Someone's in my spot... / March 24, 2026 by Carlton Doudney

Okay, I visit this location often, it’s a great viewpoint reasonably accessible and not too much of a strain to drag camping gear up the slope. I’ve been coming here for many years and have noticed as time goes on it has become more popular probably in no small part because of Youtube.

So I was horrified to see after chugging up the hill to see a tent already in my favourite spot, this forced me to scout around for another location. It’s not the first time but before it was because of excessively windy conditions and I found a slightly more sheltered pitch on an otherwise exposed hill.

After scouting around and of course returning to a previously spied spot I set about setting up, with some difficulty. The ground was frozen solid and at first I thought I wouldn’t get a peg in, but putting my knee behind it, much to a complaining hand one then another went in, secure. It was a blessing and a curse, getting the pegs in was a challenge but it would have been too boggy a spot if it were not frozen. I always peg out, you never know if the wind might pick up in the night.

Rannoch Moor dominated by Lochan na h-Achlaise and Loch Ba

Getting late in the day with everything set up I grabbed my down jacket, having slowed down now It was getting chilly, I crunched through deep frosty grass and immediately set about capturing images before the last of the daylight disappeared. One advantage of knowing the area is that I know where to go, It might be the same location each time, but each and every time the conditions are different.

Soon the light was failing and it was time to get some dinner, macaroni cheese and a large cup of tea, I was hungry by now and as usual hadn’t been taking in enough fluids, that tea was so good. I snoozed for a bit listening to some music but was out the door as soon as I noticed there were some clear skies.

It was supremely frosty under foot but thankfully no wind, none the less with the sun out of the picture the temperature had gone south dramatically and it was soon time to get into my humble shelter and snuggle into my sleeping bag.

Next morning sunrise wasn’t anything to write home about, but it had been a good trip with some great weather and I was already looking forward to a return.

Thankyou whomever was in my spot I quite liked this spot as well…

Rain ? / September 24, 2025 by Carlton Doudney

Ah, who cares, heavy showers and extremely windy conditions forecast; so what? Well it did mean a trip to the hills was off the cards, there comes a point when you have to make an informed sensible choice especially on solo adventures. So, a road trip it was be, even so it was mighty windy and torrential showers were the order of the day.

It had been many years since I’d done a road trip such as this and I was quite looking forward to it, a change to lugging heavy loads of equipment into the hills and being car based means little to no limit to what I could bring with me not to mention a differnt set of logitics to take into account such as fuel for the trip.

As usual it was a later start than planned, hmm, by about four hours, (must work on that :) ), the up side was that I got to experience conditions different to which were originally planned to which I had to adapt. My first destination was the venerable Stac Pollaidh (stac polly), a small hill but with outstanding character.

I attempted to find a spot I’d stopped at years before, nothing ever looks the same on a revisit and it was a bit further on than I remembered. I knew where I wanted to be for sunrise so no searching for the ideal spot was required. The wind was ferocious and opening the back of the car was a test of strength and endurance. It was clear that I couldn’t keep a stove running so I gathered all I needed for my evening meal and dropped down to the side of the loch where there was a modicum of shelter and could pile some rocks around the stove. Sitting there with the wind howling as dark menacing clouds raced overhead was raw, elemental. It was fantastic, far from the usual bombardment of what often amounts to gibberish we endure in modern life.

It was a tardy start next morning followed by a hasty bail out of the car as I grabbed boots, camera bag and tripod tripping and stumbling in a frantic hurry down the heathery hillside to the beach below.

With my captures in the can it was time to move on. My next port of call was further north to Ardvreck Castle. Being later on it was crawling with tourists like ants moving over the small promontory. A long exposure took care of the problem.

Heading back south I decided to take the scenic route to Lochinver photographing a shot of Suilven as a spotlight of sun broke though the clouds. The wind was so strong I had to brace myself against a fence post to try and steady the hand held shot.

I retraced my steps of earlier on driving back past Stac Pollaidh and following the single track road that follows a path around the back of the mountain. I had to stop dodging yet more heavy rain showers and wind as this view appeared.

I ran and dived back into the car to continue on the tiny strip of tarmac that twisted and turned with laughable tiny passing places. It was a superb location which begged slow movement to take in the scenery.

The small road almost goes into sea or so it seems.

I passed through Lochinver on my way to Loch Maree my next stop off with the intention of capturing images of the mighty Slioch (The Spear).

I paused at a view point at the top of the pass that leads down the long steep decent into Kinlochewe, I crouched behind the car to get a blurry view of this magnificent scene. I was soon back in the car heater on full.

I found a spot to stop off just off the road and it was time to do battle with the weather as I cooked my evening meal.

Next day was an epic game of cat and mouse dodging heavy showers and sheltering from the wind in pursuit of of Slioch imagery.

I was having a ball and decided to stay another night, this meant sourcing fuel for the car and myself, luckily the garage in Kinlochewe provided both.

Chicken sandwich and a mug of tea for dinner

With the promise of some clearing skies and a moon I had to try for some astro orientated shots across the loch.

The moon hides behind a cloud over Loch Maree

The next day dawned sunny and a complete contrast to the previous days, I decided to make my way back through Torridon on the long twisty roads, it turned out to be quite a long road but with such scenery it was a joy.

What an amazing few days with challenging conditions, lots of photography, some timelapse photography but most of all a jolly good time was had.

Rain? Who cares…

There's gold in them hills... / April 25, 2025 by Carlton Doudney

For nigh on thirty years I’ve driven past this hill and each time gazed up at its’ mighty grassy shoulder wondering what’s up there as I sailed on past to the western hills. I few months ago I took an afternoon recce and knew I had to return, this was that time.

It is a relentless climb up a steep and largely pathless grassy slope and just 13m shy of the magic Munro target of 914m at 901m, there is a brief respite three quarters of the way up where there is a small body of crystal clear water that tastes so sweet it is like nectar of the gods, forget your fancy bottled water. This means no need to carry water for most of the ascent saving around three kilos of weight.

Breaking over onto the small plateau like summit there are views a plenty but the first order of business was to find a pitch for the tent, not so easy as the summit is pretty rocky with a thin layer of moss.

With my camp set up it was of course time for afternoon tea as any civilised person should entertain and with that enjoyed a tour of the summit to plan shots and their timing. I’d hoped to capture some Milky Way images but there was too much moon that night lighting up the sky and washing out the lesser stars.

Dusk soon was upon me and a shot over towards Ben More revealed a fine example of Earths’ shadow or the Belt of Venus.

Ben More, Stob Binnein and Cruach Ardrain at dusk

After a short relaxation for the tired legs it was soon dinner time with Pancetta and chicken pasta, lots of olive oil and parmesan followed by coconut cakes, oh and a little whisky and chocolate to round it off with :)

I took a little nap while listening to some music as I waited for the skies to darken for some night time photography.

The next hour or so was spent setting up cameras for stills and for timelapse capture and trotting back and forth tending to their needs, a tired brain working out the various parameters.

With all the planned images captured it was time to retire and curl up in the embrace of a warm sleeping bag for a couple of hours before emerging for a sunrise shoot.

All too soon the alarm was singing in my ear and reluctantly I crawled out of my warm cocoon to struggle getting the boots on. Up and with a stretch that was all that was needed as the fresh air washed over me and the enthusiasm kicked in.

With the sun up I took my last shot before breakfast with lots of hot coffee followed by a short nap having been up half of the night. As the sun ascended higher in the sky I awoke as things were getting a little toasty in the tent, it was time to pack up and head down. It had been a great little adventure and a location I intended on returning to.

‘But wait’, I hear you say ‘What about the gold?’ Well on the way back down there is a rocky outcrop which I looked at briefly on my last visit but decided to explore a little more this time.

I dropped my gear and clambered down into the crevasse to examine what I thought at first was a cave, I then decided that it looked man made, a mine, a gold mine. My thoughts wandered to how this would be a great shelter in bad weather. Exploring over I climbed back out and I continued with the tortuous descent.

Back home I did a little on-line digging and found out it was a mine, just not a gold mine but in fact a lead mine, oh the disappointment. Guess I might as well cancel that Amazon order for a pick axe…

Memories... / March 11, 2025 by Carlton Doudney

A short piece from a trip of yesteryear in photographs from one of my favourite locations…

It’s fun to look back at past adventures both for the memory and to inspire new exciting escapades…

Rookie Error... / January 16, 2025 by Carlton Doudney

It was a rookie error and I’m guilty as charged, I always advocate checking out new kit, get a feel for it, see where all the parts go, especially if it’s a new camera. In this case it was a new tent, a two person ideal for the longer hours of winter where you will likely spend more time not to mention a bit more room to organise things and generally move around.

The Kuiu Storm Star was the tent of choice, two vestibules, lots of space, three poles with good venting options, it looked simple and not unlike my Soulo tent, a single person tent from Hilleberg. I’m a man why do I need to look at instructions? Err….

I’d chosen to visit my favourite Rannoch Moor spot as I knew it well and it would be easier to set up in a known space. Well it was a bit windier than forecast but okay I thought it’s not too bad. At this point I realised that the guy lines were still in their factory knot format, i,e, tightly done up, I pegged out the fly sheet to prevent it all blowing away then proceeded to with difficulty untie the knots; all ten of them. There may have been some cussing, but the wind luckily carried it away.

After some broken nails and aching back and knees I undid the last knot and stood up, it seemed windier. I started to put the poles into their respective sleeves and hit the first snag, they didn’t seem to cross over quite right, in the now howling wind I held on to the poles moving them back and forth trying to work out what was wrong. With the strengthening wind I stood there braced against the buffeting, hanging on to the loose poles thinking I might have to call it quits when I remembered a small area a bit further down that I’d glanced at a few times before. I took the poles out of their sleeves and quickly jaunted down to inspect plan ‘B’. It was surprisingly sheltered from the northerly belting over the moors.

I portered everything down bit by bit and started again, realising that the pole location was different from the Soulo even though they looked kinda the same. Now it was evident that scrunching up the fly to transport it to the new location had tangled all ten guys, a little more cussing was in order. Finally with that sorted and the spaghetti guy line mess straightened out it was starting to look good, fly up and lines going out. I quickly got my gear inside only to note that I seemed to be on a bit of a steeper slope than I thought. I ended up putting my pack and everything I could spare under the sleeping pad just to get it somewhere close to level.

I awoke the next morning to a frosty -7ºC quite pleased with my little shelter and slept quite well considering the construction holding up the sleeping pad.

It wasn’t a spectacular sunrise and the trip was more about trying out the new tent, but I managed a few images, the starry night ones being my favourite.

Breakfast and coffee time in the morning sun.

On returning home I watched the instructional video, oh, ahh, he does it like that, hmm. Note to self, follow own advice and familiarize self with new gear before leaving home… :)

Explore... / November 1, 2024 by Carlton Doudney

Checking out a new location is always fun, the new the unexpected; but it’s a double edged sword because sometimes it’s a winner and often nice but not great for photography. I think this could be a winner.

It was a horribly steep pull to the summit from the start, the legs got a good workout.

Beinn Achaladair enjoys the afternoon sun.

A late start meant it was getting dark on my descent and fully dark once back at the car, legs aching feet sore and thoroughly exhausted I slumped into the drivers seat, this one is a winner and I’ll be back…

The Fannich Problem... / August 11, 2024 by Carlton Doudney

This range of mountains have proven to be troublesome in that winter attempts saw weather changes which required a bale out due to deteriorating conditions. The western part of the range proved to be no exception. My first attempt in the winter with full winter gear, ice axe, crampons and so on with all their incumbent weight saw next to no snow with the surrounding mountains an off greenish beige colour.

The initial trek through woodland was fine on a solid vehicle track, but then I had to cut down through thick heather, make a dodgy river crossing balancing on loose boulders and then continue up through boggy terrain. On reaching the bealach I dropped my gear and headed up the first target, An Coileachan with only my camera gear, it ws windy and I didn’t stop long.

Looking to the next days planned objective

I decided to stop on Bealach Ban at 775m high, I’d picked up water on the way up so was set, it was dull grey and I was tired by this point, time to retire, it was afternoon tea time. With such boring light there were no grand vistas to photograph so tucked into my sleeping bag for some reading, then part of a movie downloaded on the mobile. One has to be a little civilised after all…

Later that night it started to rain and the wind picked up, the forecast suggested no pickup in wind speed and only light snow the next day.

Soulo tent battling blizzard conditions.

I awoke to howling wind and blizzard conditions, I peeked outside to see snow flying past horizontally, I immediately hunkered back down into my winter sleeping bag and heavenly warmth. This wasn’t foreseen, I’d planned to camp another night up on the ridge line, but it would be even windier up there, and at present in was in the clag, nothing to see. There was nothing for it to but to head out and return another time, a long lie in was called for, at least until it was time to answer the call of nature, brrr.

With a stove full of spindrift there would be no hot breakfast, just flapjacks and some cold water, packing up would call on practiced skill and caeful speed in these conditions.

That was the end of the March winter attempt, fast forward to June and the summer err, okay, and a rematch was called for.

I decided to go anti clockwise this time, the weather forecast looked stable and it was a go, once again through the same woodland and along the track for a kilometre longer and cutting off in the opposite direction to my last visit.

I made it to my proposed camp ‘one' at 757m high having picked up water as far up as I could and yes, it started to rain as I scoured around for a good spot. As quickly as I could I got my tent up but the ground was soft and stony so had to collect rocks to weigh the pegs down. Once up and taught I dived in, a little on the damp side but glad to be under shelter.

The rain increased as I cooked under cover battering on the fly sheet, it seemed there would be no photos tonight and it was by now getting late. However later, on answering the call of nature the rain had ceased and the wind abated a little, looking towards Loch Broom there was an opportunity. It was action stations and getting the camera set up.

After a cosy night the next morning dawned with hardly any wind and a little sunshine, things were looking up, or so I thought. After breakfast I discovered I had signal so checked the weather forecast. Uh oh, you guessed it, all change from winds gusting to 20 mph now increasing through the day gusting to 60 mph, yikes, that put an end to the camp 2 along the ridge line.

I was here and decided I was going to push on and finish the other three mountains that had eluded me on my last visit no matter what, I would see about a lower camp for the second night. I packed up and slowly made my way up Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich at 954m, it was getting breezy.

I didn’t linger, Sgurr Mor was calling and it was the highest point of the trip at 1110m, it was a long slow slog with the wind building making breathing difficult all the way until it was howling on the summit. Nevertheless I decided to lunch here huddled behind the stone cairn, ha, I didn’t stop long but I was determined to enjoy the view, I’d earned it.

It was a long pull with a minor summit to straddle before the final mountain of Meal Gorm at 949m, the wind was getting stronger and it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other now each gust pulling and pushing each step this way and that. I took a breather in a massive stone shelter and had a snack before pushing on to the camp site of the previous outing back in March. I thought I might stop here but it was way too windy so dropped down a little further.

I dropped lower and lower but the wind seem to chase and harry me as I searched in vain for a suitable camping spot, the shoulders ached as did the legs from the effort of scouting around.

Beinn Dearg and Cona’ Mheall, a past adventure.

I’d gotten so low now a thought entered my head, push on out and head home, it was still a little windy but it was super boggy all around with little hope of finding dry ground.

My shoulders and hips begged, my legs pleaded to not go any further but there was nothing for it, trudge on out…ouch.

A trudge it was having started at just after 7 in the morning I made it back to the car at around 7 in the evening and with a tiring 3 hour drive home, 10pm saw me falling in the front door exhausted. I was taught in my horse riding days to sort your horse and gear first before yourself, I carried this practice over. I quickly sorted through my gear, hung things up to air, put things to wash and then threw a pizza in the oven and me in the gloriously hot shower.

It wasn’t quite the adventure I’d planned, it being a hard won trial of endurance in the end, but I was buoyed by the satisfaction of having conquered the Fannich problem.

Patience pays off... / March 17, 2024 by Carlton Doudney

I knew Am Faochagach had a particularly boggy approach, so I planned to either do it in the height of a dry summer or the cold of winter when everything would be frozen, the latter won out.

The ground was particularly frozen and I was making good time up until the first obstacle, the river crossing is known to be challenging to impossible when in spate. The issue now was that a lot of the boulders were covered in ice. I decided to take an alternate route further up but this meant some heather bashing which is hard work but I made it to the first river crossing, yes there would now be two hopefully easier crossings. The first was alright with a shallow gravel bank at an angle, with a hop, skip and a jump I was across; yippee.

The joy was soon short lived as I realised I was now having to cross through massive highly frustrating peat hags, some around 2 metres deep, the only up side they were frozen. I took close to an hour to navigate the short distance of about 200 metres to the next river, which looked harder to cross. I just went for it and luckily made it dry to the other side. Energy at a low I now had the steep pathless climb up to the shoulder I’d planned to camp on, I made it weary and fatigued just before dusk.

Up pre dawn the next morning to a tent both frosty on the inside and out but to a cracking morning with beautiful views.

It was a fantastic morning that kept on giving, the frost covered hillside adding to the atmosphere not to mention what you can’t see, the lovely clean, crisp fresh air.

The Fannichs, a future challenge with issues!

I had breakfast, porridge of course washed down with delicious hot coffee followed by a small siesta, yes already; but it was so warm and cosy in my tent. I paid for this later as I didn’t pack up for the next part of the ascent until around 11am, tsk,tsk.

I plotted my route visually up the hillside, but it wasn’t long before I hit the snow line which slowed things down. After a slog with many gasping rest stops, the joys of carrying winter gear together with water for the summit camp, I made it up onto the ridge line. The angle was easier, but the snow ankle deep or so, which still slowed things down. My goal was in sight and with fading vigour I pushed on to the summit where there was a brisk chilling breeze.

This sparked a little more energy, however I was torn between getting some images and getting the all important camp set up, the light was starting to go. The photography won.

A few images in the bag and a new problem appeared, the ground was frozen solid, no way to get tte pegs to secure the tent with. I spent 40 minutes scouring around the summit to no avail. Eventually I found a spot which the pegs went into if only as a token gesture, any strong wind would probably play with their weakness, I was carful not to sneeze. Luckily the Hilleberg Soulo tent is fully free standing or else I would have had to descend to some spot where pegs would gain purchase.

It was good to be out of the bone chilling breeze in my tent where I could coax some feeling back into my fingers and get my pasta dinner on the go. After listening to a little music I peeked outside to see starry skies, no rest for the wicked, it was tome to muster up and get out there.

A distant Ben Wyvis with the lights of Inverness beyond.

After midnight and a brief look outside the starry skies had been replaced with thick fog and zero visibility, more concerning was the noticeable pick up in wind speed.

I slept fitfully as the tent flapped in protest and awoke early, I waited until it would be dawn where I would beat a hasty retreat, though it was still quite dark come the time. No time for porridge or coffee, just a flapjack and cold water stored in a vacuum flask to prevent it freezing, my pockets filled with snacks for energy on the descent. The fog swirled in and around, the wind making strange noises as with practiced skill born out of experience, I speedily packed everything away. It was good to be on the move, the summit no longer felt welcoming and hinted that I should leave, now.

Navigation was taxing as it always is in these conditions in deep snow with the wind blowing you around and visibility poor at best. Eventually I dropped below the level of the fog and could see where I had to aim for, it was time for a break and some of those snacks.

I headed back down directly for the spot where I couldn’t cross the river before, I was determined even if I had to wade the icy waters, there was dry clothing back in the car. On arrival at my nemesis I searched up and down the river, there were possible convoluted crossing points but again ice covered boulders. I hit on a solution, I’d carried them the whole trip but never needed them, crampons. I strapped them on and with a questionable balancing act proceeded to step out onto the icy boulders, the rushing deep water baiting me; aided by my trekking poles, step by step I made my way across.

On the other side I scrambled up onto the bank and gave out a small embarrassing shout of joy, problem solved. With almost a spring in my step, well, in my mind at least I headed back to the car, dry feet and success. Patience had paid off and the timing just perfect. Task complete.