun in our eyes. 

The classic view to Cir Mhor from Glen Rosa

First Goatfell of the Year.

We ventured out in a weather window today to have a look at Goatfell.  The so called break in the weather was wet windy and wild, but not as apocalyptic as it has been recently. Another storm is forecast for tomorrow.

There was some wet snow lying about on the summit and the Stacach Ridge. It is quite deep in places, and also quite soggy. 

Goatfell after the Storm: The Evidence of Things Unseen

Its been quite a week, between the weather, international and personal events it's all felt a bit monumental. I found myself in a pensive mood on Friday morning after a hectic couple of days on the mainland and as I arrived on Arran, decided I needed a some Lucy time to get my feet back on the ground. My favourite mountain fix is a round of Coire Lan, with the summit of Goatfell at its highest point. On this occasion I decided to walk up from Corrie, and return via the Brodick path, taking in the Stacach Ridge on the way. 

Setting out on the Corrie path- Goatfell just visible.

The sky was grey but the peaks were clear of cloud as I set off. The dusting of snow and the early winter colours gave the light a beautiful sepia glow. It wasn't long before I was crunching through snow and ice on the steep track in to Coire Lan.  I could feel the temperature rising as I climbed, and soon the ridges were disappearing in to a soft mist. 

Coire Lan with Goatfell on the skyline.

There was plenty of evidence of wildlife, with marks everywhere in the snow from the previous night's activity.  I found the prints of a mink running up the track for a 100m or so.  This is an invasive species that has had a devastating affect on Arran's ground nesting birds.  It used to be seen often all over the island, but is now a rare sight, pushed in to an ever tighter niche by the apparent increase in otters.  The fresh tracks proof however that this fierce member of the weasel family survives on Arran.

Mink tracks in the snow.

Tracks of a small bird, my instinct says wren, but the book says wren tracks are symmetrical (?)

Field vole tracks, complete with vole holes.

I dawdled for quite a while in Coire Lan, distracted from my walk with so much to look at.  Eventually I found myself on the long pull up on to the bealach between North Goatfell and Mullach Buidhe.  My intention had been to traverse the ridge with a direct route over the top of the tors, as from a distance the rock looked snow free.  However, on close inspection, and after a futile 20 minutes of tip toeing down the slabs off the back of North Goatfell, I decided to retreat and take the lower path.  The rocks were indeed mostly snow free, but a thin veneer of ice made the going very slow,  and really there was too much ice to proceed without crampons, but not enough for crampons to be fun. I stayed bare booted and took the traverse path below the buttresses.  Even here I cut steps in a couple of places, before rejoining the ridge beyond the difficulties.

View in to Glen Sannox from the bealach.

Mullach Buidhe living up to its name of "Yellow Hill" even in the mist and light snow.

Wobbly icicles blowing in an imaginary wind are signs of the storm of the previous day.

By the time I made it to the summit of Goatfell, it was snowing gently and there was absolutely no view whatsoever.  I'm lucky as I've been up there so often I can sense it even without seeing it- but there is a little plaque on the summit pointing out the bits you can't see if the mist is down when you arrive.

Goatfell Summit

Descending the main path back to Brodick, the snow got deeper, and was lying in little drifts on the path where it had blown in the previous day.  I cannot imagine the wind speeds up there yesterday- they measured gusts of over 100mph in Saltcoats just across the water.  The snow up here looked like little round balls of polystyrene called graupel- rimed up snowflakes that fall to earth from turbulent air masses. This stuff forms persistent weak layers of ball-bearing like material that if buried and can cause avalanches.  Thankfully a mega thaw set in today so I imagine it has all gone by now.

Graupel- rimed up snowflakes

WH Murray wrote of the "evidence of things not seen" in the mountains, this gave him faith in a world filled with pain.  For me, the stories that the rocks and the snow tell about the world give me similar comfort, if not evidence of a divine presence, at least a connection to something much bigger than the bewildering lives of human beings.

Southern Highlands- early season Winter walking

It's been a bit quiet on the blog recently, as we've been in that wet and stormy "lull" between Summer and Winter that passes for Autumn on Arran.  This one has been particularly wild and windy.  However, last week Autumn took a little break and winter moved in. Wally and I grabbed the opportunity to head to the mainland for a few days to enjoy some early season snow.  We didn't need to head far, exploring parts of the Southern Highlands that regrettably we've overlooked until now.

Friday: We had a wander over Beinn Vorlich (Lochearnhead) towards Stuc a' Chroin, where we found the scramble on the northeast ridge to be in fine condition, with frozen turf and good snow. The high point of my day was finding weasel tracks in the snow at 900m.

Northeast ridge of Stuc a Chroin

Looking back at Beinn Vorlich from Stuc a' Chroin

Arran is just visible if you look hard to the right of the sun!

Weasel tracks high on Stuc a' Chroin.

Saturday: We traversed An Caisteal from the Glen Falloch side. With a day in the legs already we took it easy and omitted the second munro Beinn a Chroin, (normally included in the circuit), and instead descended from the bealach to the south back to the car. An Caisteal has a surprisingly awkward but fun little step just below the summit on the north side.

Scrambling up towards the summit.

Seemingly endless arching ridges away to the southeast.

An Caisteal summit from the bealach.

Sunday: We took it easy and headed to Ardrossan to help out the Arran Mountain Rescue Team with a bit of fundraising.

Monday: It was back to the hills and an early start from Inverlochlarig in Rob Roy's Glen saw us climbing the steep flanks of Beinn Tulaichean.  From there it was on to the lovely summit of Cruach Ardrain.

Beinn Tulaichean rising out of the mist on a frosty morning.

The mist lingered in the valley long after the sun hit the slopes.

Beinn Tulaichean behind, on the way up to Cruach Ardrain

Looking over to Beinn Mor and Stob Binnein

Today there is a thaw in the air and it looks like a return to Autumn for a few more days yet.  Hopefully Winter proper is not long around the corner!  Finally, a big thanks to Wally for taking these great photos.

Taking it easy in La forêt de Fontainebleau

Trip reports from low grade boulderers are not exactly gripping stuff so I'll not bore you to death with the a blow by blow account of my recent climbing trip to the Foret de Fontainebleau.  I don't climb hard;  there are no stunning photos of death defying ascents. However, if you are an average uk trad climber and you've never been to "Font", thinking as any normal person would, that bouldering is too short lived/boring/you are a normal body weight/like to keep your top on:  then think again.  Its unlike bouldering anywhere else I've ever been.  The particular gang of forest wanderers I hang out with tend to do a lot of circuits, following colour coded trails around the forest, ticking off harder problems if distracted, but often simply rolling from boulder to boulder, following the dots, keeping the heart rate up and the muscles moving.  Its very sociable and a big laugh.  I'm not very good at the bouldering bit but the laughing comes naturally. Unless you have a serious croissant addiction its also the cheapest foreign climbing holiday out there. Here are a few photos to whet your appetite.

White circuits like this one at Canche aux Merciers are great for children of all ages, families and novice climbers

Up and over.... Following circuits is like following an adventure trail laid out by ingenious and mischievous pioneers. This is the Yellow at L'Elephant.

Extraordinary forest scenery.  Mer des Sables, Cul de Chien.

This PD+ slab is on a yellow circuit entwined with a harder Blue circuit at Roche aux Sabots, allowing many grades of climbers to climb together.

The local wildlife climbs pretty well too.