Our first bus walk of the year, and a great route for it – the best part of the Speyside Way, its Tomintoul Spur (and, so we were told, the original route of the Way). Our start was at Tommore, by the River Avon and 4km from the genuine Spey. This immediately leads up into quiet heathery hills, overlooked by the iconic Ben Rinnes. A landscape empty of dwellings, it was just us and the wind. And that was some wind…doing its best to bowl us over, and then adding rain too…luckily Sue had organised a perfect stop for 1st lunch – Glenlivet Hall with enough benches on a sheltered veranda to seat nearly the whole 17 of us.

The next leg took us up past the famous distillery (no time for the tour) and on to the next moor, more wind, and then snow – now we’re really hillwalking! The made path makes this stage very easy, and the snow went away for a while and we could finally see white hills gleaming in the distance. 2nd lunch in the shelter of the pines (shelter became very important on this walk), then the final ascent of the headline hill, Carn Daimh (569m) with its indicator. The descent to Tomintoul usually gives excellent views of the Cairngorms, well, we did spot Ben Avon and Beinn a Bhuird, but then came the next “shower” (so-called by the Met Office, but we did wonder when it would ever end); visibility vanished yet again and cheeks stung in the icy wind and yet more snow.

However, end it did, and we finished the route on a lovely quiet path by the Conglass Water, watching the lapwings circle and call, and finally into the Square where the bus, and the Saunterers, patiently waited. A surprisingly good day out, the weather raising the already interestingly varied route to new heights. Huge thanks go to Sue for her thorough prep work and for wrangling this large fast party, and our thanks also to John who wrangled the bus, its pickups and our various attempts to pay. Great work!

We left the Long walkers by the roadside at Mill of Tommore already bracing themselves against the stiff breeze and wished them well, the bus carrying us down Strath Avon to the sheltered start of our Saunter to Tomintoul. Our route was to take us down Strath Avon, over to Glenconglas to pick up the Speyside Way and on to Tomintoul, a mix of birch wood, forestry and open farmland on the way to keep us interested.

We were in the Glenlivet estate where a very generous provision is made for walkers as the start of the path was signposted with our first destination and the distance, a brand new latched gate swung open on freshly greased hinges, the woodwork supporting the handrail keeping us safe on the terraced path still smelt of the sawmill. Down by the riverbank is a substantial footbridge, with towers of galvanised girders awaited our passage. It seemed to have a life of its own as it swayed gently under our footfall. More new gates opened and closed to give access to grassy fields dressed with some inoffensive manure while sheep stood their ground watching for a while as sheep do. They were soon out of sight and as we approached the cottages at Lyne our eyes were drawn to the distinctive wedge that is Ben Rinnes sitting on the northern horizon. Here there are two holiday cottages set either side of quite a deep valley with a burn gushing down; a more tranquil, attractive dell would be hard to imagine. Our path followed the River Avon upstream as it made its way to join the mighty Spey at Ballindaloch, the rushing water was always in the corner of the eye and in the ears but not noisy enough to cancel out the bird song that was noticeable as soon as we left the bus. We soon arrived at the car park remembered as the starting point for a Monday walk over the Cromdale Hills in Sept 2022 where, this time an early lunch was enjoyed.

We crossed the River Avon again on a bridge that was just as functional as the previous one but with a lot less character and on the east side of Strath Avon made our way past the buildings at Ballenlish. Here the wind increased in strength and we were glad of the birch trees enclosing the track as we walked uphill. Too soon the trees were left behind but luckily the path turned sharply and the wind was mostly on our back on the open hillside. Underfoot we not so lucky as the path was deep in mud churned up as only cattle can and over the brow of the slight hill Belted Galloway stood surveying their wet, earthy domain. Not wanting to slither into the morass we kept our attention on a narrow firmer strip that carried us eventually onto drier ground where the track met the pine forest. Deep in the forest cyclists test their skills on berms, camel bumps and drop offs as this is Bike Glenlivet complete with cafe, shop and bike hire all laid out with trails for the cyclists mostly quite separate from walkers.

A passing cyclist may have been seen in the wood but our attention was drawn to a large black dog lolloping along towards us with no owner present to restrain its youthful enthusiasm in running around. Concern was raised that he (Dorothy assured us it was so) was a lost dog and that the owner might be worried; the owner whose phone number was on the collar was contacted and eventually replied. Jo and Dave went back to ensure a safe return. And so it was with peace of mind all round.

We’d been making our way downhill for some time and we passed into the pastures of Glenconglass where work was going on with fields to be manured, ploughed and some hopefully left alone to enable the lapwings who really fancied one another if their displays were anything to go by, to nest successfully amongst the stalks of last year’s harvest. The road down to join the Speyside Way was a long 2 km and the remainder of lunches were taken, the quiet relaxation enabled us to watch deer elegantly make their way across the Glenconglass Water in the valley below. Shortly we made our way across the same stream in our own elegant way only we had the advantage of a stout bridge and it was a straight forward, steady walk to finish the Saunter in Tomintoul. Here we prepared ourselves for a longish wait for the Long walkers in the Glenavon Hotel where Graham, the proprietor had lit the fire for us and served teas. Inside conversation flowed, dominoes clacked, players chapped while outside wind driven snow filled our field of vision and it crossed our minds that the walkers were still not yet safely back. Soon the snow relented and the walkers returned, wet but in good spirits and glad to have the bus rolling home.

Six of us turned up at Transition Extreme for another go at their climbing walls. This, as usual, was organised as a party, so we had our one instructor who swiftly lined us up for walls one and two. No hanging around – we were straight up, duly grateful that they weren’t too high or scarily overhanging. A little practice on how to descend gracefully was all we needed!

Only one first-timer among us, and he caught on very quickly, well done Phil. Our kind instructor allowed us to choose whether to go on to bigger higher things, or, even worse, bouldering – no safety rope - and (I regret to say) we all declined and had fun improving our performances where we were. The time passed so quickly, and it was hard to say goodbye. Thank you, everyone who attended – this was our third year there, and it is still great fun.

1st March, 2026, the date for Culter’s Sunday walk, but also the first day of Spring, as defined by the UK Met office, where each season last three months (March, April & May being Spring). This “Spring” walk was out of Tarfside, Glen Esk with a route taking in various hills to the south and west of the better known Mount Battock, and passing by the diminutive stretch of water, Loch Tennet, the smallest named loch in Scotland, anything smaller would possibly classify as a puddle.

The “Spring” weather forecast was not favourable, and all nine walkers departed the car park donned in full waterproofs, hat and gloves, as the precipitation oscillated between light to moderate rain. The northbound farm track took us through sheep pastures, one being very full of sheep, briefly along a pretty, tree lined burn uphill to the house Glentennet suitably named after the glen in which it stands. The moisture laden south-westerly airflow was being forced to ascend the higher hills ahead of us and consequently forming a solid cloud layer over our destination summits, the first being Hill of Cairney at a mere 372m. By this stage it was realised that there is a maze of vehicle tracks across these hills supporting the estate grouse shooting, but the walk coordinator knew every twist, turn, junction, alternative route, and should the weather worsen, escape route. Navigation was only necessary as a double check.

Gradients had been quite gentle, but it was more of a pull up towards the Hill of Cammie at 618m. Arrival at a large, cubic rock that had been painted white with black dots to expertly resemble a dice, was a good reason to stop and ponder. According to our coordinator, the rock had in the past had the wrong combination of numbers on opposing sides, but this had recently been corrected so all pairs of opposing sides totalled seven dots. The side with three dots was face down, well embedded in the turf.

Hill of Cammie was a bit damp in the cloud with a nippy wind and some light rain so little time was taken at the top, more a descent was made on the more sheltered north-east flank and a stop made in a borrow-pit (from which track material has been taken) which offered an extra level of shelter, as well as an unsightly rusting oil drum. On departing after our lunch, the rain briefly came on harder as we descended, actually walking the watershed (and the old parish boundary), between the North Esk and the Dee, soon arriving at the frozen Loch Tennet. Apart from the afore mentioned notoriety the outflow of the lochan, according to the map, is not southward, logically into the Burn of Tennet and subsequently the river North Esk, but northwards into the Water of Avon and ultimately the River Dee. Such is the nature of the lochan, perched on a flat ill-drained bealach, it was theorised that minimal kicking action with a walking boot could easily rectify this idiosyncrasy!

But conditions were not conducive to lingering, and it was heads down into the wind and light rain up more track on the north-western flank of Mount Battock. The recent snow had accumulated extensively in this leeward slope and after a while our gritty vehicle track disappeared fully under an extensive area of snow, it forward limit invisible in the cloud. After considerable debate, a brief reconnaissance to assess the snow conditions, and the resources in terms of grippers for our feet, three walkers turned back and six forged on ahead, including the terrain-knowledgeable co-ordinator. The snow-covered slope soon levelled off on Wester Cairn 717m, so named as being less than one kilometre west of the more significant Mount Battock 778m, a summit that would be on optional side trip on most days, but not in the prevailing conditions of snow-covered slopes and a chilly, cloud ridden wind.

Onward was easy going downhill on yet more grouse vehicle track often covered with drifted snow, till we reached the next hill, Bennygray at 558m and onto Mount Een, 529m. Even though we were descending steadily the cloud and associated drizzly rain was more extensive than our morning ascent, and not in accord with the weather forecast for the day, so although warm and dryish on the inside, outwardly the two words “rats” and “drowned” came to mind. We dropped down to the Bronze Age? Mile Cairn without really noticing it and from there walked the one mile west back to the cars at Tarfside where we reunited with our colleagues. There was ample time to drive into Edzell and enjoy refreshments at the welcoming Sinclair’s Larder.

At just over 20km, with 760m of ascent, and a brief taste of winter ground conditions, this was an excellent walk for the time of year, despite the lack of views and wildlife (apart from numerous grouse along the way).. Many thanks to the walk coordinator, and drivers.

St David’s day morning was overcast with a threat of rain but while other forecasters were predicting a day of rain the Norwegians got it right again with only a short shower to interrupt our Saunter. Getting to the carpark was a slight challenge for some with the closure of the Aboyne Bridge as was pressing the right buttons in the right order to pay for the ticket on arrival.

Once we’d paid our dues we gathered on the visitor centre (Braeloine Cottage) side of the bridge taking some time to assemble as there was 23 of us but there’s plenty to see outside the old farmhouse with its cherry stone pointing highlighting the solidity of the stonework and the curiously tall chimney stack perhaps built to ensure a good draw in the fireplace. The highlight of this corner of the estate is the old bridge we’d just crossed. By the looks of it it’s very similar to Gairnsheil Bridge or the old Dee bridge at Invercauld both dating to 1750 or thereabouts with its high arch structurally necessary to carry the load of masonry needed to bridge the width of the river. While the other bridges were built by the military there’s no evidence that this one was, it’s there to carry the Firmounth Road, it just goes to show how important the Firmount was for communications at the time.

We make a start after trying to ensure that we all keep together or within sight of each other and that we stop and regroup at junctions just in case we need to turn one way or the other or possibly go straight on. The route is easy going by grassy fields and we pass St Lesmo’s Chapel built by William Cunliffe Brooks who was in business as a banker, a barrister and an MP in 1871. He at first leased the estate from the Marquess of Huntly and in 1890 bought the place. If you say, with respect, of course, that you’ve never heard of St Lesmo you are not alone as there’s little evidence that he ever existed although at one time up to sixteen saints are recorded as being active during a period from c. 500 AD to c. 800 AD in Strathdee. In the Chapel there’s a stained window with a representation of St Lesmo whose face is considered to be the image of William Cunliffe Brooks!

Enough history. Up into the Glen Tanar hillside we go here mostly covered in Scots Pine or Larch trees but it’s not a blanket coverage as there are areas where trees have been felled and a substantial area that was burnt many years ago and gives the appearance of having been allowed to regenerate naturally. Through these gaps we can see the hills around, the higher ones hidden the cloud and in places patchy snow was defying the mild air.

It was getting noticeably windier after our stop for coffee and a few spots of rain encouraged some to don waterproofs as insurance against a prolonged downpour as we turn up the southern slope of Baudy Meg. Why is it so called? WWW or AI is no real help: it seems to be something that is lost in the mist. Not many hills have a women’s name but there are plenty with a man’s name – Ben!! More seriously a suitable place for lunch needed to be decided upon, somewhere sheltered as there was now a snell wind blowing but a steep pull up the shoulder of Baudy Meg was better negotiated before rather than after eating. And so we stopped and lunched just before the crest of the hill.

No postprandial rest as the chill was settling in so we needed to get going again and as we finished the ascent the sky brightened and the northern horizon became clear with only Morven hanging onto the cloud. The gentle descent took us back into the trees past a stand of birch trees that had the look of a plantation rather than natural regeneration as they all showed the same maturity, older than saplings but without the gnarled bark of older specimens. The silver bark gleamed as the sun attempted to break through. Further down an area of the forest had been felled and by the verges of the track the gorse had been levelled, pulverised even, perhaps to the give timber trucks and other machinery a clear view of the road.

To bring us back to our starting point we were to follow a footpath beside the Water of Tanar but there was a wooded bank and some off track ground to negotiate before we gained the said path. The Saunterers seemed to relish this slight challenge topping the bank and easily finding a way through the mossy stones of a collapsed dyke then following the path showing signs of fresh maintenance above the stream while on lower ground the detritus of recent floods was scattered about.

We gathered while some visited the Visitor Centre using the bridge parapet as a rest and took time to appreciate the bridge's fine lines, slender, with curves in all the right places, what’s not to like!

After Aberdeen made BBC news with its record of no sun for 18 days, and with the MO forecasting rain all day, our hopes were not high, and there’d even been a recce for snow, ice and potholes for the drivers. Only the potholes were problematic (Kinker won top placing for its mega holes placed so impossible to avoid).

And guess what, it hardly rained. We had a wonderful time on Craig Leek working our way thru the incredibly wet snow, and especial fun on the steep slope, where the rock step challenge is usually found. Offpath, Meall Gorm was tackled with easy competence, followed by a superb wander over its tops among all its young pines and with great views across to Auchtavan and Culardoch, head in cloud.

All ten of us displayed great patience in picking our way down among heather, pines, birch and bracken to rejoin our outward route, finishing in long-forgotten sunshine – a great day out.

This very soggy walk started from the Pitfichie Forest car park and progressed along a good, but very wet track to the Whitehills stone circle. The stone circle is around 4,000 years’ old and is of the recumbent type particularly common in this region. There is a large granite block on its side which would have been flanked by two upright stones although only one remains. After looking at the stones and a photo opportunity the group carried on with the wood on our left and took a track up Green Hill. Walking through the wood up the first slope there was reasonable protection from the wind and rain. Coming out onto the hillside, we lost that protection and made it up to the windswept, wet top of Green Hill. After a very short stop with not much of a view, a group photo was taken with walkers trying to muster a smile and some determination to keep on going. The one good thing about this rain period of biblical proportions – no mountain bikes to avoid / be aware of, or be run over by! There is always a silver lining to almost everything. The track then descends into a wooded area where it was decided to have the morning coffee break but with no dry areas to sit down we had to make the best of it. We then ascended Cairn William trapsing up a track that had turned into a mini stream, but fortunately not a torrent! The top of Cairn William did not seem so windy but was just as wet as we stood at the trig point looking for the illusive views. The route then winds down a good zig zag track to the main track where lunch was taken. Then as if by magic the rain eased and stopped, hooray – deep joy! The group enjoyed the rest of the afternoon along the forest track having views and the novelty these days of some blue sky. In the end an enjoyable walk and back at the cars ever so slightly drier. The main theme of the day – the weather!

The Saunter was going to be a walk to the summit of Cnoc Dubh and a circuit of Loch Kinord but this was changed to Cambus o’ May late in the day in case the path by the Loch was under water. Weather forecasts were closely and regularly consulted just to be sure that Sunday was going to be slightly better than what had gone before and with the Norwegians at yr.com giving an optimistic outlook off we went. Driving out in the lashing rain with the road awash I felt I should have consulted the Shipping Forecast I was after, all navigating round floods and seemingly bottomless potholes as if they were rocks in the sea!

My passengers peered out through the wet veil looking around for the life belts but as we travelled west the sky brightened a little and by the time we reached the car park we had emerged from the lengthy cloud burst to find the others ready to go. That’s ready to go on the Saunter as everybody was enthusiastic, cheered by the thinning of the cloud and a brightness we hadn’t seen for days.

Apart from puddles in the car park the path was dry and progress was easy up into the trees but the main track to the quarries was running water, of no great concern to us as we were to leave the sodden track very soon, just as soon as I could find the start of the little used footpath but a little heather bashing later a line though the moss was discerned and we progressed. Not long after we diverted onto an even more vestigial path to seek out an unusual building that we hadn’t visited before on previous Saunters in the area. Standing just above the path is a small rectangular granite building with a curved concrete roof, its front door sheathed in rusty steel bearing two padlocks neither of which was locking the door. Opening the door revealed a wooden lining still in good condition. This had been a very important building for the quarry operations as this was where the explosives had been stored, the magazine, far enough away from the work to ensure safety if a catastrophe occurred.

Back on the main path before it turns at the first of a number of hairpin bends we stop on a terrace made from quarry waste and appreciate our surroundings, scrubby plants at our feet just surviving in the mix of hard packed granite rubble and dust but elsewhere Scots Pine and Birch trees have naturally colonised the landscape, completely softening the industrial impact that must have been visible from miles around when the quarries were at their busiest. At this time of year the pines stand evergreen, the birches leafless but not bare as the twigs and branches are heavy with lichen. Water droplets also cling on to the tips of twigs reflecting what light there is. Hereabouts the location of the aforementioned bend is not where it should be, not as I remember but intuitive guesswork and a couple of determined strides reveals the way ahead and its up to the the next terrace bounded by a ridge of huge sharp edged stones. Here we’re above the trees, the high point of this part of the walk, below a man made scree long ago tipped from cart and barrow, a flat surface to stop and take in the view, east to see a tower of the Cambus o’ May suspension bridge, south to Pannanich Hill shrouded in trailing cloud gently moving west on the breeze to join the heavy greyness blocking our view to Lochnagar.

Now we contour along the terrace, a bit narrow in places and visit the quarries that are not immense holes in the ground but cliff faces that have been substantially cut away into the fabric of the hillside. What’s been left is an unnatural architecture of some high walls that appear impossibly smooth and perpendicular unweathered apart from tiny ledges and cracks that zig zag their way across the crag. Other aspects have enormous blocks and flakes that look ready to crash down at any time and join the ruin on the quarry floor. Close inspection reveals rock climbers’ bolts to ensure safety on the routes all of which look very challenging.

The quarries were in use from the 1880s to the 1930s supplying stone to Ballater and the surrounding area. Rail and road developments also used local stone.

Leaving the climbing for another day we make our way down to a terraced track that has the look of the bed for a railway line but even if there was never a rail the short but flat track here would have aided removal of the rock down to the road and Deeside line railway. It’s dry and grassy as we go into the trees and follow the winding path that takes us to the ford of the Culsten Burn. The burn was apparent long before we saw the rushing, noisy water racing down a deep and narrow channel. It’s almost as if the water has life with its restless, lusty urgency to surge down the hill, getting its business done as fast as possible. At the ford the water has taken a breather and spread out over the grass but still far too deep for us to go any further in this direction and we retrace our steps down the main quarry track also carrying a substatial stream and in due course we return to the car park, not to depart but to have lunch as there’s a convenient picnic table for some of us. A fine place, dry overhead, calm with a hint of blue sky and the hope of sunshine, who would have thought it likely? Possibly only those Norwegian weather forecasters.

After lunch we set off again on the second leg of the walk down to the Deeside railway line turning into a large field currently occupied by a flock of sheep. This area is dominated by a hill of 219 metres. Sounds a lot but as we were standing at an elevation of 200m it wasn’t doing much dominating but it is one of the most charming and delightful wee hills to enjoy yet hardly anybody goes there. It’s a grassy hillock of yellow sand studded with old birch trees sadly showing no signs of regeneration offering a definite ridge to ascend to the Farquharson Needle. This is an obelisk celebrating the life of William Farquharson of Monaltrie 1753-1828, who continued his uncle Francis Farquharson’s work establishing Ballater as a health spa. Francis, whose sentence to hanging, drawing and quartering post Culloden in 1746 was commuted to 20 years exile in England, had been able to buy back his forfeited estate in 1788 and returned there to improve agriculture in the area. When the monument was erected it could be seen from Ballater, now the hill has to be climbed to fully appreciate it. Today the fine view of Lochnagar was lost in the clouds. After an easy descent (nothing’s difficult on a Saunter!) we stopped at the Cambus o’ May Cheese and Milk Hoose Cafe for refreshment before a much drier drive home.

Two short walks for the price of one! What a bargain! Ideal for a brief winter’s day, we tackled both these two lowly eminences (tho both are Marilyns - hills with more than 150m prominence) (and note, a considerable no of Munros fail this test, including Cairngorm and Derry Cairngorm, Driesh and Mayar).

A cold and icy start up Fourman Hill, near Huntly, soon gave way to old but crisp snow to the summit with its tremendous views of the River Deveron winding its sinuous way below us to the sea. A 20min drive then took us to Hill of Tillymorgan, where a sunny start, again with vast views across the snowy land below, led snowily up past the modern wind turbines to wander among the old 19th c slate quarries on its summit. Best of all, Morgan Mcveigh’s was only a 2min drive away – no wonder there were 16 of us out for the walk!