A Second Ardnamurchan Holiday

From Marc Gerard:

Laga Revisited.

Following our first visit to Ardnamurchan in 2009 the return home was immediately followed by the booking of 2010’s Highland holiday. We knew there was much more to discover in the area and a return to Cluain Ghrianach at Laga would serve us well.

That last week in September would be preceded by a week on the Drimnin Estate on Morvern so, as with the previous year’s stay, the mid-holiday changeover journey was going to be quite short. Hopefully, visiting slightly earlier in the year would improve the odds of catching fine weather – possibly a triumph of hope over experience.  However, it worked. As with the week at Drimnin, our time at Laga in 2010 was dominated by good to fair weather – the hills were back on the menu.

Now, walking with my brother can bring with it some small concerns. I’m sure that he would have something to say about this, but he often presents himself for holidays carrying some sort of injury or two. Under testing circumstances this can occasionally lead to explosive, tourettes-style outbursts of profanities.

Part of our early-week ascent of Ben Laga provoked such a reaction. I actually prefer walking “off piste” where the enforced discipline of following a path is removed and you have to work things out for yourself, but it also means that you are sometimes presented with awkward ground to cross or climb. The start of the walk made use of the track leading to Loch Laga, but the climb up the hill leaves the track far behind and parts of Ben Laga’s lower western flank fell into that “awkward” category with uneven ground waiting to catch the unwary – and it did. For a short while I probably wasn’t the most popular person in the world, but then we crested a rise near Lochan Coire na Moine to be confronted by a herd of red deer. For a moment we were undetected, so quickly ducked down and stared with broad grins all round. Binoculars were hardly needed, but the camera had to stay in its pouch as the noise of undoing the fastening would certainly have sent them running. Sometimes it’s much better to just look. The encounter finally came to an end with stags and hinds heading round to the north, possibly spooked by a change in direction of the gentle breeze. By this point the climb was providing an increasingly dramatic view over our shoulders to the west as we gradually rose above the adjacent more minor hills. The top was eventually reached and, thankfully, the fairly high cloud base enabled good views to be had in all directions, especially over Loch Sunart and the islands of Carna, Oronsay and Risga with drifting puddles of light adding to the scene. The lines of our previous week’s walks on Morvern could also be picked out.

Lumps and bumps dominate the rocky summit of Ben Laga, as do a number of lochans. Wandering about opened up the views towards Muck, Eigg, Rum and Skye, with Marsco on Skye being particularly easy to identify thanks to its angled side. Meall nan Each on the opposite side of Loch Laga looked like an interesting walk, but we decided to save that for later in the week.

Weather forecasters were suggesting a return to the bright but cold weather we had had the week before. Miraculously, they were right. Remembering the previous year’s fun, Ardnamurchan Charters’ boat hire got our business again. A bright day pootling about was begun by undertaking the rounding of Oronsay into Loch na Droma Buidhe, a jaunt which discretion made us abort last time out. Mission accomplished, we headed back out and started towards Loch Teacuis, then there was a cry of “what’s that great knobbly thing” – this is an expurgated version. It was insisted that there was something big in the water, but no sign remained and there were no further sightings. To this day that “Nessie” moment is the source of much ribbing, but knowing what can swim into Loch Sunart I have to accept the possibility that it might have been a basking shark, for instance. The one confirmed sighting we had was a small pod of unidentified porpoises which swam, and porpoised (!), ahead of our boat for a while.  A great half day on the water.

We had been having regular breakfast time visits to the house from a Jack Russell terrier; a robust and friendly little thing which seemed to like playing fetch, but without the letting go bit after the fetch. I think I recall it lived at Laga farm. However, and notwithstanding the spellbinding red deer encounter on Ben Laga, we were to eventually get a visit from an altogether different animal.

As suggested by numerous entries in the visitors’ book, we decided to start deploying jam-smeared slices of bread on the picnic table outside the glazed wall to the sitting room. Blackcurrant jam did the trick and we had a visit from a pine marten. We tended to keep the sitting room lights off in the evenings to allow us to see out as night fell, all we did was leave an outside light on to illuminate the foreground. Never having seen one before, it was slightly startling to have one of these creatures get so close. It was bigger than expected with this one surely getting on for 2½ feet long overall, and the colours and markings were quite striking. A camera was not to hand and getting up to get one ran the risk of scaring it, so we decided to repeat the process the over the following nights and keep a camera handy to record the wondrous moment. Needless to say, the response to our diligence was to be a complete absence of pine marten – maybe next year.

The final walk of the week was to the top of Meall nan Each, the hill on the west side of Loch Laga which we saw from Ben Laga. A breezy, cold but bright day was delivered so we set out. The Loch Laga approach track was used again initially, but another enjoyable off piste climb soon ensued, as did another terrain-prompted tourettes-style verbal outburst from my brother, but after rounding an apparently un-named lochan tucked under Leac an Fhidhleir the top and its trig point was reached fairly uneventfully. This summit is more clearly defined than that of Ben Laga, possibly hence the trig point, but bare, slabby rock still prevails. Even though the sky was clearer than for our climb up Ben Laga, the wind on the sea was limiting visibility somewhat – maybe we should come back next year. Nonetheless, the sunshine helped to illuminate the view west towards Ben Hiant and added some autumnal colour to the scene.

The view over the sea to Skye was hazy, but the sight of Kentra Bay and the beach at Camas an Lighe beneath us suggested a target for the evermore likely third visit in 2011. Interestingly, I consider the views from the top of this hill to be somewhat better than those from the slightly higher Ben Laga, especially in the westerly and north-westerly directions, since there are fewer close-by hills to get in the way.

Thanks to the improved weather compared with the previous year’s visit we certainly got a far broader sense of what Ardnamurchan had to offer – the wildlife, the landscapes, the seascapes, the skies, and the space – fantastic. It’s possibly worth mentioning that my home territory is under the eastern end of the South Downs in East Sussex. Now, there is absolutely no doubting that I’m fortunate to have such stunning countryside on the doorstep, with the rolling hills being described by Kipling as "Our blunt, bow-headed whale-backed Downs". Similarly, I would challenge anyone not to rate the sight and sound of a skylark fluttering against a blue sky over a summer field on the top of the Downs as one of the British countryside’s great moments. However, you can never truly get away from the corrupting influences of modern life, whether it be due to the skylark’s blue sky being streaked with aircraft con-trails, the (at best faint) sound of road traffic, or the fact that the views always contain some bit of visual pollution to jar the eye. I know I’m comparing apples with oranges, but it gives an indication of what attracts us to places like Ardnamurchan and gives significance to that list of what it has to offer. 

2010’s stay was brought to an end with more mesmerising hours spent just staring out from the house, including the sight of a pair of sea eagles seemingly playing above the headland of Sròn nam Bràthan. I always find these huge birds captivating – bright white tail and seemingly big enough to carry a payload of bombs.

The second week of the next year’s Highland holiday had been decided – we would come back here once again.

The National Lottery had continued to stubbornly refuse to select our chosen numbers so, with heavy hearts, the early-starting 12 hour journey home was begun with the drive to the Corran ferry being punctuated by a couple of red deer hinds running across the road in front of the car and giving one last reminder of what we were leaving behind. Arrival home prompted an almost immediate booking of 2011’s holiday. A hat-trick of stays at Laga was set and the countdown began…

The Wisdom of Tits

Some days ago we went to Portuairk to have lunch with friends, and enjoyed the meal the more because, onto the outside of a window right beside the dining room table, they had stuck a feeder full of sunflower seeds, to which the small birds came throughout the meal.  The result was the above feeder, made from an old vitamin container, which is perched on the window sill of our conservatory, where we sit for many hours each day watching the scenery - and the birds.

It took almost a week for the first bird to venture so close to the window, and it was this little coal tit.  He's been enjoying a feast all to himself until today...,

....when he was joined by a blue tit.  These two are way ahead of all the other birds, who continue to squabble over the few sunflower seeds which go out with the mixed grain.

But one has the nasty suspicion that they will, at some point, spot what these two are doing and muscle in on the act.  The cost in sunflower seeds is likely to become horrendous.

This picture shows one of the rowan trees beside Port Beag as it was some ten days ago.  There's a small grove of these trees beside the croft house, and they promised to keep the local thrushes, blackbirds, starlings and other birds in food for weeks.

This is the same rowan today, stripped of its berries in the space of a few days by the ravening hoards of Scandinavian fieldfares and redwings which we first saw near Portuairk.  Very few are left on the peninsula, which isn't surprising since the berries are gone.  They've moved on south looking for fresh supplies, leaving our residents looking at a larder which has been emptied.

Fieldfares

At last...  A picture of a small group of fieldfares in an oak tree near the Ormsaigbeg road.  Most of them are very wary, and fly away long before they can be approached close enough for a photo.

October Weather Report

October 2012 has more than lived up the the reputation October has on Scotland's west coast - that it can be the sunniest and, from a scenic point of views, most spectacular month of the year, but the weather is highly changeable.   It's certainly been dry.  Of the month's total precipitation of 146mm, 59mm fell in 48 hours during the 10th, 11th and 12th of month, 17mm fell in the 24 hours leading up to 8am on the 27th, and 20mm on the 29th/30th.  These five days therefore saw two-thirds of the month's rainfall total.

In all, the month had 14 days which were dry.  The clear skies that came with them resulted in four ground frosts up our end of Ormsaigbeg where, being close to the sea, we do tend to be warmer.  The highest daytime temperature was 17C on the 5th, and lowest night temperatures 1C on both the 26th and 27th.  The first snow was visible on the hilltops of Mull and on the islands to the north of us on the 31st.  No snow has settled here, but there's been no shortage of hail.

Fortunately, some of the clear nights have coincided with aurora displays.  While on the subject, there was an AuroraWatch alert last night.  Although it was only for minor geomagnetic activity, it suggests the sun is active again, so it will be worth watching the northern horizon if there are clear skies in the next few nights.

When it has rained, it has tended to rain heavily over short periods.  This was the waterfall on the Mill Burn on the morning of the 28th, after the previous night's deluge.

October is a month of change.  It's the month when the leaves die both on the trees and on the hillside shrubs and bushes, where the bracken carpets the landscape in golden-brown.  It's the month when great changes happen in the wildlife, though for some, like these seals pictured at the Lighthouse by Kichoan Early Bird, little changes.  We've had some good sightings of eagles, otters and pine martens, and we've enjoyed the excitement of the annual red deer rut...,

....but probably the most spectacular event has been the invasion from Scandinavia of upwards of a thousand fieldfares and redwings at the end of the month - this pictures shows part of a huge flock over Ormsaigbeg.  We've not seen anything like this in the seventeen years we've been here, and some people are suggesting that it's a warning of a bitter winter to come.

Many thanks to Kilchoan Early Bird for the photo of the seals.

Engineering Works at Sanna

We had a cold night last night with the air temperature dropping to 2C.  The wind went round into the southeast, and the week's heavy, squally showers have continued.  But when we walked down to the shop this morning, it was in brilliant sunshine.

On Port Beag croft there's a small grove of rowan trees which are laden with berries, and now the trees are full of birds enjoying them.

Little wonder we've seen no song thrushes or blackbirds in our gardens, they're all gorging themselves on the berries.  However, there are so many of these two species in the bushes that they must have invited their friends and relatives from miles around to join them.

They've been joined by some of the huge flocks of fieldfares and redwings which have arrived on West Ardnamurchan, and by....

....this large flock of resident starlings, pictured on the power lines by The Ferry Stores.  Chaffinches too seem to be enjoying the feast.

The forecast for this morning wasn't too bad, so the family drove over to Sanna.  We arrived to find line after line of rain showers moving across the sea to the west of us but, for most of the time we were on the beach, it stayed fine.

The grandchildren soon had the Diary recruited as labourer in some extensive engineering works, which involved damming one of the small streams which flow out across the sands.  The operation went entirely to plan, and soon the water was backing up into the dunes.  In fact, it was all so successful, and the water became so deep, that we began to worry that the rising waters might be flooding some of the Sanna residents out of their homes.