One swallow doesn't make a Summer

On Tuesday I saw my first house martins at Acharacle  and today I saw a swallow.I was almost as excited as when I heard my first cuckoo  2 weeks ago.
 The leaves are starting to appear on some trees but the oaks are still bare. I sketched the trees above today; they are broken and battered but full of life, green with mosses and lichens, studded with bracket fungus  and with ferns growing in the crooks of the branches.

Today is election day.
.I'm not a fan of politics or politicians but for once there is more choice and the result is not a foregone conclusion.Perhaps if no party gets a clear majority they will have to co-operate with each other. Maybe they will even have to achieve a consensus. All will be revealed tomorrow!

Glen Etive - winter returns

 After some great spring weather we had snow on Monday and Tuesday!  I had to go to Glen Etive , driving through Glencoe the landscape was completely white .
Glen Etive is a beautiful valley overlooked by dramatic mountains. Some of the last part of the Bond film Skyfall was filmed here . By coincidence the family of Ian Fleming (who wrote the Bond novels) owns the estate .

Today we had more wintry showers interspersed with bright sunny periods. Painting the sketch above conditions changed moment to moment. When I started there was a huge black cloud over Glen Nevis obscuring most of the Mamores whilst the foreground was in sunshine, and the sky on the left was blue . Later the mountains revealed themselves and rain started over Fort William. The view is from Inverlochy the site of a battle in 1645. I placed my sketchbook on the little monument. The inscription reads:
                                  He either fears his fate too much
                                   or his deserts are small
                                   that dares not put it to the touch
                                   to gain or lose it all.

                                   James Graham 1650

Highland Fling

Running alongside Loch Lomond ( watercolour painting form a photo)

We are just back from the Highland Fling Race.
It is ten years since Murdo MacDonald  started the event to help runners prepare for the West Highland Way Race. Back then there were less than twenty runners, now it has developed into the biggest ultra event in Scotland with an amazing 647  people finishing the tough 53 mile course from Milngavie to Tyndrum.
 As always the organisation of race director Johnny 'Fling' was top notch .
Everything had been thought of . There was an official race hotel ( available at a very cheap rate for runners),and free bus to the start. There were lots of  portaloos (reducing that pre race stress of queueing for ages as the minutes tick away to the start).There was tea and coffee for sale as well.
 The race operates on a drop bag system. At the start you hand in bags containing your choice of food and drink which are then given back to you at checkpoints during the race. There's no  frustrating search for your bag, as you run into the checkpoint your number is shouted out by the marshalls so other volunteers can pick out your bag and have it ready and open ! Large bins were provided further down the trail so you could jettison wrappers and bottles after you had consumed their contents,as I said everything had been thought of.
I have had some good runs on the Fling normally finishing at around the 9h.35 mark . Last year was a disaster as I had a bad cold and had to walk the last 12 miles. This year I feared a similar result. - my back problems have prevented me from doing my normal level of training and my fitness is really poor.
We all wore chips on our ankles to record our exact time at the start and at various points in the race. I started off in the 10 -12 hour group at a comfortable pace but before long the excitement of it all got to me and I went a bit too fast. Scenically the first 12 miles are not exceptional but beyond Drymen the magic starts. From the top of Conic Hill Loch Lomond is arrayed in front of you with its many inlets and islands. I used to dread the 6 miles from Balmaha to Rowardennan but I have grown to love them . It always seems a very long 6 miles, but what a  great trail!.Across beaches around  bays through woodland and up and down hills, it is a delight.
The weather had started cold and wet but by Loch Lomond it was dry and the sun was shining. After Rowardennan there is a section on forestry tracks which I often struggle with before the way narrows to a rocky path and the views of Loch open up. For a road runner wanting to get from A to B as quickly as possible such a path would be very frustrating, but it is the sort of running I really enjoy. Every step is different; up and down, twisting and turning, rocks to clamber over, tree roots to jump, bridges to cross (some with ladders).There are waterfalls, caves ,wild flowers, feral goats.Fourteen miles of gorgeous trail.
Several times I was almost overwhelmed by emotion. I felt so happy to be able to run an ultra in such a beautiful place, especially after the issues I have had with my back. There is a small rise near Cnap Mor with a wonderful view back along the length of Loch Lomond.Friends erected a West Highland Way marker post dedicated to Dario who was director of the West Highland Way Race for many years. I always pause here for a few seconds to enjoy the view and contemplate life.
After Beinglas there is for me another difficult section of seemingly never ending track but by this stage the end is a reachable. I found myself flagging by Crianlarich, the lack of training really starting to show.I had put my heart into the Loch Lomond section and by the infamous 'cow poo corner' had very little left in the tank. But by and by the miles were covered.
Close to the end there are pipers playing each runner in. That for me is the signal to attempt a finishing sprint, I always find myself grinning from ear to ear as the elation hits me. The finishing straight was lined with flags and actually red carpeted. Once over the line a team of volunteers removed timing chips and distributed goody bags containing sparkling wine,T-shirt and buff ,  we were ushered into a large marquee and offered free beer, soup, baked potatoes tea, coffee and ice cream. As before everything had been thought of with lots of special touches - real ales, filter coffee,Mackies ice cream. Even the toilets were posh with pictures on the walls and moisturiser as well as soap .
My time was half an hour slower than my best but I had a fantastic day. The winner Mathew Laye was over 3 hours faster than me finishing in 7 hours and 4 minutes ! The first lady Rachael Campbell finished in 8 hours 42minutes.
 It was for us an amazing race experience, the organisation, the route, the perfect running weather. Well done and thank you to Johnny and his team!

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Sketches of people on the train- I had no time to sketch during the race!

A Great Day for Sketching

Wednesday was another beautiful day. Officially I had the day off but I had to go to the office to catch up with paperwork and phone calls. Afterwards I ran up towards the north face of Ben Nevis to paint a sketch. It was actually hot ! Sitting on a rock splashing paint on paper surrounded  by the most majestic views imaginable I felt I was in heaven. The north face of the Ben is truly dramatic the hidden dark but fascinating side to a well known mountain.It is a confusion of crags and corries and a magnet for ice climbers in the winter.I could have spent hours sketching but I had a long run home and had agreed to meet Helen half way.
 The picture is a bit of a muddle and I cannot guarantee that every patch of snow is in the right place. However I know that in years to come if I look at the sketch I will be able to recall exactly the details of a wonderful afternoon in the sun. This is the essence of sketching- laying down memories. I've written diaries before but words are not nearly as evocative as pictures regardless of how rushed and sketchy that picture is.

The North Face of Ben Nevis

Bird Life

On Sunday I climbed the Grey Corries .I slogged up Beinn Bhan then followed the easier slope  up to the summit ridge of Stob a Choire Claurigh.It was a warm and sunny day although cooler higher up .  Approaching the ridge  I saw a huge bird , a golden eagle soaring on the wind .We often see distant birds high up in the sky which we presume are eagles,but these sightings are debatable.On Sunday it was the real deal -I could see every feather on its outstretched wings as it turned and wheeled away. Every time I have seen an eagle close up I have been impressed not only by their breathtaking size but at the speed at which they can travel without any apparent effort, riding the air currents and manoeuvring with a twist of the wing.
Yesterday I was in Acharacle on another fine day listening to the birds singing ; willow warblers ,chiff chaffs and the occasional skylark .I heard my first cuckoo of the year! Considering that the cuckoo is such an unpleasant bird in its habits it is surprising the joy one feels on hearing its call for the first time . Most years I hear my first cuckoo whilst running in the Highland Fling Race close to Conic Hill ,this Spring it was a few days earlier.
A lady in Acharacle told me that there had been a hoopoe in the village last week; a rare and exotic visitor which trumps hearing a cuckoo!

The Sound of Mull from Lochaline

Hills on the road from Corran to Strontian

On the way back to Fort William I dropped in to the ever inspiring Resipole Studios. .The gallery owner Andrew Sinclair paints very fine figurative oils.Whenever I visit I discover more talented local artists.Yesterday  I was taken by some gouache mountain landscapes by Rodger Insh  an  artist I had never heard of before. They were tonally spot on  and beautifully detailed.Gouache lacks the transparency of watercolour so there is a danger that  the colours look dead or chalky however these pictures really glowed .There were also some large dramatic atmospheric oils by Rebbecca Collins- the sort of pictures with 'Wow factor' that stop you in your tracks from across the gallery.

Spring!

Ben Nevis

I love this time of year - everyday there are more signs of Spring . Buds are appearing on the trees and the birds are singing their hearts out in the mornings. Tourists are also migrating north especially that hardy sub species the West Highland Way walker; he or she is seen limping along The Belford Road carrying a huge rucksack and tap tapping with walking poles. I'm always envious of them - completing the West Highland Way is huge achievement.
 I sketched this view of Ben Nevis yesterday. A man came up the river in a little motorized canoe with a dog wearing a life jacket sitting motionless in front of him.

Visit to Knoydart

Yesterday I went to Knoydart. While most of the country basked in Spring sunshine there was unrelenting rain here in North West Scotland but Knoydart is a magical place that I would gladly visit whatever the weather.
Whilst waiting for the boat I saw a large seal lolling in the water just metres from the jetty, only when the ferry approached did it lazily roll over and disappear.
Knoydart is a peninsular but might as well be an island. You can walk or run in but it is 14 miles from the road end at Kinloch Hourn  (itself a very long drive on single track roads from Invergarry) to the village of Inverie. It is a lovely trek but not ideal if you need to be back in Fort William the same day. Instead the boat form Mallaig only takes half an hour. I enjoy visiting Inverie because it has such a friendly atmostphere- the villagers wave to each other when they meet and of course everybody knows everybody else . Its remoteness and small size determines that co operation amongst its one hundred or so inhabitants is a necessity.
 It wasn't always like this; in the 18th century Inverie was one of many townships and Barrisdale Bay would have been busy with merchant ships . In the days when roads were very poor or non existent then good access by sea gave an area far better connections and so less remoteness than corresponding inland villages. Nowadays we think of a ferry trip as time consuming, complicated and uncomfortable - you have to get out that warm metal cocoon known as a motorcar and climb aboard a small draughty boat  pitching about in the sea. Two hundred years ago it would have been a swift  and efficient way of moving people and cargo, far better than walking or riding through bogs and hills. Having said that I do know a man who used to farm on Knoydart who  on leaving the area drove his cattle out on foot overland . That must have been fun!

The Helmsman on the boat to Inverie, Knoydart.