Portrack, Garden of Cosmic Speculation

Snake Mound and Lakes

We had been sent tickets by our daughter for the annual one-day opening of Portrack Gardens of Cosmic Speculation just north of Dumfries. The house and gardens had been developed by the American architect and definer of postmodernism, Charles Jencks, and his first wife Maggie Keswick. It is a place where science and the arts come together in landscapes that are "a radical hybrid activity". They are according to Jencks "non-linear sciences that touch all aspects of life and a foil to the modernistic sciences that are fractured and simplistic".

Aileen and I did not really know what to expect, this was part of Scotland's Gardens open day and the event was raising funds for Maggie's cancer care centres. They were founded in memory of Maggie Keswick and have been operating successfully in twenty or so locations mainly in the UK.

An email sent the day before advised us to avoid arriving at opening time as there would be traffic jams to get into the parking area. We took the advice but everyone else must have delayed their arrival as well and we joined the mile-long traffic jam to reach the estate entrance. It took 40 minutes to travel the last 2 miles and already the early arrivals were blocked in as they tried to exit on the single-track road. We met Aileen's friend. Adrienne, and her husband, David, on arrival and began the journey into the magical landscapes. It was a cool but bright day as we began to explore the sculptures and random paraphernalia that sit alongside the Dumfries to Kilmarnock railway line.

We were not disappointed, the place was heaving and the gardens were buzzing with excited adults and quizzical children or that may have been the other way round. The paths provided the chance to absorb the strange juxtaposition of objects. Jencks had had great fun with bulldozers, chainsaws and acetylene torches. The sparkling white Portrack house was the only traditional object on the grounds. The adjacent property was the perfect country retreat in the fertile Nith valley.

We ran into several old acquaintances from the world of community development and tourism who seemed equally intrigued by the experience. We wondered if the paltry three portaloos serving 5000 guests were part of the cosmic speculation or whether Jencks was just having a laugh. After 4 hours of walking and absorbing the gardens, or should that be a radical hybrid activity, we left bemused but happy. I had booked accommodation in Moffat so that I could indulge in some hill walking on the next day.

A celebration of Scottish philosophers, philanthropists and poets

Bridge to nowhere or diving board to the River Nith

Scottish Bloodline

Tits or Bum?

Spiral Mound

Adjacent property and rural idyll

Community development royalty seeking cosmic solutions

Portrack House

Walled garden

Streap, Glen Finnan

On summit of Streap, Loch Shiel behind

Friday, 28 April 2017

Ascent:                1407 metres
Distance:             18 kilometres
Time:                   8 hours 35mins

Stob Coir nan Cearc   887m   4hrs 35mins
Streap                         909m    5hrs 14mins 

After a night spent in 'Chase the Wild Goose' bunkhouse in Banavie, we were glad to be off for an early start. Streap is an inaccessible Corbett at the head of Glenfinnan. I have crossed its northern ridge on a couple of occasions on traverses from Gulvain to Sgurr Thuilm but never had the time to sample its steep summit. We started from the foot of Gleann Dubh Ligne on the trail through the conifer plantations. It was cool but bright and rain felt imminent. I had left my map in the car and made a bad mistake as we left the forest by a gate. A muddy path ascended to the southern ridge of Beinn an Tuim and we had climbed the first 100 metres before John pointed out that were heading too far south and it would add considerably to the route.

We decided to traverse round Being an Tuim, which seemed logical but ended with us spending a couple of hours negotiating our way through wet greasy rock bands, crossing numerous burns and scrambling up precarious outcrops. My feet had blistered in boots that I seldom wear and my waterproof trousers were slowing me down. I had put them on when the rain started but we just had a series of gentle showers.

We watched the morning steam train heading towards Glenfinnan, the inimitable sound of a Black Five hammering up the gradient from Loch Eil. When we reached the bealach before the sharp ascent of Stob Coire nan Cearc, we took the opportunity to eat an early lunch and reflect on the mistakes I had made on the ascent. From here on it was a fairly straightforward route over several tops before the final 70 metres of climbing up the arete to Streap. We arrived shortly after the cloud had enveloped the summit but during a drinks break we were treated to the curtain opening and reasonable views of the surrounding hills including the nearby Munro, Sgurr Thuilm, and Comhlaidh Streap, the twin peak of Streap which looks even more impressive.

We began the easy walk over the ridge to Comhlaidh Streap so that we could complete the horseshoe and we were treated to the best weather of the day. The rain was a gentle patter all day but not enough to wet us in the breeze. There is a long steep descent from this summit to the glen below, a 600-metre drop over relatively easy but steep grass and heathers. It was well drained so a quicker part of the day. Then the walkout down the corrie and into Gleann Dubh Ligne. We found a footbridge and passed the bothy, which had undergone extensive repairs after a fire and was looking splendid. We were back down just after 5pm. It had taken a couple of hours longer than expected but that was mainly down to my tendency to always head upwards instead of seeking the gentler but longer routes.

Ascent of Beinn an Tuim

Streap from Stob Coire nan Cearc

Stob Coire nan Cearc from Streap

Streap from Streap Comhlaidh

Gulvain from Streap Comhlaidh

North from Streap Comhlaidh

Looking back up Coire nan Cearc

Beinn Iaruinn and Carn Dearg, Glen Roy

Thursday 27 April 2017

Beinn Iaruinn        802m      1hr 31mins

Ascent:      701 metres
Distance:   7 kilometres
Total Time:         2 hours 45 minutes

Glen Roy has 4 corbetts, three of which go by the name of Carn Dearg. We had climbed the two at the head of the glen last year and today was to be Beinn Iaruinn and the Carn Dearg at either side of the Glen. It is a slow drive up the glen admiring the Parallel Roads that provide physical contours as relics from the ice age. We parked at the foot of Beinn Iaruinn and followed a steep path that leaves by the bridge. The weather looked threatening and there was a stiff breeze to remind us that it is still April despite the plaintive cry of the cuckoos. Hills like this have few endearing features and it became a familiar plod up the dead bracken and brown heathers with rasping breath and wet feet to add to the dubious pleasure.

Arriving on the ridge gave us cloud obscured views across Loch Lochy to Meall na Teanga and Ben Tee. The hillside of wind turbines beyond Invergarry was illuminated by shafts of sunlight, an accolade for its green credentials. Cloud restricted the views in all other directions. At least I was able to put on my new waterproof that I had bought over a year ago and never had to use in 30 outings in 2016. The walk over the ridge to the summit was over easy stony ground and progress was easy despite the wind. We stopped briefly at the cairn before returning by much the same route. There was no wildlife and no incidents but as a means of regaining hill fitness it was a worthwhile outing. We drove a couple of miles further up the road, had a bite to eat before beginning the climb up Carn Dearg.

Start of Being Iaruinn ascent

Ben Tee and the wind farm to north west

Looking west to Meall na Teanga in cloud

Summit of Being Iaruinn

Carn Dearg             834m     1hr 40mins

Ascent:      671 metres
Distance:   7 kilometres
Time:         2 hours 58 minutes

It is always a challenge to start the second walk of the day and this was no exception. I had hoped that the brief interlude of sunshine might be a sign of a better afternoon.We crossed the wooden bridge, the bothy was closed and a dead lamb was a reminder of the harsh environment in this remote glen. There is a 400 metre ascent up grass and heathers to make the higher slopes which then curve round over a rain soaked plateau and then up two more inclines to make the summit. The rains began in earnest and tested my jacket better than any testing tank as the wind hurled raindrops of all dimensions and even gave us some seat on the summit. 

The views diminished and our survival instincts told us to get down rather than hang about so we made a return by the same route not stopping until the primroses broke my step at the 300 metre contour, they never seem to go higher than this. The rain stopped as we finished so we could change and begin the retreat from the glen and head to Corpach where we hoped to find a bunkhouse for the night.

The bridge across to Carn Dearg

Glen Roy

John at summit

Summit view on Carn Dearg

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Mrs May's Mayhem

Announcing the election

Well, that was a surprise said the massed rank of journalists who were agog at Mrs May's easter bunny present of another election. I had been thinking that there has never been such a dreadful government in my lifetime, nor such a rag-tag of opposition parties. I listened to the announcement as we made a 9-hour journey up the M1, M6 and M74 dicing with the roadworks and seeing how far we could drive without stopping at the service stations that harbour all that is wrong in Mrs May's disunited kingdom. We were glad to have friends and relatives who are close enough to the route to make some diversions for coffee breaks.

The only sensible comment on the day the election was announced was Professor John Curtice explaining the dangers as well as the advantages of calling an early election. It will be fought on the old boundaries that give the Tories no added advantage as the new boundaries would have done in 2020. Scotland, Northern Ireland and Wales are unlikely to change much, although the SNP may lose a few seats to other parties as opposition to Indyref 2 remains strong. Most Labour MPs have solid majorities that will be difficult for the Tories to win unless their lead is well over 10%. The Lib Dems are likely to regain some of the 49 seats they lost in the 2015 election. So Mrs May could end up without winning any more seats and in the process tarnish her stainless reputation for tough talking that she has acquired in the absence of any effective opposition either within or outwith her party. Her obfuscation on many issues should become apparent as the campaign takes on a life of its own.

I watched PMQs yesterday and then the start of the debate about calling the election. Mrs May was on fire, she treated her time at the despatch box like an exam. The phalanx of her middle-aged male MPs, chubby and smart in their dark suits, were fronted by a studied posse of female MPs. The Tory MPs were less smart in delivering their ingratiating questions designed to get a mention for their constituency and a pat on the back for the excellent work of the MP. Perfect material for their election leaflets.

All Labour opposition MPs had their questions ignored by Mrs May who simply challenged their loyalty to Jeremy Corbyn by quoting some derogatory remark that they had made about their leader in the last twenty months. Her research staff must have worked through the night to provide her with the insults that she released with a tally-ho flourish that delighted her benches. The PM clearly believes that question time is her chance to fire the questions. She did not deign to answer any herself. She was undoubtedly well versed in numerous briefs and quite turbocharged compared to Jeremy Corbyn who simply pedalled his prosaic questions with a plodding Sturmey-Archer efficiency. They lacked inspiration although the issues were more pertinent to what is happening to Britain in the ferment that Brexit has provided. Jeremy Corbyn's aversion to issuing personal insults is an endearing feature that Mrs May could follow. This could play well in the election.

After the election in all probability, she would be facing a far more coherent Labour opposition party whether led by a new leader or Jeremy Corbyn. And this is where her notion that she would have a united stand on Brexit following a Tory victory does not stand up to detailed scrutiny. Let's say the Lib Dems take 20 seats and have back Vince Cable and one or two other experienced MPs, the SNP will maybe lose MPs but, if Angus Robertson is returned, they provide a statesmanlike presence. The Greens may win a couple more seats giving the excellent Caroline Lucas a more powerful voice. The Labour Party have some experienced and talented MPs, if they are re-elected, who if willing to work as a team that could run rings around the insipid Tory cabinet.

It may be that the hidden reason for the election is that Mrs May is seeking to dispense with some of her cabinet. Andrea Leadsom, Liam Fox, Jeremy Hunt, Priti Patel, Liz Truss, Savid Javid and James Brokenshire are all out of their depth. Amber Rudd and Michael Fallon are her attack dogs, they have a steely gravitas that merely enhances their pomposity, and Boris means Boris, a liability waiting to happen. Mrs May does not have a creative team about her, they are mainly defensively inclined. Her team performed like those of Jose Mourinho: ruthless, boring and defensive who will bend the rules to win.

This was clear in question time as her cabinet laughed and clapped on order. The only occasion that Mrs May became agitated was when Yvette Cooper accused the PM of falsifying the truth in giving her reasons for having an election. Parliament and the House of Lords had voted by significant majorities for Article 50, which was contrary to what Mrs May had claimed. It was a reminder that Labour has some formidable parliamentarians even though many refuse to serve in the Corbyn shadow cabinet. When the more measured John McDonnell is not available, we have had to suffer the condescending intonations of Emily Thornberry and Diane Abbott speaking for Labour on the news bulletins.  They both display an irritating haughtiness that discourages any empathy with the Corbynistas. Thornberry is quick-witted but with a vindictive streak, Abbott seems to have lost the plot in recent appearances. It is reassuring to see that politicians can be recycled as Ed Miliband has shown by appearances on programmes like The Last Leg.

Even if there were a reduced number of Labour MPs, working in harness they would provide a re-elected Mrs May government with a far sterner test than she has had to cope with hitherto. If John Curtice is on the money, even an increase in the Tory majority would be far less effective against a revitalised Labour opposition front bench, whoever was their leader. Many MPs on the left of the party have refused to serve under Jeremy Corbyn over the last eight months. This self-imposed exile has been damaging to them and the party but has probably given them the determination after the election to work collectively to rescue the party from the train crash of recent years.

It is highly probable that a Labour front bench drawn from Yvette Cooper, Mary Creagh, Stella Creasy, Angela Eagle, Meg Hillier, Rebecca Long-Bailey, Lisa Nandy, Rachel Reeves, Hilary Benn, Dan Jarvis, Clive Lewis, Ed Miliband, Keir Starmer, Wes Streeting, Chukka Umunna, and Jon Crudas would have the knowledge and communication skills to seriously challenge Mrs May. There is also real experience in the upper house with Lords Blunkett, Darling, Falconer, Hain, Reid and Baronesses Blackstone and Chakrabarti amongst others. The real coup would be to make Baroness Bakewell the shadow minister for Culture and Media. She could reinvigorate the BBC as an institution that is once again objective and innovative. Under the threats from Osborne, Hunt and Whittingdale in recent years the BBC has become timid and an instrument of the government.

The other opposition parties would add substance and gravitas to progressive ideas through Caroline Lucas, Sir Vince Cable and some of the SNP.  The Commons would become a serious debating chamber with Mrs May's cabinet and her chubby backbenchers suffering political Mayhem.

Andermatt

That Red or Black moment

First run

Gemstock Cable car

Top of the Gemstock Black run

Rive Ursern through Andermatt

Village main street

Apartment Buildings, Andermatt Swiss Alps

Moguls at middle station

Empty pistes

Looking south to Italy

Matterhorn Gotthard Bahn

Devil's bridge and its upgrade

The first skiing for nine years brought back fond memories and aching quads. We had been invited to join our eldest daughter in a ski apartment in Andermatt. It was a good choice, we were staying in a new purpose built village adjacent to the old ski resort of Andermatt. It is reached by a cog railway that climbs steeply passing through tunnels and steep rock gorges that have protected the isolated location at 1440 metres through the centuries. It was the scene of battles in the Napoleonic wars with Russia and the enclosed mountain retreat now houses the bunkers for the Swiss government in the event of future wars.

As well as the cog railway that connects to Goschenen and from there on to Zurich, Andermatt is on the route of the Matterhorn - Gotthard Mountain Express route that links Zermatt to St Moritz by tunnelling and snaking through the Alps. The railway station is almost as busy as Clapham junction but with reliable, clean and empty seats on the numerous trains and the Alps as a backdrop. The frequency of the trains and the difficulty of road access means that the village is almost car free and this adds to the allure of Andermatt as a destination.

The new village is part of a massive investment by an Egyptian mogul that will provide 500 apartments, 28 chalets and 6 hotels to take advantage of the under used ski facilities as well as the network of cycle paths, walking routes and a new golf course. The scale of development is too much and too intrusive to my mind, but the commune voted for it to proceed in one of their regular plebicites that are the touchstone of local democracy. The partially built complex is already bringing more visitors with the year round facilities and the range of outdoor activities. This is benefitting local businesses and transforming the village from its traditional past. Hopefully the tranquillity of the alps will not be compromised by the scale of these developments but the days of no queues will become but fond memories assuming that the snowfields remain as climate change unhinges civilisation.

The snow had largely disappeared in the village in what has been the poorest ski season for 58 years in the Alps. Nevertheless we bought passes to ski the Gemstock mountain and were surprised at the extensive snowfields that remained above 2000 metres. Even on a Saturday it was largely free of skiers and lift queues were non existent for the the chairlift and tows as well as the cable car that went to the summit at 2955 metres. My hire skis were only 163cm long, I felt cheated having being brought up in an era when sking on less than 200cm was regarded as wimpish. It made little difference, my turns are still too tight on steep runs and I still don't like moguls.

That considered I was persuaded to take a couple of trips to the top station and to ski down the scarily steep black run named after Bernhard Russi, the locally born olympic ski champion in the 1970's. The sharp winds at the summit meant that there was no temptation to linger there. It was a day when the clouds threatened but sun block was needed. I had forgotten my sun block so a red face was the outcome. The black run proved less difficult than the so called Sun Track, a red run that also started from the summit. It was blasted by strong winds and had retained an icy surface to test our edges.

We were down by 3:30pm to enjoy a drink in the village and to plan the next day. Cloud and snow were forecast and so it proved. We walked down to the Devil's bridge in the Schollenen gorge where the Russians had tangled with Napoleon's troops. We returned to the village and then walked 10 kilometres uphill to the village of Realp along snow covered trails that twisted through the new golf course, alongside the crystal clear river and railway as it climbed to the Gotthard pass. The valley was littered with farms and linked by trails that intertwined with the railway and road. Realp was a sleepy sort of village that nevertheless had the staple ingredients of a Swiss village: station, church, clock and hotel. The Shetland pony grazing on hay seemed a little incongruous but so did the pair of llamas and a tour bus queuing for the train through the Gotthard pass.

The following day the sun appeared in a clear blue sky, the winds had stopped but so had the local bus to the cable car and it undermined our enthusiasm. After a long walk we finally ascended to the near perfect pistes that were empty of skiers. The cable car to the summit provides a 1000 metre descent. It proved possible to complete the run three times in the hour. The red run was perfect, the winds and ice had gone and the steep sections were interspersed with long schusses. I was beginning to find my ski legs although the lack of queues meant there was no respite so I returned to the village at 3pm, delighted to have avoided any falls and without any undue aches or pains.

The journey home the next day confirmed that the Swiss really know how to run state railways. All trains were on time, spotlessly clean, and there was a fully integrated timetable. We had three changes on the return to Zurich but all within minutes of each other and there is a simple and consistent ticket price that applies to all trains with connections to every part of the country. No need to book online in advance to get a fair price. Swiss railways had all the things that the privatised UK train operators fail completely to provide or achieve.

We had a couple of hours in Zurich, a clean and well ordered city that lacked the vibrancy of many European cities. The link to the airport is just 12 minutes on the frequent trains and the airport had no queues for check in, security, or boarding. The Swiss Air plane was new, spotless and served a good snack with a small bar of chocolate thrown in. Sadly we had to change at Brussels where we were brought back to the reality of budget airlines with Brussels Air giving a good impersonation of Ryanair.

Edinburgh airport was, as always, disorganised with a bus taking us from the landing stance to the other end of the airport and then the passengers having to walk back to the bus bays after the long march through customs and baggage. It must be a nightmare for older folk. In Switzerland we would have been in the centre of Zurich by the time we had negotiated the airport and walked to the shuttle bus stop strategically located beyond the tram stop to deter visitors from using the ludicrously expensive and painfully slow tram service to the city.