I’ve been posting to this blog, off and on (and more off than on lately), for about 18 months. But I’m calling it a day as 2010 draws to a close.

I’d never intended to create a “diary” type blog, but preferred to post a mixture of articles and photos, as and when the mood took me — creating something akin to a magazine-style blog. But that requires a well defined theme (or small number of themes), and this is where I’ve been struggling. It’s also not inconsequential that I need to dedicate some significant time in early 2011, to designing and building a web site to support my freelance technical writing business. And it’s blog.wildvista.com that’s gonna give.

I’ve got lots of ideas for other projects though (once the business web site is up and running), mostly focussing on photography and outdoor pursuits. It’s also worth taking a look at what the most popular posts on this blog have been, so, without further ado, here are the top five (based on Google Analytics’ Pageviews):

1. Trekking in New Zealand — Kepler Track Resources
2. Trekking in New Zealand — Dusky Track Resources
3. Starting the Paine Circuit — Trekking in Patagonia
4. Glaciers & Granite — Trekking in Patagonia
5. Create a Dynamic Blogroll with Google Reader

Between them, those five posts have accounted for over 30% of all Pageviews (which also cover another 78 posts, the home page, “About” page, and category pages).

There’s clearly some interest in well researched information about NZ tramping tracks, in the most popular multi-day trekking area of Patagonia, and in a carefully written step-by-step procedure for automating blogrolls.

The fifth post listed also had the dubious honour of being used (no, not “used” — plagiarised; let’s not beat about the bush) by a blogger that couldn’t even stretch to hosting the supporting image themselves, preferring to hot-link and leech my bandwidth, in addition to stealing my content. A tersely worded email soon sorted that one out. Can you tell that made me angry? It seems there are still plenty of folk out there that think material is public domain, solely by virtue of its presence on “the internet”.

I’ll be leaving blog.wildvista.com “as is” for the foreseeable future, so links to existing posts should continue to work. I also seem to have acquired a small number of subscribers over the last year-and-a-half. I just hope none of you are too devastated by this blog’s impending stasis, and eventual demise :-)

A snow-bound Kinder Scout

From the Buxton – Manchester train, just outside Chapel-en-le-Frith.

Sugar Sands, near Craster, Northumberland coast

Northumberland is England’s northernmost county, and an area that I don’t know well at all. Boasting a National Park, and a coastline declared an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, there’s clearly a lot going for Northumberland if you’re into wide open, wild spaces. This photo from Sugar Sands, just south of the tiny coastal village of Craster, hints at the joys that coastal walking here has to offer.

No snow to report in these parts since the last “Photo Friday” missive, but the recent wet and stormy weather has now stripped most trees of their leaves. Low-lying shrubs are still adding some colour though, as could be seen in Grin Low woods this morning, just above Buxton. In Buxton itself, there was a thick mist, revealed as a low-level valley fog from the modest heights of Grin Low — a beautiful day to be out for a stroll…

Grin Low Woods

Signpost to Axe Edge, from the old Cat & Fiddle road

If summer 2010 seemed to flash by in the blink of an eye, then autumn’s arrived and departed even more briskly. Barely are the woodlands past their best with this year’s showy display of fall colours, and an Atlantic depression has swept across the country, hastening the trees’ progress toward their skeletal winter outlines, and blowing in the first lying snow of the winter. This particular snowfall may not last long, but the temperature trend will be down hill from here on in for a good few months now…

First snow of winter on the old Cat & Fiddle road

The road to Ardnamurchan

The Ardnamurchan peninsular juts out into the Sea of the Hebrides, south of Skye on Scotland’s west coast. Perhaps most familiar to the general populace as Ardnamurchan Point (a point of reference in the “inshore waters” component of Radio 4′s shipping forecast), the tip of the peninsular, near Corrachadh Mòr, forms the westernmost part of the island of Great Britain.

It’s a 60 mile, two-hour drive from Fort William to the lighthouse at Ardnamurchan point, but only if you make use of the Corran Ferry to cross Loch Linnhe at the Corran Narrows. Many “mainland to mainland” ferries in Scotland have now been replaced by bridges, but this one remains, and cuts 25 miles off the route that you’d otherwise have to take via Kinlocheil.

Today’s photo was taken from the A861 road near Sallachan, two miles from the Corran Ferry’s western slipway, looking southwest down Loch Linnhe.

Getting the map out on a misty Esk Pike, English Lake District.

If you’re looking for lost people, Esk Pike, or more likely the adjacent Esk Hause, is a rich hunting ground. “Hause” is the local Cumbrian term for a mountain pass, col or gap, and so most “hauses” in the Lake District carry paths well used by fellwalkers.

Esk Hause is especially busy, lying as it does on many of the standard routes up Scafell Pike, itself something of a people magnet given its status as the highest ground in England. Unfortunately for the unwary, the topography around Esk Hause is extremely complicated. Tracks from Wasdale, Borrowdale, Langdale and Eskdale meet here, and then there are mountain tracks heading from the Hause towards Glaramara, Esk Pike and Scafell Pike.

The complex topography of Esk Hause

(Above image produced from the Ordnance Survey Get-a-map service. Image reproduced with kind permission of Ordnance Survey and Ordnance Survey of Northern Ireland.)

In fine weather, with a procession of Scafell Pike pilgrims to follow, it all seems very easy. As soon as the mist comes down though, one section of path looks very much like another. And mist is a frequent visitor to Esk Hause, which lies at over 700 metres. As is usual in the British uplands, waymarking is limited to cairns (piles of rock). There are no signs, no splashes of paint on the rocks, indeed, no indications at all as to where a particular path is headed.

Which is why it’s so important to be able to read a map, translating between the contours and symbols and what you’re seeing on the ground. Combined with a compass — much more useful if you’re able to use it to measure and then follow a bearing, or perhaps check the aspect of a slope — you shouldn’t end up in the wrong valley, or worse, lost in a storm in this unforgiving corner of England. A GPS can make all of this somewhat easier, but the ability to read and interpret a map, and apply this to the terrain and situation you find yourself in, is no less important when the map is displayed by electronic wizardry, rather than printed on a dead tree.

Driving south along the Pan American Highway, between Lima and Nazca

At the start of a 5-week overland trip through Peru, Bolivia and Chile, we left Lima, and headed south to Nazca. The trip was run by a British company (though the Union Flag and bulldog on the dashboard may have already given that away…), and involved a great deal of driving, often on roads far removed from this well-maintained section of the Pan American Highway.

Snowdonia National Park stretches over 50 miles from Conwy in the north, to Aberdyfi in the south — that’s almost half the “height” of Wales. East to west, the park is less extensive, and indeed can be more or less crossed in a couple of days at the popular northern end, which is exactly what I did this past weekend.

Making use of the Sherpa bus service that runs between Betws-y-Coed and Llanberis via Pen-y-Gwryd, it’s easy to put together a couple of linear walks that traverse both the Snowdon range and Moel Siabod, before descending the beautiful Afon Llugwy valley (passing the famous Swallow Falls on the way).

Day 1: Llanberis to Pen-y-Gwryd — 21 km (13 miles), 1600m (5250ft) ascent

Llanberis is at the foot of the standard “tourist route” up Snowdon, a popular, if unimaginative walk, from near sea level to the 1085 metre summit of the range. This is also the lower terminus of the Snowdon Mountain Railway, unique amongst the UK hills. It’s an often divisive feat of Victorian engineering that’s loved and loathed in equal measure, but our route to Pen-y-Gwryd (on the opposite side of the massif) avoids the railway for the most part.

The interactive Ordnance Survey map below shows the whole route. Day 1 is marked in blue, day 2 in purple.

Note that if you’re reading this post using an RSS reader (for example, Google Reader), the map may appear blank. In that case, you’ll need to read this post directly on the “A Wild Vista” website.

As you’ll see from the map, the route takes in the relatively untrodden summits to the west of Snowdon. Moel Eilio, Foel Fron, Foel Goch and Moel Cynghorion all offer pleasant walking on mostly grassy slopes. Although the ridges of these hills are fairly broad, steep vegetated cliffs add interest, along with a very prominent ancient landslide that is quite clearly visible from Moel Cynghorion’s summit ridge.

There’s a fair bit of up and down to deal with before you reach the Snowdon Ranger path, and then it’s a stiff pull up to Snowdon summit. If you’d been enjoying the peace and quiet of these outliers of Snowdon, the Snowdon Ranger and the summit pyramid may be a rude awakening. Nice to see so many folk out on the hills enjoying themselves though.

From Snowdon summit, retrace your steps to the point where the Snowdon Ranger, Llanberis, and Pyg Tracks meet (marked by a stone monolith), before dropping sharply east on the Pyg Track, and making your way over to Pen-y-Pass. From here, you’re back on the Llanberis – Betws-y-Coed bus route, so could catch a bus back to Llanberis or on to Betws-y-Coed. Alternatively, walk a mile down the A4086 road to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel (take care, as there’s no pavement on this busy section of winding road).

At Pen-y-Gwyrd, there’s a snug bar that’ll serve you a decent pint; make sure you check out the displays of kit and memorabilia from Hunt’s 1953 Everest expedition too — the one that succeeded in putting Tenzing and Hillary on the summit. The team trained for the expedition in the surrounding mountains, hence the association with Pen-y-Gwryd. Of course, you could also stay the night here before continuing your walk to Betws-y-Coed the following day.

Day 2: Pen-y-Gwryd to Betws-y-Coed — 18½ km (11½ miles), 800m (2600ft) ascent

Between Pen-y-Gwryd and Betws-y-Coed lies Moel Siabod. This 872 metre peak is often ignored in favour of the Snowdon, Glyderau and Carneddau ranges, which is a shame, as it’s an interesting mountain with plenty of interest to be found on its slopes. That said, the hill’s northern aspect is quite dull, and, unfortunately, that’s what’s on show to motorists passing through on the A4086 through Dyffryn Mymbyr.

From Pen-y-Gwryd, our route crosses more-or-less trackless ground, some of it quite marshy and tussocky, to reach the west ridge of Moel Siabod. The route to the summit is very easy, though not that interesting; only in the final 100 feet or so will you encounter rocky ground.

Moel Siabod’s separation from the surrounding ranges works in its favour when it comes to the view from the summit trig point. The higher ranges are laid out from southwest to north, and in other directions there are expansive views towards the tree-lined valley that enfolds Betws-y-Coed, and to more distant hills in the Moelwyns range, and Cadair Idris.

Leaving the top via the northeast ridge, there’s half-a-mile of mild scrambling and rock hopping to be had before you start to lose any significant height. All the while, Llyn y Foel glistens below in its sunny cwm.

Descending the northeast ridge of Moel Siabod

Eventually, you’ll reach the minor road that links the hamlet of Pont Cyfyng to the bridge on the A5 over the Afon Llugwy (adjacent to the “Ugly House” [Ty-Hyll]). Cross the bridge (taking care again, as there’s no pavement), and drop down to the river on a public footpath. From here to Betws-y-Coed, you can use a mixture of woodland paths that follow the river, and minor roads in the forest above. The Miner’s Bridge and Swallow Falls are highlights, but this whole section along the Llugwy is charming.

Forest by the Afon Llugwy

Himalayan Balsam (Impatiens glandulifera), by the Afon Llugwy

On arrival in Betws-y-Coed, you can catch a bus back to Pen-y-Gwryd, or on to Llanberis. Of course, Betws-y-Coed itself is full of accommodation options to suit all pockets, and also has a railway station, and bus services to larger towns.

If you enjoyed this post, take a look at “A touch of winter”, a description of a winter ascent of the Llanberis track up Snowdon.

[Special thanks go to Martin at “Postcard from Timperley” who corrected my earlier wild assertion that the pink flower pictured above was an orchid]

Useful links

• Snowdonia National Park, official web site (English / Welsh)
• Llanberis, tourist information
• “Sherpa” buses, information and timetables
• Snowdon Mountain Railway
• Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel
• Betws-y-Coed, tourist information

During a recent foray along the Mam Tor / Lose Hill ridge, I observed a common natural optical phenomenon — namely the Heiligenschein (German for “holy light”). Like a number of such common effects, it seems to go unnoticed by many, as it can be quite subtle.

Here’s the photo I took of this particular instance of Heiligenschein — the left-hand image is pretty much “as is” out of the camera, whereas I’ve enhanced the right-hand image to show the effect more clearly:

Heiligenschein on dew-soaked grass (right-hand image is contrast enhanced)

Heiligenschein is the bright spot visible around the shadow of a viewer’s head, most often seen when the shadow is projected onto dew-soaked grass. The physical mechanism of Heiligenschein is explained on the excellent Atmospheric Optics web site.

So, next time you’re out early, with the sun low in the sky and dewy grass beneath your feet, don’t forget to check your shadow for the “holy light”.

Now enjoying some sun, and a pleasant descent of Moel Siabod’s East ridge.

Looking down to Llyn y Foel.

Bit cloudy – sun trying to break through…

A pleasant bimble up the west ridge of Moel Siabod so far this Saturday morning.

This rather short post is unlikely to be of much interest to you, unless you have a desperate urge to see Buxton’s Market Square as it stood at around midday on Friday 15th October.

Rather, I’m trying out moblogging (mobile blogging) for the first time, now that I have a suitable phone.

Now, I have a small confession to make — I’m sat at exactly the same desk in exactly the same place as I usually am when writing a blog post. This is a test, seeing as I’m off up to Snowdonia this evening, and wouldn’t mind having a bash at posting while I’m away over the weekend.

The kit used to make this post is what differs. I’m writing using the physical keyboard on a G1 (often referred to as a ‘Google phone’ or ‘HTC Dream’), and using a WordPress app downloaded free from the Android Market. The photo was taken using the phone’s camera, while writing the post.

For connectivity, I’ve uploaded to my self-hosted WordPress blog via my own wireless network, rather than using 3G. A bit of a cheat maybe, but this shouldn’t change the mechanics of posting (apart perhaps from the lower bandwidth and dropped connections that using 3G is likely to introduce).

In the field (by which I mean, on the hill), things will no doubt be more tricky. I’m expecting the main issues to be finding a good enough 3G signal, and the limited battery life of the phone.

All being well though, you should see a post or two from sunny Wales this weekend

Looking into the Jotunheimen from the foot of Galdhøpiggen, Norway

Having spent two weeks in Norway in 1997, three characteristics of the country had a particular impact: waterfalls, mountains, and tunnels. Actually, there was a fourth too — the price of the beer.

The above shot, looking into the heart of the Jotunheimen (“The home of the giants”), just goes to show how we barely scratched the surface of the country. Climbing Galdhøpiggen itself (the highest peak in Norway) was great fun, but a trip back here in the winter season for a bit of cross-country skiing would bring a whole new perspective to this mountainous country.

Something else to add to “the list”…

It’s not often that I directly recommend visiting a specific blog, but in the the case of “Tramping and climbing in Aotearoa”, I’m making an exception. You can find this blog at http://southernalps.wordpress.com. In case “southernalps”, and “Tramping” hadn’t already given it away, this is a blog that concerns itself with outdoor adventure in New Zealand. (Aotearoa is the Māori name for the country, meaning “land of the long white cloud”.)

Screenshot from 'Tramping and climbing in Aotearoa'

“Tramping and climbing in Aotearoa” rises above the seething mass of “me too” blogs that seem to focus on the “Great Walks” at the expense of pretty much everything else, and focusses on harder, less travelled routes, often requiring some experience in crossing glaciated terrain and steep snow & rock. What really sets this blog apart from the rest though, is the quality of both the writing and photography, and the detailed research that underpins most articles. It’s fascinating to read the history of the routes discussed, and the careful cross-referencing would be invaluable to anyone wanting to continue researching a particular area themselves. Frequent book reviews are a nice touch.

Although the site is presented as a community blog, with an invitation for other authors to submit appropriate material, at present the majority of the content has been written by Danilo Hegg. In terms of coverage, the focus is very much on the Aspiring / Matukituki region, but it seems the site has been designed with the expectation that additional content will expand into other areas of the country.

In summary then, if you’ve already got some experience of travelling in wild country, including alpine terrain, and are looking for specific ideas or just general inspiration for an adventurous trekking trip to New Zealand, “Tramping and climbing in Aotearoa” will be well worth a few hours of your time.

Looked like a pleasant evening, so I went for a bimble up past the Cat & Fiddle Inn before tea. Parking near Dane Head on Axe Edge Moor (under 10 minutes’ drive out of Buxton) there are expansive views from the get go, without having to work for them. Having lost track of how early it’s getting dark these days, I ended up curtailing my planned walk by walking back along the A54 — not much fun in the dark, sans headtorch. Worth it for the prospect out over the Cheshire Plain though, with a 3-day old crescent moon adding a little something special.

A few pics…

Unnamed road near Derbyshire Bridge, looking towards Cat & Fiddle.

New moon setting over Shutlingsloe, from Whetstone Ridge.

Looking towards the Roaches, from Whetstone Ridge.

In an attempt to impose some sort of structure on the post schedule for “A Wild Vista”, I’m going to be posting a photograph, every Friday. Always my own work, and with some descriptive text, expect each Friday’s image to be closely related to one of this blog’s main themes — exploring the wilder parts of the world.

And that’s about all there is to say. Other than to get on and present photo #1…

Stob Coire Dheirg, northeast ridge of Ben Starav, Scottish Highlands

I took this photo January ’94. This particular day on Ben Starav still stands out clearly in the memory, and remains one of the best day’s winter walking I’ve had in the Highlands.

As we descended Starav’s northeast ridge towards the subsidiary top of Stob Coire Dheirg, a cool southerly breeze (blowing from the right of the picture) gently lifted innumerable ice crystals into the air. To traverse this snowy ridge, 1000 metres above Loch Etive and Scotland’s western seaboard, as the air turned to glitter, was a huge privilege. And it’s why I, and many thousands of others, put up with Scotland’s tempestuous winter climate and fleeting daylight hours — for that slim chance of experiencing life enhancing moments such as this.

Before getting into the detail, it’s worth defining what I mean by “outdoor photography aficionado”:

• The outdoor bit: Someone whose idea of fun involves getting out into the wilder parts of the world, often for extended periods, and exploring landscapes that are — at least comparatively — little influenced by man.
• The photography bit: Someone who cares about and is interested in f-stops, depth of field, white balance, bokeh, composition, pre-vizualisation, sensitometry, image quality, and all manner of other technical and artistic concepts in photography. Not in isolation as dry technical ideas or academic theories, but because such an understanding is critical to successfully translate an artistic vision into a physical image (without relying on blind luck).

Why a compact? Why now?

Over the last year or so, I’ve frequently found myself leaving my digital SLR (a Nikon D70) at home; it’s just too bulky and heavy to carry for day-long mountain walks, and too awkward and conspicuous for spur-of-the-moment ambles. It also adds considerably to the load for longer walks and multi-day treks, where the total weight carried is critical to one’s comfort and enjoyment.

So, with digital camera technology having improved markedly in the five years since the D70 was released, and with a trip to the Alps imminent, it seemed about time to review what was out there in the “enthusiast’s compact”/”prosumer compact” sector of the market.

A little history

Buying a compact was a step into the unknown for me. My introduction to photography, at the ripe old age of 10, was a tiny fixed-focus Prinzmatic that took 110 cartridge film. It wasn’t long before I’d graduated to a Praktica LTL though, and was soon discovering the benefits, and pitfalls, of a fully manual SLR camera. Since then it’s been SLRs all the way, more or less.

I used a Pentax P30 for many years (which had an automatic programme mode, but manual focus), before moving on to a Nikon F80 — a lovely camera that I still miss. Teamed with Fuji Velvia slide film and a decent quality 28–105mm Nikkor lens that was ideal for travelling, I lugged this kit across five continents during a round-the-world trip in 2002/03. I also had a Ricoh GR1v compact on standby for those times when I wanted to go more light-weight, but ended up using the F80 the majority of the time.

This SLR-biased history left me somewhat ill-equipped to deal with the panoply of consumer compacts that dominate today’s market, so it took a while to get up to speed with current models’ specifications. It doesn’t help that manufacturers continue to add more and more “standard” bells and whistles to their compact cameras (such as video recording); this can make meaningful comparisons between different models a complex affair.

Key features

A good way to help see the wood for the trees, is to identify a small number of key features that you absolutely won’t compromise on. These are the features I went with:

• Wide (less than 28mm focal length [35mm format equivalent])
• RAW output
• Fast lens (faster than f/2.8)
• Pocketable (or close to)

Each feature is discussed in more detail below.

Wide

Demanding a wide-angle below 28mm actually rules out the majority of consumer compacts. 28mm (35mm format equivalent) — which is where the zooms on the majority of compacts stop — just isn’t wide enough for the type of photography I enjoy; that is, sweeping landscapes, often with great depth of field.

Raw

Again, once you exclude all models that don’t provide the option to output RAW files, you’re not left with much. I use Adobe Photoshop Lightroom for image management and post-processing, and would be distinctly unhappy with the processing limitations imposed by having only JPEGs to work with.

Fast

Yet again, very few consumer compacts have a lens that’s wider than f/2.8. Dropping this to f/2.0 has the obvious benefit of doubling the intensity of light that can reach the sensor, but also helps to decrease the minimum depth of field available; useful for getting creative with bokeh, and something that’s often very difficult with compacts due to their much smaller sensor size than most digital SLRs.

Pocketable

OK, masses of choice here — not a great surprise as we’re only considering “compacts”, but it’s worth being a little more specific about what constitutes “pocketable”. I’m thinking small’ish jacket pocket rather than trouser pocket. Given that I usually carry my cameras in an easy-access CCS pouch attached to a waistbelt, rather than in my pocket, weight is as important as size.

What I’m prepared to do without

It soon becomes clear that in making the move from SLR to compact, some compromises will have to be made. Here are some of the things that I (begrudgingly) decided I could do without:

• Long zoom: I enjoy wildlife photography a great deal, but it’s always playing second fiddle to the landscape. That’s simply because I rarely go out looking for wildlife shots — I just enjoy trying to create a half-decent image of, an ibex say, that I might bump into during a day’s trekking. So, rather than compromise the lens’ wide-angle performance for the sake of a long zoom, I’ve decided to ditch the long-end entirely.
• Viewfinder: This one really hurts. The control and precision afforded by a decent viewfinder will be sorely missed. The viewfinder on my F80 was a joy to use — clear, bright, on-demand grid lines, succinct exposure data… — in comparison the viewfinder on the D70 makes trying to assess a scene about as much fun as viewing it through a toilet roll. Bleugghh. Time will tell how well I adapt to using a viewfinder-less camera.
• Tactile zoom and focus controls: I find that compact digital cameras generally have very poor ergonomics in comparison to a quality SLR. It’s not that the manufacturers haven’t put enough effort into this aspect of their designs; rather, there just isn’t enough room for the various fiddly little buttons and dials that all digital compacts seem to require. I could pick up my F80, in the dark, and be ready to shoot, with full manual control over the camera within seconds. There’s not a hope in hell I could achieve this with a digital compact. None that I’ve seen anyway. And I’m going to hugely miss the feel and control of physical zoom and focus rings.

Decision made

I finally plumped for Panasonic’s Lumix DMC-LX3. Obviously, it meets the four “essentials” that I outlined above (24mm wide angle, RAW output, f/2.0 at the wide end, pocketable), and in reviews seemed to garner praise for its image quality.

Lumix DMC-LX3

Interestingly, I haven’t mentioned image quality up to now. When all’s said and done, if the image quality isn’t good enough, nothing else matters. What’s “good enough” is very difficult to nail down. What it doesn’t come down to these days, is numbers of Megapixels. Beyond a reasonable number of MPs (let’s say, 6MP, for the sake of argument), noise performance and colour rendition are the things to watch, and in either case, the larger the physical size of the sensor, the better.

Which is why my 10MP LX3 will almost certainly come up short compared to the images I can get out of a 5-year-old 6MP D70. Again, so long as the image quality is good enough, I’ll be happy.

Results so far are promising. This gallery of shots from an early morning amble around the Hope Valley in the Derbyshire Peak District show that the LX3 copes well with the type of landscape shots I like to make (high dynamic range, backlit, expansive, large depth of field). No doubt as I learn more about the camera’s quirks, I’ll be able to do better, and start feeling more comfortable that it’s recording a scene as I want.

Epilogue

I bought my LX3 (or, Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX3 to give it its full appellation) at the end of August, in full knowledge that the follow-up LX5 was about to be released in the UK. Bad timing I guess, but, aside from a longer zoom range (24–90mm for the LX5, compared with 24–60mm for the LX3), there doesn’t appear to be much else different between the cameras.

Both the Lumix LX3 and LX5 are available from Amazon.