Return to the Western Fannichs

If there is a finer sight in all the land than Wester Ross in blazing sunshine, I have yet to see it. Last weekend my wife and I enjoyed the rare collision of good weather and no work or church or parenting responsibilities and so drove North through lovely Ullapool to the Ardmair campsite, where we threw down our tent, brewed coffee and planned our adventure for the following day.

It's been many years since I have walked in The Fannish hills, that lovely range of mountains that appears to the left of the Ullapool road as it heads North through the Dirrie Mor. Countless cars see the graceful outlines of its' peaks and ridges, but very few people seem to venture up onto its spacious countours. Since completing the Munros, there have been several favourite walks which I have wanted to go back and share with my wife - and the Fannichs are right up there in the top ten.

After a fitful night (I never sleep that well in a tent),  we stocked up on coffee and filled our rucksacks. I have discovered that in order to feel OK, I need to carry a lot of fluid up the hills on hot days, and so my pack was heavy. Nevertheless, we strode down the track from the A832 to Loch a Bhraoin and following the 'Walk Highlands' route advice turned east and crossed the Alt Brebaig on a precarious bridge under the slopes of Meall a Chrasgaidh - our first hill of the day. A mile or so south of the bridge we turned directly west and marched up the relentlessly steep slopes to the summit - by which I had sweated my body weight in water and replenished it from my supplies.

It was good to spend some quality time with my wife, life has been extremely busy recently with work and family travel meaning that we have spent more time apart in the last year than in the previous 25! Realising that this wasn't really that great, we prioritsed some time together and ring-fenced it from other competing concerns. It's something that is really good for us and which we should do more often! 

Sgurr nan Clach Geala is a fine, high mountain, whose ridges are are untrammeled joy to traverse. From the airy walkways of this sculptured peak it seems as if half of Scotland is on show in all directions. Beinn Dearg, An Teallach, The Fisherfields, Slioch - all distinctive and each loaded with memories of hill days and companions. Last time I was on this hill was in June 2006 - and it was so windy that standing up was a real issue - I scampered off and back to Ullapool Youth Hostel as fast as I could. This time, the temptation to linger was strong - but we had a lot of miles and more hills to do. 

The next one was Sgurr nan Each, which from Sgurr nan Clach Geala looks tiny, is a good little hill in its own right. But where were all the people? It was a sunny weekend in the school holidays, Scotland was basking in light, it was stunningly beautiful and almost completely empty. Has hillwalking gone out of fashion? Was the weather too hot? Or do folks here in Scotland fail to appreciate the glory on our doorstep?

With plenty of food and fuel in the rucksack, we resisted the temptation to head Northwards to the car and instead hunted for the ascent track up Sgurr Breac. I remember finding this path in appalling weather in 2006, but here in sunshine it seemed to be well hidden - and only emerged further up the steep ascent. I was very up for more hills, and combining both the walks I had planned into a single day. My wife was inspired by the fact that she was on 98 Munros and that these two (which looked tantalisingly close) would clock up her hundred. But in the heat, towards the end of a long day, it was a fearful slog! In 2006 on this ridge I had seen nothing, in truly dreadful weather, so to repeat these hills in cloudless skies was a genuine delight. We went to A'Chailleach butr returned to Toman Choinnich to use it's long NW ridge as a descent route to Loch a Bhraion- descending the WalkHighlands recommended ascent path. It's steep and in places wet and slippery, but makes for a quick way back.

Sadly the extra two Munros meant we were not back in Ullapool before closing time at the Seafood Shack - which would have to wait until the following day! Not all hill days are this good - but this was as near darn perfect as it gets. Blessings duly counted and thanks given to God!

 

Back around the Ring of Steall

On a glorious Summer's day, my wife and I drove North - our target for the day, The Mamores. In the classic TV series, "The Munro Show, Muriel Gray said that these are her favourite hills in the whole of Scotland, and I can see why. It's been almost a quarter of century since I walked around the Ring of Steall, and it was my wife's first trip there. We spent a while trying to work out when I'd been there before, and the clue was that in the photos from that day was one Dr Harvey, a Kiwi who worked with my wife for a year at Perth Royal Infirmary in 1998! I probably agree with the redoubtable Ms Gray about these hills, they are really magnificent, with great sculpted ridges, lush glens, incredible views of moors, mountains, glens, lochs, the sea, and rivers and waterfalls - with great access up Glen Nevis and great stalkers paths from glen to peak. I mean really, other than the midgies which lurk in Glen Nevis, these hills are heavenly!

We took the traditional route around the Ring of Steall, parking at the end of the Glen Nevis road, and going through the Nevis Gorge and over the rope bridge at the Grey Mare's Tail before taking  the stalkers path up to An Gearanach - the first Munro of the day and the start of 'the ring'. The four  Munros (it was five, when I first climbed it) form a ring, the last of which lies over the 'devil's ridge' a wonderful little gnarly ridge with a bad step in its centre.

Our problem was carrying enough fluid for a long day in a drought. I carried (and used 4 litres, and my wife 3), and yet still when we reached the River Nevis we were really thristy - it was sweltering. It has been so dry that the air had a whiff of smoke, from big fires burning near Spean Bridge and at Glen Affric.

Last time we made a navigational error on descent, and came down far too far to the east, and over terribly steep ground. This time I was careful to head us NW off Sgurr a Mhaim towards Polldubh. this took us to a delightful riverside track back towards the car, via a footbridge.

The saga of my Munro bagging continues - I still haven't got round to doing the last two I need to complete, but have got further into taking my wife around my favourite walks. This surely is really one of the best - ridge walking at its absolute finest, Breathtaking and wonderful!

Glorious Knoydart

It is many years since I have ventured into that most special of Scottish peninsulas: Knoydart. Even the name Knoydart is enticing, and the glory of the scenery, the remoteness and emptiness of the hills and the romance of the history of the estate and community stir the heart!

My first trip there was with a church walking group, and we trecked in from Kinloch Hourn to Barrisdale Bay. Our weekend of hillclimbing was cut short by truly awful weather, lack of visibility and magnetic variations in the rock which made our compasses freak-out alarmingly. My second visit was a lot better, camping at Inverie Bay with my younger son, completing the Knoydart Munros despite battling mixed weather and midgies the size of hedgehogs...

This third visit was very different. This time my wife was with me (her first trip there), and we came in via Mallaig and the ferry to Inverie. Just getting to Mallaig proved to be something of an ordeal. A wide load was being moved across Scotland and we got stuck behind it's glacial progress from near Laggan Wolftrax all the way to Spean Bridge - which took over two and half hours!! They stibbornly refused to ever stop to allow the queues to pass and made us miss our ferry - which was very irritating! Thankfully there was space on a later ferry and the tea room had our fish and chips ready when we eventually arrived in Inverie. A load of our friends and neighbours were in Knoydart too, doing a big round of all three of its Munros, camping first at Inverie then at high level near Mam Barrisdale. We had hoped to join them, but I have hurt my neck and the physio advised against carrying an exped pack and not sleeping with proper pillows. So we opted for the b&b and to just doing one Munro.

So early on the Saturday morning we set off from 'The Gathering' and followed the track past the campsite and up the Inverie River towards the Loch an Dubh Lochain with our sights set on Ladhar Beinn. Before the loch we struck northwards up a 400 metre nightmare of a climb. Steep, overgown, wet, slippery and deep in bracken and brambles - it really was unpleasant. However it allowed for access to the high ridges which would prove to be such inspiring company for the rest of the day. Sadly there wasn't enough time to turn westwards from the low point on the ridge (Mam Suidheig) to climb Sgurr Coire Choinichean, the wonderful Corbett which stands over Inverie - so we turned eastwards and followed the many rises and falls of the Aonach Sgoilte.

 

With sun splitting the skies, the vast bulk of Ladhar Beinn across the corrie and mountains in every direction, it was one of the most incredible ridge walks I have ever done. In decent weather the ridges of Knoydart's great hills are simply unbeatable. Sgurr na Ciche looked suitably majestic inland, Ben Nevis away to the South is always distinctive, and out across the glistening Sound of Sleat, the Black Cuillin of Sky filled the horizon. Stunning!

At the unnamed top at 849m we stopped for a well deserved food and drink break. We could see a group which looked like our friends high up on Ladhar Beinn's summit ridge, working their way along it's rocky and bony finale. The ridge from where we sat, to where they were was steep, bouldery and involved so many great losses of gained height that Ladhar Beinn seemed to be a mountain that you had to climb twice to get up it! My wife doesn't especially enjoy scrambling (though she has done the Inn Pinn!) and didn't relish the couple of scrambly bits of Ladhar Beinn's south west ridge, but bashed up it anyway.

I couldn't help but remeber the appalling weather the last time I walked that ridge over twenty years

ago. This time, the conditions were perfect. The sun blazed (and we carefelly rationed our water supplies) while a gentle breeze blew to control the midgies. The summit of Ladhar Beinn, not only provides one of the greatest views of the West of Scotland's wild places, mountains, lochs, bays, seam glens and islands (and therefore the world's!) but must be the only place from which you can see the whole of the Knoydart penninsula from Loch Nevis to Loch Hourn. All the way in fact from heaven to hell.

We sat up there for ages - it was absolutely stunning. It was one of the finest views either of us had ever seen. In his song, "Knoydart", John Lees sang:

Knoydart mends a broken heart
Heals a tortured soul
Brings new life to tired minds
And brightens eyes that look upon
Sky, nothing but blue sky all around
Sky, nothing but blue sky
Feel the silence calling all around
All around 

The 'nothing but blue skies' line had previously jarred a little, as on my first visit here we couldn't see our feet through ther mist. But now, I understood what he meant! Marvellous.

We had a table booked at The Gathering in Inverie with our friends at 6:30, so we reluctantly had to leave Ladhar Beinn's summit - and continued down the NW ridge to the coll An Diollaid. There we turned southwest down a steep, but straightforward descent down to the floor of the glen, where a bridge in the woods, crossed the river and led to a track which took us back to Inverie. With time to spare we wandered to The Old Forge, to find it was closed for rennovations, but all our friends were sitting on the grsass by the bay - with drinks from the adjacent shop. So we joined them there before a wonderful dinner at The Gathering.

After that we just had the boat ride back to Mallaig tolook forward to the next morning. The end to an absolutelu fantastic weekend.  

Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich)

Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich) - the bit in the brackets distinguishes it from its namesake in Torridon's Beinn Alligin mountain, or it's almost namesake in the Fannichs, is a hard hill to get to! Apparrently it wasn't always such a difficult hill to access but became more cut-off after the completion of the Glenn Garry hydro-electrcitiy scheme which was commissioned in the 1950s and completed in 1962. It was the Loch Quoich dam which massively raised the levels of the loch, and extended its boundaries into several adjoining glens which buried the access routes under millions gallons of peaty water. The result is that access from the Loch Quoich side is now only for those who have a boat, and are willing to paddle accross the loch in search of the Northen ridges of Sgùrr Mòr.

The rest of us have to approach Sgùrr Mòr (Loch Quoich) from the south. That means driving the length of Loch Arkaig, and walking into Glen Dessary, then climbing over the Feath a Chicheannais pass into Glen Kingie, over which Sgurr Mor lies on its far side. Given the fact that the pass between the two glens has only an indistinct path, and is very boggy in places, and the road to the head of Loch Arkaig is long, narrow, steep, single-tracked with grass growing down the middle, and liable to be blocked with inexperienced camper-van drivers; it doesn't sound all that appealing. In fact nothing could be further from the truth - the road from the Commando Memorial out to Loch Arkaig is absolutely magnificent and every mile brings another surprise and delight.

Near the road end, there are countless spots for camping near the car - and my wife and I used one of these for a couple of nights to bring Sgurr Mor within easier reach. When the sun shines, and the wind blows - I can't think of a finer place to camp. It is stunningly beautiful, and very quiet. When the rain starts, there are few places to shelter, and when the wind stops and the midges rise from the heather like a dabolical plague sent to overthrow humanity; there is nothing to do but run!

So we ran, from our little camping spot, to the end of the public road at the car park and on into Glen Dessary. I'd walked further in Glen Dessary on my last visit to these hills, many years ago when I'd been on my way out to Sgurr na Ciche on the edge of Knoydart. This time though we took a northward turn at Glendessary farm and up over the peaty, wet and pathless pass into Glen Kingie. This glen is quite remarkable - a very remote and lonely glen, with no roads, tracks, or buildings other than the truly 'off the grid' bothy at Kinbreak.

Walking books are divided about the best way up to Sgurr Mor from the southern route into Glen Kingie. While they all agree that the delightful River Kingie must be forded (difficult in spate!) there they part company. Some books recommend following the stalkers path to the head of the glen, then up the long SE/NW ridge to the summit. Others suggest attacking the hill directly up it's steep, green sides - reaching the ridge just east of the summit. We took the latter option - and it was a brute of a climb, but which seemed to get us to within a few hundred feet of the summit in great time. 

The entire day we were there Sgurr Mor's summit remained hidden in a cloud that we we ascended into and descended out of. As there was nothing to see at high level, we abandonded our plans to walk the long stalkers path back to the head of the glen and instead descended from it from west of the summit, and followed a similar line to that which we had ascended. That brought us back to the refreshing waters of the Kingie - and the long slog back over rhe peaty pass, to the walk out along Glen Dessary to the camping spot. A big meal later and a glass of wine, was making for a pleasant evening by the lochside, until the rain arrived to dampen our spirits, and caused a retreat to the tent, relieved that I had also brought a good book for the trip! I finsished Sherry Turkle's, "Alone Together" before crawling into my sleeping bag. 

At last, I have also climbed a new Munro. All the climbs I have completed over the past year or so seem to have been repeats! With only two to do to complete the list, it becomes harder to actually get them done. I have only Maoile Lunndaidh and Cruach Ardrain left on my list - and so my thoughts have been turning to what I will do when I have completed the task. I could take up crochet!

Or I could seriously start bagging Corbetts. What is far more likely is that I'll do most of the Munros again with my wife. She didn't used to really like big hill days and when the kids were small she was more than content to send me off to the hills for the day. In the last three years she's got really into hillwalking and has raced to 76 Munros in no time at all. I've already made a list of favourite hills I've love to revisit with her.... Beinn Alligin, The Ring of Steall, The Buachaille, Cairntoul, Ladhar Beinn, and more. Perhaps (in the words of the Average White Band!), it might be a case of "Let's Go Round Again!"  

Return to Carn Dearg

Ah, the Monadliath! These great miles of undulating high country, of wide sculpted hills which somehow lack the 'superstar' status of the Cairngorms. No one seems to write books about these hills, or eulogise them in poetry, no Big Grey Men have chased eminent professors off their slopes, or developers pushed engineered paths or ski tows into their corries. There isn't a cafe for miles.

If you want to walk in the middle of the great interior of the Highlands, and not meet a soul, head to the Monadliath! They are hills which seem to smell of faded glory, where the clearances seem to have only happened recently and glens lie silent, where once there was life. Unlike the florishing of tourist mecca's, or what Alfred Wainwright called "the fleshpots of Aviemore", empty ruins with cold hearths exposed to the Monadliath sky sit here, West of the A9.

My wife has rarely ventured into these hills, and so with a free day to enjoy we drove to Netwonmore and up Glen Road to the little car park and walked West. Our destination was Carn Dearg, which my memory assured me was the finest of the Monadliath hills. Little seemed to have changed up Glen Banchor since I last walked these paths a decade ago. Glen Banchor looked the same, the hills looked the same and only the ruined cottages in the empty glens showed the passing of time.

It's a good old trudge northwards up the Allt Fionndrigh on a track which then climbs over into Gleann Ballach, which gives access in turn to the western flanks of Carn Dearg. The ridge from Carn Ban to Carn Dearg (945) to Carn Macoul is probably the closest thing to a ridge walk in this part of the world, and the views down into Loch Dubh below Carn Dearg's western flanks is particuarly lovely. We dropped down westwards from the ridge to intersect the path that goes up to the lochan - a path which it must be said is clearer on the OS Map than on the ground!

This led us down Gleann Lochain and into Glen Banchor for our walk back to the car. Strangely for the end of May, the temperature dropped dramatically as we walked back, past a ruined cottage and along by the charming river to the car and to home. The busyness and noise of the A9, with its buses, trucks and average speed cameras seemed to come from a different century to lonely Gleann Lochain. 

Carn Dearg is not Lochnagar, or the Buachaille, or Cairngorm - and is all the better for it. If you want to walk all day, from a free car park - and enjoy complete solitude, then the Monadliath awaits! 

Return to Meall Chuaich

It's well over twenty years since I have been up this rather neglected Munro. After the experience I had back then, it's perhaps surprising that I ever went back at all! While I have three Munros left to do to complete my round, they are all in awkward places requiring overnight stays and so I never seem to quite manage to get up to the far north to do them! On the other hand, my wife is up to around 75 hills ticked off on her list, which means that there are always loads to choose from, within easy reach of our home in Perth. To be honest, we often just reclimb old favourites, and I could have completed the munros a long time ago if I hadn't been up Bern Vorlich at Loch Earn countless times, for example! 

Picking hills to re-ascend is interesting because the ones that grab my attention are those in two extreme categories; the first are memories of incredible days which I would love to relive (like climbing Beinn Alligin in blazing sunshine with the (long-since emigrated) Percy Cowpat. The other extreme are hills on which the weather was so dreadful that I saw nothing, and got cold, wet and grumpy. These hills, it seems to me, should be given an opportunity to redeem themselves for they cannot be held responsible for the weather!

Meall Chuaich (spellings of this hill vary, the OS maps render it differently on the 1:50000 and 1:25000 sheets), is worth reclimbing for the latter of these two reasons. It was before my oldest son was born that I climbed this hill, with David - a pal from Dundee days. He was optimisic that the abysmal forecast was too pessimistic and that we'd get a clear hour or two.... but his optimism was entirely misplaced. His wide didn't join us that daym because she was suffering from plantar fasciitis, and had by far the better day back home nursing her sore foot! We bagan our day cheerfully enough, but spent the latter half of it wrapped up in thermal layers and Goretex, trudging wearily through driving rain. Strangely I don't remember much else about Meall Cuaich! The last I heard, David had emigrated to work somewhere in the Middle East. I'm not saying that the weather was what drove him from the Highlands of Scotland, but perhaps that day in Meall Chuaich was the final straw. 

At the start of this year's walking, my wife and I have been out and about in Perthshire, enjoying some of the lower hills like Birnam and Obney. We especially like the silence, lonliness and wide views from Obney Hill, and had been up that the day before. But she's keen to get Munro-ing again, so a re-visit to Meall Chuaich was in order for me - and an easy start to the year's +3000footer's.

The Dalwhinnie Distillery is a famous landmark on the A9, where the Laggan Road from the West Coast meets the main North-South route. Apparently the distilling tradition here goes back centuries to a time when drovers would trade cattle in these parts. The international drinks conglomerate Diageo continue some of that tradition today, although malting and bottling isn't done here anymore. However a dram of Dalwhinnie 15yo Single Malt is a very acceptable way to end a day in the hills. Light, heathery and honeyed, Dalwhinnie was the malt that converted me into being a whisky drinker when I was young. My first taste of malt whisky was a neat Oban - and I couldn't understand why people liked it at all. Now, I can't imagine not loving the tongue-warming smokiness of a fine malt.

The route up Meall Chuaich begins just after the famous distillery. The highways people have recently taken to numbering the layby's which is very helpful and to start this particular walk you want #94 on the South bound side btw. Many years ago while climbing the two other Munros on the east side of the Drumochter Pass, I had a navigational nightmare which began because I started in the wrong layby and nothing made any sense! According to my very old OS map, I was to start by a phone box - which I did. But either the OS made a rare mistake, or BT had moved their phone! Either way, it was only when I got to the top and surveyed the whole scene that the problem became obvious and the dilemma solved!

No such problems faced us starting at Layby #94, and walking a hundred yards North and taking the bulldozed track east into the moors, and turning left and following the concrete hydro-aqueduct up the glen, almost to the foot of the hill. Despite having to scrape ice from the car in Perth, the sun was shining and warming the earth as we walked past the turbine house and up towards the dam. Heather fires were burning in various parts of the landscape, and there were plenty of grouse running about in the heather too. 

Turning right just before the dam and loch, we turned east again and followed the track to a bridge over the river after which a footpath struck steeply into the sides of the hill. It's quite a hard pull up in places, but the views open up, and up and up - in all directions as you ascend. Hillwalking books are somewhat dismissive of the merits of Meall Chuaich as a hill, but all rightly note that the views it provides are impressive. After a long slog, and few bogs to hop, a large flat topped hill is reached, capped by a massive cairn - which was hard to find in poor visibility last time but was visible from miles away this!

The gleaming white distillery was clearly visible to the SW, in front of a wonderful view down Loch Erivcht into the Ben Alder group of mountains - still clearly snow-capped. Then, the magnificent Creag Meagaidh on the Laggan Rd looked massive, and it's famous "window" still holding a lot of snow and looking very hard to climb. The villages of Kingussie and Newtonmore mark the route of the A9 North, and the Monadliath Hills looks great from up there too. Only when you reach the summit do the central Cairngorm Mountains come into view. Being a thousand foot or more higher than the other hills, these high plateaus still had a look of Arctic tundra about them. 

With a chill wind picking up, after the obligatory summit photos (including a nice one of my wife and I, taken by the only walker we set eyes on all day), we headed back the way we came, Once out of the wind, down by a locked bothy, we finished the flask of hot coffee and tore into the huge slab of Fruit and Nut we'd got left from our lunch - before the hour long walk back alongside the aqueduct.

To kick off a year in the bigger hills, this was a wonderful start! 4 hours of walking, a good workout on the climb, and views to savour for a long time. The aim for the year for me, is to do some (if not all) of the elusive three munros I have left. My wife hopes to get from 75 up to 100. With the kids now being self-sufficient, its easier to get away to the hills together than it ever was. I just wish I had the knees I had when I was 30!

Gairich

On the south side of Loch Quoich lies the wonderful mountain of Gairich. Last week we were on North side of the loch from where it looks irresistible - and so went back this weekend to have a crack it it!

There's plenty of parking around the Loch Quoich dam (spelt Loch Cuaich on many maps) and access to these hills from the dam itself, where a footpath leads over the great concrete wall. Once over the all, an obvious footpath leads southwards into the boggy margins of the loch. Every Muro I have left seems to have some obstacle of difficulty, and horrible reports of people wading through, or sinking into soggy peat hags has been the reason that I have never done this hill! In practice however, though it was very damp in places - at no opint was it impassible or even that difficult. Progress over the soggy-miles was slower than on the engineered paths through the Cairngorms, for example.

Although the path is soggy in places there is a least a path, which a forest where several paths meet - and from which one takes to the long East Ridge of Gairich. It clims steadily over several miles, with the steep cliffs of the summit looking ominously as they range into view ahead. As these cmoe closer it is hard to picture which way to go up, however when you get the foot of the final pull up, it becomes obvious. A path goes straight ahead, which zig-zags up the face, before turning in to a series of exposed terracesm and then a couple of srambles onto a surprisngly broad summit, from which the views are exhilirating. Knoydart, Dessary, South Glenshiel, and more!

The ascent took 2 and a half hours. The route back is the same as the way up but took slightly longer as it was wet and slippy in places. It's a wonderful drive in and out of the Glen too!

Auchnafree Hill

Circumstances combined rather well yesterday to facilitate a great little walk up Auchnafree Hill, a Corbett near Crieff, set amongst delightful scenery. Last Sunday, I took a good friend from Canada around the Glenturret Distillery, for their excellent tour, and saw their photos of Loch Turret, their water supply and thought how good it looked for a walk sometime! Then, less than a week later, with the sun splitting the skies, all our kids busy doing different things - and it being our 23rd wedding anniversary, we drove over the Perth to explore this lovely glen.

Glen Turret is absolutely gorgeous! The number of times I have driven through Crieff, and missed this little gem, in search of 'bigger' scenery is shocking. I think we tend to instinctively overlook what lies close at hand. I grew up in London's suburbs, but didn't really ever visit any of London's great sights which were on my doorstep, like The Tower of London, until showing some friends from the USA around London when I was a student! Likewise, I would never really think of going to Crieff for a day out, it's not very far, and the hills are not huge. Crieff was always a place I would stop for breakfast on my way to Tyndrum, or Glencoe or The Mamores. Well, I've missed out!

Soon after the Glenturret Distillery, a left turn on a tiny road leads N/NW up the glen. The surface soon becomes riddled with massive potholes, and the "10mph" signs, which look ridiculous at the bottom of the road are optimistic further up. It's not a public road, rather its owned by the water board, but they allow cars up, and provide a car park under the dam at the top.

The walk to Auchnafree Hill can be done a number of ways, we followed the lochside track the length of the east shortline, and then took a second track, climbing steeply until just under the summit, where a further track jags left, and then becomes a feint path all the way to the twin cairns. The smaller cairn seems to mark the true summit, but the larger one is a better viewpoint, and this is where we stopped to stare at the mountains all around us - and swat away the millions of flies!

A great circular walk is possible, by staying at high level back over Choinneachean Hill, but the blazing hot sun, and lack of water drove us back to the lochside, for a delightful wander back to the car. Alluring paths led off in all directions, suggesting that there are many more routes to be enjoyed here too.

Book Notes: Redeeming Sex by Debra Hirsch

Factions and divisions within the Christian Church used to be based around the content of their creeds and confessions. It is, after all, almost 500 years to the day since Martin Luther nailed up his famous "95 Theses", which started the Reformation in Europe. The early churches argued about Gnosticism, and Arianism, the Middle Ages saw the schisms over ecclessiology and soteriology. In more recent times, eschatology and pneumatology have been the bones of contention. All of these disputes seem to be managed with calmness today compared the bitter and acrimonious disputes about Christianity and Sex. It is a brave writer (or indeed reviewer), who dares to try to walk on such stormy waters. Debra Hirsch is one such courageous person.

Books in this field usually fall into one of thee categories, (1) conservative studies primarily of the biblical text. which seek to re-enforce traditional sexual mores; (2) radical theologies which seek to change traditional Christian teaching and endorse things such as Same-Sex Marriage by arguing either that a) the Bible has been misunderstood, or b) is not authoritative on the subject. The third type of book is the spiritual autobiography of a person who changed their mind and lifestyle on the issue, either from conservative to liberal, or from liberal to conservative. Thinkers as diverse as John Stott, Steve Chalke, Rosaria Butterfield, Rowan Williams, and Vicky Beeching fall into these categories.

Debra Hirsch's Redeeming Sex (IVP, 2015) is a far harder book to classify because it doesn't slot happily into any of the usual categories, but seems to draw on them all! This turns out to the be book's great strength, and also its weakness. Rather than plunging straightforwardly into the contentious 'gay issue', Hirsch tries to draw together a biblical and theological view of sexuality; as an essential part of humanity, as good, and as badly handled by the church. That's all pretty standard stuff; what is more intriguing is Hirsch's distinction between social and genital sexuality and the way in which she begins to weave her personal story, and those of friends and family, into the book.

The great distinctive of this book is this. Many more liberal books claim to respect the Bible and Christian teaching; but in fact undermine it. Many more conservative books claim to only uphold biblical teaching while loving and affirming people; but totally fail to do this in practise. Hirsch seems to plough a lonely furrow of walking with the Bible firmly embraced in one hand, and gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people in the other. She herself left the gay lifestyle behind when she became a Christian; but does not endorse sexuality re-orientation programmes which are discredited. Rather she talks about a process of re-awakening her own latent heterosexuality over time. She does, gently affirm that there is a tension between homo-erotic practice and biblical spirituality; but on the other-hand does not seek to make agreement with her point of view on this issue a requirement of joining her church. Rather she speaks about the grace of God bringing us to faith in Christ, requiring a lifetime of sanctification of all of our lives - progress being made faster in different areas, than others; all of us heading in the same direction at different speeds. She reiterates the often overlooked point that almost everyone is in some way sexually disordered, lustful, or selfish; and that we are all fellow-travellers in sanctification regardless of gender or orientation.

Essential to her working this out is her distinctive ecclessiology. She explores two models of church community which she refers to as (a) the bounded set and (b) the centred set. The bounded set describes a legalistic institution in which outward conformity to rules selected to make the group distinct are enforced. This is the old-style church. The centred set is a loose association of people, all of whom are centred on one defining source: in the case Jesus Christ. Everyone seeks to become more like Jesus, but accepts fellow-travellers who may not be positioned as closely to the centre as ourselves; but are nevertheless facing him, and being drawn towards him. Such an open model of church is maybe a missionally helpful one. and one in which biblical ideas can be shared gently, and sensitively over the long term. The old adage about loving sinners but hating sin might actually work in this model, and might apply to all sins, not just ones we have made into boundary markers!

The problem with the promotion of the Centred-Set model, is that while it might well look a bit like the band of disciples in the gospels, or the wider group around Jesus; it might not sit so comfortably alongside the epistles of the New Testament. The Pauline corpus is especially problematic for it, in a number of ways. Firstly. these epistles do seem to have some sense that the boundaries of the early church were to be established around some certain observable behavioural criteria (1Cor5), and that exclusion from the fellowship meal was a significant boundary marker and mode of church discipline. The New Testament looks at the very least, a little more of a bounded set than Hirsch seems to allow. Secondly, there are issues with her assertion that sexual morality is a secondary issues around which Christians can simply agree to disagree; and that sexual conduct should not have any influence on fellowship. However 1 Corinthians seems to be written partly in order to refute such thinking, making sexual ethics a primary issue; not a matter of lesser importance. It is certainly not in the 'new moons and sabbaths' category of issues on which differing views are permitted. Finally Hirsch is insistent that there is an element of hypocrisy in the bounded-set church which selects sexuality as a boundary issue, while allowing all manner of greed and gossipping in under the radar. Of course, she is absolutely right about that. I'm not sure though, that her proposed solution, of abolishing the boundaries is what the New Testament would recommend. It's hard not to see 1 Cor 5&6 as promoting boundaries especially in sexual matters; not because sexual sins are more offensive to God than greed (Jesus makes it clear that greed is utterly abhorrent) but because these relational sins are notably damaging; perhaps because as relational sins, they are most damaging to community. Incidentally Galatians indicates some doctrinal boundaries too - it's not all about sex.

What Hirsch has in her favour is that she is seriously trying to work out what it means to welcome all manner of people into God's kingdom, without judging, without prejudice and without any sense of wanting to control people. She really believes that Jesus loves all, welcomes all and what people need most is His transforming presence in their lives. She is wonderfully able to combine her obvious devotion to Christ, and love of the Bible. with her many gay, lesbian and transgender members of her family and church; with whom she shares her life. No-one could read either Debra Hirsch's biography, or pleas to the church to be inclusive; and then seriously argue that everyone who seeks to follow the Bible's moral code is a hate-filled homophobe. Hirsch is so positively pro-gay in so many ways that conservative readers will be shocked; while radical proponents of queer theory will probably never forgive her personal decision to leave the gay lifestyle for biblical reasons.

Redeeming Sex is a disturbing read, a new angle on a debate which too often has the two sides lining up against one another; determined to shout, never to listen. As I have mentioned, the strength of the book lies in its coupling of serious and genuine discipleship, with open gracious warm-hearted love for all, and in that it is inspiring. Where it maybe stumbles is in squaring its proposals with the practicalities of New Testament instructions about the shape of church life. Either way, this book requires serious consideration by Christians who long to find a way of maintaining biblical fidelity without engaging in some unedifying US style culture-war, with all the nasty "them" and "us" connotations for which the self-righteous Pharisees were so slammed by Jesus. These are complex, and sensitive areas to which Hirsch makes an important contribution. Perhaps finally, it is as much her attitude, as her arguments which are so important.

Book Notes: A Better Story: God, Sex and Human Flourishing by Glynn Harrison

Glynn Harrison who was until recently Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Bristol, is also a Christian with orthodox/conservative Christian views about sexual ethics, family life and so forth. This unusual combination of expertise and convictions come together in his new, and rather unusual book: A Better Story. 

I think it is important to grasp who this book is aimed at, in order to appreciate the contribution it makes to these discussions; and understand what this book is not, as well as what it is. Beginning with the 'what it is not' then, A Better Story is not a detailed biblical or theological argument as to why Christians should continue to maintain their traditional ethics. Neither is it a defence of the procedure of deferring to the Bible, as the final authority for a Christian or a church's faith and practise. So, if you are looking for a book which engages with liberal theology (which seeks to move the ethical debate beyond the Bible), or with the 'evangelical left', and its radically revisionist readings of scripture; this is not the book for you. Rather, in these pages, Harrison writes for people who have reached broadly similar conclusions to himself about these foundational matters; but who are bewildered about how to relate to the contemporary world. 

Harrison manages to achieve these aims with great skill, combining serious academic rigour, with remarkably accessible language; while coupling orthodoxy with pastoral sensitivity. This makes the book worth reading in itself; however there is more. A Better Story isn't a church rule book, or a blue-print as to handle awkward ethical dilemmas in the life of the church. In fact, in his discussion of matters such as the case of a polygamous family who became Christians and sought to join a church; he demonstrates just how difficult these matters are. But this book is not a short-cut, which will offer a church a series of answers with which to avoid thinking; rather it is an invitation to think long and hard about what it means to be a biblical church in the particular circumstances in which we now find ourselves.

The book is divided into three sections, and within these, each chapter comes with a helpful summary at the end. These are especially useful for reminding the reader of the main points of earlier chapters, when the book moves so rapidly from one area to the next. 

Section One explains the so-called 'sexual revolution' not just in terms of social history, but also in philosophical and theological categories - including the re-emergence of Gnosticism, and the triumph of hyper-individualism, how moral systems are constructed and propagated, and the effects these changes have had on society and individuals.  A particularly fascinating chapter explains to the church how to adjust to being a 'cognitive minority'; who need to spend more effort in maintaining group ethos, than a previous generation of Christians who generally swam in cultural waters moving in the same direction as themselves.

Section Two begins with a critique of the church's dealing with sexual matters in the light of the sexual revolution he mapped out in section one. Interestingly, Harrison is not entirely negative in his assessment of all the changes brought about by the sexual revolution, noting that prior to it, the linking of sex with shame and secrecy was as unbiblical as what replaced it - and that the church was frequently complicit in this error. Then Harrison turns his attention to the effects of the sexual revolution revealing some interesting research which suggests that "the sexual revolution promised more and better sex, but failed to deliver". While sex might be more visible in the media, and all over social media, and society has become increasingly porn saturated; surveys suggest that the amount actual sex taking place, and people reporting sexual satisfaction is dropping. The value of, and decline in the institution of marriage is examined next, with an array of studies cited demonstrating the correlation of marriage with a whole host of benefits (without assuming crass cause and effects where they can't be demonstrated btw). One finding is of particular significance. Harrison notes that while the middle and upper-classes have led the liberal assault on the primacy of the marriage relationship and its historic definition; they continue to have higher rates of marital stability. On the other hand, the more vulnerable socio-economic groups have embraced this cultural shift, and failed to capitalise on all the demonstrable social goods that flow from the institution. Finally, in this section, Harrison turns his attention to the nature of identity - as it is today located in radically individualistic terms; and where the search for 'authenticity' is seen as a turning inwards to one's individual perception of their true-self; as opposed to an outward view in which external verification is sought, from biology, society, or God.

Section Three is where Harrison turns his attention to the distinctive Christian response to these issues; where the three subjects of the book's subtitle (God, Sex, Human Flourishing) come together. He develops several lines of argument, all of which are rich with ideas, insights and wisdom. His first task is to start with the basic Christian message, and to demonstrate the way in which the gospel provides a context and meaning for the whole of life; a big story of which the issues at hand are but a part. The concept of human flourishing which emerges here is that of redemption by Christ, and growth into his image, secure in his identity. Harrison then addresses how human sexuality is an important part of that flourishing, both as expressed in the covenant of marriage, and equally in the single life. Both, he demonstrates equally reflect different aspects of the gospel narrative, and the nature of God. As such, sexual desire should be shorn of any shame, and singleness of any social awkwardness, because both are important parts of what God planned for us, and things with which we glorify him. He moves on to look at the importance of marriage, family and church community as medium-level institutions, in which human flourishing is promoted. These are the opposite of the echo-chambers of social media where people mix in circles of people just like them; but where long-term relationships are forged with people we might not always choose! Then, he takes the church to task for failing to address this radically positive view of sexuality in the Christian life, (in other words only being known for what we are against), and states that every church should have a programme supporting marriage and parenting!

A thread running through all this material is that of the importance "story", of narratives which define the argument, which have more power than mere facts in moving and persuading people. By this, he doesn't just mean individual stories (important though they are), but also the narratives which are used to define debates, and interpret cultures. A dominant narrative today might be that we have finally thrown off the shackles of Christian guilt and can enjoy and explore sex more fully than previous generations. This is the sort of narrative that Harrison is challenging in this book; but he is anxious to tell us that we cannot do so just by quoting reports, and statistics alone - but that we need to construct and tell "a better story". On pages 180-182, he maps out what this better story might look like. It begins like this:

And continues, mapping out what a Christian and biblical view of human sexuality and flourishing looks like today, concluding with a repudiation of 'Christendom' style models of imposing our morality on others, in favour of a more gracious invitation to all to join us on this path.

For people and churches who share Harrison's core convictions, "A Better Story", is essential reading, as it is insightful, wise, scholarly, accessible, stirring to read and challenging the church both to faithfulness to its message and to repentance for its errors. It gives unusually clear access to complex areas of discussion and social analysis, without dumbing these issues down. It also gives orthodox Christians a great guide for beginning to think more engagingly and creatively about these difficult subjects. Christian morality will no doubt continue to be accused of being limiting, oppressive and immoral; but Harrison believes that it is enriching, and good for us all. For those who do not share Harrison's starting point, he provides a suggested reading list under various headings which explore these ideas in greater detail. This book deserves to be widely read - not least by revisionists who wish to move Christian ethics away from its biblical roots, and towards contemporary norms. Engaging with Harrison would be a helpful way for such folks to at least understand their opponents! The book also deserves to be widely read by those in broad agreement with Harrison; not least because doing so will help to prevent them either avoiding these issues and handing the ground by default to the wider culture, with all the problems that involves; but also because Harrison is a wise-guide in helping to ensure that such engagement will not be crass, controlling, or involve resurrecting the shame-culture of a bygone age.

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Glynn Harrison was Professor and Head of the Department of Psychiatry, University of Bristol, where he was also a Consultant Psychiatrist. He now researches and writes about the relationship between Christian  faith and psychology, neuroscience and psychiatry.

Film Notes: Amour

WARNING - this review contains major plot spoilers!

Amour is a film which leaves an indelible impression upon the viewer. It is a film which provokes discussion amongst those who watch it, and will no doubt continue to divide opinion for years to come. Amour is both a stunningly beautiful and yet ultimately dark film. Unsurprisingly it garnered 2 Baftas and 5 Oscar nominations, and a Cannes Palme D'Or.

Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuel Riva lead the cast as Georges and Anne Laurent, an elderly French couple, who are both retired music teachers in their late 80s. Their acting is spellbindingly brilliant, and the characters they create in their delivery of a 'difficult' story are both completely convincing, and emotionally engaging. I have seen too many films in which wooden or melodramatic acting has left me disengaged, and disinterested in the fate of the characters. Trintignant and Riva are the opposite of this, as the elderly couple negotiate joy, pain, sorrow, tenderness and rage; they do so, so with such depth and subtlety that I for one couldn't take my eyes off the screen for a second. It is sadly unusual to see elderly people expressing deep affection,

tenderness and love in films. Perhaps Hollywood is especially guilty in this regard; and it takes an Austrian film-maker, working in French to do so. Hollywood tends to think that love is the exclusive preserve of the smooth-skinned and fertile; whereas the real world contains people like Georges and Anne Laurent; life-long lovers and inseparable friends who gently and tenderly help each other with their daily tasks.

The film is brilliantly shot, and virtually every scene takes place in their apartment. The viewer feels completely drawn in to both the characters and the place. The camera's detailed studies of the faces of both Georges and Anne, are hugely impressive; and only add to the power of the performances by Tritignant and Riva.

Central to the story is the stroke suffered by Anne Laurent, in front of her husband. Riva is just superb, in her transmission of the strange combination of physical adjustment, fear, sadness and dignified resilience. Alongside her, Tritignant is wonderful as the husband both sorrowful at his wife's debilitation, but yet stoical in doing everything he can to help her recover as much as is possible. One scene I found especially moving was when George helps Anne with her recovery physio, working to try and coax life and response from her reluctant limbs.

Why then, is this a dark film? The reason is that as the story develops, George receives no help from family, friends, neighbours or the state and as he is left as the sole carer for Anne, and begins to personally unravel. Anne expresses her desire to refuse water and die, but he persists with his dogged caring regime, whilst internally disintegrating, to the point where he slaps his wife and collapses in regret. This emotionally jarring scene rams home the message that as the patient, Anne's physical deterioration is matched by Georges, her carer's, parallel psychological descent.

Finally, in a complex and difficult emotional scene, George grabs a pillow and smothers his wife; scatters her body with flowers and runs away. The viewer is left with a tangled sense of relief that Anne's suffering has come to an end, but horror at the way in which it has occurred; involuntary euthanasia - which is murder. There is also the acute sense that somewhere off-screen, Georges' psychological torment has only just begun.

The film has received differing reviews. While there seems to be unanimity about the undoubted quality of the cinematography and the acting; the film's moral message has caused some consternation because the film seems to be promoting euthanasia as the final act of love: "Amour". The film delivers a mighty amount of angst and emotional recoil from "the slap" scene; but appears to invite the viewer to share in the idea of euthanasia as a 'good ending'.

Margaret Morganroth Gullete, in her insightful review of 'Amour', for The Guardian writes: 

‘One of the implicit convictions of the film is that a carer – even one as assiduous as Jean-Louis Trintignant's Georges – will crack under the strain of caring for a stroke victim… yet the circumstances shown in Amour are highly unusual. Money is no object for this couple. The carer has no pressing health issues of his own. He is also a man. And, though highly educated, he is a man who apparently has never received any advice about caregiving.’

This set of circumstances, she argues, is rather contrived:

‘Carers are now advised to arrange respite care: to get out, eat properly, enjoy a social life. It's understood that their own health and mental wellbeing is at stake. As well as this, Georges could easily have secured more help from other agencies…  a daughter better educated about disability might have said words of love to her mother, and persuaded her – while it was still possible – to go out for tea, out in her wheelchair, to visit a friend. The family doctor, who makes house calls, could certainly have provided adequate pain medication for Anne; morphine could have eased her passing. Georges had more compassionate alternatives available to him than smothering his wife with a pillow.’

P.J. Saunders goes further, (perhaps his argument is in breach of Godwin's Law),  as he draws a parallel between Amour and the German film Ich klag an, which was used in 1941 as a way of making German public opinion sympathetic to euthanasia, as a prelude to the killing of significant numbers of sick and disabled people. However, one need not draw (or endorse) such an extreme parallel to Amour, to be deeply concerned about the moral undercurrent behind the film.

Finally 'Amour' is a brilliant piece of film-making containing simply stunning acting, but it is harnessed to deliver a dubious moral message. 

Lochs, Rivers, Bridges and Leaping Salmon - The Faskally Circuit

Despite the beautiful autumnal sunshine, clear weather forecast and almost perfectly still air, we didn't head for the high mountains. Sadly, my wife is carrying a bit of an injury to her right shin/ankle which seems to get aggravated by hard walking. Instead, we went to Pitlochry and walked the paths and roads which form a circuit of Loch Faskally and its two main feeding rivers, The Tummel and The Garry.

The Car Park near Pitlochry Station has a road which leads under the tracks and down towards the Hydro-Electric dam, which is one of the town's most well known features. The dam, which blocked the River Tummel just after WWII, created Loch Faskally, and provides 15MW of power for the National Grid. While some artificial lochs look very artificial, Faskally has a remarkably natural feel to it, given how short a period of time it has been part of the landscape. It is also home to a network of easily navigable waymarked paths which form pleasant and undemanding walking routes.

We struck Northwards up the East side of the loch. The route begins on a shore-hugging footpath, then diverts around some housing and picks up a minor road out to a boat club. Here, the town is left behind and the lochside path, decked in autumn colours is delightful.

The first landmark in the route is the bridge which takes the A9 trunk road high over the loch. Its amazing to think that until 1981, all the North-South traffic between The Central Belt and The Highlands was funnelled through Pitlochry High Street on the old A9. My Grandparents regularly drove (or moped-ed) the old A9, on their highland holidays, which often began with a Motorail journey through England - which itself had no complete motorway network in those days. The queues in Pitlochry High Street in the summer must have been demoralising for tourists and locals alike. These days the A9 is slewed across the glen and back, and Pitlochry is but a series of roofs and spires on the far side, as far as most travellers are concerned. The only negative aspect of this is that the railway line has not been upgraded over the years in which untold millions has been spent on (and is continuing to be spent on) the A9. That, and the fact that most travellers to the North are carried high above the lovely lochs, woods and rivers that surround Pitlochry, which are simply not visible from the tarmac and crash-barriers. Looking up from under the A9 bridge over which we have driven maybe hundreds of times, we realised what we had been missing!

Immediately under the A9 bridge, a footbridge crosses the river, we didn't cross it, but continued up the East

side of the Tummel - that bridge would be part of our return route, and the last in a series of remarkable and dramatic footbridges which have been hurled across the rivers here. The path follows the bank of the river, past the confluence of the Tummel and The Garry and the majestic Faskally House. eventually passing under the soaring bridge of the Loch Rannoch, Rannoch Station and Rannoch Moor road. Nearly a quarter of a century ago my wife and I drove over along that road on one of our first dates; today we walked under it with two of our three children, while our oldest (who earlier in the day received confirmation that he is entered on the electoral role and vote in the Scottish elections next year), stayed at home to revise for his exams: tempus fugit!

A few hundred yards past the high road bridge, an amazing footbridge crosses the river. A path continues to Killiecrankie, but time prevented us from going further, and we crossed to begin our return walk down the west side of the river and loch. Crossing the bridge, my wife realised that she had seen this view before - but wasn't sure where. Suddenly she unearthed a memory.... these bridges in the Pass of Killiecrankie had been on the cover of the University of Dundee 1990 Prospectus which she had received prior to going there to read medicine. It turned out that this was a walk she had been intending to do since then!

The path back down the west side of the Garry is charming, with open fields and farms complementing the fast-flowing torrent now on the left. The return walk is longer than the outward leg, as the River Tummel, joining the Garry from the West, presents an uncross-able obstacle at the confluence. A diversion of a mile or two up the Tummel to another (wonderful) footbridge is required in order to resume southward progress. This however is no bad thing, as the excursion up the Linn of Tummel is one of the highlights of the walk. As we were there, the waters were crashing over the rocks, with Salmon hurling themselves into the fray in their annual upriver migration. It would be worth coming our here for this alone!

Once over the Tummel, the route joins an unclassified road which runs behind the Clunie power station, and on to the first footbridge by the A9 road, and the completion of the circuit. All that remains is a gentle plod along the side of Loch Faskally back to Pitlochry - and the inevitable coffee shop visit before the drive home. This may not have been an epic mountain day, and McNeish might be optimistic in calling this one of "Scotland's 100 Greatest Walks", but it is a charming and delightful place, full of interest and beauty, perfect for a Winter walk, or to enjoy in autumn colours.