Mini Cards

 Recently, in an attempt to keep in touch with more of my friends I have been painting small landscapes and making them into cards. The advantage is that it only takes me an hour or so to paint one, so I can make and  send more. Also it gives me a chance to paint more scenes and try out different compositions. 

They are all from photos taken on my mobile phone. The finished cards measure 9.5 by 6.5 cms.

Above are two I did today , below some others I did earlier in the year.

 

And some more 

John Kynaston

 It was a terrible shock to hear that our good friend and ultrarunning legend John Kynaston had passed away a few weeks ago.

Like a huge number of people I was privileged to know John and call him a friend although we only met occasionally at races.

 John touched a lot of people's lives through his blog and podcasts and by pure dint of being so friendly and upbeat.  He was always reaching out to people and it didn't matter if you were an elite ultramarathoner or back of the field jogger. He would chat to you and inspire you no matter who you were.

I remember during the 2018 Ring O Fire Race. At the end of each day when most people just concentrated on getting fed and rested, John would be filming and recording his impressions of the day for the benefit of his blog readers.

 I often found that after a race in which John had taken part that by the time we had driven home and had some food John's race report would already be on the internet sometimes with an apology that he had not yet had time to edit his race video. He loved to plan and always had goals set for his running year and prepared numerous spreadsheets. Everything was tabulated and recorded and he would have a guess my time competition for big races with good prizes for those closest to his actual time.

It was John who inspired me to achieve a sub twenty hour West Highland Way Race; I saw that he had done it through solid and methodical training and knew that his race times were not dissimilar to mine.

The last time I saw John I ran with him for a short distance of the Devil o the Highlands Race on a blisteringly hot day in 2019. I was just spectating , he was running the race. He had not long completed the Dragon's Back; an epic multi day race across the mountains of Wales. He recommended it to me saying it was the sort of race I would enjoy. I lamented that I (though 8 years his junior) no longer had the fitness for a race like that.  Advancing years did not seem to phase John, if anything his running plans became more ambitious although he was slower than at his peak. If it wasn't for the pandemic John would have been running the Spine Race this January which is a continuous race over the 270 miles of the Pennine Way and must be one of the toughest  ultraraces in the UK if not the world.

However superb a runner he may have been, without a doubt what people will remember John for is his unfailing cheeriness his ever present smile, and his generosity of spirit.

 It is unbelievable that someone with such a huge and giving heart should have suffered a heart attack and not whilst completing an epic ultramarathon, but in the early hours of the morning .

Rest In Peace John , We will miss you.

Canna

 Coronavirus has of course been a disaster for humanity but one little unexpected perk was that I was forced to spend three days on the island of Canna this summer.

 I go there most years for work purposes. It is always a rush to get the everything done in time for the ferry back to Mallaig, However this year due to the corona virus restrictions the ferry service was reduced so it was not possible to get out and  back in one day. Consequently I had to stay for three days and had plenty of time to do the work and explore the island, swim in the sea and even sample the excellent home brewed beer at the cafe. 

Of all the Small Isles Canna is probably my favourite. It is big enough to have remote areas but is small enough to feel intimate. There is plenty of history but it is linked to the present with the Mackinnon family still farming there as they have done for centuries. Around Canna House there is a small wood but there is also bleak moorland, little hills, dramatic cliffs and beautiful beaches. It would be stretching it a bit to say it is Scotland in microcosm, but there is certainly a great variety of landscape for such a small island. None of this quite explains the atmosphere of the place which is so friendly and welcoming. It is difficult to be on Canna and not have a smile on one's face.

The above picture shows some of the dramatic cliffs on the west end of the island.

North Face

Here is a recent painting of the North Face of Ben Nevis under winter conditions.There has already been some snow falls on the higher tops although not quite as much as this. Last weekend we ran up the tourist path to the half way lochan and then around to towards the C.I.C. hut which sits below the cliffs of the North Face. Even though it wasn't many busy it was a relief to to  turn off the tourist path and  head up the valley to enjoy the remoteness and stunning beauty of Allt a Mhuilinn. The weather was fantastic.There was some atmospheric cloud drifting around the corries of the Ben but the sky above was blue. Snow delineated the crags and the the lower slopes of the hills were a rich autumnal brown. We took lots of photographs of the North Face to add to the great many we already have of this stunning view.

                                                  DULCE ET DECORUM EST
Bent double, like beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distance rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas !GAS! Quick, boys!- An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.....
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I see him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,-
My friend you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

by Wilfred Owen  18/03/1893-04/11/1918
It is said that his parents received the telegram telling them of his death as the bells rang out announcing the Armistice.
,

Run from Corrour Station

One of our regular runs  is to get the train to Corrour and then run back home. It is nothing  epic; 17-18 miles on boggy paths and tracks with a moderate amount  of climbing but a net downhill. It is a good run on a bad weather day - we know the route well, and once you step off the train you have no option but to run all the way home. Actually that is not quite true - you could sit in the wonderfully warm and  cosy Station House Restaurant and sip coffee until the afternoon train came to whisk you back to Spean Bridge (on some days when it has been lashing  with rain this has been tempting!) On fine days there is lots of options to add in hills or lengthen the route .Even to run to Fort William via Glen Nevis but that is extremely boggy.
For the last week the weather has been unrelentingly bad - almost continual rain. Oban has had floods and  there have been landslides elsewhere in the Highlands. Yesterday I had a day off and expecting more rain we jumped on the lunchtime train to Corrour, which at 1339 feet above sea level is the highest train station in Britain and often very cold. However to our surprise it was a glorious day; both warm and  sunny. The hills which are turning golden brown at this time of year looked stunning. The stags were roaring too which added to the atmosphere of rugged wilderness.

Loch Treig

The first stage of the run is to Loch Treig and past the sadly boarded up Creag Ghuanach Lodge. From there you climb through the hills  on a boggy path to the Lairig Leacach which is hemmed in by Stob Coire Easain on the right and Stob Ban and Stob Choire Claurigh on the left. We often stop at the little bothy  for a breather and a chat with any walkers there.A bit more climbing then you start the descent towards Spean Bridge which is about 8 miles further on.

The track beyond the Lairig looking down into the sunlit glen

Lastly one reaches the Leanachan Forest which yesterday was delightful, the birds were singing the sun shining and  the trees were a medley of autumnal shades - yellows oranges and browns. We arrived home well satisfied with our afternoon trot through the hills.

Creag Meagaidh

Last week I went to Creag Meagaidh, which has recently become one of my favourite Munros to run up.It lies close to the A86 half way between the Lochaber mountains and the Cairngorms. Previously I have climbed it by the westerly ridge Creag na Cailliche from Moy this a steep and rough ascent although it does give one the opportunity to traverse the entire plateau to get to the top. Strangely I hadn't attempted the more conventional route from the main car park up Allt Coire Ardair until a few months ago. When I did try this I realised how delightful it was. There is a good trail for most of the way - steep enough to be hard work but still runable . First through some attractive woodland then up a broad glen This leads to the beautiful Lochan a Choire which is  surrounded by dark foreboding cliffs. Beyond this the path is steep and with lots of scree until one gets to the bealach between Stob Poite Coire Ardair and Creag Meagaidh. The summit is about a km away across the sloping plateau.

Last week the weather had been kind all he way up but once on the plateau I could see a squall approaching from the west. Half way across the plateau the wind became quite ferocious and very cold and the visibility deteriorated .Rain then hail lashed down. There is a false summit just before the true top called Mad Meg's Cairn . Apparently a  poor lady who committed suicide in the 18th century was buried there by her family as it was forbidden for suicides to be buried in church yards. I decided to turn around there rather than continue to the true summit.Even so I was chilled to the bone and didn't warm up until I was back to the lochan. Then of course the clouds cleared and beyond the lowering shadow of the cliffs the sides of the glen were illuminated by bright sunshine. The painting below is from a photo I took at that point.

Yesterday I was meant to go to Rum but the capricious Scottish weather meant that the return ferry was cancelled.
 Instead  we took the train to Corrour and ran home through the wind and the rain sloshing our way through bogs and streams, and having a thoroughly good time.

The islands of Eigg (on the left) and Rum from Mallaig on a clam day.