Traversing Schiehallion, Scotland’s Magical Mountain

At 1,038 metres (3,547′) Schiehallion isn’t especially close to Ben Nevis in height, but it is certainly one of the most iconic Munros. The distinctive, near-symmetrical profile of the mountain attracts hikers from both home and away looking to experience the great outdoors, and it’s a great choice for first time Munro baggers.

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The view from the western end of Schiehallion, looking along Loch Rannoch to Rannoch Moor and Glencoe. In clear conditions, it’s possible to pick out Ben Nevis.

Schiehallion

In the heart of Highland Perthshire, close to the very centre of Scotland, Schiehallion has the reputation of being both one of the most mysterious of Scotland’s mountains, and the most measured. The name Sidh Chailleann translates from Scots Gaelic as “the fairy hill of the Caledonians”, and it’s not difficult to find traces of folklore and superstition on the slopes of Shiehallion.

Reach the summit on a summer evening, and you’ll be enchanted by views of Loch Tummel and Loch Rannoch stretching out towards the vast blanket of Rannoch Moor in the gloaming. Descending through the dusk you’ll catch mysterious sounds reverberating across the hillside: secret whisperings of the wee folk, or magical drumming snipe and roding woodcock?

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The first glimpse of Schiehallion appearing through the trees on the road from Loch Rannoch.

Planning my route

I was taking part in the 2019 TGO Challenge, a coast-to-coast crossing of Scotland on foot, and wanted to include a few mountains on my route from west to east. As it happened, dropping a few planning pins into my ViewRanger map put one close to the peak. After a few days of low-level walking, I reckoned I’d be limber enough to take on the mountain and make a west-to-east traverse of Schiehallion.

From the east and west the peak looks like a perfect pyramid; from north and south, a long whaleback ridge with a more gentle rise to the top. It stands in isolation, easily picked out on the skyline ahead of me as I left Glencoe and crossed Rannoch Moor.

Schiehallion Traverse

  • Start Point: East Tempar Farm*
  • Finish Point: Braes of Foss
  • Distance: 10km
  • Hiking time: 4 hours
  • Difficulty: Moderate
  • Map: OS Explorer OL49

*Note: There is nowhere to leave a vehicle at East Tempar. Parking is available at Braes of Foss carpark (approx. 7km on the road) or in Kinloch Rannoch (approx. 3.5km on the road). I walked along the road from Kilvrecht Campsite, approximately 9km.

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Go slow, baby lambs. Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. Sign on the roadside at East Tempar.

The glorious May weather had stayed another day, so despite not being in any particular rush to get underway, I’d been up since 6am with the sunshine, packed my tent (shaking off drifts of tree pollen that had accumulated through the previous evening), loaded up with drinking water, and hit the road to get to my starting point for 9am. Find a route map on my ViewRanger.

From East Tempar Farm a hill track rises gently through sheep pasture, gaining around 350m in a little over two and a half kilometres, to the base of the towering west flank of the mountain. The track continues on to the tumbledown shielings at the col at the head of Gleann Mor, the dale between Schiehallion and the Can Mairg hills to the south.

Gleann Mor is reputedly just as magical as the mountain that looms above. According to legend, the fairies of Schiehallion make their home in Uamh Tom a’Mhor-fhir, a cave in the upper reaches of the glen, and the doors leading into Elfhame (fairyland) marked by tussocks of white heather.

There might be little real evidence of fairies on Schiehallion, but the region wears its history close to the surface. Old shielings are a reminder of the traditional cattle grazing way of life in highland glens, and traces of hut circles and ancient cup-and-ring marked rocks a connection to a more distant and mysterious past.

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Hillside haggis tracks in the heather.

My route led upwards, over rough ground cut only by deer tracks contouring the slope. I snapped a couple of quick pictures, along with some of some grouse droppings, to perpetuate the haggis myth with which we were teasing my French and Romanian crewmates. Haggis is “…un cochon d’Inde écossais indigène. C’est vrai.” True fact.

There wasn’t a breath of wind when I reached the first boulder field, a patch of fractured quartzite exposed amongst the heather tussocks and spongy lichens. Higher above, the first false summit of my climb marked the point where the vegetation began to yield to the rock, with just sparse turf between the boulders.

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The summit. Or is it?

The Schiehallion Experiment

The splendid isolation and arresting symmetry of Schiehallion caught the attention of the Royal Society as a place to observe the “attraction of mountains”. In the summer of 1774, Astronomer Royal Nevil Maskylene and surveyor and mathematician Charles Hutton gathered data on the tiny deflection of a pendulum against the position of the stars, revealing the gravitational pull of the mountain.

Between astronomical observations and a survey of Schiehallion’s shape and composition, the experiment provided evidence of Newton’s theory of gravitation, and of the density and shape of the entire planet. During the development of the experiment, Hutton pioneered the concept of contour lines to show relief in cartography, helping me greatly with my TGO challenge route planning.

The Schiehallion experiment is commemorated by a plaque at Braes of Foss, and the eagle-eyed can spot the footprints of Maskylene’s parallel observatories on the north and south flanks of the mountain.

The Summit

Into the boulder field proper, the true summit rose up behind the last false peak, identifiable this time by the small gathering of people on the rocky outcrop. Tucked into hollows on the northern side of boulders were tiny patches of snow, none larger than my backpack, holding on in the 20°C heat. I scrambled up the last six or seven metres to the top, and turned to take in the view that had been at my back during the climb.

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From the summit, I could see across the Tay Forest and Loch Tummel to the Beinn a’Ghlo in the east, south to Ben Lawers, and north to Ben Alder. But the view to the west was the best. The eye skims along the shining surface of Loch Rannoch into a golden-blue haze over Rannoch Moor. On the edge of visibility, I could just make out the Black Mount and Glencoe, where two days ago I’d caught my first glimpse of this peak.

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I took a long break to rehydrate, and devoured a packet of Tuc sandwich biscuits that were by now mostly cheese-flavoured dust. This won me the friendship of a springer spaniel called Saoirse, waiting with her dog-dad for the rest of the family to join them at the top. I hunted around and found the spiral carving in the rock. More likely a modern addition than ancient art, but still a reminder that for many the mountains are spiritual spaces.

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Descent

The route across the boulder field was indistinct, but the following the ridge easterly with the natural compass of the sun was moving in the right direction. Skipping over the loose rock in the boulder field for a couple of kilometres, trying unsuccessfully to pick my way along Saoirse’s chosen route, I found a worn track and reached the top of the path. The way down was much simpler than the way up, dropping down the flank of the mountain on a well-surfaced route.

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I reached the carpark at Braes of Foss in mid-afternoon, glad to be able to refill my water supply and find a spot of shade for a cuppa and spoonful of peanut butter. It had been another long, draining hike in the sun. I still had another few kilometres to go to reach the end of my planned route for the day, to the access road for Foss mine, where I was to meet my lift.

On the way round the road, I decided that the TGO Challenge could wait for another day, and rescheduled my rest day for the next morning. I’d take the chance to buy some sunblock, and just enjoy the shade for a while. It was a real treat to get into Pitlochry that evening, pick up a takeaway and some cold beers, and sit in the garden of my friend’s house celebrating reaching half-way across Scotland on the top of that magical mountain.

Schiehallion East Path

  • Start / Finish Point: Braes of Foss carpark (£2/full day)
  • Distance: 10km return
  • Hiking time: Usually between 3 and 4 hours (depending on how long you enjoy the view for!)
  • Difficulty: Easy to moderate
  • Map: OS Explorer OL49

Most hikers visiting Schiehallion follow a different route to the one I took, starting and finishing in the carpark at Braes of Foss, and following the East Schiehallion path. In a rare case of mountain rescue, where the mountain itself was the casualty, the path was constructed by the John Muir Trust to manage erosion and protect delicate vegetation on the lower slopes of the mountain. Find a route map on my ViewRanger.

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A plaque commemorating the Schiehallion Experiment by Nevil Maskylene and Charles Hutton at Braes of Foss, with the mountain behind.

The route is clear and obvious, though there is no waymarking, tackling the east ridge of the mountain in zigzags that avoid expanses of bog but still gives hikers glimpses of wildflowers and bog plants. The area is also home to wildlife like red deer, black grouse, and ptarmigan.

After around 3.5km the path reaches the boulder field on the top of the ridge.  Here the route is undefined to the summit, crossing loose rocks and scree, so care and attention to navigation is needed over the final 2km, especially if visibility is reduced.

Incredibly, thanks to an initiative by the FieldFare Trust, the first third of the route has been approved as wheelchair-friendly, with the remainder of the route to the summit deemed accessible at an individual’s discretion, making Schiehallion the first wheelchair-accessible Munro in Scotland.

Descend by retracing your steps to the boulder field to the path, and return to the carpark.

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Starting to feel the power of the sun. Walking in the mountains needs preparation for all weather conditions.

What to wear for hiking in Scotland

Though the warm, windless conditions on the day of my hike suited shorts and a t-shirt, that’s not what I would usually recommend for a day in the Scottish mountains. The best clothes for hiking are thin, quick-drying layers, and well-fitting, supportive boots.

The temperature can be quite different once you reach the summit, and a good rule of thumb for planning is that for every 300 metres (1,000′) it will be around 2°C colder. On a windy day, this will feel even more.

Walking trousers are robust but breathable, and usually have good pockets for gadgets and snacks. Shorts will normally be ok in fine weather, but if you’re going to venture off the beaten path and bash through the heather it can be uncomfortable. Gaiters will help protect your trousers and keep them dry and clean. They also double up as a dry mat for sitting on the ground when you stop for breaks.

A waterproof jacket and pair of trousers are always a good idea in Scotland. Even if there’s no rain in the forecast, conditions can be unpredictable, and a waterproof layer can break the chill of the wind.

A fleece or light sweater will keep your core temperature toasty when you reach the top. A warm hat, buff and pair of gloves will be useful in most conditions, but don’t underestimate the sun. There’s no opportunity to escape into the shade on most Scottish mountains. A broad-brimmed hat and something covering your shoulders could be important in summer to prevent heat exhaustion.

What other equipment will you need?

  • A backpack to carry your gear (with a waterproof cover)
  • A map and compass (and GPS)
  • Walking poles – optional
  • A good supply of water and snacks.

Tips for solo hiking

  • Be prepared for the hike with the right clothing and equipment.
  • Plan your hike in advance, and work out the time you will need, factoring in breaks on the way.
  • Always take a map and compass, and know how to use them. Even if you use a GPS.
  • Tell someone where you are hiking, and remember to let them know once you’re back safe.
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My Alphabet of Adventures

My favourite travel memories from A to Z shared with the #AlphabetAdventure hashtag on social media.

This year, travel has been on the backburner in a big way, with international flights shut down, and many countries, including my home in the UK, imposing a domestic lockdown to prevent the spread of the COVID-19 and ease pressure on health services over the peak of the pandemic.

Throughout April and early May many travel bloggers shared pictures of their travels on social media with the hashtag #AlphabetAdventures. It was a chance to remind ourselves of the wide, wild world out there, waiting for us to explore once the coronavirus pandemic passes, and relive some memories from our travels. It also gave us the chance to travel vicariously to new destinations while we stay safe at home under lockdown.

Here are my favourite memories, from A to Z:

A – Antarctica

B – Bilbao, Basque Country / Euskadi, Spain

C – Coll, Inner Hebrides, Scotland

D – Dundee, Scotland

E – Eigg, Small Isles, Scotland

F – Fijian Islands: Kadavu, Lau, Onegasa

G – Guernsey and Herm, Channel Islands

H – Helford River, Cornwall, England

I – Island-hopping on Irene of Bridgwater

J – Johnshaven, Aberdeenshire, Scotland

K – Karekare beach, North Island, New Zealand

L – looking at nature

M – Melbourne, Australia

N – Newlyn, Cornwall, England

O – Ostend / Oostende, Belguim

P – porthole views on ships

Q – Qaqortoq, Greenland

R – Raglan, North Island, New Zealand

S – Skudeneshavn, Norway

T – Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand

U – Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina

V – Ventnor and Steephill Cove, Isle of Wight, England

W – wave-washed beaches around the world

X – X marks the spot (maps and charts)

Y – Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, England

Z – zzzzz… for snoozy doggos

And for a bonus, Å – Ålesund, Norway

 

5 Microadventures You Can Make at Home

Five fun microadventures you can make from your own home, suitable for all ages.

Are you familiar with the idea of microadventures? Adventure isn’t all about faraway locations and uncharted territories. Or about being the highest, furthest, fastest at anything.

It’s about the spirit in which you undertake something. It’s being open to new experiences, approaching things with a curious and inquiring mind, and making your own fun and rewarding challenge. And a microadventure is just that, on a simple, local scale.

And while we’re restricted in the things we can do right now, a new activity in a familiar place can be exactly what you need to feel refreshed and excited, and keep your fire for the great outdoors well stoked.

The simplicity of these ideas also make them an ideal way to introduce adventures to your family, even with very young children, and nurture an appreciation for nature and the outdoors to last them a lifetime. And by keeping them close to home, there’s plenty of opportunities to bail out if things don’t go to plan, or to make a spontaneous change to an everyday routine.

So here are five of my favourite microadventures that don’t mean roaming far from home.

Garden Wildcamping

Sleeping in an unusual place is almost a determining factor for an adventure. Out in the garden, you’ll become more aware of night-time sights and sounds, and the change in light from night to day, as the world around you begins to wake-up. Make sure you can get comfortable and cosy, otherwise it will become an endurance challenge rather than a fun adventure.
If you are used to sleeping in a tent, try a night in a bivvy bag for a different experience, and if don’t have a garden, try pushing back the furniture and pitching a tent indoors or making a bivvy on a balcony. If there’s no room for tents, then a good old blanket fort is great fun.

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Pitching a tent at the end of the garden for a wild night out.
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Waking up to a silvery dawn over the North Sea.

Breakfast Birdwatching

This activity fits in quite nicely with a night outdoors. Take an hour, or as long as you can, in the morning to look and listen for the wild birds that visit your area. Hanging birdfeeders are brilliant to tempt them closer, but it can take a few days for birds to find new ones, as are water baths. Make a picnic breakfast to enjoy in the garden, or watch from a window. A set of binoculars and an ID guide will help you to get to know the regulars.

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Settling in with a coffee and a book to listen to the dawn chorus.
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Watching birds dart in and out of the gorse bushes, and soaking in their heavenly scent.

Everest Anywhere

If you’re missing a fix of physical activity, this is the adventure for you. Using the stairs in your building or garden, measure the height and multiply that to find the number of times you’d need ascend to scale the magnificent height of Everest (8448 metres or 27,717′). That will take quite some time, so there’s always an alternative available, such as Ben Nevis (1,345 metres or 4,413′), Snowdon (1.085 metres or 3,560′), or your local favourite hill.

There’s no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes. So grab yourself a sexy raincoat and live a little.

Billy Connelly

Wild Wet Weather Walk

How often do we look out the window at wild and windy weather and decide to stay indoors? But embracing the elements can provide an unexpected thrill. Get kitted out in the appropriate gear, and you can dance in the rain, get buffeted in the breeze, and roll around in the snow. Plus it makes coming inside for cosy evenings feel that much more deserved.

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I live by the coast in northeast Scotland, so if I waited for fine weather to go outdoors, I’d spend 10 months in the house!

Stargazing

This one is a bit easier if you live in a less urban area, where light pollution isn’t going to impact too much on your dark skies. It takes a little more preparation than other things on this list, as the best nights for stargazing have just a small sliver of the moon visible and clear skies. Apps like My Moon Phase and YR.no will help you plan the best night, while StarWalk2 gives tips for what to look out for, and can help with identifying constellations. But don’t get too transfixed on screens and ID guides, and just revel in the wild and vast universe around us.

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My favourite guide to the night sky is The Stars by H.A. Rey, author of the Curious George stories. Simple to use and easy to understand.
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Spotting Venus and a sliver of crescent moon in the growing dusk. Anticipating the emergence of a star-filled night sky.
Do you have any favourite microadventures you can make from home?
Let me know in the comments below.

8 Activities for Adventurers Staying at Home

A list of indoor activities and things to do around the home for outdoor and adventure lovers.

Though we’re encouraged to think of our current situation with the coronavirus lockdown as being safe while we’re at home, there’s no denying if you’re an outdoor type, you’ll inevitably find yourself feeling stuck at home. Denied that usual dose of adventure, there’s a serious risk of an outbreak of cabin fever.

So, given that there’s unlikely to be an immediate cure to our condition, I’ve compiled a list of activities that can bring the outdoors indoors, and help stave off longing aches for the hills, rivers, forests, and beaches for a while longer. They’ll help you stay mentally resilient, and get you prepared to get back out there when the time comes. They’re fun, and virtually all free, or at least affordable, so give them a go!

If you’ve got any of your own tips to share, let me know in the comments below!

1. Soak in someone else’s adventure

Take the time to choose some inspiring adventure media among all those books, box sets, and blogs you’ll have a bit more time for at the moment, and relive the ups and downs of someone else’s adventures. You might even find the seed of an idea for your own expedition. These are my current favourites:

Book: I’m currently reading Horizon by Barry Lopez, and you can browse my armchair travel lists for more ideas.
Documentaries: I’ve been feeding my Antarctica longing with the Penguin Post Office film from the BBC; David Attenborough’s Seven Worlds, One Planet; and Encounters at the End of the World by Werner Herzog (also known by my friends as the sad penguin film. It’s not Happy Feet).
Podcasts: I’ve been flitting between Tough Girl Podcast and Terra Incognita recently.
Magazines: Picking up TGO magazine has been my treat when I go on shopping trips.

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Immerse yourself into a book about travel, adventure, or the outdoors to inspire ideas for journeys after the pandemic ends.

2. Deal with the photos and films from your last travels

This is my biggest challenge. I have a huge backlog of photographs, sound recordings, and film footage from my travels over the last couple of years just waiting for some attention. Editing, cataloguing, backing up; there never seems to be enough time to clear the decks before the next batch is gathered. Until now. It’s actually a fantastic way to reflect on past journeys, especially on a rainy evening with a glass of wine. I might even get around to producing a photo book or two once the process is near complete.

3. Find a bit of solace in nature

I’m not one for mindfulness and visualisation; guided meditations tend to leave me sniggering and silly rather than feeling still and soothed. But I am a master at staring out the window at the birds flying by. Putting out bird feeders makes it easier to get to know the usual suspects, and a birdbath gives some excellent opportunities to observe behaviour. If you don’t have a garden of your own, you can find feeders that attach to window and walls instead.

4. Get green fingers

This time of year is perfect to get to know your garden better, and growing your own fruit and vegetables has benefits beyond delicious fresh food. Herbs are a simple starting point if you’re new to gardening, and there’s nothing like your own home-grown strawberries. Boost the biodiversity of your patch with a bug hotel or log pile to keep friendly insects close to your greenery. If you don’t have a garden, try small containers on window ledges to grow basil, rocket, and pea shoots for fresh salad greens.

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A small patch of wildness in your garden creates a haven for wildlife

5. Brush up your adventure skills

The great outdoors might be your favourite classroom, but there’s bound to be a few skills you could work on perfecting from home. They might even become your new passion. Try these for a start:

• Learn the necessary knots. The RYA has eight essential knots for the competent crew qualification. Climbers will need a few different knots in their basic repertoire.
• Fine-tune your map reading skills. It’s understood that real navigators never get lost, but sometimes may become unaware of their present location.
• If you have outdoor space to try, how about practising bushcraft skills like making fire by friction, creating a solar still, or carving a wooden spoon.
• Teach yourself how to service your bicycle and repair a puncture.
• Find a new fitness challenge. It could be anything from skipping or hula hooping, squats or bodyweight workouts, to Pilates, yoga or Tai Chi.
• Test out recipes for homemade hiking snacks, or try your hand at dehydrating meals for your next backpacking trip.

6. Give your gear a going over

Looking after your outdoor equipment properly will extend its useful life, saving money in the long run, and ensure that it does the job you want it to do when you next take it out. Clean your hiking boots and running shoes; clean and re-proof waterproof jackets and pants; wash and air your sleeping bag; mend wear and tear on tents and backpacks; service stoves. I like to make a kit list before I go anywhere, and review it afterwards to work out what was missing, what worked well, and what was unnecessary or needed improving.

7. Learn something new

Keep your brain stimulated with an online course from one of the many free open learning providers like FutureLearn, OpenLearn, and Coursera. Indulge a deep passion, or search for something that might bring richness to your next trip, like a geography, history, or anthropology topic. Or brush up on a foreign language that might come in useful when you travel next. I’m using the Duolingo app and Coffee Break Spanish podcast to improve my skills in Spanish. I don’t want to make the owl sad.

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Where do you really want to go?  What will you do?

8. Plan your ultimate expedition

So, once you’re dosed up on inspiration why not start planning your next big expedition? Start off by asking yourself, what would you really, really like to do, if money, time, the usual commitments were no problem. Then follow up with a few more questions:

• Is it something you’d undertake alone, or as part of a team?
• How long would it take, and how much time do you need to prepare?
• Do you need to start saving up?
• How much training is needed, and when would you have to start?

If travel is your passion, try throwing a dart at the map to decide on a destination. Then ask:

• What do you know about that place? The country?
• How would you get there? Can you do it without flying?
• Can it be done in my budget?

Then it’s time to get maps and guidebooks out, read blogs and browse Pinterest. Whether it’s going to be a serious undertaking, or an exercise in vicarious travel and adventure, you can shape a plan and take to back to the drawing board again and again, until you have your dream expedition.

There’s likely to be times where this lockdown leaves you feeling listless and filled with ennui. That’s ok. It’s a strange and unusual time we’re in, and it’s not necessary to use your energy to do anything other than just getting by.  Just remember, this too shall pass.

Tell me what you’ve been up to while you’re locked down.
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My Lockdown Reading List

Like many of you, the COVID-19 lockdown turned my life upside down.  Plans I’d made as I prepared to leave Antarctica have been completely shelved, any potential opportunities remain just that.  Both the travel and the outdoor industries where I’ve usually found work have had to shut up shop and furlough staff.  I’ve signed up as a volunteer, but it has taken time for organisations to process the volume of applications they’ve received.

So, I’ve encountered an abundance of idle time in the last week or so.  It’s been an unexpected chance to indulge in the things that are usually side-lined for more pressing tasks.  For me, it’s reading for pleasure.  In the last week, I’ve been able to immerse myself in a few good books to help fend off the cabin fever.

While lockdown has clipped my wings, and travel is an impossibility right now, a book can take the mind flying anywhere beyond the immediate four walls.  Here’s what I’ve read, and my to-do list for the coming weeks.

The Living Mountain by Nan Shepherd, re-published in 2011 by Canongate

One of the most perfect books I’ve ever read, and a pleasure to revisit with the Twitter #CoReadingVirus book group led by Robert Macfarlane.  A meditation on the Cairngorms, and walking in the mountains, on looking closely, and feeling the elemental forces of a landscape.

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Horizon by Barry Lopez, published in 2019 by Vintage

A sweeping voyage around the globe, through history and culture, as much as landscape and nature.  I’ve been anticipating this book for some time, and can’t wait to dive in.

Boundless: Adventures in the Northwest Passage by Kathleen Winter, published 2015 by Vintage

Another book to satisfy the magnetic pull of the North, and explore the changing dynamics of the region as exploration becomes tourism.

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Karluk: The Great Untold Story of Arctic Exploration by William Laird McKinley, published in 1976 by Book Club Associates

Something I picked up in a second-hand book shop to fulfil my interests in shipwrecks and polar exploration.  A lesser-known story of exploration and survival.

Wanderlust: A History of Walking by Rebecca Solnit, published in 2014 by Granta

Something I’d had my eye on for a while, it explores the relationship between thinking and walking, and muses on why slow time is so valuable.

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Sightlines by Kathleen Jamie, published in 2012 by Sort Of

Another old favourite I return to time and time again, which reminds me of the importance of being still and observing my surroundings.

At the Loch of the Green Corrie by Andrew Grieg, published in 2010 by Quercus

Carved in the beautiful landscapes of Assynt, this book touches on grief and loss, history, whisky, poetry, and friendship.

What’s featuring in your lockdown library?  Let me know in the comments below.
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What I’ve loved this season in Antarctica

A few of my favourite things from the past season.

I’ve just returned from four months in Antarctica, working for the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust in the famous Penguin Post Office in Port Lockroy through the southern summer season.  It’s been an overwhelming couple of weeks, as I reconnected to the rest of the world and remembered how to do little everyday things that were missing from my life over those 110 days.

Like using money and buying things I want from shops and bars, rather than just asking someone to bring things to me.  Driving, and even just moving around at a faster pace.  The colour green.  Or looking out the window and seeing animals that aren’t penguins.  I miss those penguins.  (Though the odour of penguin guano is still lingering on in the fabric of my outdoor clothing).

Then there was the added strangeness of adjusting to our new normal in the time of corona.  Reuniting with family wasn’t the hugs and long conversations I’d imagined I’d have, but waving through the window of houses as I stood outside in the garden, and staccato notes in what’s app chats and skype calls.  It’s tough, but I know that I’m not the worst off in this situation, and for that, I’m so very thankful.

These are a few of the things that I loved over my Antarctic season, living in close confines with a small team, on a little island with no escape.  There may even be a couple of things you find useful yourself over the next few weeks as we adjust to living in lockdown.

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Things I’ve loved during the southern summer in Antarctica

My Antarctica love list:

Nivea Factor 50 sunblock: The Antarctic atmosphere is ozone-depleted, and intense sun rays can penetrate through more easily, even on overcast days.  Harsh light is reflected back by ice, snow, and the sea.  I wore this every day to protect my skin, and I love the familiar summer-smell of it.

Cébé Summit sunglasses: As with the sunblock, these were essential everyday wear for working outside, even when it was an overcast day.  They have category 4 UV protection, transmitting less than 8% of visible light, so will become part of my ski kit.

Palmer’s coconut oil leave-in conditioner: Like the Nivea, it became an everyday essential to protect my hair from the wind and sun, and it smells wonderful.  Sometimes a blast of it was just enough to drive out the smell of penguin guano until my next shower.

Merino beanie:  This merino beanie hat from Findra is super warm but lightweight and breathable, and in my favourite colours.  Perfect for an Antarctic summer, and autumn in Ushuaia.  I’ll keep wearing into next season, as I’ve already had a couple of frosty mornings and snow showers this week in Scotland.

Splashmaps toob: I live right on the North Sea coast, so this is excellent for keeping the breeze off my neck on cold walks, and my hair out of my eyes as I run.  The Antarctic peninsula map and gentoo penguin design is exclusive from the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust.

Rab powerstretch gloves: Super warm and stretchy gloves.  For all the reasons above.

There are two seasons in Scotland: June and winter.

Billy Connolly

The Storied Ice by Joan N. Boothe:  A fantastically readable book covering the history of the Antarctic peninsula region.  My recommendation for anyone interested in learning more about the continent before their visit, or gaining a vicarious overview of exploration and discovery.

Leatherman sidekick:  A pocket-sized multi-tool I’ve been using for everything from opening up generators to breaking down cardboard boxes.

Irish wheaten bread:  Kit introduces us to the delight that is Irish wheaten bread with this mix from the Cookie Jar Bakery in Newcastle, Co. Down.  Devoured still warm with butter donated from a cruise ship.

The Tin Can Cook by Jack Monroe:  While our provisions in Antarctica were mainly tinned or dried products, this was a consequence of our privilege to be in such a unique location.  For many others, tinned food is an affordable and nutritious necessity.  This brilliant book by cook and anti-poverty campaigner Jack Monroe helped us put together tasty and inventive meals.

Berocca:  Fizzy multivitamins, these were essential for the days when “freshies” (fresh fruit and vegetables) hadn’t been available.

Bananagrams: A simple but addictive Scrabble-like game of assembling words.  This occupied several of our evenings, and according to the Lockroy rules, abbreviations and words in Finnish, te reo Māori, and Scots are all accepted.  As there was no google to check the veracity of claims, it all came down to how convincingly you could argue.

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1. Leatherman Sidekick; 2. The Tin Can Cook by Jack Monroe; 3. Palmer’s leave-in conditioner; 4. Nivea Factor 50 sunblock; 5. Berocca multivitamins; 6. Bananagrams game; 7. Merino beanie hat from Findra; 8. Powerstretch fleece gloves from Rab; 9. Cébé Summit sunglasses; 10. Port Lockroy Splashmaps Toob; 11. Wheaten Bread Mix from the Cookie Jar Bakery; 12. The Storied Ice by Joan N. Booth.

 

What’s next:

Well, who really knows what the answer to that question will be?  I’m back home in Aberdeenshire, and finding myself at the end of a contract at a terrible time to find any work, let alone in the travel and outdoor sector.  However, I have a roof over my head and food to eat, and time to process the experience, which I think is all anyone can ask for right now.

Here’s to a bit of time enjoying the great indoors.  Stay safe, and thank you for following These Vagabond Shoes.

Vicky

I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to, and how you’ve been dealing with time spent in isolation or lockdown.  Let me know in the comments below.

Surviving Lockdown: Advice from an Ocean Sailor

Lessons learned from sailing experiences that prepared me for isolation during lockdown.

I’ve just returned to the UK from Antarctica, to be faced with strange and uncertain times as a consequence of the global COVID-19 outbreak.  I spent four months at Port Lockroy, living and working on a small island with a close team, and as some of you may know, before that I worked on several traditional sailing vessels.

Some of the sailing voyages I made were long; bluewater passages far from land, or any other vessels for that matter.  Being on the open ocean is both an awesome experience and deeply monotonous, epically profound and incredibly prosaic.  And it has been thorough preparation for our current situation.  Sailing on an empty sea with the same crew for weeks at a time, often facing stormy and uncertain conditions has taught me valuable lessons that can be applied to this lockdown.

Of course, there are vital differences.  Making a long ocean passage is a choice (though by day 19 you may beg to differ), unlike our required lockdown to keep ourselves and our communities protected from infection.  But the sense of isolation, precariousness, and cabin fever is familiar.

So, some advice from a sailor, to help us weather these uncertain times.  Here are 11 lessons I’ve learned about living in isolation.

The novelty will wear off.

The first few days after setting sail are thrilling; the endless expanse of the ocean, fresh wind in your hair, and salt spray on your skin.  The excitement of heading into the unknown.  A feeling of complete freedom.

It may be the same during the lockdown period.  At first, the luxury of idle time. Oh, the possibilities!  But then the monotonous ocean swells of boredom roll on and on over the horizon, no end in sight.  It can be hard not to feel a little melancholic, but understand that it’s natural to feel this way, and it will ebb and flow over time.  Prepare yourself, and don’t let your worries become overwhelming.

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The work is never done.

Cruising along under sail, it might seem like there’s little activity happening aboard a ship.  Once the sails are set, what remains to be done?  Actually, there’s more than enough to keep busy.  A good bosun has a neverending list to work on before the end of the voyage.  Make yourself a lockdown list of everyday chores, outstanding tasks, and even aspirational undertakings, adding to it as the days in isolation go on.  Aim to accomplish one or more items ticked off each day.

Keep those goals achievable.

That being said, it can be tempting to make some grand plans when you’re without everyday interruptions.  “I’ll become fluent in Spanish!  I’ll finally write my novel!  I’ll train for an ultramarathon!”  If you have that level of focus and commitment, good on you.

I find it more effective to set small, attainable goals, so if times get tough, I still feel like I’ve achieved something.  Right now, I have two main goals; to do something active every day, to rebuild my fitness after four months in Antarctica, and to write every day.  Having these goals in place helps motivation, and sometimes finding that alone can be enough of a win.

You, the crew, then the ship.

You have certain responsibilities as part of the crew to keep everyone safe, and they come in this order:

  • Firstly, you are the priority.  Take care of yourself. If you don’t look after yourself properly, you’re in no position to help anyone else who may need it.  Keep healthy, stay well-rested, and ask for help if you need it.  You are not alone.
  • Next in importance, take care of your crew.  This applies to everyone on board, whether you are the captain, the cook, or just a deckhand.  Look after your people, communicate openly with those around you, and do what you can to ensure those close to you are coping.
  • Finally, look after your vessel.  If your living and working space is unsafe, then everyone in it is unsafe.  That applies not just to physical dangers, but also to a hostile atmosphere, and any situation that leaves people feeling vulnerable.  Again consistent communication is key; don’t allow small stuff to blow up out of control.

Get away from your gang.

On a voyage you might be put into a small team, called a watch, where you eat, sleep, and work together for the duration of the trip.  Being with the same people for days on end, no matter how much you love them, has a way of turning great friends into huge irritations.

There is often nothing more infuriating than continually tripping over your shipmates in a small, shared space.  Take it in turns to do various tasks, and in using shared spaces and resources.  Make a schedule if you must.  Find the time to do activities on your own.

Find space for yourself.

All ships, even big ones, feel small after a few days at sea.  There’s virtually no private space onboard (save the heads, and that’s not really where you’d want to hang out), just your own bunk, a narrow coffin where you can shut out the rest of the world.  That’s if you have the luxury of not hot-bunking on your voyage.  But it soon gets pretty dull if that’s where you spend all of your time.

I always try to seek out a quiet spot to sit and read, write, or just stare at the water without needing to respond or react to others.  Carving out a physical space lets you find the mental space you need.  At home, we often have a door to close to create that refuge.  Headphones or a book to get lost in can help when all your physical space is shared.  Communicate with the others in your space about your needs, and when you want to be left alone, and respect that need in others.

In our current situation in the UK we’re permitted to leave our homes for short periods to exercise outdoors, so take advantage of the opportunity.  Get out of your room before it starts to feel like a coffin.

I had found that it was not good to be alone, and so made companionship with what there was around me, sometimes with the universe and sometimes with my own insignificant self; but my books were always my friends, let fail all else.

Joshua Slocum, Sailing Alone around the World

Spend time together intentionally.

When you do spend time together, make it feel intentional.  While sailing, members of the crew usually had their own roles, but we’d come together to eat dinner every night.  At Port Lockroy, the evenings of our rest days became film nights, squashed together on the folded-out sofa bed.  We’d find small excuses to celebrate too; Antarctica Day, Burn’s Night (and Heidi Day, of course), a visit to a ship for a sauna, the first penguin chick, a gifted bottle of wine and game of Bananagrams.

While celebrations might be too much to handle right now, find a ritual that feels good for your current living situation.  Joyful ways to spend time together makes close company feel like a gift, not something that grates on you.

Keep in contact, at a distance.

Both during time at sea, and in Antarctica, our ability to communicate with the outside world was seriously limited.  A satellite connection to send and receive emails, chats with nearby vessels on our VHF radio, and rare satellite phone calls home.  In general, conversations weren’t particularly thrilling, but the interruption in the isolation was powerful.  Emails from home made me feel connected, despite the physical distance.

There will still be moments that spark your joy.

This is an extraordinary time.  It’s going to be tough.  We’ll inevitably start to feel frustrated at some point.  Many of us are already stressed, even fearful about what may happen.  Some of us will end up out of work, others out of schooling, or even without a home.  We might become sick, or have loved ones who will.  We will lose people.  We may not feel like we can cope, and darkness is drawing in.  Give yourself the space to process those feelings.  It’s ok to be not ok.

Moments of true beauty and joy will exist amid the monotony, uncertainty, and anxiety.  The brightest star-filled sky on a night watch; a sunrise that sets the sky on fire; dolphins playing in the turbulent water under the bow.  Slow yourself down, savour these times, and share them with others.

Maker:S,Date:2017-9-29,Ver:6,Lens:Kan03,Act:Lar02,E-Y

You can’t stop the gale, but you can reef your sails.

Right now, it seems impossible to plan for the week ahead, let alone next month or next year.  Everything I scribbled into my journal as I sailed away from Antarctica is left on ice.  Plans and potential melted away overnight.  Now, I only have to deal with what is billowing around me.

We can’t calm this storm, but we can don our foul weather gear and reef the sails while we wait for it to pass.  Many things will happen that are outwith our control, and the best we can do is to be prepared and take mitigating measures.  Do what you reasonably can, don’t try to control the uncontrollable, or you’ll send yourself round the twist.

Treat yourself when it’s all over.

Unlike on an ocean voyage, we didn’t choose to be in this situation.  But we can choose to hold on to hope, and to make the most of where we are right now.  At the end of this lockdown, we’ll be able to meet up again, share our stories face-to-face over good food and a few drinks, and go for all the mountain hikes, wild swims, and bike rides that we’re missing right now.

Think about what you might do.  Plan that holiday you’ve always dreamed of.  Anticipate the meals in the restaurants you’re going to order.  Use this time to reach out to friends and family you don’t see regularly, and talk about how you’ll get together again.

You’re more resilient than you think.

You’ve held the helm in the dark and rain for the last three hours, watched the sunrise, and according to the clock, should have been relived; so do you abandon your post?  Not a chance.  You’re not done until your relief takes over, and you are stood down.  At present, there’s little indication of just how long this lockdown might actually last.  We’re done when we are relieved of our duty to stay at home.

Right now, our responsibility is to stand by and remain vigilant until that time.  Prepare the way you need to, taking each day (or hour) at a time.  You are capable of so much, and you might not even know it yet.  Believe me, you are tough enough for this.

You’ve got this.

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