Winter camping in Scotland — Gear List

Note - This is not a lightweight winter backpacking kit list. It’s optimised for a walk into a fairly remote location (e.g. in Scotland, c.2 hours from the road) where you’ll pitch your tent in place and have two day walks with two static wild camps overnight.

Winter tents camped on the snow at sunrise near the bealach beneath Meall nan Teanga and Sròn a’ Choire Ghairbh, two Munros above Loch Lochy in the West Highlands of Scotland

Far too early in the year (usually from October), I look forward to winter camping in Scotland. People often find this strange because I’m not talking about the deep, cold snowy winters of, say Alaska, but the bone chilling, ‘just-above-freezing and the sleet’s blowing sideways’ maritime climate that Scottish hillwalkers rejoice in.

Winter camping in Scotland can be cold and very wet. We don’t live in a big country but it’s possible to get far away from the road and relative safety (some roads in winter have no traffic) and with the wind, snow and often close-to-freezing temperature of the rain it would be easy to get hypothermia. It’s important to have the right skills, quality equipment and to be prepared.

Here is a sample winter camping kit list for coping with Scottish winter conditions, with some gear thoughts and tips from 25 years experience thrown in.

Wear

• Underwear — Synthetic shorts (or merino wool, which doesn’t stink as much after a few days out). Definitely not cotton.

• Trousers — Softshell trousers are popular. I’ve tried lots and prefer Powerstretch leggings (think stretchy fleece tights — not for the fashion conscious)

• Socks — Thick woollen socks (e.g. from Bridgedale or Smartwool). If you wear leather boots, waterproof/breathable socks can be useful if it’s forecast to be wet underfoot — look for ones with merino wool inside.

• Boots — Scarpa Mantas used to win Trail magazine’s ‘Best in Test’ award most, if not every year. I like La Sportiva’s Nepal Evo GTX model for big snow days (although they’re more suited for climbing than walking, they’re waterproof and very warm) and Salewa Crow GTX for occasions when it’s still winter but the conditions are more alpine in nature

• T-shirt — Merino wool (mixed reviews — I like it) or Patagonia’s Capilene fabric

• GPS watch — I use a Garmin Fenix 5, which I’ve customised to display grid reference, distance, speed and elevation

Warmth

• Fleece top — A lightweight fleece pullover, 100-weight

• Windshirt — Invaluable. I wear it over the t-shirt, or the t-shirt and fleece, and it keeps me warm on the move in most weather

• Fleece or softshell jacket — I use a Rab Winter Guide jacket. It’s not windproof enough on its own in a cold wind and it’s overly heavy to carry, which is the case most of the time as it’s too warm for me to walk uphill in it, but under a shell it’s excellent as it offers a lot of protection when I need it (e.g. when I’m up high for a long period of time). Lighter options are available (e.g. a second fleece layer or a 60gm Primaloft top from Rab, Haglofs, Patagonia) but I’ve found the insulation in the latter compresses too much in a winter hoolie and I’ve been cold.

• Insulated jacket — Mountain Equipment’s Citadel jacket is super toasty. (I’ve tried down insulation and don’t like it in Scotland in winter for camping trips, even with a water-resistant shell — it gets wet too easily and the insulation suffers). The Citadel jacket is far too warm to move for long in so I’ll occasionally replace it with a Mountain Equipment Prophet if the weather is forecast to be not too cold. (If I was buying new, I’d likely go for Mountain Equipment’s Fitzroy jacket).

• Insulated trousers — Mountain Equipment Compressor Pants if I’m expecting to be outside a lot during the evening (e.g. taking photographs). A total luxury item but never a regrettable decision (and they enable me to take a lighter sleeping bag).

• Hat — Powerstretch hat (thicker ones I find get too hot for walking in)

• Buff — Protects your face from the cold when the wind is strong and the temperature is around or below freezing. If it’s really bad I prefer a neoprene face mask.

• Balaclava — Powerstretch or merino wool. Or a windproof one if the weather if forecast to be especially wild.

• Fleece gloves — Thin Powerstretch gloves I use for perhaps 80% of the time (these enable me to maintain the dexterity required to take photographs). They get wet but dry relatively quickly.

• Warm gloves — For a long time I used a pair of waterproof ski or mountaineering gloves from Black Diamond. They were great for poor weather but if I wore them all day I sweated in them and they stayed wet for the duration and for days afterwards. I replaced them with a non-waterproof, soft-shell alternative, Mountain Equipment’s Randonee gloves, accepting the same outcome as my fleece gloves above - they will get wet but dry quicker.

• Pile mitts — Lightweight pertex/pile mitts (e.g. Mountain Equipment Randonee or Montane Extreme mitts), which I carry as spare for emergencies

Wet

• Waterproof jacket — Mountain Equipment’s Lhotse is ideal (or the Rab or Montane equivalent). I don’t choose a super lightweight option (such as Alpkit’s Gravitas model) which I’ll keep for summer or for days when it’s virtually guaranteed there will be no rain. Features-wise, I like two layers of fabric for the front zip, or else the wind/sleet/rain comes through it, plus a hood you can disappear into which has strong bungee cord at the back of your head for cinching it dow (many jacket hoods un-cinch in strong winds and any models that utilise a velcro strap for this purpose I’d propose are next to useless).

• Waterproof trousers — Three-layer Goretex trousers (or Pac Plus) offer maximum protection. If you’re wearing thicker trousers, you could get away with a lighter pair of shell trousers but I’d caution lightness against robustness. I trashed two pairs of Goretex Paclite trousers each in a single season through heel rubbing before a friend gave me a tip - If your trousers don’t have a reinforced kick panel on the inside of your waterproof trousers, next to your heel, paint seam seal here. This strengthens this area dramatically.

• Waterproof shell mitts — Paclite mitts from Goretex for wind/waterproof protection (worn over either my gloves or mitts)

• Gaiters — Can almost guarantee dry feet, when used with waterproof boots, but I can sometimes get hot and sweaty instead. I use an old pair of Mountain Hardwear waterproof/breathable ones. Make sure the loop at the bottom is sturdy or it’ll break easily.

Safety

• Map and compass — Essential, with the map protected within an Ortlieb waterproof case. Plus a spare of each if I’m on my own.

• GPS — Not always carried as I have GPS technology on my watch and phone if need be (I only ever use it for a grid reference)

• Mobile phone — In a dry bag, fully charged and switched off

• Garmin inReach satellite messenger— My choice for emergency communications. Expensive but provides peace of mind.

• Powerbank - Nitecore’s 10,000 power brick is very lightweight and ideal for camping, but it is expensive

• Ice axe — Petzl’s Summit ice axe (59cm) I’ve found to provide a good balance of functionality versus weight

• Crampons — Grivel G12s (10-point ones would suffice for winter walking)

• Trekking poles — Collapsible aluminium poles (e.g. Black Diamond) are nice and light in weight (the carbon-fibre version even more so). For Winter, I prefer a stronger pole which offers more durability (e.g. Black Diamond’s Trail Trekking model). I’ll always choose a manufacturer whose poles tighten using a flick-lock mechanism because I’ve had two screw-tighten poles fail on me.

• Goggles — Not often used but essential when you need them, to be able to see clearly and navigate in a blizzard

• Headtorch — Petzl’s Nao+ model offers a lot of power and great battery life. (I do choose though to carry a spare battery, along with a Petzl Bindi model for use around the tent)

• Bothy bag — An essential piece of gear for emergencies — you’ll be away from your tent all day so you can’t rely on that — but also great for lunch stops in the wet or wind. (A 2-man model fits you and a dog. A 3-man is better I’d propose for 2 adults)

• Blizzard bag — I’ve never used this but if the marketing’s to be believed, it’ll be as warm as a 2-season sleeping bag. (I imagine it won’t).

• Suncream — Sunburn is not a good look, nor good for your health

• Shovel - Not always taken but used for digging into the snow, e.g. for protection from strong winds

Eating and sleeping

• Tent — A 4-season dome or tunnel tent (I have a Macpac Minaret model from 2004 which I’d class as bombproof but I’m not sure how good Macpac’s fabrics or manufacturing process is today). If the weather forecast is not too bad — or I’m winter backpacking rather than a static camp — I’ll choose a Hilleberg Akto model that I use for the rest of the year, which I have used as a base camp in heavy snow but found it wasn’t optimal, despite what I read from passionate users on the internet.

• Poles — There’s the option to double up on poles if you’re expecting very bad weather (I’ll do this with the Akto in winter regardless)

• Pegs — Long ones plus wide snow stakes if camping on snow (Useful to take some polythene bags then too — fill them with snow and attach them to the guy lines)

• T-shirt, long johns, socks — A completely dry set of clothes to put on if need be (with a focus on whatever I choose as being as light as possible)

• Sleeping bag — I prefer synthetic and use an excellent Mountain Hardwear Lamina model that’s rated to 20 degrees Fahrenheit / -7 degrees Centigrade (but isn’t that warm — which is where the insulated trousers come in, above). A down bag would be ideal for one night, likely also two, but in that case I’d also take a sleeping bag cover (Mountain Equipment Ion) as down bags are prone to get damp with condensation.

• Sleeping mat — Thermarest NeoAir XTherm model is great, and still light enough I find for all year round. (It’s lighter and packs smaller than an much thinner 3/4 length Thermarest model I used to use)

• Stuff sack — I’ll either simply re-use a dry bag or take the stuff sack for a Rab down jacket I have (but for which I keep for dog walking). Put clothes in the stuff sack and you have a perfect pillow (the dry bag gives you a cool face which you may not appreciate. I sleep hot, and therefore I do).

• Glasses case — I’ve rolled over on my glasses a few times

• Kindle— It’s a long night if you’re in your bed just after it gets dark

• Ear plugs — Useful for tent partners, it’s said, but also for the wind. I don’t take any as I’ve never found a pair that are any good.

• Stove, fuel, windshield — I own a few, all from Mountain Safety Research (Whisperlite, Windburner and a Pocket Rocket). For Scottish Winter, the Windburner is by far my default choice as it’s super easy to use, has it’s own pot and I can use it inside my tent vestibule with little risk of anything catching fire (always prioritising lots of ventilation so I don’t die of carbon monoxide poisoning). Look for winter grade fuel which is optimised for lower temperatures.

• Vacuum flask for hot drinks— I no longer take this (carrying the stove instead through the day if I think I would need it). A 0.5 litre flask though I’d propose would be a good combination of weight versus the amount of use.

• Pot — On the rare occasions I take my multi-fuel stove (MSR Whisperlite), I’ll take a lightweight 1.6 litre pot so I can boil a big pot of water and use it for multiple things, all at the same time (to save me reboiling water). My MSR Windburner model however is much simpler to use and comes with its own pot, which although small is perfectly suitable for drinks (which is all I’ll use it for because, in Winter, my main meal is ‘just-add-water’ freeze-dried options from e.g. Summit to Eat, which I eat out of the packaging).

• Spoon — Lexan or titanium

• Lighter — Light my Fire fire steel

• Pen knife — Small Swiss army knife or similar

• Water bottle — A rigid 1l Nalgene with a wide mouth for on the move. Excellent when stopped as a hot water bottle (I put it between my legs, on the understanding that it’s warming up my blood as it’s travelling through my body) and I’ll also bring a 1.5 litre collapsible water bottle (e.g. Platypus). It’s nice to not have to walk back and forth for water

• Hygiene — Toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, hand-wash, trowel

• First aid — E.g. strong painkillers, loperamide, zinc oxide tape for blisters, etc.

• Repair kit — You could choose to leave this behind but a basic repair kit I’d propose is a good thing to have. Things I’d carry include inner tube patch for my sleeping pad, a sleeve for my tent pole and a strong patch for any rip in the tent outer (which I’ve used before after putting my tent pole through the tent fly sheet at 10pm one Winter in a blizzard, after wading 6km through deep snow from the road).

On top of this, I’ll carry a DSLR camera, a single 24–70mm lens, spare batteries and memory cards in a Lowepro Toploader Pro AW75 camera case

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Winter backpacking

If I’m backpacking in the Winter over multi-days, I’ll remove certain items from the above list (i.e. the thin gloves, blizzard bag, bothy bag, spare map and compass) or replace them with lighter versions (e.g. Salewa Crow boots instead of the Nepal Extremes, a hooded fleece instead of the Winter Guide Jacket - I’m eyeing up Mountain Equipment’s Switch Pro jacket, Montane Extreme Mitts instead of the Extremities, Goretex Paclite over-mitts instead of the heavier ones, etc.).

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Camping at c.950m in the Window on Creag Meagaidh, a Munro in Scotland. It may look nice in this image but the winds were very strong so we dug into the snowpack to provide some shelter.

Celtman — All in it together

An editorial feature, to complement my Celtman photo gallery, about the competitors and attractions of the Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, an iron-distance endurance challenge in the North-West Highlands of Scotland. I’ve also shared my thoughts on Photographing the Celtman - A photographer’s perspective.

Competitors make their way towards the cold waters of Loch Shieldaig at 4.45am in front of a burning Celtman logo

“Yes, the Celtman’s only been on the go since 2012, and it only happens once a year. But it’s like a drug in some ways. Your training starts almost as soon as the race finishes, it’s super hard and you push yourself to some very dark places, even on race day. But we’re not competing for any money, it’s the quest for a finisher’s t-shirt that’s so addictive. And people are starting to return year after year. It’s becoming one big international Celtman family”

— Ryan McLean, a local of Torridon and a competitor in three Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlons

One of the founding organisers of the Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, Paul McGreal, is welcoming folk across the race finish line in Torridon, a remote village in the far north-west of Scotland. Spread out around Paul, both inside and outside a building that usually serves as the village’s community centre, is a bustling pack of super-fit but now deservedly worn-out triathletes, all of whom can now call themselves a Celtman (or Celtwoman).

The triathletes, chosen by lottery from a strong field of international entries, are busy recounting the race tactics they’ve just used with each other, joking with their supporters, stretching, eating or simply staring into space as a handful of first aiders keep a watchful eye on them for exhaustion. Scotland’s weather has been kind this year and the majority have just completed the third annual Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, an iron-distance endurance race that starts on a remote beach near the picturesque village of nearby Shieldaig. To finish the Celtman race and be awarded a blue or white finisher’s t-shirt — there’s no prize money for the Celtman — each competitor has to swim 3.8km across a tidal sea loch, cycle 202km around highland roads and then run a marathon distance 42km over (for a blue t-shirt) or around (for a white t-shirt) 2 Munros, Scottish mountains over 914.4m high. There’s certainly no guarantee that everyone who starts the race at 5am in Shieldaig will make it over the finish line in Torridon.

“We created the Celtman in 2012, in the style of and in homage to the original extreme triathlon, the Norseman of Norway”, says Paul, pausing to check GPS co-ordinates on a computer that shows where the remaining competitors are on the course. A former project manager, Paul McGreal has been organising independent sports events for 8 years, 3 of those as a full-time professional. “The idea behind the race came from fellow founder, Stuart McInnes, who came back from a film commission to the Norseman excited about the potential for a similar event in Scotland”.

Stuart, together with Paul and race co-ordinator, John Whittaker, designed the Celtman course in 2011. During their planning, they consulted regularly with the organisers of the Norseman to ensure a strong partnership was formed. Scottish triathlete, Stuart Macleod, was also asked for advice on the final course design. Three years on, the Celtman is now an established race with an international field. It is part of a global family of extreme triathlons (www.xtriworldtour.com).

Local hero

When Paul McGreal and Stuart McInnes first visited Torridon and Shieldaig to scout out locations for the Celtman, a key consideration for them was a desire to involve the local population. As Paul says, “A race this size in this place can only be held with the goodwill and support of the residents of both villages”.

Stuart McInnes continues, “Simply put, the Celtman couldn’t exist without the support of the locals, their help is invaluable and we really appreciate it. To give something back, we were keen to find a local person strong enough to take part in the event. A name that continually cropped up in conversation was that of Ryan Maclean”.

Born in Kinlochewe, a small Highland village 17 miles from Shieldaig, and now a resident of Torridon, 30-year old Ryan Mclean is a part-time firefighter and volunteer for the local mountain rescue team. Ryan’s day job as an outdoor instructor for the Torridon Hotel sees him guiding hotel guests on kayaking, mountain hiking and scrambling trips outdoors. Such an active lifestyle provides Ryan with a good base level of fitness and he adds to this with regular cycling, running and swimming sessions amid the mountainous Torridon landscape.

Growing up, Ryan’s ambition was not to be a triathlete but a mountaineer. Setting himself lofty ambitions from an early age, his goal for adult life was to stand atop the tallest mountain on earth, Mount Everest, whose summit is located in the appropriately named death zone. (The 8,848m/29,029ft high peak is littered with the bodies of frozen climbers who have come to grief on its slopes and not made it down alive). Standing on top of the world was not an unrealistic ambition for Ryan. From a young age, he was out regularly in the mountains with his father, Eoghain McLean, the Reserve Manager at Scottish Natural Heritage and the team leader of Torridon Mountain Rescue Team until his retirement after 40 years service in 2013. Ryan followed his father into the rescue team at the age of 16 — one of the youngest team members — and has been a volunteer ever since.

After gaining lots of experience climbing in his local hills, Ryan focused his attention on realising his ambition to climb Mount Everest. At aged 24, with successful acclimatisation ascents of Kilimanjaro and Aconcagua behind him, he continued his journey as he set out ascend Denali (Mount McKinley), the highest mountain in North America at 6,168m (20,237ft) and a common testing ground for those wanting to progress to Everest.

Speaking as he looks out of his living room window to the mountains beyond, he recounts how “We had a lucky escape on Denali. After a successful gear carry to 16,500ft we descended to 14,000ft due to incoming bad weather. For 5 days we were stuck there, unable to go up or down as the weather got progressively worse. On the 4th night, gusts of wind that reached 80 miles an hour started to tear apart our tent. It was a harrowing time, as we clung to the side of the mountain protected only by a wall we had made out of snow bricks. I have never returned to high altitude mountaineering, but I was looking for something else that would push me beyond my limits and along came the Celtman”.

Around the time Ryan Maclean was seeking new ways to push himself fitness-wise, Paul and Stuart were looking for their local athlete. In 2011, the three hooked up for the first time in the bar at the Torridon Hotel. Looking back, Ryan admits he was thrilled to be asked but somewhat hesitant to commit, at least initially. He recollects that “this was mainly due to my lack of triathlon experience (as in no experience whatsoever). But the Celtman sounded exciting and I soon said yes”. Ryan’s ‘race-to-get-ready-for-the-race’ was on.

“My first port of call was online”, recalls Ryan, “I started off simply asking questions on internet forums, seeking out hints and tips”.

Alan Cardwell, triathlon coach for Lanark Triathlon Club and Scotland’s first Swim Smooth coach, gives new Celtman entrants some advice, “The Celtman is pretty special, as endurance races go. For the swim, the key is to be acclimatised to the cold water — it’s not unknown for people to train offshore in the Scottish winter. Fortunately, this level of commitment is not essential but you do need to put in the hours outdoors. Cycle-wise, it’s easy to underestimate the difference 22km makes on top of an Ironman distance. Focus on building your strength and endurance on the bike — big blocks of aerobic work and low-rev, big gear intervals are ideal. But remember, it’s the run where the tough stuff starts. Running on rough, hilly ground is obviously good preparation but, unless you plan to win, you won’t be moving that fast in the race — most people run 1h:30mins+ for the Coulin Pass section — so there is no need to run overly hard in training. The key to success is aerobic fitness as the climb over Beinn Eighe is arduous to say the least. Legs are weary and the terrain is treacherous. Any lack of strength or co-ordination will let you down so be sure to include strength training so you can cope with the demands of the rough terrain. Finally, concentrate on what you eat and drink — don’t try new ideas on race day or you may get a nasty surprise if your stomach rebels or you fail to fuel sufficiently for the day”.

In 2012, Ryan’s effort’s paid off and he successfully finished the Celtman, winning a white-t-shirt for completing the low-level route in 17:36:44 hours. In 2013, he was back, full of confidence in the lead up to the race and with high hopes for a blue t-shirt. But, Ryan recalls, “The month before the race I came down with a bad chest infection’. Despite his doctor’s advice not to compete, Ryan chose to ignore it, a decision he still regrets as, during the swim, his illness brought on exhaustion and he was forced him to call for help and hitch a lift back to Shieldaig aboard the safety boat. As the remaining athletes headed out onto the 202km cycle, a crushed Ryan returned to his house, hugely disappointed with himself for his decision to start the race whilst not fully fit.”I was crushed”,he says.”I’d put in the best part of a year’s training for it and I felt I had let folk down.

To his credit, Ryan soon snapped out of his funk and continued to support the race. In 2014, he focused all his energy on completing the Celtman and trained hard throughout the year to shave over 90 minutes off his 2012 time and finish again with a white t-shirt. One of the people he credits with inspiring him throughout his journey is 43-year old Stuart Macleod, an IT Delivery Manager from Edinburgh.

Never quit

Stuart Macleod is the only Scot to have completed the Norseman 3 times. An experienced competitor and veteran of the Celtman, he has placed in the top 4 in each of the three years the event has been running. Stuart is the only person to have completed the Celtman course in winter, attempted independently from the race, to celebrate his 42nd birthday in 2013. “The Norseman and the Celtman are both tough races”,says Stuart from the balcony of his home near Arthur’s Seat, an extinct volcano and a prominent landmark in Edinburgh. “The cold water temperature on the swim, the distance on the bike and the 3,000ft of ascent on the off-road run make the race physically demanding. Controlling your mental state is just as important as physical fitness. I think that anyone that has the right attitude can complete this race. It’s having the ability to endure and be resilient. An attitude I call #nevereverquit”.

International flavour

Mental fortitude is a key attribute in long-course triathlons and a #nevereverquit attitude can often be the only thing keeping a competitor going when every muscle and sinew in their body is tugging at their psyche. It’s a strong-minded individual who can battle through the challenge and finish the race.

Vasilis Toxavidis and Thor Hesselberg, two overseas competitors in the Celtman, are in the kitchen of a modern two-storey house they’ve rented for the week in Shieldaig. It’s the evening before the Celtman and a number of folk have filled the house getting ready for the 5am race start. Alan Cardwell has just left, having introduced the group to a pair of support runners (each triathlete must have a buddy athlete for the marathon leg and many overseas competitors only get to meet up with these volunteers the evening before). On his way out, Alan traded good-natured insults with another competitor, Don King. Don, who works in Switzerland, has driven 1,000km from London to compete in the Celtman, freely admitting it’s because “I love my sport”.

Scottish-born Don, Greek-American Vasillis and Thor, president of the Tempo triathlon club in Norway, first competed in the Celtman in 2013. Speaking over a kitchen table littered with energy bars, bike parts and sports tape, Thor recalls that the Celtman was his first ever triathlon. “I’d entered in memory of a friend”. he said, “having never biked, run or swum any real distance before. I was pleased just to get out the water that first year, to be honest. But my experiences on the bike and run were great and I’ve come to realise the Celtman is my type of event — I love the challenge”.

Vasilis chips in, “The challenge is what keeps me coming back. I’ve had my fair share of technical issues — in 2013 I broke a derailleur on the cycle leg and I had to run 13 miles with my bike on my back (only to miss the cut-off) but I’ll keep coming back until I get a t-shirt. It’s that kind of event”.

Kindred spirits tend to form strong bonds and Thor, Don, Vasillis and Ryan all keep in touch. They stay in regular contact and give each other encouragement at endurance events throughout the year, always with the tag line #finishingisyouronlyoption. Vasillis has used this to great effect to complete the Virginia Triple Anvil, a 3x ironman distance event, Thor the Aurlandsfjellet Xtreme triathlon and Don the Rockman, a 41km swim/run race. Thor Hesselberg also set up a Facebook group designed to give support to new and past racers about the Celtman. The forum came into its own in 2014 when Swedish race winner, Johan Hasselmark, issued a plea for help after his race bike didn’t arrive off the plane from Edinburgh. Within minutes, multiple offers of help were received and a state-of-the-art replacement was offered. Johan eventually started the race with his own bike, which he received only 10 minutes prior to the race start before going on to win the event in a course record time of 11h:41m:30s.

At first light

Before any Celtman competitor can contemplate the cycle stage, they must first conquer the swim. At 3am on race day the waters of Loch Shieldaig look black and uninviting as tiny Shieldaig bursts alive, albeit respectfully as the villagers are still asleep. As the triathletes, organisers and volunteers busy themselves with last minute tasks ahead of the coach journey to the start line, a film crew captures their early morning emotions (the race is covered by the BBC Adventure Show, as well as an independent film crew).

At 4am, the light in northern Scotland is still weak, even in mid-Summer. As the athletes depart from the coach and spill out into the cove that acts as the start line, flickering fire buckets cast them in atmospheric light. You can’t see Shieldaig from the cove, which should add to the tension, but a strange, almost respectful, calm descends over the athletes as they settle in and focus on the immediate challenge ahead. On Stuart McInnes’s command, a huge Celtman logo is set alight on the beach and a lone piper steps forward. As the sun begins to rise, the air is filled with the rousing sound of bagpipes as the triathletes are led, in front of a now fiercely burning logo, down to the shore-line. ‘It’s the start of the Celtman that I look forward to most”, says Paul McGreal. “The atmosphere is almost electric and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise’. As he speaks, a sharp, sour smell of seaweed permeates the air as the athletes, first in singles and pairs and then in big groups, wade out into the water and swim into the sea. At least two lay claim to have encountered the race’s first jelly-fish. Within minutes, they’re at the start line, there’s a short pause before the horn sounds and then they’re off, each on their own personal journey.

All in it together

When you add together the atmospheric start of the Celtman, the stunning scenery of the cycle and the views from the mountain run, you have a great long-course race. Add on the camaraderie of a group of international athletes descending on a tiny Scottish village and the support the locals give the event and it makes the Celtman one of the premiere events in the triathlon world. Each year, more people enter the race than can compete and a ballot form of entry is necessary to give people a fair chance of being successful.

“The ballot system ensures we can keep our entries fresh and fair”, says Stuart McInnes. “We’ve had so much interest in the Celtman from around the globe that we’re keen to ensure as many as people as possible can take part. The 2015 event is full but if you’re thinking of an event to enter for 2016, you should definitely keep us in mind”.

Summing up his Celtman experiences, Ryan Maclean says, “Personally, both times I’ve crossed the finish line of the Celtman, I’ve been flooded with such a feeling of achievement that I know all the pain during training is worth it, it’s a feeling like none other. In the first year, I was not sure I could complete such a challenge but with the right training and preparation I proved myself wrong and I did. Then, after my disastrous race in year two, I wanted so badly to come back and complete the course. The whole of my third year I was focused on becoming a Celtman again with the mindset that the impossible is nothing and if we want something so much we go and get it no matter what. That’s what the Celtman does for me, it makes me believe that the impossible is nothing, It’s the hardest day of your life but at the end it’s one of the most amazing days of your life, it’s a journey I enjoy being on. We are all in it together, Stuart, Thor, Vasillis and Don and every single one of us that stands on the start line, plus every person who supports us on the way, we are a family and we are there for each other. When we stick together, the impossible is nothing and it’s the friendships I’ve made that will help push me to enter again next year, gunning for a blue t-shirt. Roll on my next Celtman.”

Celtman - A photographer’s perspective

An article written in the third person for Outdoor Photography magazine about the challenges and rewards of photographing Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, an iron-distance triathlon in the North-West Highlands of Scotland.

The Celtman 3.4km swim takes competitors through the tidal, jellyfish-infested waters of Loch Shieldaig.

One of the founding organisers of the Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, Paul McGreal, is welcoming folk across the race finish line in Torridon, a remote village in the far north-west of Scotland. Spread out around Paul, both inside and outside a building that usually serves as the village's community centre, is a bustling pack of super-fit but now deservedly worn-out triathletes, all of whom can now call themselves a Celtman (or Celtwoman).

The triathletes, chosen by lottery from a strong field of international entries, are busy recounting the race tactics they've just used with each other, joking with their supporters, stretching, eating or simply staring into space as a handful of first aiders keep a watchful eye on them for exhaustion. Scotland's weather has been kind this year and the majority have just completed the third annual Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon, an iron-distance endurance race that starts on a remote beach near the picturesque village of nearby Shieldaig. To finish the Celtman race and be awarded a blue or white finisher's t-shirt - there's no prize money for the Celtman - each competitor has to swim 3.4km across a tidal sea loch, cycle 202km around highland roads and then run a marathon distance 42km over (for a blue t-shirt) or around (for a white t-shirt) 2 Munros, Scottish mountains over 914.4m high. There's certainly no guarantee that everyone who starts the race at 5am in Shieldaig will make it over the finish line in Torridon.

Photographing an extreme event like the Celtman is a challenge Edinburgh-based adventure sports photographer, Colin Henderson, relishes.

"It's the distance the race covers that makes it so difficult, to be honest", says Colin, "You can't be everywhere so you need to pick and choose your locations wisely. For example, if you cover the swim start and exit, you're likely to get stuck behind the athletes because the first few kilometres of the 202km cycle takes them up narrow Glen Torridon and you risk being unable to take any shots". Colin continues, "I like to take time in the days preceding the event to scout out what I feel are the best locations. The challenge I set myself is to aim for a small number of excellent photos from each leg so I can do the event justice photographically, rather than position myself in one place and photograph every single athlete. I also like to find locations that are suitably different from the images I shot the previous year, or that are different to angles other photographers use".

The Celtman triathlon was created in 2012, in the style of and in homage to the original extreme triathlon, the Norseman of Norway. It's since been billed as one of the 'toughest triathlons in the world' by 220 Triathlon magazine. The idea behind the race came from Paul McGreal's fellow founder, Stuart McInnes, who came back from a film commission to the Norseman excited about the potential for a similar event in Scotland.

Stuart, together with Paul and race co-ordinator, John Whittaker, designed the Celtman course in 2011. During their planning, they consulted regularly with the organisers of the Norseman to ensure a strong partnership was formed. Scottish triathlete, Stuart Macleod, was also asked for advice on the final course design. Three years on, the Celtman is now an established race with an international field. It is part of a family of three extreme triathlons in Europe (Celtman / Norseman / Swissman – allxtri.com).

On the 3.4km swim leg, Celtman triathletes have to contend with cold water temperatures, seaweed, jellyfish and strong tidal currents. "I like to get in the water to photograph the athletes at the start of the race", says Colin. "The water temperature is always a factor. One year, the swim needed to be cut short to 3km due to a low temperature of 11 degrees C and I found I couldn't stay in the water very long as it's difficult to manipulate the controls when your body is shaking with the cold. What makes the start especially difficult to photograph is the dim light you're shooting in - the race starts at sunrise in a small, fire-lit cove off the north-west coast of Scotland. I like to use a flash to brighten up the colours in my images".

Once Colin has photographed the start of the Celtman, he packs up his gear, warms up again by putting the heater on in his car and heads up Glen Torridon to catch the lead cyclists coming up the glen. "For the 202km cycle leg, I like to do two things. First, I prefer to get up high above the competitors and show them in context of the landscape. There's various crags alongside the winding highland roads the cyclists follow that enable me to do this, though some of them require easy scrambling. Then I like to come back down to the roadside to capture close-ups of riders as they pass by. A telephoto lens is essential here for separating the riders from the background. Having the camera handy all the time too means I can react quickly to what is happening around you. A normal camera strap is sufficient but I find a dedicated strap, designed for event photography, is more comfortable and easier to use".

When it comes to the 42km running leg, Colin's background photographing mountaineers in the Scottish mountains gives him the edge. "After shooting the start of the cycle leg, my focus is to get back to Glen Torridon and climb to the summit of the first Munro (1010m high Spidean Coire nan Clach on Beinn Eighe) as quickly as possible ", says Colin.

"You think you have plenty time - after all, the athletes have 202km of cycling and half a marathon to run before they get there - but the first racers are heading towards you faster than you think". Colin continues, "Normally I'm a big advocate of the 'fast and light' methodology prevalent in adventure photography, especially when long distance and large height gains are involved (the Celtman run covers 42km and goes over two c.1000m mountain summits). But I find with the Celtman I can get a better variety of shots if I carry a wide angle and a telephoto zoom lens on two separate camera bodies. For example, I can shoot wide when the athletes pass close to me and then switch to the telephoto lens to compress them and show their scale against the distant mountains. It's perfectly possible to do this with one camera body, switching lenses each time, but the speed the athletes travel mean you run the risk of missing shots. The downside is the weight. Ascending a 1000m high mountain and running along a ridgeline with 4kg of camera equipment trying to keep up with endurance athletes, even who are 26km into a 42km run, is challenging to say the least".

Basing himself near the first summit on Beinn Eighe, Colin can see the leading athletes making their way up to the summit. "It takes me around 75mins to climb the 900m from the roadside checkpoint to the summit. And that's me moving quickly. The first athletes aren't far behind".

In 2021, the lead Celtman runner was Scotsman Ewan Brown, who won the race in a course record time of 10:56:37. Colin says, "As soon as the athletes reach the summit I start running along the ridge with them. My pre-race planning means I've already visualised where I want to take shots so it's simply a case of trying to keep up with the athletes as they head off towards the second summit, 2.5km away. This is difficult as they're super fit and carrying only the essential safety gear".

Knowing the topography of the mountain is where Colin can start to gain an advantage. He continues, " I know I can't keep up with each athlete all the way along the ridge but to return to the roadside from Beinn Eighe the athletes need to descend into Coire Mhich Fhearchair. The access gully for this spectacular mountain corrie is on the way to the second summit so as long as I get to the gully entrance before the first runners return I can get some shots of them descending".

In 2013, Colin spent two hours in this steep scree gully waiting for the first athletes to arrive. Cold, driving rain and strong winds are classic hypothermia conditions and the organisers, in conjunction with the volunteer mountain rescue safety team, had limited the high route to the first 11 athletes. 'Normally, the view from Beinn Eighe is epic but that year the cloud was down to 500m and you were lucky to see someone 15m away from the top of the mountain. It was a cold, wet and miserable afternoon", recalls Colin. "My main challenge was how to keep my fingers warm and my camera and lenses dry. Nikon equipment is fairly water resistant but it doesn't completely keep water out so I use a cheap rainproof cover to give me peace of mind".

The weather does occasionally cause the race director to invoke plan B (heading all competitors around a still challenging lower route around the back of a nearby Munro, Liathach). It’s the high course though that appeals to Colin as a photographer and he relishes the opportunity of capturing images of the athletes running along the Beinn Eighe ridge with the spectacular Torridon views in the background. "One of the things I like so much about photographing the Celtman is that each year the weather is completely different. It really dictates what you can shoot and how. Even though I have a shot list, I'm not entirely sure what images I'm going to get until the action and the weather unfolds in front on me. Covering the race physically is a challenge but I enjoy that, and also that I have complete autonomy on where I can position myself and the shots I take. It's a totally different perspective to shooting commercial work. I look forward to shooting it every year".

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Colin's Celtman gear list

For the swim - Nikon D4S camera body; Nikon 24-70mm f2.8 lens; Nikon SB-910 camera flash; Ewa Marine U-BXP100 waterproof case

For the cycle - Nikon D4S camera body: Nikon 24-70mm f2.8 and 70-200mm f2.8 lens; Joby Ultrafit sling strap

For the run - Nikon D4S camera body, Nikon D810 camera body, Nikon 24-70mm f2.8 lens: Nikon 70-200mm f2.8 lens; Lowepro Toploader Pro AW75; Lowepro Photosport AW200 backpack; Op/Tech rain covers; map and compass, waterproofs, extra clothing; nylon shelter for emergency purposes

A four-day trek around Fitz Roy — Los Glaciares National Park, Patagonia

Published in Sidetracked magazine, Patagon Journal and UKClimbing.com

The 1600m high Supercanaleta on the west face of Cerro FitzRoy

“It’s called the Guillaumet pass. It’s generally used by climbers. There’s a little crevasse danger but as long as the weather holds it’d be fine. You’d be right underneath Monte Fitz Roy.”

The e-mail I’d opened was from a 29-year old Argentinean mountain guide, Pedro Fina. I’d first met Pedro in 2004, when he was one of two guides I’d had on a 4-week trekking expedition in South America. During that trip, we’d climbed a glacier beside two of the great peaks of the Patagonian Andes, Monte Fitz Roy (Cerro Chaltén) and Cerro Torre, and traversed a small portion of the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, a flat expanse of thick ice — 13,000km2 — that flows west from the mountains and down into the Pacific Ocean.

My objective this year was to get much closer to the mountains, to scratch an exploratory itch I have for Patagonia and to research new treks for a guidebook I was writing to Argentina’s Los Glaciares National Park. With the help of Pedro and Rolando Garibotti, a US-based Italian-Argentine mountain guide and an expert on Patagonia climbing, I’d settled on a shorter expedition around Monte Fitz Roy, connecting small cirques and climbers’ trails with pocket glaciers and high bealachs to create a trek that I hoped would offer me the finest views possible of the Fitz Roy massif.

“I’ll pick you up at 7am. There’s a 3–4 day good weather forecast and we should take advantage of it whilst we can.”

I’d only been in Argentina a day when Pedro suggested we should leave the following morning. Neither of us had any desire to be caught out in a Patagonian storm. The weather in Patagonia is commonly said to be amongst the worst in the world. Gregory Crouch, in his book, ‘Enduring Patagonia’, describes how dark storm fronts that begin life deep in the Pacific Ocean rampage across the sea uninterrupted, the cold and wet air picking up moisture and gaining in speed as it heads towards a thick belt of low pressure, termed a circumpolar trough, ringing Antarctica. When this trough has expanded over Patagonia, as is all too often the case, the storms are dragged kicking and screaming over the Andes first. It is not uncommon to encounter wind speeds of 160 kph. When this is the case, the last place you’d want to be is up in the mountains where, as Greg quotes US climber Jim Donini in his book, “survival is not assured”.

It was this sobering thought that occupied my mind when, two days later, Pedro and I stood atop the 1700 m high Paso del Cuadrado and prepared to descend 400 m of blue, translucent ice to reach the remote and heavily-crevassed glacier we could see far below us.

We had climbed the 200 m to Paso del Cuadrado that morning, after ascending 1000 m the day before from a private campsite just outside Los Glaciares National Park and spending a dry, cold night beside a huge, black rock called Piedra Negra. Two of Pedro’s friends spent the night with us, shivering without sleeping bags as they waited to attempt a nearby peak, Aguja Guillaumet.

By 11.00am Pedro’s friends could be a world away. Having carefully descended the ice slope we’d swapped crampons for snow shoes and headed uphill towards the Fitz Roy Norte Glacier. A huge jumble of ice towers, or seracs, spilled out of a higher basin as the glacier broke up and made its way down valley. Giving this icefall a wide berth we traversed instead beneath a jagged bergschrund that had formed as the ice had torn itself away from the huge granite walls of Aguja Mermoz. Rock-fall was a distinct possibility and more than a few deep breaths were taken before we passed the seracs and could cut back onto the upper part of the glacier. As we did so, everything underfoot turned to pristine white.

Perhaps it was the uncommon lack of wind and the resultant silence or more likely my jangly nerves, but the further I walked into this glacial cirque the more the surroundings began to affect me. It wasn’t just that we were far from civilisation — a 2 day walk to the small town of El Chalten unless you could climb expertly — but that if you had seen us we would have been impossibly small. Behind us was the 400m ice slope we had just descended. We had to climb it again later in the day. To our right was a vast wall of ice-clad cliffs, 200 m high, which made up the southern side of Cerro Pollone and Cerro Piergiorgio. Beyond these cliffs was the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, beyond that only the Pacific Ocean. In front of us was the fourth ‘wall’ of the cirque, the Filo del Hombre Sentado, or Sitting Man Ridge. At the top of this ridge the ground dropped 700 m to the Torre Glacier before it rose up the other side again to form a 3 km long incisored skyline of agujas, or needles, that culminates in three of the most recognisable and difficult to climb mountains in the world — Cerro Torre, Torre Egger and Cerro Standhardt.

Clearly visible from the ridge is the most popular route up Cerro Torre; the so-called Compressor Route, named after the Italian climber, Cesare Maestri, who drilled over 400 bolts into the mountain as he climbed it in 1970. Despite the prevailing weather, and the outcry of many a traditional climber, the bolts are still there, as is the drill itself. It is tolerated by many of today’s climbers as an opportune place to stand on an otherwise blank vertical wall. Maestri’s original claim to have summited the mountain in better style, in 1959, up the far harder north-east ridge, is still a subject of much debate. This route was not climbed without suspicion until 2005, by the afore-mentioned Rolando Garibotti and two Italian friends, Ermanno Salvaterra and Alessandro Beltrami. Rolando is one of many people who believe, not without reason, that the first people to climb Cerro Torre were a team of Italians, in 1974, via the west face.

All views paled into insignificance however by the massive, 1600 m high flange of granite that rose up on our left. Monte Fitz Roy’s huge west face is split in two — as if by a mighty axe blow — by the majestic Supercanaleta, or Super Coulouir.

If you’re the (sadly late) American climber, Dean Potter, this 60 degree, ice-filled couloir is regarded as an easy way up the mountain. In 2004, Potter raced from the bottom of the couloir to the summit of Fitz Roy, all 1600m of snow, ice and rock, in a mere 6 hours 29 minutes. He then descended the other side of the mountain the same day. In 1965, the first ascensionists of the couloir, Argentineans Jose-Luis Fonrouge and Carlos Comesana, took a more realistic 2 days, before they descended on their third day through a storm that raged around the mountains for a staggering 36 days. You can be sure this thought wasn’t far from my mind as I considered the meagre two days rations I had packed in my backpack.

“The next bit’s got the crevasses”, Pedro said, as he handed me my obligatory fix of morning coffee. “Great”, I said, but I didn’t really mean it. Although it was possible for us to have abseiled the Sitting Man Ridge and descended the Torre Glacier back to El Chalten this was outside the realms of my experience and we had chosen instead to return to Piedra Negra. It was from here that we were headed for Paso Guillaumet, a small notch in the mountains that enabled access across the east-west divide, and from there to another high mountain pass, Paso Superior, that lay right in front of Monte Fitz Roy. Both Pedro and Rolando had told me in their e-mails that the view between these passes was spectacular.

The ground up to Paso Guillaumet was similiar to the previous day; long, steep ice slopes broken up by the odd rock outcrop that we took advantage of for snack breaks. Higher up, we entered a gully system until a large, angular rock blocked the way and we were forced to move out onto a buttress for a few easy pitches of easy rock-climbing.

On reaching the pass the view opened out to the east and we could see far below us, out over the glaciers to the dry, brown Patagonian steppes and the stone-gray waters of the enormous Lago Viedma. My eyes kept darting back and forward between the contrast of the brown steppes in the distance with the whiteness of the ice cap we could see over to the west.

Once we crossed the watershed we headed up towards a rock apron that made up the lower eastern face of Aguja Guillaumet. Traversing the base of this mountain we passed the Amy Coulouir, a narrow ice hose that offers a popular way to the summit. It was this route that Pedro’s friends had taken the day before. The jagged rent of a bergschrund and other crevasse danger eventually caused us to head away from the mountains and descend towards a large, snow-covered plateau that is only hinted at from the usual treks near El Chalten. As we neared the plateau, Pedro wasn’t happy with the route we had taken and he walked back towards me, motioning for us to find another way to descend. As we did so, I looked back up to our right and could see our footprints on top of a huge, overhanging ice cliff. The gap that had opened up beneath it was big enough to swallow a house.

Once on the relative safety of the plateau, I could finally appreciate the view. The magnificent east face of Monte Fitz Roy was only half a kilometre away. It’s impossibly huge and I still can’t imagine anyone having the courage to climb it. Even to reach the bealachs either side of the peak involves 300 m of technical climbing — and the summit is still another 1,000 m higher. It was first reached in 1952, by the Frenchman, Lionel Terray, and his partner, Guido Magnone. It took their expedition many weeks to reach the top and a lot of time was spent burrowed underground in snow caves waiting out bad weather.

At the far end of the plateau, making up the southern end of the Fitz Roy skyline, was the huge granite tooth of Aguja Poincenot. The English mountaineer, Don Whillans, was the first person to climb this peak, joining a team of Irish climbers in 1957 who attempted the mountain on a Guinness sponsorship. Their descent of the mountain was hampered by strong winds and it was 20 hours before they reached the safety of their high camp at Paso Superior. When they did so they were exhausted — Pedro said this reminded him of when he and his friends had climbed the mountain in 2003; they were so tired they kept sitting down and falling asleep during their descent.

Our own traverse to Paso Superior was uneventful, if nerve-wracking. Dropping off the plateau onto a steep snow slope, we traversed above an intermittent line of blue-black crevasses that threatened to catch any fall. It was easy terrain but after two days of steep ice slopes, seracs and crevasses my nerves were frazzled and I just wanted to be on solid ground. I got my wish when, just below the pass, we encountered a 10 m rock wall with a flotsam of old fixed rope and a rope ladder that hung loosely down the rock. With no desire to put any weight on the trashed ropes I cIimbed a mixture of rock and ladder and pulled myself up over the top and out onto Paso Superior. It was empty, except for a large climbers’ haulbag sitting on the snow.

The plan had been to stay at Paso Superior for one night, using one of the existing snow caves or digging a new one, before descending 1,000 m down the glacier the following morning to reach Laguna de los Tres. This small lake at the foot of the glacier is the usual high point for trekkers in the national park. It has great views of the Fitz Roy mountains, especially in the early morning. I should have been looking forward to it. But on the plateau I’d decided I’d had enough. Enough steep snow and ice slopes. Enough thoughts of falling into a crevasse and dying a cold and unpleasant death. Turning the sight of some grey, wispy clouds I’d seen forming over Fitz Roy into the leading edge of a storm, I asked Pedro how long it would take us to get down to Laguna de los Tres. “2, maybe 3 hours?” he replied, “then another 30 minutes to Campamento Poincenot. Oh, plus another hour to get back to the car.” “What’s the ground like?”, I asked, immediately deciding it was worth it, regardless of the terrain. “Do you want to leave now?” he replied, giving me that quizzical look talented folk give you when they just don’t understand. “Yeah, I’ve got a book to write”, I said, adding “And the weather’s got to turn sometime”. “Okay” he replied, “let’s get moving. If we hurry we’ll make it all the way to El Chalten.” And with that, we packed up and headed for home.

Southern Patagonian Ice Cap Traverse — Los Glaciares National Park, Patagonia

Published in Patagon Journal - An overview of a six-day trek onto one of the largest expanses of ice outside the Polar Regions.

It’s 4am. I put on all my clothes and go outside to help dig our tent out of its snow grave. I try to ignore the view around me — because this is the second time I have been up through the night and because it is cold and very, very windy. This is Patagonia, after all.

Ducking back into my tent, I can’t help but glance across the huge expanse of ice we’re camped upon, the Hielo Continental, or Southern Patagonian Ice Cap. Silhouettes of spectacular mountains slice into the sky. The largest peak in view is the snow-covered Cerro Lautoro, an active volcano, sulfur fumes rising from its top and mixing with clouds which stream from its summit ridges. The peak is 35km away but seemingly close enough to touch. Behind Cerro Lautaro there is more of the same — ice and mountains — until the ice cap melts into the Pacific Ocean, 30 kilometres further on.

The Southern Patagonian Ice Cap is a great ocean of ice sweeping west from the southern coast of Chile to its border with Argentina. Up to 650 metres thick and almost 13,500 kilometres square, it is said to be one of the largest expanses of ice outside the Polar Regions.

Icy wastelands such as the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, not without reason, are usually out of bounds to ‘normal’ people. But short trips onto the ice are possible, with the services of a guide, in Argentina’s Los Glaciares National Park.

Peaks in Patagonia’s Los Glaciares National Park don’t have the high altitude of the Himalaya to define their difficulty. But they rear up incredibly steeply out of an otherwise flat landscape. Cerro Fitzroy dominates the area, by virtue of its sheer size and bulk. Standing 3,441m high, it soars above its neighbours, spouting out glaciers and satellite crests that overshadow everything except the Torres Range, a collection of needle-like spires 7km south. Undisputed queen of the Torres is Cerro Torre, the Tower Mountain. It rises vertically to 3,128m in height and has long been regarded as one of the most plum mountains in the world to climb (its neighbour, Torre Egger, being termed as the hardest). This is not because of the altitude or highly technical climbing, but by virtue of its location — Cerro Torre stands sentry for the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, located right on its edge. Described by the South Tyrolean climber Reinhold Messner as “a shriek turned to stone”, the mountain receives the full brunt of the prevailing weather. The typically maritime conditions, accompanied by high winds, regularly sees Cerro Torre and its adjacent peaks covered in a maelstrom of moisture-laden, grey-coloured storm clouds, which, when they release the peaks, leave them topped in a rime of perilous, and at times unclimbable, snow and ice ‘mushrooms’.

Most visitors see Cerro Torre from the east. A comfortable two-day journey takes you from Buenos Aires to El Chalten, where you can step into the view found in postcards all over the park’s gateway town of El Calafate. Less common — and a world away in terms of the memories you’ll come away with — is to ascend Marconi Glacier and trek south on a traverse of the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, to a remote glacial cirque called Circos de los Altares. Here you can gape, mouth wide open, right underneath Cerro Torre’s cathedral-like proportions.

Not everyone who attempts the Patagonian Ice Cap traverse reaches Circos de los Altares. The biggest obstacle is the weather. Strong winds, which have been termed locally as Escobado de Dias, God’s Broom, are generated far out in the Pacific Ocean. Known to gather speeds of up to 200 kilometres per hour, they race across the flat surface of the ice cap and hit the mountains with great force. Any visitor to the cirque, or climbing high on the mountains at this time, is at the complete mercy of the weather gods.

Another obstacle to a successful traverse of the ice cap is crevasses, both on Marconi Glacier and at the mouth to Circos de los Altares. One of these crevasses, 30 metres across, even has a name, La Sumidero. Crystal clear water arrives in this spherical ‘sink’ before swirling counter clockwise and disappearing down a great black hole which would easily swallow a man. Then there’s your pack size. Potentially nine days round trip from El Chalten requires a lot of food and equipment and you’ll analyse the contents of your rucksack like never before. ‘Light is right’ is the mantra for any such trip and your toothbrush may not survive being in one piece.

Most people require the services of a mountain guide for the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap. You can use one of the local companies or hire a guide direct. I used Pedro Augustina Fina of Argentina. He’s a nice bloke, greyhound fit, with a naturally friendly smile. The trick is to slow him down with much of the gear, and to use your gas canisters first. He’ll be wise to that though. Pedro travels each year to El Chalten early, from Buenos Aires, to do some mountain climbing before the guiding season starts. He’s summited Mount Fitz Roy, as well as Aguja Poincenot and Aguja Guillaumet, two serious peaks either side of Fitz Roy, and once spent two days in a snow cave hiding out the weather on an ascent of Cerro Lautaro. On a different trip he took me on a partial circumnavigation of Mount Fitz Roy. But that’s another story.

About the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap Traverse

Summary

Los Glaciares National Park is a UNESCO world heritage site in Patagonia at the tip of South America. It is named after the multitude of glaciers that flow east from the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap, a great ocean of ice sweeping west from the borders of Los Glaciares National Park to the southern coast of Chile. The ice cap is up to 650 metres thick and almost 13,500 kilometres square and is said to be one of the largest expanses of ice outside the Polar Regions.

About the trek

A full traverse of the Southern Patagonia Ice Cap is a major mountaineering expedition. For lesser mortals, week-long treks from El Chalten are possible with the assistance of local mountain guides.

This demanding trek/expedition is a fantastic and possibly unique adventure that circumnavigates the Cerro Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre mountain ranges by way of the Southern Patagonia Ice Cap. It gives the experienced trekker the opportunity to experience polar-type exploration as they travel across compact pack ice on snowshoes, towing their belongings behind them on a sled. The highlight of the expedition is an overnight camp in the glacial scoop of Circo de los Altares, the Cirque of the Altar. This great mountain cirque, originally termed ‘Hunger Valley’ but rechristened in 1974 by the first mountaineers to scale Cerro Torre, stands many kilometres from its two nearest exits to the ice cap; Paso Marconi and Paso del Viento. The remoteness of the cirque from these passes, and from the relative safety of El Chalten, is heightened by the sheer, kilometre-high west faces of Cerro Torre, Torre Egger and Cerro Standhardt, towering above the cirque floor.

Starting point

The village of El Chalten in Argentina

Total distance

60–70km

Time required

Minimum 6 days

When to go

November to April for the Patagonia Autumn / Spring / Summer

In Rigorous Hours - Scottish Winter hillwalking

Published as an eight-page spread in The Great Outdoors magazine

On a global scale, Scotland's mountains may not be very high (our tallest mountain, Ben Nevis, is only 4,409ft) but they pack a lot of punch and together they offer the outdoor enthusiast almost unlimited opportunities for a top-class mountain adventure.

Moving upwards in a blizzard near the summit of Mayar in Cairngorms National Park, Scotland

Towards the end of each year, I'll turn my attention from summer hiking and biking and start to look forward to a winter's season spent walking and mountaineering in the Scottish Highlands. Folk often find this strange because I'm not talking about the deeply cold, snowy 'postcard' winter of, say Alaska, but the bone-chilling, 'just-above-freezing and the sleet's blowing sideways' maritime climate that myself and many other Scottish hillwalkers rejoice in.

Yes, the Scottish Winter season can be harsh and miserable, and on occasions dangerous. You'll very likely be cold and wet. And sometimes scared. But I think that is part of the fun. There's something special about being far from the road with friends, high up on a scoured plateau in the middle of a winter storm, the only things keeping you safe being your fitness, a sensible approach to outdoor clothing and your technical skills with map, compass, ice axe and crampons.

The flip-side to Scotland's wild Winter weather is the quality of the light. As a photographer, I love light and winter offers some of the best light there is. The opportunity to capture great action shots more than makes up for the early rises, the long drives on quiet, remote roads and the late finishes (we're usually not getting off the hill until well after dark).

On occasions, when I've got back to the car, I've felt, “that was borderline insane to be out in weather like that”. Or, if it was the other side of the coin, “that was awesome day to be out!”. Either way, the buzz it gives me is addictive. Whether it's a short walk up my local hill in the snow, a long day out on the Arctic plateaus of the Cairngorms or a more challenging ascent of a narrow ridge in the West Highlands, I think Scotland offers something for everyone during the winter. I'll look forward to seeing you on the hills.

Outdoor and adventure films — Worth a watch

A categorised list of outdoor and adventure films which I’ve enjoyed watching and would recommend, having viewed each many times over, either for the characters, storyline, scenery or the cinematography, but usually a combination of all four. I’ll edit the list occasionally as I find new films, or to update broken links.

Climbing and mountaineering

Andy Turner arranging ropes during a winter climb in Cairngorms National Park, Scotland

• A Line Across The Sky — Primarily a first person POV film of Tommy Caldwell and Alex Honnold enoying what included, I’d imagine, lots of their own type of ‘type-2’ fun as they become the first climbers to traverse the long-coveted (but little attempted) 5km long skyline of the Chaltén/Fitzroy massif in Argentine Patagonia. The relaxed attitude and camaraderie of the two friends I’d imagine completely belies the serious of their situation and the prodigious skills needed for their success.

• Cerro Torre — The late, great David Lama solving the puzzle on the vertiginous headwall of Cerro Torre, a striking, ice-encrusted rock spire on the edge of the Southern Patagonian Ice Cap in Los Glaciares National Park, Argentine Patagonia. (See Werner Herzog’s ‘Scream of Stone’ for context). The helicopter shots as Lama and his climbing partner Peter Ortner are on route are sublime. (A separate film, Cumbre’, which documents Marco Pedrini’s solo climb of Cerro Torre in 1985 is also worth a watch).

• China Jam — I’ve watched a few films from Belgian brothers Nico and Olivier Favresse and their friends, including Sean Villaneuva O’Driscoll, whose idea of fun is hard, adventurous free climbing on difficult mountains around the world (including Baffin Island, Greenland and Patagonia). In China Jam, Evrard Wendenbaum joins them as they explore the Tien Shan mountains on the Kyrgyz-Chinese border and make a first ascent in deteriorating conditions of the South-East Pillar of Kyzyl Asker (5842m). (See more from the team in Adventures of the Dodo and Vertical Sailing — Greenland).

• Cold — The kickstarter to Cory Richard’s career as a National Geographic photographer as he, Simone Moro and Denis Urubko become the first people to climb an 8000m peak in Pakistan in winter.

• Cold Haul — A film by big-wall specialist and the self-proclaimed ‘second-best climber in Hull’, this self-shot effort by UK climber Andy Kirkpatrick and fellow alpinist Ian Parnell documents their successful ascent of the Lafaille route on the west face of Aiguille du Dru in winter, high above Chamonix in France. An entertaining film that provides a glimpse into the technicalities of top-grade aid climbing but also visualises the harsh reality of what it takes to look after yourself whilst climbing and sleeping on an alpine wall in winter.

• Dawn Wall — The climbing equivalent of a buddy movie as Tommy Caldwell recruits Kevin Jorgensen for his 7-year project to free climb the Dawn Wall, a 1000m-high, hugely technical climbing route on El Capitan in Yosemite National Park in America. Possibly unique as being the only climb to be beamed live to an audience of (perhaps) millions, when the mainstream media took interest and set up camp in Yosemite meadows. (The film by the crew behind the scenes of the Dawn Wall movie is also worth a watch).

• Desert Ice — A film directed by Keith Ladzinski which showcases the adventure, excitement, effort and fun involved in two climbers finding and climbing steep ice on the walls of the steep slot canyons in South-West Utah in the USA. (Scott Adamson, one of the main protagonists in Desert Ice and who I believe was a friend of Keith’s, is sadly presumed dead after he went missing in 2016 during an first ascent attempt on the Ogre II in Pakistan, along with climbing partner Kyle Dempster. For a taster of who Kyle himself was as a person, see his self-shot travel-log ‘The Road from Karakol’).

• Dirtbag: The Legend of Fred Beckey — Fred Beckey I’m surmising was someone who the people who knew him either really admired, liked, disliked or were hugely frustrated by. A prolific climber and a life-long ‘dirtbag’, all the way to his death in 2017 at age 94 years old, Beckey put up hundreds of first ascents in the North Cascades mountains in Washington state and other mountain regions, documenting these in a number of books he wrote, with a mindset laser-focused on climbing. A fascinating film about someone I’d heard lots about but knew little.

• Free Solo — An expertly-shot, multi-award-winning epic (it won categories at both the 2019 Oscars and Emmys) this now well-known film showcases Alex Honnold’s jaw-dropping solo climb of the 2307m high El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. I watched it three times in the first week of its release and it’s such a stunning achievement, especially when you consider Alex’s mental strength, that, given climbing is still a fairly niche activity, it will likely never get Alex the full respect he deserves. View on a big screen if you can.

• Higher Ground — A collection of films about climbing and mountain culture by Chris Alstrin and Alex Lavigne which narrates for the viewer a variety of different climbing specialisms, including technical mixed climbing, solo ice climbing and winter alpine climbing. I’ve especially enjoyed returning to the footage of Sean Isaac and Shawn Huisman repeating their first ascent of ‘Cryophobia’, a 225m route graded M8 WI5+ in the Canadian Rockies (with its opening words by Jeff Lowe) and the profile of Vancouver-based photographer, Andrew Querner.

• Katabatic: Exploring Antarctica’s Unclimbed Peaks — Sublime storytelling in film by National Geographic photographers Cory Richards and Keith Ladzinski, as they document Mike Libecki and Freddie Wilkinson adventuring and climbing in the Wohlthat Mountain Range of Antarctica.

• Meru — Jimmy Chin, Renan Ozturk and Conrad Anker scale the Shark’s Fin on Meru Central, a 6310m-high peak in the Garhwal Himalaya that vexed multiple parties before them. (Check out their original edit, Return to Meru — originally, I recall, titled Samsara — to see the story-telling value that I’m presuming Jimmy Chin’s wife, Chai Vasarhelyi, a documentary film-maker and director, brought to the film (including the importance of Conrad Anker’s mentorship to the group, Jimmy Chin’s survival of an avalanche plus a focus on Renan Ozturk’s uphill battle following a near fatal fall he suffered whilst working in Wyoming’s Grand Tetons range).

• Metanoia — A biopic of the late Jeff Lowe, a hugely talented and driven climber who was highly instrumental in the sport’s development over his 40+ year career.. The film details his life and climbs (including the legendary near miss on the 2500m long north ridge of Latok 1) with a focus on Lowe’s winter solo ascent of the Eiger north face in 1991, his change of approach to life thereafter and the winding down of his climbing career as his body succumbed to the effects of a unknown neurodegenerative disease (which was said to be similar to ALS), which left him in a wheelchair.

• Mountain — A visual feast of cinematography from the aforementioned Renan Ozturk, accompanied by words from Wilhelm Dafoe (narrating from Robert McFarlane’s book ‘Mountains of my Mind) played along to orchestral music from Richard Tognetti, which is performed by the Australian Chamber Orchestra. What’s not to like?

• Psychovertical — Jen Randall brings to the screen the autobiography of the UK’s Andy Kirkpatrick, a big wall specialist who US Climber magazine once described as a person with a “strange penchant for the long, the cold and the difficult”. The film has Andy describing his upbringing, set against his solo, 12-day ascent of El Capitan’s Reticent Wall. (See also ‘Cold Haul’ above).

• Scottish Ice Trip — A film from Petzl documenting their team of world-class climbers, including Martial Dumas and Ueli Steck, who visit Scotland in winter and find out for themselves the challenges of Scottish winter climbing (which aren’t all technical), plus the community’s strict ethics of placing no bolts.

• Slovak Direct — I first read about the Slovak Direct route on Denali’s massive, 3,000m-high south face in Steve House’s book ‘Beyond the Mountain’, when he recounted how he, Mark Twight and Scott Backes adopted a cutting-edge, non-stop approach that led them to ascend this highly-technical climbing route in just 60 hours. (The first ascentionists, Blažej Adam, Tono Križo and František Korl pioneered the route in 11 days). The seriousness of their climb was brought to life for me in this film by US climbers Jesse Huey and Mark Westman, which the pair produced to document their fifth ascent of the route in 2010. (Watch also a UK ascent of the Slovak Direct route in this film by Andy Houseman and Nick Bullock).

• Splitter — A fine testament to the highly admirable personal qualities of the late Jonny Copp, an American alpinist and skilled photographer / filmmaker who documented three climbing trips to Canada, Patagonia and Pakistan for this DVD that was released by Copp and Ross Holcomb in 2004. Jonny Copp was instrumental in helping me establish some facts for my trekking guidebook to Patagonia and I always looked forward to seeing his photos, writing and footage from his expeditions. Sadly, in 2009, he died along with Micah Dash and film-maker Wade Johnson whilst attempting a first ascent on a remote peak called Mount Edgar in China’s Sichuan Province. (Sender Films has a tribute to the trio in their First Ascent series, including footage from their Chinese expedition. Patagonia also opened their Tin Shed video series, I recall, with a film from Jonny entitled Long Ways)

• Sufferfest 1 & 2 — The bubbly and enthusiastic Cedar Wright plus his friend Alex Honnold challenging themselves to suffer on a continuous climbing trip of, first, the California 14,000ft peaks (Sufferfest 1), and then 40 desert towers (Sufferfest 2), in both cases cycling to their objectives in between.

• The Asgard Project — Alastair Lee’s film about Leo Houlding and friends, including the late Sean ‘Stanley’ Leary, climbing and base-jumping off Mount Asgard in Baffin Island.

Trail and mountain running

Gert Zangen and Graeme Stewart running off-road in Torridon, Scotland

• Courmayeur to Monte Bianco record — Footage of elite mountain runner Marco De Gasperi as he sets a fastest known time on Europe’s highest mountain, climbing from the Italian side in the town of Courmayeur. Short and likely not of interest to many but benefits greatly from the compelling helicopter footage as Marco descends from the summit of the mountain.

• Crossing Corsica — A French winemaker, originally from Lille and now based in the Beaujolais region of France, Francois D’Haene is one of ultra running’s elite, the winner of many long-distance trail races such as Ultra Trail Mont Blanc in France (three times), Grand Raid on Réunion island in the Indian Ocean (three times) and Ultra Trail Madeira. This 27-minute documentary narrates how Francois, who is sponsored by the French outdoor brand Salomon, attempts to set the fastest known time on the GR20, a 180km route with 12000m of ascent that follows the spine of the Mediterranean island of Corsica. (See also the same route run by North Face athlete Rory Bosio in the film ‘Running on Empty’)

• Crown Traverse — I’ve watched the Crown Traverse many, many times. It’s the story of two American ultra runners, Mike Foote and Mike Wolfe, who, accompanied by photographer Steven Gnam, attempt to run 965km from Montana, USA to Banff in Canada across the ‘Crown of the Continent’ (aka Glacier and Waterton Lakes National Parks). All shot from an athlete perspective, the film captures perfectly I think the joy of being outside in a remote and beautiful mountain landscape, moving at a comfortable pace under your own steam.

• Curiosity — The Ultra Trail Mont Blanc (UTMB) is a 170km ultra running race around Mont Blanc, visiting the countries of France, Italy and Switzerland. This film, by Camp 4 Collective on behalf of The North Face. follows three of their athletes (Rory Bosio, Hal Koerner and Timothy Ollson) as they prepare for and run in the 2015 race.

• Hardrock 100: The Unknown — Starting and finishing in Silverton, the location of an old mining camp in Colorado, USA, the Hardrock 100 is one of the world’s coveted long-distance races. One hundred miles long, (in case you were in any doubt) the route involves 66,000ft elevation change (33,050ft ascent and descent) and climbs to an altitude of 14,048ft (only 1700ft less than the highest summit in Europe, Mont Blanc). Film-maker Billy Yang’s film ‘The Unknown’ follows the struggles and achievements of Timothy Ollson as he races in the 2016 race. (See also Billy’s Hardrock film from 2017 called ‘The Gathering’ plus other race footage online, including ‘Kissing the Rock’ by Matt Trappe and ‘Pacing the Hardrock’ by Jeff Pelletier).

• How to Run 100 miles — An enjoyable film by Brendon Leonard, of Semi-rad.com cleverness, documenting the ups and (admittedly lots of) downs as he and a friend Jayson Sime prepare for their first 100-mile trail race, the Rabbit Run 100 in Colorado.

• John Muir Trail | A 359km Collective Adventure — Another record attempt by elite ultra and mountain runner Francois D’Haene, this time accompanied by a group of friends as he aims for the fastest known time on the John Muir Trail, an (as-advertised) 330km-long route in California’s Sierra Nevada mountains. (‘The Long Haul’ by Journeyfilm documents a previous run on the John Muir Trail by Hal Koerner and Mike Wolfe).

• Nolan’s 14 — I had an ultra running ‘star spot’ in Chamonix this year, when I walked past Joe Grant as he sat in a restaurant. He was eating at the time so I didn’t interrupt (I don’t think I ever would) but if I had done, I’d have congratulated him on his successful completion of Nolan’s 14, a c.100 mile route across 14 14,000ft peaks in Colorado’s Sawatch range (which was named after a Joe Nolan was challenged by Fred Vance in 1991 as to how many peaks he could do in a given distance). Joe (Grant’s) feat was documented in this Black Diamond-sponsored film by US film-maker and photographer, Matt Trappe (whose Instagram stories of UTMB in 2019 I was very impressed with).

• Salomon Running TV — A great example of a brand using storytelling as a means of content marketing in a series of long-standing films by South African film-maker Dean Leslie, commissioned by the French outdoor company, Salomon. Episodes I particularly like are;

• Down — Tom Owens and Ricky Lightfoot running full-speed downhill in Iceland

• The Bob Graham — Ricky Lightfoot on a winter Bob Graham Round in the Lake District

• Into Patagonia — Dakota Jones revisiting the delights of Patagonia with a revised frame of mind.

• Fast and Light — A profile of Swedish elite trail runner Emilie Forsberg

• Summits of my Life — A series of films, produced by Frenchman Sébastien Montaz-Rosset, showcasing the talents of trail running’s finest, Kilian Jornet. Includes Kilian’s speed ascents of the Matterhorn, Mont Blanc and Mount Elbrus (Déjame Vivir), his thoughts about risk in the mountains after tragedy struck on Aiguille d’Argentière when his close friend Stéphane Brosse fell through a cornice (A Fine Line), plus his speed ascents of Mount Everest in 2017 (Path to Everest).

• Running Happy — More films produced by Dean Leslie include ‘Running Happy’, following South African runner Ryan Sandes as he circumnavigates Mont Blanc with a group of friends, plus Lessons from the Edge, which documents Ryan and his friend Ryno Griesel as they run 1406km across Nepal on the Great Himalayan Trail. (See also Travailen, following Ryan and Ryno on their Drakensberg Grand Traverse in South Africa).

• Unbreakable — A tale of the famous Western States ultra distance race in 2010, documenting the background plus the race of four runners (Hal Koerner, Kilian Jornet, Geoff Roes and Anton Krupicka), who were all undefeated at the time, as they competed against each other (and others) in this 100-mile race across the trails of California’s Sierra Nevada mountains. Expensive to download in 2019 but it’s 105 minutes long and, when I watch it, I’m always happy I paid the price.

• We are Savages — The 2019 Skyrunner World Series — Four minutes of high-octane running footage captured during the 2019 Skyrunner World Series, illustrating the athlete’s athletic ability on stunning, complex terrain which is elevated even higher, I’d suggest, by the excellent choice of soundtrack (’Savages’ by Royal Deluxe).

Mountain biking and bikepacking

Donnie Campbell gravel cycling on the Loch Ness 360 route near Inverness, Scotland

• Fast Forward — A short introduction to Lael Wilcox, an ultra-endurance adventure cyclist from Anchorage in Alaska who (source: Wikipedia) has ridden over 100,00 miles around the world, holds the women’s record for the 2,745-mile Tour Divide mountain bike race and was the first American to win the 4,200 mile TransAm bike race. Records and ultra distances aside, Lael appears to be someone who simply lives for the joy of riding her bike, often in adventurous locations (an assumption that’s confirmed by my Alaskan friends, Dan Bailey and Amy Sebby, who know Lael well and share her enthusiasm for the outdoors). In 2015, Lael, ahead of her Tour Divide race, cycled to the start line in Banff, Canada from her home town of Anchorage in the USA (adding 2,100 miles to her journey).

• GB Enduro 2019 — Lachlan Morton first came to my attention in a film showcasing his involvement in Dirty Kanza, a 200-mile gravel and dirt road race in the Flint Hills region of Kansas, USA. An Australian professional road-racing cyclist, with team EF Education First, Lachlan was given permission to undertake a series of totally different challenges, dipping his toes into the waters of off-road cycling in a series of endeavours which I assume is in partnership with cycling brand, Rapha. GB Enduro saw him in the UK, as he toed the line of the inaugural GB Enduro, a 2,000km self-supported mountain biking race up the length of Great Britain. This was followed up with his involvement in the classic Leadville 100 race in America, followed by a finish in the gruelling Three Peaks Cyclo-Cross race in Yorkshire. The main reason I keep returning to these films is the hugely engaging character of Lachlan himself.

• High Altitude Lines — Joey Schusler is an former professional downhill mountain biker racer turned adventure athlete and cinematographer with a list of quality films under his belt. An initial production he was involved in that attracted my attention was a mountain bike trip to the Huayhuash in the Peruvian Andes, as it combines wild camping and mountain biking in a mountain landscape, which is a favourite way for me to spend my time). High Altitude Lines is another in this genre, part of a series of films for Yeti Cycles (one of Joey’s sponsors) labelled the Tribe, and it’s a short film about travelling by bike (sometimes utilising what they term as the “pull and drag” and “over the shoulder” techniques) as they journey for 10 days, fly-fishing in alpine lakes dotted across the San Juan mountains in Colorado, USA.

• No Quarter: Unridden Lines Crossing the Purcells — A quality film of a remote and difficult mountain biking adventure in the Purcell mountain range in British Columbia, the westernmost province of Canada. Produced by Max Berkowitz and Kevin Landry (the latter who coined the term ‘The Trail that Never Begins’ to describe the brutal nature of the terrain), the adventurers include Andrew McNab and former Bike magazine Editor-in-Chief Brice Minnigh (who you can learn more about in another film by Joey Schluser about their Trail to Kazbegi).

• Patagón — Montanus are two friends from Italy, Francesco D’Alessio and Giorgio Frattale, who produce high-quality films from trips they make as part of their ‘all seasons bikepacking project’. The pair first came to my attention with this film about a bikepacking trip they made to Los Glaciares National Park in Patagonia. It’s an example of outdoor footage that perfectly pushes my buttons as regards to making me want to be at the location on screen, mimicking the activity of the protagonists. A follow-up film the pair released, about their Iceland Divide, invokes similar feelings (although that film is somewhat tempered for me, perhaps controversially, by the fat bikes the pair use. I totally agree fat bikes are often the best tool for the job but, regardless of model, I think they lack aesthetics and, in my opinion, are really quite ugly to look at (‘pot, kettle, black’ I may hear you call). This is totally unlike the superb sketches Francesco and Giorgio produce to accompany the narrative of their trips, which you can view on the Montanus website).

• Rainspotting — Directed and edited by the talented Luke Francis, this excellent film is branded content for Pannier.cc and Brothers Cycles (with more than a few references to Ortlieb packs) but I could watch low-key advertising like this every day (as per Rapha), invoking as it does memories of similar trips I’ve experienced away with friends in the Scottish mountains. (See Luke’s earlier film, Beulah, about a trip further north in Scotland to Cape Wrath).

• Safety to Nome — After completing the Cairngorms Loop ITT in 2017, I was invited by my friend Dan Bailey to visit his home town of Anchorage and compete in the Susitna 100-mile winter wilderness race. This film, about the Iditarod Trail Invitational (the human equivalent of the Iditarod dog race) filmed and directed by Kenton Gilchrist and Jonathan Hunwick, gives me a tiny hint of the challenges I’d face if I took Dan up on his offer. With cameo performances by Neil Beltchenko and Jay Petervary on the 350-mile version, the film focuses on the leaders in the 1000-mile race to Nome, including a 9-times finisher biking it for the first time. (See also A Thin White Line).

• The Frozen Road — Ben Page, describing himself as a “professionally unemployed” film-maker (he’s also brother I believe of elite trail runner Holly Page — such an adventurous family) was in the process of cycling around the world when he captured this footage for his self-shot film illustrating his struggles as he completed his travels of the American continent, cycling in Winter up a frozen landscape to the remote town of Tuktoyakyuk in the Yukon wilderness. Beautifully shot and told, with an interesting behind the scenes interview on Bikepacking.com.

• The Ridge — Possibly the most-watched mountain bike film in the world? Scotland creative content agency Cut Media jet-launched their career with this film of trials cyclist Danny MacAskill skilfully navigating parts of the technical and narrow Black Cuillin ridge on the Isle of Skye in the West Highlands of Scotland. The aerial footage of Danny atop the Inaccessible Pinnacle (after carrying his bike up there, sans ropes), is awesome.
  Little known fact — I pitched an idea to Red Bull about Danny skills biking in the Cuillin mountains (visualising him atop the Cioch, a’la Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery in the film ‘Highlander’). They responded by saying “Thanks, but we think he’s up there filming at the moment”.

• The Road from Karakol — A travelogue I’ve watched multiple times, self-shot by top-class US alpinist, Kyle Dempster, as he cycled old Soviet roads across the rough countryside of Kyrgyzstan on a voyage of adventure and discovery, climbing as many peaks as he could on the way. A highly poignant watch, given Kyle’s untimely death at aged 33 in 2016 in the big mountains of the Karakorum, Pakistan.

• Wild Horses: The Silk Road Mountain Race documentary — The film of the inaugural Silk Road Mountain Race in 2018 a c.1700km self-supported bikepacking race that starts and finishes near Bishkek in Kyrgyzstan (crossing twelve mountain passes above 3500m in between). Narrated by race organiser Nelson Trees, who originated the idea for the race with the late Mike Hall, the storyline focuses on the front runners, a group of ultra-endurance cyclists, including Jay Petervary, at the time a Salsa-sponsored cyclist, as they battle inclement weather, the harsh mountain landscape plus sleep deprivation as they relentlessly pedal their way to the finish.

Surfing

Daniel Media on a wave in the Canary Islands, Spain

• Arctic Swell: Surfing the Ends of the Earth — Chris Burkard’s first cold water surfing movie, I believe, as he narrates his experiences as a photographer and those of professional surfers Patrick Millin, Brett Barley and Chadd Konig on a winter trip surfing in the Lofoten Islands in Arctic Norway. See also Chris’ other films, Russia: The Outpost, Cradle of Storms and Under an Arctic Sky (the latter of which I appreciate most of all from a photography perspective, rather than pure surfing, as they challenge themselves to photograph a surfer under the northern lights. I do recall though that the team was slightly pipped at the post online by Norwegian photographers Emil Sollie and Mats Grimsæth, who shot Mick Fanning surfing under the northern lights in this footage published by Red Bull in their ‘Chasing the Shot’ feature).

• Coldwater Journal — Footage from US film-maker and director Ben Weiland, whose skills grace many of the films in this list (indeed, many of the clips appear to be top-quality footage from the cutting room floor). It illustrates his and his friend’s adventures seeking out cold waves with snow-covered landscapes across Ireland, Iceland, the Faroe Islands, Aleutian Islands, Russia, and more.

• Dark Side of the Lens — Irish surf photographer Mickey Smith narrates this beautifully-shot and engaging biographical short film that shares his views and approach to surf photography after a challenge from an energy drink company for the submission of films that explored and celebrated ‘no half measures’. It quickly became a Vimeo staff pick.

• Earth — Ben Weiland again, this time utilising the local knowledge of Elli Thor Magnusson, Heidar Logi and Tanner Gudauskas, plus the assistance of a local farmer, to head in with a week’s supplies to a little known surf break at a remote undisclosed location (presumably in Iceland), which they accessed by ski mobile (and a tractor).

• Fortune Wild and Tipping Barrels — Two films in one, directed by Ben Gulliver, from a remote surf adventure on the Haida Gwaii islands off the north-west coast of Canada. I prefer the second. (See also another of Ben’s films, The SeaWolf).

• Freezing — A Cold Water Surf Trip — I didn’t quite know how to take this when I first watched it, as it’s unlike anything else on this list. But I watched it again, understanding that the protagonists are deliberately not taking themselves too seriously, and I really enjoyed it.

• Race against Time — Ben Weiland, along with photographer Elli Thor Magnusson, document professional surfer Brett Barley and others hunting for waves on the remote coastlines in Iceland, using the local weather forecasts to gauge where to go, when (and how), risking lots of effort for little return. When it does pay off though, as Ben says, it’s all worth it.

• Surf Alaska — Surf Alaska introduces us to a ex-fishing boat called M/V Milo, owned by captain Mike McCune and photographer Scott Dickerson, which they offer up through their company Ocean Swell Adventures as a vehicle entirely customised for exploratory surf trips in the remote coastline of Alaska. (For more footage utilising the Milo, see Comfortably Numb and Searching the Shumagin islands — Alaska Surf Discovery).

NB. I’m drawn to cold water surfing footage because I like the cold, plus the raw landscapes and the expedition-style nature of the trips they undertake really appeal to me. It’s also easier for me to compare in my head what conditions the cinematographers are facing, given my experiences of a Scottish winter (i.e. cold and wet). There are however some other surfing documentaries I’ve watched and enjoyed;

• The Malloy Brothers — Chris, Dan and Keith Malloy are three brothers who are most known for surfing and making films, with an attraction for being ‘off the beaten path’ and paying back to the communities they’ve gained from. Working for Patagonia Inc, they have also been involved in innovations around the environmentally friendliness of the company’s surf range. (I appreciate this isn’t a surfing film, if we’re being specific, but it’s all related)

• Teahupoo: Inside The Monster — Glorious footage from one of the world’s most famous surf spots, the amazing, powerful wave off the shore of the village of Teahupoo in Tahiti, French Polynesia. Lots of emphasis on photographers, the risks of the wave and its excessive traffic. In French but with English subtitles.

(See also Groundswell and Peninsula Mitre in the Environmentalism and activism category below).

Environmentalism and activism

A rather bare section of Mer de Glace near Chamonix, the largest glacier in France

• Chasing Ice — James Balog is a hugely passionate conservation photographer from America whose life’s focus has been to help influence change by visualising the impact of humanity on the environment. This semi-biographical film, from 2012, focuses on Jim as he gathers footage and data from multiple cutting-edge (at the time) time-lapse cameras across Alaska, Iceland and Greenland and uses it helps to illustrate the impact that humanity is having on the earth. An engaging film about a subject that continues to trouble the world (but seemingly not enough of us), it features footage of a huge calving of ice off the Jakobshavn Glacier in Greenland.

• Glacier Exit — “We went to Alaska for adventure. Then we witnessed the glaciers melting” is the opening line in this film by Raphael Rogers, Kristin Gerhart and Paul Rennick. A Vimeo staff pick, it depicts the trio’s footage of a trip onto the Exit Glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park near Seward, Alaska, with a narration of the story behind the glacier’s increasingly quick decline by Rick Brown, an experienced local guide and ex-professional firefighter.

• Groundswell — An environmental film with a surfing angle. Or perhaps the other way around. Regardless, a story well told, from director Chris Malloy, with the support of Patagonia.com, which uses the voice of scientists, surfers and indigenous people to illustrate the challenges faced by the Heiltsuk community from the threat of ‘big oil’ companies who wish to transport their wares using over-sized tankers which they’d sail through the pristine landscape of the Great Bear Forest in British Columbia. Interesting characters, beautiful landscape and a glorious panning shot of the protagonists playing in the surf, at 08:00 minutes in, with an accompanying soundtrack that I return to again and again.

• Jumbo Wild — In 2015, Patagonia.com also supported Sweetgrass Productions, who produced this film about a year-round ski resort that was being proposed for the Jumbo Valley in British Columbia’s Purcell Range (a region beautiful enough that the developers claimed that people would “come from around the world” to enjoy the view from the top of their gondolas. They were met however with strong opposition, by and on behalf of the local Kutenai indigenous people plus on behalf of the Grizzly bear. In 2020, the company (Glacier Resorts Ltd) announced they had relinquished all their development rights and interests for their Jumbo Glacier Resorts project.

• The Cove — Each year, in a small bay in Taiji in Japan, an untold number of dolphins are corralled in the water, either to be butchered in the surf or captured and sold around the world to zoos or theme parks. Ric O’Barry, a dolphin trainer for the television series ‘Flipper’ in the 1960s turned animal rights activist, featured in this film from Louis Psihoyos and the Ocean Preservation Society to highlight the Japanese practice, defying intimidation from the town (which employs security) and employing anti-surveillance techniques in their quest to visualise the plight of the dolphins.

• The Grind: Whaling in the Faroe Islands — Does this belong here in a list of activism films? I’m not sure, given the focus of the narrative. But it’s long frustrated me that many an outdoor photographer will happily extol the virtues of the Faroe Islands without any mention (and by their actions, I’m assuming acceptance) of the butchery that exists in the islanders’ annual ‘grind’, where the islanders kill pilot whales en masse for food, ostensibly in the name of tradition. Admittedly, I do struggle with my application of such a broad critical brush when, other than in short online clips I’ve seen of the whales with gaping neck wounds, lolling about in seas stained red with blood — and passionate commentary from the conservation activist group Sea Shepherd about the barbarity of it — I really don’t know much about why the activity is taking place or its difference to what would be classed as acceptable activity in an indoor slaughterhouse. (A long-time vegetarian, I’ve no concerns about people eating meat, as long as the animal is kept and killed humanely). With that in mind, I felt it was hard to continue to criticise (which I do wish to, as least as regards to certain aspects) without knowing more. (See also The Island and the Whales).

Travel and exploration

Alexis Basso trekking across the rocky boulder field en route to Col de la Portette and Refuge de Platé near Passy Plaine-Joux, France

• 180 Degrees South — A tale to invoke wanderlust, in a film following US photographer Jeff Johnson to the foot of South America, the inspiration for his journey being another, undertaken in 1968, by his friend Yvon Chouinard (Patagonia.com founder), Doug Tompkins (North Face founder), Richard Dorworth and Lito Tejada-Flores, when they travelled 10,000km by van all the way from Ventura, California to El Chalten in Argentine Patagonia, skiing and surfing along the way (as well as making the third ascent of Cerro Fitz Roy). Johnson’s own method of travel, in 2010, was to join a sailboat, with an enforced break at Easter Island to repair a broken mast, before he continued to south by boat and road to visit Doug Tompkins’ home in Chile, where Doug and Yvon (along with Timmy O’Neill and a friend Johnson met on the way) joined Jeff at the end of his trip for an attempt on the 2300m-high peak of Volcán Corcovado, aka Cerro Corcovado).

• Aerial adventure: Winter flying in Alaska — A short film by my friend Dan Bailey, who uses his little yellow Cessna 120 airplane to explore the mountainous regions close to his home town of Anchorage in Alaska.

• In the Shadow of the Condor — The Corcovado region of Chile also features in this film from Michael Brown of Serac Films, who, along with conservationist Pablo Sandor of the Ayacara Foundation, plus two mountain guides, undertook an expedition to visit a pristine alpine lake high up in a “monumental granite conglomerate” of mountains in Chile’s Los Lagos region that they’d seen from air, but which wasn’t on any map, and then to undertake a challenging whitewater kayak to return home. Notable footage includes them pitching their tents on the deck of their boat early in the expedition, as the steep-sided temperate forest comes down all the way to the sea and there was nowhere for them to camp on land and, later, navigating steep, Yosemite-style cliffs, sans ropes, as they climb up the at-times vertical jungle that’s affixed to the rock to aid their ascent. Team dynamics also come into play but overall, it’s the stunning scenery that stands out, with a spectacular view from a bivvy at their high point.

(Interesting fact — Doug Tompkins I’ve referred to in 180º South was primarily responsible for the creation of Parque Nacional Corcovado).

• Into the Wild — A biographical feature film summarising the life of Christopher Johnson McCandless, an enigmatic character first brought to people’s attention by US author Jon Krakauer (who wrote about the Everest 1996 disaster). Beautifully shot, with a soundtrack that includes songs by Eddie Vedder from the band Pearl Jam, the scenes towards the end I found especially poignant, as we follow McCandless as he battles with the harshness of life in the Alaskan bush, which, ultimately, was the root cause of his untimely death in 1992, aged 24.

• Losing Sight of Shore — A documentary film illustrating the challenges that four females (who dubbed themselves the Coxless Pairs) overcame when they rowed more than 8,000 miles across the Pacific Ocean over a period of nine months in 2017.

• Maidentrip — I faintly remember the media clamour at the time when a 14-year old Dutch girl, Laura Dekker, announced that she wanted to sail around the world alone. Her parents were called irresponsible and the case made its way to the Dutch courts. Eventually, she set off on her voyage and we see the results of her adventures in this film, directed by Jillian Schlesinger, that illustrates her endeavours. (Note - I don’t think the film is currently available online).

• Peninsula Mitre — Another film from Patagonia (the region) and one which I was in two minds as to whether list here, or in a surfing category that’s still to come. (My rationale being the objective of the trip was surfing but there’s a distinct lack of waves). This doesn’t detract in any way from the story (I’d say it adds to it), as we follow two brothers, Julián Azulay and Joaquín Azulay and their friends as they explore the rugged coastline at the south-eastern tip of Tierra del Fuego in southern Chile, dealing with challenges as they explore for waves and meet interesting local characters and learn about the history of the region on their way.

Sea and whitewater kayaking

Mark Mulrain and Dave Martin on the River Orchy in Scotland

• Chasing Niagara — World-class professional kayaker Rafa Ortiz’s dream to kayak Niagara Falls is documented in this film supported by Red Bull (Rafa’s sponsor) as he works his way up to the skills, courage and decisions required to navigate himself into a position where he can safely kayak over Niagara Falls and plunge 170ft into the famous white waters on the border of the USA and Canada. The documentary follows Rafa and his friends as they train towards the big event, including paddling the ‘steepest navigable section of whitewater in the world’ in the Rio Santo Domingo, a river that winds its way through the mountains of Guatemala and southern Mexico, and the 100-foot high Sahalie Falls in Canada. (During the film, they seek advice from Tyler Bradt, who, in 2009, completed the highest kayak descent on a river, dropping a remarkable 189ft off Palouse Falls in Washington state, USA).

• Into the Tsangpo Gorge — I first learnt about the Tsangpo Gorge in Ian Baker’s book ‘The Heart of the World: A Journey to the Last Secret Place’ which was published in 2006. As is often the case, when I find something I’m interested in, I go into full-on research mode to find out more and I discovered this film, from 2002, which follows seven kayakers as they attempt to descend the ‘Everest of Rivers’ in the so-called Tibetan Autonomous Region of China, a thin strip of tumultuous white water at the foot of a gorge, over 19,000ft deep (three times deeper than the Grand Canyon), which is reported to descend 9,000ft in 150 miles.

• Kayaking the Aleutians — An award-winning film by Justine Curvengen (see ‘Into the Sea’ below), documenting a hugely-committing 2500km trip between Alaska and Russia following the archipelago of the wild and remote Aleutian Islands (‘the birthplace of the winds’) with Sarah Outen, a fairly novice paddler who was on a journey of her own to circumnavigate the world under her own steam.

• Solo — Lost at Sea — A documentary about the tragic end to the life of Andrew Macaulay, a hugely experienced Australian sea kayaker who went missing and was presumed drowned in 2007 just 56km off the New Zealand coast after paddling nearly 1600km across the Tasman Sea. I first learnt about Andrew in Justine Curvengen’s ‘This is the Sea’ series (see below, the Antarctica expedition is in series 3) and his sheer enthusiasm during that adventure stuck in my mind as someone I wanted to learn more about and see more from. The radio call which opens the film, of Andrew’s initially garbled message calling for a rescue, is especially haunting. Like many other athletes who push the boundaries of their sport, Andrew died early in his life, single-minded enough it appears to continue to squeeze the envelope of what is possible in his sport, whilst at the same time battling personal demons about the pain whilst doing so of leaving loved ones behind.

• This is the Sea — A series of sea kayaking and adventure films from Justine Curgenven, an expedition sea kayaker and film-maker who has documented many of her trips and presented them across her ‘This is the Sea’ series, which she’s interspersed with quality footage from other sea kayakers. Episodes I’ve watched often include Justine and Hadas Feldman’s paddle up the Pacific coast of Kamchatka (which included teaching a Russian soldier how to kayak, after the authorities forced them to take him along), Justine’s circumnavigation of Isla Grande in Tierra del Fuego with Barry Shaw and an excellent film from Andrew Macaulay, Laurie Geoghegan and Stuart Trueman documenting their sea kayaking expedition to Antarctica.

There’s also the following kayaking films I’ve not seen but which I would like to, as I’d like to find out more about their journey and the people involved;

• Kadoma — A film from professional kayaker Ben Stookesberry about his and Chris Korbulik’s ill-fated expedition with South African adventurer Hendri Coetzee to make the first descent of the Lukuga River in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Tragically, during their trip, Coetzee was snatched silently from his boat by a crocodile, right next to Stookeberry and Korbulik and presumed dead. The film is said to focus more on the trip itself and the three kayaker’s interaction with each other as well as the local communities they pass by.

• Walled In — Another film by Ben Stookesberry that’s hard to get a hold of in the UK, Anecdoted by Ben as having taken eight days exploration for just 4 minutes of kayaking, it documents their adventurous journey to attempt the first descent of Marble Fork of the Kaweah river in Sequoia National Park in California. The trailer alone for this film is what makes me want to see it.

Photography and film-making behind the scenes

• A tribute to discomfort — A monologue from from US photographer Cory Richards, the first American to climb an 8000m peak in Winter, about how his life has shaped his photography.

• Aberration — A piece by Alexander Lavigne for Outdoor Research on the relationship between climber Graeme Zimmerman and photographer Forrest Woodward.

• Behind the Scenes of the Dawn Wall film — What it took to photograph Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgensen on the Dawn Wall, their epic free climb up an apparently featureless wall on El Capitan in Yosemite National Park.

• Bielmann: Straight Up the Man — A profile of Brian Bielmann, a surf photographer based in the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii.

• Canon 5DS/R Field Test — Mikey Schaefer on a shoot for DP Review helping them to showcase the Canon 5DS/R camera body.

• Christian Pondella’s Dream Project — A feature on US photographer Christian Pondella, who documented Will Gadd’s project in Greenland, Beneath the Ice.

• Climbing Ice — A Smugmug sponsored film following Tim Kemple of Camp4Collective as he photographed three different ice formations in Iceland. (See also ‘The Making of ‘Climbing Ice’, Extended Behind The Scenes’).

• Cory Richards vs. The Polar Bear — A short but engaging piece of footage from Franz Josef Land, illustrating National Geographic photographer Cory Richards as he attempts to capture footage of a polar bear.

• Deep North — Corey Rich, a leading US adventure photographer, was the instigator for this film which documents a team of US climbers, including Tommy Caldwell and the late Hayden Kennedy, travelling to Bettles in northern Alaska where they ski in to attempt an unclimbed route on a remote mountain. (For more from Corey, see Sur Argentina, A Visual Odyssey, shooting the late David Lama in Avaatara in Lebanon, plus David before that in Argentine Patagonia)

• Elinchrom: Spirit Falls — Michael Clark showcasing Elinchrom’s ELB1200 strobe set, shooting Red Bull kayaker Rafa Ortiz on Spirit Falls in Washington State in the United States. (See also What’s in my bag with the gear Michael used for the shoot, plus Michael’s Fujifilm GFX 100 launch images).

• Elinchrom: Dakine Mountain Biking Shoot with Paris Gore — Excellent behind the scenes footage of Paris Gore, as he lights images for a commercial shoot for the outdoor brand, Dakine.

• Exposure: Nikon D500 release — Keith Ladzinski in action in the Verdon Gorge in France, advertising Nikon’s D500 camera body.

• Frozen Titans / The Making of — Bryan Smith and others from Reel Water Productions on the challenges they had filming Will Gadd climbing the frozen Helmcken Falls in British Columbia.

• Making of Locked In — Reel Water Productions again, describing the creativity behind the filming of Ben Stookesberry and friends on a descent of the remote and technical Beriman Gorge in Papau New Guinea.

• Making of Nikon D600 release movie — Brothers Florian and Salomon Schulz show us how they made the press movie for the release of the Nikon D600 camera body.

• Making North of Known — Reel Water Productions in their element, capturing Gavin McLurg and Dave Turner as they paraglide 700km across the Alaska Range.

• Nikon — How of Why — Corey Rich again, who I’d say is a master of the behind scenes video, with this release of Why, showcasing Nikon’s D4 camera body. (See more of Corey’s work in the The Making of DEDICATED, about the D4S, and Be Inspired, for the launch of the D5).

• Photo Vagabond — A Tribe Story — A video portrait of Dan Milner, mountain bike photographer.

• Photographing downhill mountain biking — Behind the scenes with Aaron Anderson, a commercial photographer from Colorado, US, on a mountain biking shoot with Elinchrom strobes.

• Poumaka | Mud, Sweat and Expletives — Keith Ladzinski again, with Andy Mann, documenting Mike Libecki and Angie Payne on a first ascent of Poumaka, a highly vegetated rock tower in French Polynesia.

• Riding Thrones | The journey behind the GOT inspired shoot — Lorenz Holder, twice a winner of Red Bull’s Illume award, photographing BMX at locations made famous by HBO’s popular Game of Thrones series.

• Seakaypes — Behind the scenes again with Michael Clark, this time on a sea kayaking trip in the Johnson Strait on the north-east coast of Vancouver Island with two friends (including Tony Hoare, a graceful human being whom I met whilst shooting for the Patagonian Expedition Race).

• The Crevasse — French photographer Tristan Shu’s showcase of Elinchrom’s ELB-400 strobe pack, shooting Fabian Bodet playing above a crevasses in the French Alps. (See Tristan also Flash a Wingsuit Flyer, with Guillaume Galvani and Maxime Chiron, plus go Into the Void in Turkey showcasing the ELB 1200).

• The Shot — Behind the scenes with Krystle Wright, a ‘Canon Master,’ as she lights a kayaker descending a waterfall using speedlights on a drone.

‘My Favourite Hill Photo’ — UKHillwalking.com

Requested by UKHillwalking.com. You can view all contributors’ submissions in UK Hillwalking’s ‘My Favourite Hill Photo’ article.

Footprints in the snow at dusk during a winter ascent of Braigh nan Uamhachan in the West Highlands of Scotland

In 2020, Dan Bailey of UKHillwalking.com kindly invited me to submit an image and some words for a feature they were running to share with their readers their “leading contributors” ‘favourite hill photo’.

It’s always difficult to choose one image you like best. Technically, I don’t think this is the best photograph I’ve ever taken (it’s of my friend David Hetherington, as we head along the ridgeline of the Corbett, Braigh nan Uamhachan, in the West Highlands of Scotland). But for pure satisfaction looking back, it’s right up there with others in my portfolio. It reminds me of a weekend that ticked many boxes of what I look for in a hillwalking ‘adventure’. A night in my sleeping bag (we’d stayed the evening before at Gleann Dubh-lighe bothy, a stone building with a fireplace that the Mountain Bothy Association renovated in 2013 after it was accidentally burnt down), a bluebird winter’s day hiking entirely on our own up a striking peak with a narrow ridgeline (the 909m high Corbett, Streap, which is located right across the glen) and pure and simple hard work (after we descended 650m to the waters of Allt Coire na Streap we had a relentlessly steep 400m ascent back up to the ridgeline to where we are in this photograph). Add in a setting sun, which we just caught before it dipped below the horizon, the fine view we had across to Ben Nevis, the UK’s highest peak, and a descent by head-torch down a steep gully in the dark (lured by the thought of hot food and whisky back in the bothy to finish the day) and it had all the ingredients I like to look for when I’m planning a trip away in Scotland’s hills.

East to West on Beinn Eighe - A great ridge traverse in North-West Scotland

This was my eighth ascent of Beinn Eighe, a mountain in the North-West Highlands of Scotland. It was my first time via the ‘Black Carls’ ridge of Sgurr nan Fhir Duibhe. The ascent of this 963m high peak is around winter grade I/II heading west, with the crux being a steep climb out of the prominent notch you can see on the rocky ridge on the picture below.

In 1951, Beinn Eighe was designated Britain's first National Nature Reserve. The NNR website details how the massif 'embraces a vast area of 48 square kilometres' between Loch Maree and Glen Torridon, 'stretching from loch-side to mountain top', with a 'huge cluster of rugged peaks, ridges and scree-covered slopes' in between.

For mountain walking, Beinn Eighe is a dream hill. It has 9 summits, two of which are Munros (Scottish mountains over 914.4m high), and it is home to arguably the UK's most majestic mountain corrie, Coire Mhic Fhearchair, with its deep loch and 300m high cliffs that form the Triple Buttress. The mountain also forms part of the 42km long running route for the Celtman Extreme Scottish Triathlon.

We started our day near Kinlochewe, in beautiful Spring weather, ascending a scenic track and then snow to reach the summit of the most easterly peak on the Beinn Eighe massif, Creag Dubh. From there, we headed west, following the most amazing ridgeline, 5km+ long, that took us over the Black Carls, Sgurr nan Fhir Duibhe, Sgurr Ban, Spidean Coire nan Clach, Coinneach Mhor and Ruadh-stac Mor before we descended steep ground into Coire Mhic Fhearchair and headed for home.

My only regrets are we chose to miss out Sail Mhor, which would have maximised the aesthetic but been a 3km round trip, and we skipped the descent of the scree gully into Coire Mhic Fhearchair due to bullet hard ice at the entrance, choosing instead for safety reasons the steeper descent of the western slopes on Ruadh-stac Mor - which, whilst not difficult, proved to provide a couple of awkward moments due to the late season snow.

Weekend Wonder - Corrour Bothy

Published in Adventure Travel magazine as part of regular material I created for their ‘Weekend Wonders’ feature.

Bothies are unlocked shelters dotted about the UK, many of them managed on limited funds by the Mountain Bothies Association (MBA). Often remote, bothies vary in quality and, if you're like me, your feelings towards them can change depending on how tired you are or how bad the weather is outside. (Even a really basic bothy can be a delight when the weather is foul).

Corrour bothy beneath Devil’s Point in Cairngorms National Park

Corrour bothy, located in the Cairngorms National Park, is one of the more popular Scottish bothies. It’s not far from my home and I’ve made multiple trips there over the years.

The range of feelings I’ve experienced at Corrour bothy includes;

• Enlightenment - through long, varied conversations with like-minded souls I otherwise wouldn’t have met

• Happiness - to live in a country where I can freely wander up hills and through glens and stay out overnight

• Annoyance - to find lots of garbage left behind by previous parties (there's no rubbish collection service in mountain bothies)

• Satisfaction - as I sat outside with a dram on a beautiful Summer's evening after a trek over the Lairig Ghru

• Relief - to reach the shelter of the bothy in the midst of a full Winter storm

Overall, my main feeling towards mountain bothies is one of contentment. From knowing that bothies exist and I can stop for a break from the outdoors if I want to, as on this day one Autumn when I walked door to door from the National Trust base camp at Mar Lodge over Devil's Point, Cairn Toul, Sgor an Lochain Uaine and Braeraich, four of the great Munros in Cairngorms National Park, during a fantastic hike that took me over 16 hours.

How to get to Corrour bothy

The Mountain Bothy Association publishes details of bothies on their website (www.mountainbothies.org.uk). You'll find Corrour bothy at GR NN981958 on OS Landranger map 36. It can be accessed from the south-east from Braemar via Glen Lui or from Aviemore in the north via the Lairig Gru.

Other bothies to visit

Less well known bothies worth a visit include Glencoul and Glendhu bothy near Kylesku, the Schoolhouse bothy near the Munro Seana Braigh and the fantastically-positioned Lookout bothy on the northern tip of the Isle of Skye, at Rubha Huinish.

If you do visit bothies, be aware of the bothy code;

• Respect other users

• Respect the bothy

• Respect the surroundings

• Respect the agreement with the estate

• Respect the restriction on numbers

Viewpoint — Glen Coe summit camp

Written for and published by UK Outdoor Photography magazine.

Each year, in Summer, I like to take a few weeks out of Scotland’s mountains to let the temperature cool down and remove myself from the scourge that is the Scottish midge. By the time the cooler months of September and October arrive, I’m looking forward to ending my self-imposed exile and heading back into the hills.

My goal for this occasion was to sleep atop a mountain peak, photograph the sunrise for a personal client and scope out a location for a mountain running photo shoot I had pencilled in for later in the year. The internet is such a valuable resource these days for a landscape photographer and there’s many useful tools that will aid your planning (such as Google Maps, Google Images, Fatmap or the Sunseeker or Photographer’s Ephemeris mobile apps). You can research in detail exactly which locations should be worth going to and when, with the huge advantage of knowing in advance where the light will fall. A great deal of work can be done at home or in the office and if you’ve planned correctly, it’s simply a case of waiting and hoping for a spell of good weather.

For this trip, I’d researched an ascent of Stob Coire nan Lochan, a 1115m high rocky summit above Glen Coe in the West Highlands of Scotland, part of the Bidean nam Bian massif. I’d worked in Glen Coe before and relished the idea of heading back. For good reason — the landscape is incredibly varied for such a small place.

Parking is available at the popular Pass of Glen Coe and, in the early evening, I trekked into Coire nan Lochan, enjoying the effort of my ascent as darkness fell. The ground was familiar as I’d been in the corrie before, on route to a popular winter climb called Dorsal Arete. Scrambling up the rocky flanks of Stob Coire nan Lochan by head-torch was interesting and good fun and I was welcomed on the summit by cool, dry air, carried on a slight breeze. Settling in to my warm bivvy, I listened to the sound of stags braying loudly in the glens below and soon fell asleep.

Early morning light

One of the benefits of photographing in Autumn is you don’t need to be up super early to catch the dawn. Sunrise was indicated as 7:37am and I was up at a very pleasant time of 7.00am. As I expected, I was on my own, with an uninterrupted 360-degree view of Scottish glens and mountains. Swinging my arms to warm up (I hadn’t brought a stove, to save weight), I set up my tripod, camera and wireless trigger in the gloomy light of pre-dawn, pre-visualised compositions I felt would be worthy to photograph and waited to see what would happen. Unfortunately, I wasn’t blessed with the most colourful sunrise but I was witness to some wonderful views as clouds formed in the glens beneath me and, as they rose they draped over the peaks, shafts of light piercing through the clouds and lighting up the landscape.

In all, I spent a very special few hours, in beautiful silence, switching between wide angle and telephoto lenses and shooting as many different compositions as I felt were worthwhile, lingering until dawn had truly broken, and the interesting light had gone. I then packed up and climbed to the summit of Bidean nam Bian (one of the 282 ‘Munros’, Scottish peaks over 3,000ft high), continuing along an easy ridge to a second Munro, Stob Coire Sgreamhach, before I retraced my steps to the head of the evocatively titled ‘Lost Valley’, and headed for home.

Viewpoint information

Distances in miles from nearest large town and nearest city

• 17 miles from Fort William

• 118 miles from Edinburgh

• 81 miles from Inverness

Access rating

• 5 — Mountain summit reached by some rock scrambling

How to get there

Travel the A82 road to reach the obvious main car park in Glen Coe. Depending on the time of day, this car park may be very busy and a bagpiper playing to the crowds — some smaller parking locations are nearby. Climb the path into Coire nan Lochan — one easy scrambling bit — then, when you each a prominent waterfall, head left on scree and scramble on slightly more difficult ground up the east ridge of Stob Coire nan Lochan to the summit. (A map and compass and the skills to use them is essential. Visit a dedicated walking resource, e.g. www.walkhighlands.co.uk, for more detailed instructions).

What to shoot

Wide angles of remote glens and mountain ridges with the A82 road, c.2,500ft beneath your feet. Switch to a telephoto zoom lens and pull out detail in the rocky cliffs beneath the summit of the nearby Munro, Bidean nam Bian (the highest point in Argyll). The infamous Aonach Eagach or ‘notched ridge’ is straight across the glen.

Best time of day

Any time of day for general photographs (expansive 360 degree views from summit). Best at dawn for the sun lighting up the glens and peaks to the east. Bivvying the evening before on Stob Coire nan Lochan is an option but the summit is very rocky and not altogether flat.

Nearest food/drink

Clachaig Inn, Glencoe, Argyll, PH49 4HX
W: www.clachaig.com
E: frontdesk@clachaig.com
T: +44 (0) 1855 811252

Nearest accommodation

• Clachaig Inn, Glencoe — www.clachaig.com

• Kingshouse Hotel — www.kingshousehotel.co.uk

Other times of year

Winter and Spring light in Glen Coe can be magical but mountaineering knowledge, skills and equipment are required to reach the summits when the ground is covered in snow and ice.

Ordnance Survey

OS Landranger map series 41 — Ben Nevis Fort William & Glen Coe

Nearby photography locations

• Buachaille Etive Mor — 1 mile

• Loch Etive (Glen Etive) — 17 miles

• Lochan na h-Achlais (Rannoch Moor) — 11 miles

Kintail wanderings: 9 Munros north of Glen Shiel

Looking back to the summit of Sgurr Fhuaran, the last of day’s nine Munros north of Glen Shiel in Scotland

Recently, I was preparing a stripped down photography equipment list for occasions where I wanted to travel light outdoors but still needed to capture professional-quality images. Although the items of equipment I chose are lighter than my full bag of camera and lighting gear, they are still too heavy for me to carry on occasions when I’m not working and my goal is to push myself a little in the mountains.

My inspiration for challenging days out on the hills comes from the athletes I photograph as well as my friends. I’m nowhere near a mountain runner or fell runner but I’ve had plenty of photography shoots with professional runners (and follow their adventures online) and the ease and speed at which they travel over rough ground has made me realise that I enjoy moving quicker than walking speed in the mountains (something which I have attempted to do in the past with a full camera backpack but my lower back seeks to constantly remind me).

With this in mind, I purchased the lightest-weight camera I own, a Sony RX100 V for outdoor adventures for occasions where photography is not the focus of my trip but I still wish to capture decent-quality images. The images I’m able to produce with the Sony RX100 are on the borderline of what I’d class as being acceptable for professional purposes (I’m happy to use them for editorial submissions, social media posts and blogs) but the trade off when I’m not working is immeasurable. I can fit the camera into a stretchy front pocket of my backpack and easily fast-walk or jog with it up and down hills without any impairment on my activity, whilst still being able to document my day or take shots I can use later for e.g. location scouting purposes.

The type of outing I’d carry along a Sony RX100 on would be trail running in my local Pentland Hills, a multi-Munro route like the one described here, a hut-to-hut run in the European Alps or a long-distance mountain bike time trial, where my objective is to achieve a relatively big thing (for me) in a certain period of time and I don’t wish to be encumbered with a heavy pack.

An example of this was when I was looking for ideas for a challenging day out in Scotland. My focus was on Kintail in the North-West Highlands of Scotland. If I wished to climb a lot of Munros in a day, Kintail’s South Glen Shiel ridge allows for 7 summits to be ticked off in a fairly easy fashion. Opposite them on the north side of the glen, there are 7 Munros that I could do the following day (or perhaps even on the same day).

The record for the most amount of Munros in a day is held by English runner Kim Collison, who ran 100 miles and climbed 29,500ft to tick off a total of 33 summits in 23 hours and 59 minutes in 2021. The record for total Munro completions overall is Steven Fallon, who’s completed 15 rounds (of 282 hills, sometimes more) over a twenty year period. A qualified mountain guide, Steven is also an accomplished hill runner and his website has a number of running options if you’re looking to join groups of Munros together to make a longer day and set yourself a challenge.

I settled on Steven Fallon’s Kintail Sisters and Brother route, a 39km circular route with c.4000m ascent that includes two nearby Munros and takes in 9 Munro summits. The route starts and ends at the outdoor centre at Morvich and my goal was to complete the round in a certain timescale, using some adjustments I prefer to Naesmith’s formula (which I calculate at 4km/h for every km travelled and 1 hour for every 600m ascent). This isn’t running pace but to achieve it means not stopping so I figured it was a good enough challenge and it would provide me with a day out that would test me but not break my legs (figuratively speaking, not literally). In the end, I didn’t quite manage to complete the route in Naesmith’s timings (it took me 16 hours instead of 15) but I still felt in great shape at the end and it was a memorable day out.

Glen Shiel Sisters and Brothers route (including two additional Munros)

• Distance: 39km / 24 miles

• Ascent: 4105m / 13,467ft

• Time: 16 hours 03 minutes

(Steven’s website recorded this route as 35km / 22 miles in distance with 3,140m / 10,300ft ascent but my calculations were as above, which I corroborated with a friend and then Steven afterwards).

Munros climbed

• A'Ghlas Bheinn (918m)

• Beinn Fhada (1032m)

• Ciste Dhubh (979m)

• Aonach Meadhoin (1001m)

• Sgurr a'Bhealaich Dheirg (1036m)

• Saileag (956m)

• Sgurr na Ciste Duibhe (1027m)

• Sgurr na Carnach (1002m)

• Sgurr Fhuaran (1067m)

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Postscript

One of the reasons I wanted to attempt Steven’s Kintail route was because I have an itch to attempt Philip Tranter’s Round and the time I took in Glen Shiel would give me an indication if that was feasible. It’s relatively tight, with an additional 5 miles and 8,000ft I’d need to cover in the remaining 8 hours (which sounds straightforward enough but at my pace, which will no doubt be slowing by then, it only gives me one hour to play with).