As you might expect, this trip was related to my art; though not in the way you would think. The scenery was stunning, and may well result in a painting or two at some point, but that wasn't the main reason for accepting this challenge. Twenty years ago in Scotland, my love of hill walking was rekindled and the following stories, a spur-of-the-moment ascent of Stob Coire in 1989 and a shorter excursion in the Shoshone Canyon (Yellowstone 1993) hint at the larger project, currently underway:

June 1989 – Glen Coe

After crossing a highland plateau on the A82 – which would be classed as a “B” road in most other places – one skirts around Meall a’Bhuiridh and heads down into the Valley of Glen Coe. This was my first time in Scotland since a family vacation in the late sixties, although I’d always felt a connection with this land I could only picture that earlier trip from photographs in an old album. This route, north of Carlisle and Glasgow, along the shores of Loch Lomond, is a journey almost every package tour makes on its way to or from Edinburgh. The plan was to travel much further afield, to John o’Groats near the northern tip of Scotland, and to see as much as possible along the way. This was a place I remembered my mother speaking of, though I couldn’t quite recall why, so I rented a little 900cc Fiat and headed north from Leeds. It wasn’t possible to rent a car with an automatic transmission in the UK at that time, and at the car rental office I deftly skirted around the unsettling fact that I’d never actually driven a stick shift before. I hoped the office staff wouldn’t be watching too closely as I put theory into practice; crossing their parking lot with a quick burst of power in first, then clutch in and onto the road so as to avoid any uncomfortable lurching – within sight of the main window at least. The strategy worked, and a few nerve-wracking roundabouts later I just about had the knack of it; though I’ve never since been happier to slip down the ramp onto an open motorway.

Where the plateau funnels into upper reaches of the valley, a small stream converges with the road then drops into a deep gorge and is barely visible until the valley widens a few miles further on. Tracing the contours of the land like a relief line on a topographic map, the narrow road clings to the hillside as it gradually descends. Pullouts are provided from time to time so that tourists can leave their vehicles for a moment and snap that essential highland picture; the most famous of which is the piper in full regalia who is always present at the one spot large enough for buses to stop. The vista beyond, depending on the day and the photographer’s aptitude, provides a perfect, picture postcard shot; the one you’ve seen a thousand times before on tins of Scottish shortbread. Although I managed to resist the cliché shot, it simply isn’t possible to be unaffected by this landscape. Regardless of where I stood however, the river remained hidden from view, which would have been a little irksome if I hadn't thought the slope below manageable. Curiosity got the better of me; I hopped the guardrail and scrambled down. Thick tufts of grass provided fairly good footing, but tended to pitch my feet this way and that, making for an ungainly descent. Patches of thistle threatened to fill my free hand with painful spines were I to put it down carelessly. I wondered if they had been brought in especially by the Tourist Board to enhance the view and discourage such impromptu sightseeing.  >>> Read More

Bidean nam Bian massif, Glen Coe