Conwy parkrun

'Race': Conwy parkrun

Time/Position: 18.02 (3rd from 207 [1st V50])

A course PB by 8 seconds, which was pleasing, although it's only the second time I've ever done it. There can't be many better views from a parkrun, with Conwy Castle and the estuary ever present. There was a fairly stiff breeze and rain as we set off, although it didn't have too much of an effect. The twisting bridge over the railway, which has to be negotiated twice, must take 30 seconds off the times, although the rest of the course is flat (albeit gravelly) so there shouldn't be too many excuses. I didn't feel particularly great, but I was able to keep a decent pace ticking over and finished quite strongly after the bridge.

Cwm Clogwyn horseshoe

Peaks: Yr Wyddfa

Area: Snowdon, Eryri

The best description for this route is the Cwm Clogwyn horseshoe, although you rarely hear this. I remember doing it years ago with Rich, possibly the reverse of today's route, but had never really 'ran' it before. It would be an exaggeration to say I ran all the way today, particularly after last night's race, but it is certainly very well suited to moving quickly on. Snowdon Ranger is fairly long but also pretty gentle and runnable for the most part. Initial hairpins gain the side of Cwm Clogwyn, with Llechog (a crag I have never visited) notable on the right. Ahead, Snowdon was smothered in mist and I climbed up into it via the headwall which moves over to Moel Cynghorion before swinging up to the railway and Bwlch Glas. The familiar final haul to the summit follows - 62 minutes from the Ranger car park, which is OK. I jogged down through the mist towards Bwlch Main (I was last here in Spring) and then enjoyed the short but delightful ridge (with mist peeling away) above Llechog before embarking on the rather awkward zigzags that form the middle section of the Rhyd Ddu path. These curve east before easier grassy paths and gentle tracks lead down to the village. From here, a short section of the Snowdonia marathon route along the road back to the Snowdon Ranger car park: around 1.57 in total for the 15k/930m round.

Ponderosa hill race

Race: Ponderosa (6.4k/900ft)

Time/Position: 28.54 (7th from 88 [2nd V50])

Great to be back racing after all the slow, sweaty plodding up big mountains. I have done this race a lot over the years, at least six or seven times, and always enjoy it: the rewards of the very long and fast descent are out of all proportion to the demands of the very short climb at the start! Pleasingly, I was less than 20 seconds down on my best time for the course, perhaps because the descent from the mast is now down a much broader track (at least initially). I also felt pretty good, however, and made the top of Cyrn y Brain in nine minutes precisely. Positions were sorted within a few hundred metres, and although I got close to the young lad in front I was never going to get past him on the descent, which goes on for quite a while and always feels very exciting and fast. Definitely drier than usual, but I still began to slow fairly dramatically on the final climb to the finish near the top of the Old Horseshoe Pass, which is always the crux of this race, legs like jelly after the manic descent.

Mont Mounier

Peaks: Mont Demant (2441m), Petit Mounier (2728m), Mont Mounier (2817m)

Area: Peone, Maritime Alps

Mounier has been a big gap in my Maritime Alps CV for years. It is perfectly straightforward, in fact it is one of the most popular peaks in the entire southern alps with a very clear marked path. It is also very prominent, and towers above most other mountains in this south-western corner. However, from my usual stamping grounds it is hard to reach - which is some explanation for the fact that I've never got round to it before. It was time to put that right, and I left my gite above Peone for the short drive to the Col d'Espaul and set off around 8.30am in the most perfect weather of the trip so far: deep blue cloudless skies, not outrageously hot. Mounier is eminently suited to a running approach, but sadly I had to take water and a few other precautions and the only sac I had was my big 30 litre number, which wasn't ideal for fast movement. So, a gentle jog was the right approach, and I quickly reached La Colle on a broad track before heading off uphill towards the limestone crags of the Barre des Moulines. A few hairpins negotiate this, and then there are some open meadows before the lunar landscape that characterises the upper sections of Mounier is reached. Then comes the subpeak of Mont Demant, barely an independent summit but noticeable from below, hence its status I suspect. The route levels off through limestone screes across Mont Demant until a junction with the GR5 is reached along with a superb view of Petit and Mont Mounier across a dry valley, the entire ridge visible. The route climbs up to the Col de Crousette on the left, and then up a broad ridge to the summit of the Petit Mounier, with the remains of an mountain hut which used to stand on this site. A short jog and then the classic view of Mont Mounier, a perfect mountain rising in parallel lines. To reach it, a perfect horizontal ridge which was pure pleasure throughout. It was a mixture of limestone shelves and short scrambly sections, very mildly exposed but a wonderful catwalk. Where this ends, the final summit cone rises, and I reached the summit cross is 1.45 from the Col d'Espaul, not great but not too shabby given the size of my rucsack (I hate the weight penalty that water carrying imposes, but there really wasn't much choice on Mounier). The prominence of the mountain means that the views are those of the 'aeroplane' variety, very far reaching but perhaps not the most photogenic. I picked out all most of the peaks I'd climbed in the Mercantour (Argentera particularly notable, distantly above the Tinee valley) and admired the view over Cime Negre down towards my gite, with the upper valley above Peone clearly visible 2000 metres below. The most notable feature is the lack of vegetation - these limestone hills have a dessicated, desert mountain feel to them that is very distinctive and memorable. I skipped back to the Petit Mounier where I had a brief snack before continuing downwards at a sustainable loping pace: 2.48 for the out-and-back to the Col d'Espaul, 17k/1100m.

Cime du Fourchas

Peaks: Cime du Fourchas (2783m)

Area: Vens, Maritime Alps

Apart from the two easy peaks yesterday afternoon, everything else around the hut was a bit more involved. I couldn't find any details about ascent routes, yet from the opposite side of the valley both Cime du Fourchas (the mountain that frames Lacs de Vens and a million pictures) and the higher Clai Superior both looked feasible. In fact, I worked out potential routes from the summit of Cime des Blanches. The hut had a book full of topos but none of them went to the most eye-catching summits. After breakfast, the weather looked a little unsettled - there was a fair amount of cloud around and even a hint of rain in the air, gone was the morning stability of the last two days. My phone was out of charge, and this all meant that an even higher degree of caution was necessary. I initiated the plan I'd hatched yesterday, following a definite path up a stream/gully which I assumed headed up to the isolated Lac du Fourchas. It did, a lovely ascent and a stunning location with a powerful atmosphere. Ahead, Cime du Vens loomed and to the right, Clai Superior, all entirely monochrome above the grey lake. The latter was definitely feasible but not solo in this weather - it was capped by cloud and there were few signs of an improvement. So, it was definitely going to be the consolation prize, Cime du Fourchas. It was still very satisfying to pick my way up this untravelled peak - I would guess it gets very few ascents, perhaps a handful each year. I initially headed east up steeper slopes to gain a hanging valley with two higher lakes (which form a chain). Then I picked my way rightwards towards the obvious ridge, the Crete de Fourchas, which frames Lacs de Vens. After some steep scree, I entered the vague grassy couloir that seemed to offer easy access to the ridge. It did indeed, and emerged at a small col. From here the onward route was clearly straightforward, a broad, rocky ridge leading to a clear highpoint, which had a cairn and some evidence of occasional ascents! I built a small cairn at the top of the grassy couloir, just in case, and headed up and down, the cloudbase remained well above the peak, but still flirted with the higher mountains across the valley. I returned the same way, without difficulties, and after a snack at the hut descended back to the valley and my car. This time I took the standard path the whole way, which contours well above the Lacs de Vens then takes giant zigzags to join the 'cheminee vens' shortcut I'd taken yesterday. Superb views throughout in improving weather: all the way up to the Barcelonette peaks, and the mountains above St Dalmas like Tete du Vinaigre - still plenty to do. I drove down to St Etienne and back to the excellent bakery for an admirably local lunch of coca nicoise and pissaladiere. By St Saveur, the temperatures had climbed dramatically and I had a coffee in exceptionally hot weather before driving over to Peone.

Vens peaks

Peaks: Aiguilles des Tortisses (2672m), Cime des Blanches/Testa del Ferro (2763m)

Area: Lacs de Vens, Maritime Alps

My original plan for today was to take in Pointe Giegn from Boreon, then drive to St Etienne, then walk in to the Refuge de Vens. Foolish. Instead, after a big day yesterday I had a leisurely and pleasant breakfast in St Martin, then drove over to the Tinee valley (only my second ever visit to this side of the range) and up beyond St Etienne to the start of the walk-in to the Refuge de Vens (after buying a gourmet 'auvergne' sandwich for lunch). I was glad my plan had evolved to something more sensible as the walk-in was steep, even more so when I left the zigzags to take in a short-cut. I wasn't sure what this was, but my instinct told me to take it: turned out to be the 'cheminee Vens' (chimney), leading alongside the Torrent de Vens in a steep 279m climb squeezed into less than 800m horizontal, which was as steep as it sounds! A few scrambly steps, and relentless, but emerging at the exquisite lower lake. From here on, the scenery takes on a magical, stunning quality, similar in character to that of Lac d'Allos a little north of here. An exquisite blend of lakes and mountains, dotted with little copses and boulders. The path heads up through the chain of lakes to the top Lac de Vens and a view of the refuge, perfectly situated above a waterfall overlooking the lake. At the sun-drenched hut terrace, I had half my gourmet sandwich and then, expecting an afternoon thunderstorm, decided to bag the most obvious peaks from the vicinity of the hut. The most obvious was the Aiguilles des Tortisses, accessed via the zigzags of the GR52 which led up to a little col (below the major Col de Fer). A short climb gained the weird pinnacled summit (reminiscent of the Col d'Izoard, which isn't too far away) with superb views down to the refuge nestling in its verdant meadows and across to bigger peaks like Clai Superior. This was all too brief, so I returned to the col, then took what looked like an ancient border path (marked with side cairns) to cross over to the Italian side briefly, then a superb romp along a lovely ridge. Above, an ibex poised artfully on a large rock. To the left, interesting peaks like Monte Peiron and some old Italian frontier huts. A sharp forepeak led to the summit of Cime des Blanches and stunning views up to the main Cime de Vens, savage black ridges, rarely climbed I would assume. Dark clouds gathered, so it was back along the crest of the ridge, mild scrambling, and back to the col. I had a rest here, admiring the wonderful alpine flora, particularly impressive here, then jogging back to the hut. I spent a reasonable night here, refuelling on a superb beef daube, dauphinoise and local cheese, but unfortunately a large group of pensioners made the dorm pretty crowded and stifling that night.

Neiglier-Prals loop

Peaks: Mont Neiglier (2786m), Cime de la Vallette des Prals (2496m), Cime du Pertus (2437m), Tete du Cinant (2314m)

Area: Vesubie, Maritime Alps

After a 28 year campaign, not that many major gaps remain for me in the Maritime Alps. Indeed, that rather desultory 'campaign' has been on something of a hiatus since doing Argentera (the range's highpoint) in 2013 with Vic. Apart from that, and the early ascent of Cime du Gelas (the French highpoint) with Tim and Stee in 1994, all my trips to the region have been solo. The mountains are generally non-technical, and therefore suit a solo approach. One of the big remaining gaps was Mont Neiglier, so after dropping the family off at the airport I headed up to the Madone de Fenetre on Sunday evening, arriving at the refuge fairly late. I had a room to myself, where I was woken by moonlight (a very bright full moon shining straight through the skylight). After breakfast, I set off just after 7am up the familiar path to the Baisse des Prals, seeing a chamois almost immediately. This was a perfect way to reacquaint myself with the beauty of these mountains: a stunning path that gradually reveals more of the range as it climbs through the typical Mercantour blend of rocks and trees. To the left, Mont Ponset, which I did in the early 2000s, a superficially impressive peak from this side, but simpler and less complex than Neiglier, its neighbour and today's target. My basic plan was to reach the Baisse des Cinque Lacs via the standard path then take stock and see if the route up Neiglier looked clear. At first, it didn't: the correct cwm was the usual chaotic jumble of 'clapier' boulders. Later, as I moved down towards the lakes I could see a clear small path leading below the very impressive Pointe St Andre ridge up into the cwm. Sadly all I knew was that the normal route takes an 'oblique gully' which heads up to the left, I had no further details and no topo. Still, it was so early that if I abandoned Neiglier plans the day would just have been too short, so I headed upwards. Half way up, the path disappeared in a boulder field but I saw a few small cairns leading up to a likely looking gully. At the base of it, however, it looked unlikely - I couldn't see the top and certainly didn't feel like committing to it. Round a rocky corner and more cairns led to another left-facing gully, so I took a look at that from below too! In some ways it looked feasible, but my mountain brain was again sending out warning signals, so with that I decided to abandon the attempt entirely and continue down to the Lacs des Prals through the boulder field. At the bottom of this, I saw a huge cairn, then another, and then saw a vague route leading up the screes to the very back of the cwm. From here, it did look possible that a left-slanting 'oblique gully' might provide the key to unlock the conundrum. In reality, it is barely a gully at all, more like a slanting series of slabby steps, and it was actually really enjoyable. After a brief slog up the scree, I gained the line and it was obvious - finally - that I was on route. Two little steps provide the only difficulty, and lead to solid slabs at the top which give way to a tiny breche and spectacular, sudden views. The walls plunge away on the far side, and Ponset, Gelas and St Robert all loom across the valley. From the col, about 100m of mild scrambling up the east ridge follows, weaving around to find the easiest line, slightly exposed in a couple of places before easy rocks gain the summit. Superb views in all directions, a stunning place to be, with the Grand Capelet particularly notable (done in the late 2000s). A few clouds blocked the valleys but generally the weather was sunny and fine. The descent was simple, including the slabby steps, although the lower cwm was very arduous, giant 'clapier' boulders typical of the range. I gained the beautiful cinq lacs with some relief and had a snack in an alpine meadow next to the largest lake (accompanied by a screaming marmot). After a short descent, I spied an obvious short cut up a moraine which gained a horizontal path easing progress up to the Baisse de Prals, a notable col and new territory for me. Then came the relaxing part of the day, along the gentler ridges stretching towards St Martin. First up was Cime de la Valette des Prals, a focal point of all of those ridges and a major Mercantour summit despite its low altitude and gentle aspect. A full frontal slog gained the summit, from which it was clear that the weather was on the turn over the higher peaks: threatening black clouds now draped Neiglier and the other high peaks, so my early start had proved extremely prudent (not for the first time). The threat of rain, or worse, did quicken my pace a bit - but the remaining gentle hills remained clear and have a completely different feel in any case. I left the main path to take in Pertus, another large but gentle hill, then contoured to just below Tete de la Lave before sticking to the main ridgeline (not the marked path) to take in Tete de Cinant at 2314m. This had a little coterie of ravens on the summit, and a griffon vulture flew past too. From here I took in a sharp unnamed second summit then dropped down to the Baisse des Ferisson, another major col, and decided to call it a day and descend to the Madone through beautiful woodland. At Lou Cavalon, where I could see the Madone, I stupidly took the left-hand branch of the path, which descended westwards towards the road. This added a fair bit to the day, with a tiring reascent of the road back up to the Madone: 1630m of climbing, close to 19k, well over four hours. I arrived at the Madone to find over a thousand people in attendance, and hundreds of cars, possibly for a funeral or wake. So I drove straight to St Martin to find my gite and have a pissaladiere under the trees: thunderstorm later on that day, followed by a great Nicois meal in one of the 'cave' restaurants.

Bauroux

Peaks: Bauroux (1645m)

Area: Castellane Pre-Alpes, France

This was a near-perfect hillwalk to do with Morgan. I've done most of the mountains around Castellane before - Robion, Teillon, Bernarde and Destourbes all stick in my mind, nice peaks with distinct profiles. Bauroux is a little lower, but it is also a long ridge, lends itself to a loop, and I felt it would be ideal for a father-and-son outing. So it proved, as we set out after the longish drive via Mons and Fayence up butterfly-festooned slopes from the village of Seranon. Above, the long limestone ridge of Bauroux is really impressive. The route takes a nicely logical upward route to gain the wooded western end of the ridge with sudden views north to Teillon and other familiar limestone hills. A lovely breeze kept temperatures manageable, which had been my main concern (it was around 36-37c at the coast). In addition, the route then heads up the wooded northern side of the ridge, up to a wonderful viewpoint which looks out over the crags. The ridge is quite complex, with numerous tops, so the path stays well away from it, weaving through the woods until it heads decisively upwards after the final forepeak. Some rocky sections as the treeline is left just below the summit, which has a big cross, wonderful views, and lots of butterflies enjoying the superb limestone flora. The clarity was excellent and we could pick out Maritime Alps peaks which I'd done before in the distance: Gelas, Argentera, Malinvern and others. Across the valley, the Var's highpoint of Lachens, which I took them up (mostly by car) when they were very small. After a fine lunch, we continued down the steeper eastern side, eventually reaching the village of Caille. From here, we took a slight wrong turning south before heading west back to Seranon. Then it was down to Cannes via Grasse for a culinary reward.

Esterel tops

Revisiting old favourite runs this week, all of them pre-breakfast to avoid the ferocious heat that was building (particularly towards the end of the week). On Tuesday, I did my favourite Perthus loop but with a longer twist, first taking in the Piste de Castelli, a 2.5km perfect track that ends on the tarmac near the maison forestiere. From here, the usual Perthus loop is joined (16k in total, so a fair bit longer than the usual route). This morning, after a bad night's sleep, I parked below Pic du Cap Roux and jogged along the road to the Baisse du Sangliers and then the direct path up Pic de l'Ours. I remember doing this in stifling afternoon heat one year, but this wasn't much better, like breathing in hot tar. The path takes a direct line but I then missed the continuation at the road hairpin, taking the tarmac instead: this was really annoying. The true summit is crowned by a giant rocket, and is inaccessible, but I've been here before and enjoyed the descent. From the baisse, I took in Pic d'Aurelle, one of the best views of all, poised directly above the Med and nicely rocky. Later in the week, I ran up Colle d'Allons, the wooded hills opposite the site, and also jogged up Pic du Cap Roux, one of my favourites, from the Plateau d'Antheor. I didn't do Vinaigre from the site, but I did run up the Cabre valley to its terminus, then up to Malavallettes and back via Col Noir, which is almost as long and probably works better as a run.

Dyserth climbing

Crag: Dyserth Slab

Routes: Jason and the Aga Nuts (f5:led), Leo saw us Rex (f4+:sec)

Tim was back on one of his rare visits from New Zealand, and wanted to do a few routes. The only problem was that I have climbed very little since Covid, and have also failed to replace my quickdraws after they were stolen three years ago in Bergamo! The improvised gear limited us to the two short routes on the right of the crag, but it was very nice to catch up with Tim and Steve.

Chester parkrun

'Race': Chester parkrun

Time/Position: 18.19 (1st from 222)

Parkruns are not races, but 'timed runs', of course. That said, I've never finished first at Chester in seven attempts (although I've been second on numerous occasions) so it was nice to change that today. I thought it would be prudent to sandwich a quick speed session in to the middle of my slow-paced, mountain-dominated Icelandic and French trips. I felt reasonably good, although still over 20 seconds down on my best for the course (which has changed slightly post-covid). Some close competition but I managed to pull away towards the end of the second lap.

Esja

Peaks: Thverfellshorn (840m)

Area: Esja, Iceland

Very different in tone from everything else I did in Iceland, Esja feels like what it is: a popular hill on the edge of a large urban area. Reykjavik is clearly visible from most of the route, which is a standard, much-travelled loop up to the viewpoint of Stein and then down the far side of a gentle river valley, Grensoxl. Esja is actually a giant plateau, and the mist peeled spectacularly away from the pinnacles on the rocky coastal facing side as I approached the car park. The trade route to Stein is up a huge path, and felt more like something from the Peak District or perhaps the West Highland Way than my outings in the rest of Iceland. Stein represents a crossing of the paths, and most of Reykjavik is visible far below. An extension exists, however, and it is a good way to get up to sample the Esja plateau proper. The path is steeper up to a rock band, and then a chained (very mild) scramble traverses the rocks rightwards to gain a 'korean-style' ascent, up metal steps and the like, to the forepeak of Thverfellshorn (my laptop can't do the special Icelandic character this peak begins with). This is raised above the rest of the plateau, and was engulfed with mist by the time I got there. Again, it felt like home: I could have been on Carnedd Dafydd. I took the chains back to Stein and then ran down at a decent pace in warm sunshine - 1.26 for the entire outing. This gave me ample time to drive to Gardur at the end of the Reykjanes peninsula for stunning views of breaching humpback whales, and lots of birds.

Hafnarfjall

Peaks: Hafnarfjall (844m), Gildalshnjukur (c900m), Katlapufa (c860m)

Area: Borgarnes, Iceland

Hafnarfjall dominates Borgarnes, where I had camped after Baula. It is a classic 'signature peak', a constant presence and a fundamental part of the town's identity. It is obvious, however, that it is a collection of summits, not just one, so I was eager to see how that might unfold as I set off up the obvious marked path from the other side of the bridge across the fjord from the narrow isthmus the town is built on. The route was superb, and follows the very vague 'ridge' that climbs up towards the right-hand summit when looking from the town. There are impressive cliffs on one side, plunging down to the ring-road and the fjord. To the left, a shallow cwm full of scree. The path reaches an obvious col, after which the route turns right (north) to the summit of Hafnarfjall. This was all great, and took 52 minutes, but it was obvious that this was not the true summit of the mountain. The real peak rose from the other side of the col, so I retraced steps and took the much smaller, unmarked path through some rocks to a brilliant continuation ridge which led quite quickly to the highpoint. At the cafe which faces the mountain later that morning, a labelled painting of the peaks revealed that this is actually called Gildalshnjukur - although the map that strava generated was completely inaccurate in terms of contours and heights (as it was in most of Iceland). If Hafnarfjall is 844m, the higher peak must be around 900m, although I can't confirm this either - all rather strange. Regardless, it was a beautiful main summit, with milky cloud and soft sunshine lending definition to fantastic views. These stretched to distant Snaefellsness peninsula, and across to Esja and other snowy peaks, but also down to Borgarnes and its fjord. The continuation to the sharp, shapely peak of Katlapufa was even better, rocky in places with some very mild scrambling. Back the same way, jogging, and into the wonderful Geirabakari cafe that has panoramic views of the peak across the fjord for coffee and cake. Even better, next came the ultimate relaxation in the hot tubs of the town's swimming pool, welcome relief for tired muscles.

Baula

Peaks: Baula (934m)

Area: Borgarfjordur, Iceland

An iconic feature of the west Iceland landscape, Baula is almost the perfect pyramidal peak. It dominates its surroundings and is a compelling objective, often considered the most beautiful mountain in Iceland. Sadly, on closer inspection it proves to be a pile of unstable poised blocks and scree, but I didn't know that as I headed towards it in ever-improving weather. It had been cloudy but dry in Oxnaladur this morning, but the cloud broke as I headed south-west, to the point that by Hvammstangi (where I took a short deliberate detour), the sky was a brilliant blue. I left the ring-road for Baula, but it took some time to work out a likely starting point for the mountain (I had very little information). The broad west 'ridge' looked the most likely route of ascent and I located a track which led to its base. This worked to an extent, but it was arduous and pathless higher up, and I took a little gorge to ease progress. This felt more like Provence for a while - white rock, warm temperatures, dazzling sunshine, azure sky! It was by far the best weather of the trip. Eventually I gained the base of the 'cone' and started upwards, finding the terrain very demanding by any standards. Never remotely exposed, just arduous and tedious as I fought my way upwards through giant boulder fields - again, reminiscent of the 'clapier' fields of the Maritime Alps. Half way up, I found a very vague path which eased progress just a tad, and the angle did ease towards the summit - after which there is a short, but superb, ridge that curves around the very steep northern/eastern side of the mountain to gain the summit. Immense views in all directions, a reflection of its isolaion, and perfect clarity of light. As is often the case on these sorts of mountains, it is easier to spot better lines in descent, and Baula was no exception. I took a more southerly line, evidence of previous traffic, and - although still arduous and loose - it was easier and I gained the base of the cone fairly quickly. The grass lower down was a relief, and it was still sunny as I got back to the car on the Vestfjardavegur.

Hraunvatn/Stapar

Sunday was a washout. It really was a good job I had checked the forecast as upwards movement was practically impossible. I took in the crater of Hverfjall in full wet weather gear (howling gale, horizontal rain) before retreating to the volcanic pillars of Dimmoburgir, a sensible sheltered choice which gave some relief with a 4k walking loop through the formations (and it had a warm cafe above the car park). I managed to locate the Myvatn speciality of Barrow's goldeneye at the nearby Hofoi (where volcanic pillars stand in the water of the lake) but failed to find the other speciality, harlequin duck, coming close to 'birding hypothermia' as I doggedly scanned the Laxa river outflow in truly abysmal conditions. The weather was so bad in Akureyri that I barely left the van, and woke this morning to snow plastering all the peaks above the town that I had intended to ascend this morning. With trail running shoes, this seemed unwise so I reluctantly abandoned my plans and continued along the ring road, hoping for an opportunity to get amongst the scenery and pinpointing Oxnadalur as a likely option. I quickly reached it and it exceeded my expectations, a wonderful valley and the epitome of wild northern Icelandic scenery. I stopped for breakfast below the farms that provide scale for the incredible pinnacle of Hraundrangi which rises above. Higher up, I parked, and took the track to the old farm of Hraun (lots of literary links with the valley, which is widely celebrated). A small path led upwards, so I followed it, wondering if I might make a speculative attempt on the beautiful mountain rising from an obvious long ridge, which turned out to be Heidarfjall. The path led upwards to an awkward rocky section and shallow gorge, above which was a small lake with a great northern diver in full breeding plumage. Above this, and the hypnotically beautiful upper valley is breached, an utterly magical secluded location with an indescribable ambience, completely hidden from below. The stunning lake of Hraunvatn dominates the valley floor with steep mountain sides all around. A tiny path led onwards towards the long ridge up the dominant peak, so I followed it. Grassy at first, it soon led to a rockier section, narrow but not very exposed. This was wonderful, stunning views down to the lake and across to Fagranesfjell and other peaks to the east. Above the ridge steepened to what would be called a gendarme if it was in the Alps. Here, mountain judgment kicked in and I retreated. I made a few abortive attempts to circumvent it, getting higher up the valley, before retreating - not sad at all, just glad to be up here and exercising a bit of experience! I descended down to the viewpoint of Stapar, a little hill with a cairn and just sat enjoying this magical place, perhaps the most memorable of all the locations I visited in Iceland (and that is up against very, very stiff competition). The opposing ridge to the pinnacle of Hraundrangi dominated, but it was the general atmosphere that was genuinely hard to leave. I did, eventually, disturbing an angry ptarmigan en route.

Hlidarfjall

Peaks: Hlidarfjall (771m)

Area: Myvatn, Iceland

After a very long day, my arrival at the wonderful campsite of Bjarg, right on the shores of Myvatn, was a delight - slavonian grebe and red-necked phalarope dabbling around right next to the van. After Graenafell, I had eaten skyr on the edge of the highlands in a wonderful lonely location before descending into the magnificant volcanic landscape around Hverir. Here I took the loop of the boiling, sulphurous craters and went up to the Namarfjall (500m) highpoint with views over the lake and across to the impressive cone-like peak of Hildarfjell. It seemed essential to go up it tomorrow morning (when I planned a more relaxing day) but I thought I should just check the weather first, despite the fact that it had improved to a lovely evening of milky sunshine here in the far north. A sudden change of plan, and action stations, when I realised the forecast for tomorrow was grim. So it was on with the running gear and an attempt to find the route up Hlidarfjall from the lake. This took some time, but it didn't really matter given the constant daylight. That said, I still took a running approach as I wanted my evening meal and a shower! Hlidarfjall is a perfect cone from lower down, although becomes bulkier along the approach, which was lengthy and characterised my very noisy breeding whimbrels (and a few godwit) who seemed distressed by my presence. I trod lightly, and eventually gained the peak itself, taking a direct route up to gain steep and tiring scree which led eventually to a vague col and then easier going up a broad, rocky ridge to the summit. Superb views over Krafla's spectacular volcanic landscape on one side, and all of Myvatn on the other. Sadly, light mist obscured some of it and the weather already seemed to be turning. A cautious descent of the scree cone, then I opened up a bit for the track leading back to Reykjahlio and Bjarn by 8.30pm, for a welcome sulphurous shower and my Icelandic staple meal of 'pocket rocket fishy noodles' before turning in.

Graenafell

Peaks: Graenafell (630m)

Area: Reydarfjordur, Iceland

Stunning though the ringroad scenery was, and supremely enjoyable, I was always fighting the urge to get into it, and off the beaten track. Given time constraints, options were limited, but after leaving Hofn this morning I did have a few vague plans. Initially (after a peaceful breakfast near Sefdalur, then seabird watching at Almannaskard) I parked near the tunnel beyond Budir and took the marked path into the empty and wonderful looking valley to the west. Sadly, a bridge was down and it was impossible to continue up the valley (confirmed by a chat with the farmer's wife!). No matter, I continued the drive and parked instead west of Reydarfjordur at the top of an obvious pass. Again, superb mountain scenery on all sides. The weather was dry but cloudy and somewhat threatening. Graenafell was an ideal way to get amongst it all, a small but pronounced hill surrounded by bigger mountains. Steep slopes led from the windy pass to boggy moorland and a desolate lake (Graenavatn) with golden plover. Then, rockier and drier terrain led to the summit and great views over Reydarfjordur (and a bench for sitting on!). Easy jogged descent, less than an hour for the outing. Then, the journey continued to Eggilstadir then up for a taste of the highlands before descending to Myvatn.

Skaftafell loop

Peaks: Fremrihnaukur (610m), Kristinartindar (1126m)

Area: Skaftafell, Iceland

A fairly unstable day weatherwise after landing in Keflavik fairly early yesterday, with some heavy showers and cold wind. This limited me to short trips above the famous waterfall of Skogafoss, and a windy hike up Rejnasfell above Vik, where I stayed the night in the campground. Skaftafell was always scheduled to be the big day, however, and fortunately this, the second day, dawned clear and dry. With constant daylight I was in no great rush, and first left the ring road to take in the gorge of Fjadrarglijufur. This was magical in the early morning, and I had it completely to myself. Skaftafell was unsurprisingly a lot busier, rammed with global tourists, but I suspected they would disappear within minutes of leaving the car park. This was indeed the case, in fact once I was above the famous basalt column waterfall of Svartifoss (far from Iceland's most impressive, but one of the most photographed!) I was entirely alone. The route climbs fairly gently through low vegetation to gain an open moor at Sjonarskur, as the views open out across to Kalfafell, the angular mountain of Lomagnapur, and the awe-inspiringly bleak 'sandur' - vast glacial deposits that create a 50km section of utterly barren wilderness where the icecaps meet the Atlantic. It was, predictably enough, pretty special, and the day continued in that vein. An easy climb gained the rounded forepeak of Femrihnaukur with superb views up towards the high glacier of Morsardalur. I began to catch up with some early starters (not many) across a couple of neve fields to gain the upper cwm, surrounded by peaks. Steep scree led to a pronounced col and a stunning view across Skaftafellsjokull, the main glacier. Mist was flirting with the higher peaks, totally engulfing the Icelandic highpoint of Hvannadalshnukur. It was pretty cold, and the meat of the day came next, with a rather loose scramble up the south ridge. This was almost alpine in tone, not especially exposed but rather loose, particularly in an open gully that I took in error. At the top, it eased to a pleasant ridge and a snowfield. Mist was flirting with the summit, a very atmospheric place with plunging views to glaciated valleys in all directions. I descended cautiously, avoiding the gully, and had a snack at the col as the mist lowered a tad. An easy descent down the screes in the cwm led back to the main circular path. This leads east to the stunning viewpoint of Glama, poised above magnificent Skaftafelljsjokul, itself part of the enormous Vatnajokull icecap, Europe's biggest. The scale and magnificence of the scenery was breath-taking (not a cliche I use lightly). Far more people now, as I continued along the marked path to Sjonarnipa, looking out over the icebergs calving off the end of the glacier and the vast sandur plains beyond. A final descent through birch woodland added a varied final note to an exceptional 4+ hour outing. After some much-needed food at the visitor centre, watching a heavy shower approach over the mountains, the day continued in extraordinarily memorable fashion. I explored Jokulsarlon thoroughly (Fjallsarlon too, in some ways even better) watching the icebergs that have been calved off the Vatnajokull icecap drift slowly into the Atlantic from the glacial lagoon - stunning. By the time I arrived in Hofn, bright sunshine returned and I had a snack overlooking Sudhurdfjordur before getting an elevated spot at the campground. A truly memorable day.