MildredsSmurf
Extremely Talkative
- Messages
- 221
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I was working in the far north of Scotland for the last week and on the way home I fancied a wild camp to see if I could bag any photos, seeing as I was travelling down, it was pointless whizzing past all the great scenery! I had fancied returning to Glen Feshie after a 20-year absence but eventually settled on Loch an Eilein near Aviemore as my time of arrival may only give me a couple of hours to get camped down before dark. I did arrive with only a couple of hours to spare before nightfall so after parking up, I walked to the south of the loch to find a good spot to pitch my tarp. I took a picture of the castle that is on an island in the loch on the way.
I had originally planned to just to bivvy, but the latest weather forecast that I’d checked whilst lunching on my way down had predicted rain at midnight, so I elected for the belts and braces of a tarp and bivvy bag. On the south shore of the loch, I left the main track and followed a small track through the knee-deep heather. In this terrain relying on a tent can be a nervy experience in fading light as opportunities to pitch can be limited - A bivvy bag, however, is a more flexible companion.
I did find a camping spot that a tent could be pitched, there was a stream here for water too, but as I arrived so did a passing family passing through that put me off camping on a path. It was also further from the loch that I hoped too. After faffing about further afield, I returned past this spot and settled a tiny clearing on a hillock overlooking the loch, about 75 metres from the path. I managed to shoehorn my tarp in between trees to provide a shelter from the strong wind and the predicted rain, but only had room to squeeze in 1.5 metres of the 3 metres at an angle between the trees so I rolled up the other half of the tarp underneath. I then pegged out my ground sheet and filled my bivvy with my airbed and sleeping bag. It was very mild for February at 10°C so I was over equipped, having been forced to pack a week earlier during colder weather due to my work trip away.
By nightfall, I was settled down. I’d had a good lunch on the way down so didn’t bother cooking anything. I’d bought four-pint cans of Stella as an early nightcap to get me in the mood for an early slumber seeing as it would be dark early. I finally bedded down about 8 pm and as I tried to sleep I could see the moon through the branches above, the branches were swaying in the strong wind and the motion and gentle moonlit flickering sent me off into a slumber.
About 11 pm the patter of rain started on the tarp and I was glad that I’d put it up so I didn’t need to rearrange my bivvy. The Stella was now wanting out which is always the problem with this nightcap. I find that lightweight whisky is the solution for a long winters night sleep solution as that never needs out during the night, but I do enjoy a lager on my wee vacations, despite the slumber interrupting penalty…
By 1 am the rain woke me again as it was hammering down, I could hear and feel some drips hitting my bivvy bag, but it was doing its thing so I could try and continue sleeping. At 2 am I was still awake. The rain had stopped by this time, but the water droplets still hit the tarp whenever a passing gust of wind blew the trees and shook down the moisture from above. The wind was also subsiding and as I lay with my eyes open I could see the shadows of the branches above dancing in the moonlight that had again come out, but couldn’t be seen behind my tarp. The dancing shadows of the moon are so subtle, but when you have nothing else to look at it is mesmerising. I could also see stars now that the cloud had cleared. Not that many stars could be seen due to the brightness of the moon, but enough to fix my eyes on. As I lay awake watching them, the stars would suddenly be obscured by a swaying a branch as the earth turned and the tree branches would get in the way of these points of light shining from history through the void.
I fell back asleep and was awaken by my phone alarm clock that I’d set for 06:30. This was very early as the sunrise was not due for well over an hour, but I wanted to see the early morning in its entirety despite the forecast having had predicted a cloud covering for the whole night. The light show from the moon and stars overnight had proven that wrong, so maybe I had some hope?
As I awoke there was a faint light on the eastern horizon lighting up the cloud. A part of me said, “ forget it, put your stove on and have a coffee, you have plenty of time”. Another part realised that when taking pictures of landscapes, never take any opportunity for granted, never mind how low lit! I set up my camera and had to set it to a higher ISO and to the widest aperture so that I could take a 30-second exposure on my tripod. I took several, adjusting things to try and optimise the shot, this one was a 25-second exposure - the light was really low.
The exposures had become shorter, but suddenly I noticed that the shots were taking longer again. The cloud was moving east and it was smothering the light and the forthcoming sunrise. I’m glad that I’d grabbed that small window of a photo opportunity, that nature usually offers, but I’ve been too inexperienced to capitalise on. I was pleased that I’d followed through this time and now was the time to have a celebratory coffee in the slowly increasing silvery grey light.
By 8 am I’d packed up and I wandered around the rest of the loch to complete the circuit, taking pictures as I went. By 10am I was in my car ready to complete the 3-hour drive home. I had passed a sign pointing to the Lairgih Ghru on my way around the loch and then I knew I would be trying my best to visit here again.
Who wouldn’t want to visit this place with its knee-high heather, it’s 300 year old trees, blinking stars and dancing moonlight - probably the many folks who’ve only managed to visit here in the p***ing rain as chances are that's what you'll get!
I had originally planned to just to bivvy, but the latest weather forecast that I’d checked whilst lunching on my way down had predicted rain at midnight, so I elected for the belts and braces of a tarp and bivvy bag. On the south shore of the loch, I left the main track and followed a small track through the knee-deep heather. In this terrain relying on a tent can be a nervy experience in fading light as opportunities to pitch can be limited - A bivvy bag, however, is a more flexible companion.
I did find a camping spot that a tent could be pitched, there was a stream here for water too, but as I arrived so did a passing family passing through that put me off camping on a path. It was also further from the loch that I hoped too. After faffing about further afield, I returned past this spot and settled a tiny clearing on a hillock overlooking the loch, about 75 metres from the path. I managed to shoehorn my tarp in between trees to provide a shelter from the strong wind and the predicted rain, but only had room to squeeze in 1.5 metres of the 3 metres at an angle between the trees so I rolled up the other half of the tarp underneath. I then pegged out my ground sheet and filled my bivvy with my airbed and sleeping bag. It was very mild for February at 10°C so I was over equipped, having been forced to pack a week earlier during colder weather due to my work trip away.
By nightfall, I was settled down. I’d had a good lunch on the way down so didn’t bother cooking anything. I’d bought four-pint cans of Stella as an early nightcap to get me in the mood for an early slumber seeing as it would be dark early. I finally bedded down about 8 pm and as I tried to sleep I could see the moon through the branches above, the branches were swaying in the strong wind and the motion and gentle moonlit flickering sent me off into a slumber.
About 11 pm the patter of rain started on the tarp and I was glad that I’d put it up so I didn’t need to rearrange my bivvy. The Stella was now wanting out which is always the problem with this nightcap. I find that lightweight whisky is the solution for a long winters night sleep solution as that never needs out during the night, but I do enjoy a lager on my wee vacations, despite the slumber interrupting penalty…
By 1 am the rain woke me again as it was hammering down, I could hear and feel some drips hitting my bivvy bag, but it was doing its thing so I could try and continue sleeping. At 2 am I was still awake. The rain had stopped by this time, but the water droplets still hit the tarp whenever a passing gust of wind blew the trees and shook down the moisture from above. The wind was also subsiding and as I lay with my eyes open I could see the shadows of the branches above dancing in the moonlight that had again come out, but couldn’t be seen behind my tarp. The dancing shadows of the moon are so subtle, but when you have nothing else to look at it is mesmerising. I could also see stars now that the cloud had cleared. Not that many stars could be seen due to the brightness of the moon, but enough to fix my eyes on. As I lay awake watching them, the stars would suddenly be obscured by a swaying a branch as the earth turned and the tree branches would get in the way of these points of light shining from history through the void.
I fell back asleep and was awaken by my phone alarm clock that I’d set for 06:30. This was very early as the sunrise was not due for well over an hour, but I wanted to see the early morning in its entirety despite the forecast having had predicted a cloud covering for the whole night. The light show from the moon and stars overnight had proven that wrong, so maybe I had some hope?
As I awoke there was a faint light on the eastern horizon lighting up the cloud. A part of me said, “ forget it, put your stove on and have a coffee, you have plenty of time”. Another part realised that when taking pictures of landscapes, never take any opportunity for granted, never mind how low lit! I set up my camera and had to set it to a higher ISO and to the widest aperture so that I could take a 30-second exposure on my tripod. I took several, adjusting things to try and optimise the shot, this one was a 25-second exposure - the light was really low.
The exposures had become shorter, but suddenly I noticed that the shots were taking longer again. The cloud was moving east and it was smothering the light and the forthcoming sunrise. I’m glad that I’d grabbed that small window of a photo opportunity, that nature usually offers, but I’ve been too inexperienced to capitalise on. I was pleased that I’d followed through this time and now was the time to have a celebratory coffee in the slowly increasing silvery grey light.
By 8 am I’d packed up and I wandered around the rest of the loch to complete the circuit, taking pictures as I went. By 10am I was in my car ready to complete the 3-hour drive home. I had passed a sign pointing to the Lairgih Ghru on my way around the loch and then I knew I would be trying my best to visit here again.
Who wouldn’t want to visit this place with its knee-high heather, it’s 300 year old trees, blinking stars and dancing moonlight - probably the many folks who’ve only managed to visit here in the p***ing rain as chances are that's what you'll get!
