Steall Falls
By Alistair Keddie
26 Sep 2008
Steall Falls is Britain's second highest waterfall, a spectacular 120 metre cascade lying in the heart of the Mamore mountains and near to the town of Fort William.
An Steall Ban ('the white spout' to give the falls their Gaelic name), cascade down a sheer rock face at the base of An Gearanach, ('the complainer' in some translations or 'short ridge' in others) and is surrounded by native birch forest growing on steep and craggy slopes.
An Steall is easily accessed by a well marked path leading from the car park at the head of Glen Nevis and takes around half an hour to walk.
Quite dramatic in its own right, the path begins in native woodland and winds along steep slopes high above the Water of Nevis.
Often described as 'Himalayan' in character, the way narrows into a sheer and rocky gorge polished smooth by the fast flowing river, before emerging onto an unexpectedly flat plain squeezed between the mountains, with An Steall impressively at its head.
The river here widens, though is still fast, deep and difficult to cross after heavy rain, though there is a precarious and wobbly wire bridge which accesses Steall Hut and also, the base of the falls.
Crossing this single wire is always nerve wracking, especially laden with pricey camera gear.
Last time here, the base of the falls were closed as scenes from Harry Potter were filmed with two or three hundred people at work, a constant stream of helicopters overhead and a full Hollywood production in progress.
...
I visited Steall again in early September as the trees begins to show the first touches of autumn colour, though the forests are still verdant and intensely green.
Over the course of three days, the weather generally stays overcast, though the sun does burst through once in a while to briefly light the glen.
The first day's visit was after heavy overnight rain and caught the falls in full spate with huge amounts of water tumbling down their face.
Crossing to the base of the fall and shooting in the out flowing stream, I'm trying to capture something of the forest canopy and lace work of the waterfall, complicated by a heavy mist of spray and the clouds of biting midge that swarm every time the wind drops.
Shooting long exposures in the low light of the forest brings out some nice movement in the water and the plants which shift around violently in each welcome gust of wind and lends a painterly feel to the shots.
Exposures range from 2 to 6 seconds at f22 and I'm generally bracketing across three captures to compensate for the widely differing intensity of white water and dark green forest.
The river here is the Allt Coire a' Mhail, a tributary of the Nevis, which it joins quite soon after its grand descent.
Finally, when I can stand the midge no more, I make my way downstream grabbing more shots along the way showing more of the falls in their setting, before wobbling carefully back across the wire bridge and back down the glen.
...
Next day, I make my way back up to the falls with the intention of gaining the high ground opposite for some different angles.
At this time of year and due to their orientation, the falls light in the late afternoon and early evening (sunset being around 8pm), so I'm aiming to start shooting around 3.
There's a craggy and steep hill, Meall Cumhann, overlooking the glen and falls and I quickly spot three or four potential spots for shots.
The first is easily gained and gives some good views from the top of a crag as some strong sun bursts through to light the glen.
It doesn't last long, but allows a couple of decent captures before shutting down again.
Deciding to climb higher, I pick out what looks like a simple route through the crags which proves deceptive, and soon I'm struggling up slippery, almost vertical grass and rock to gain the top wondering how I got myself into this (again!) and also how I'm going to get down.
But, having gained the height, I set up again on an overhanging crag, breaking out the waterproof cover as the weather closes in and showers of heavy drizzle cross the glen, frustrating the shoot and constantly spattering the lens with moisture.
The wind is also taking its toll and with the camera cover acting like a sail, I'm nervous about everything blowing off the edge.
However, keeping a tight grip and with some patience, a break in the weather appears and I'm able to grab another few aerail captures from this height showing the falls in their mountainous setting.
Time is getting on, so looking for a way down and, spotting the final location I'd noted from the glen, I slip and slide my way towards it on a slightly more forgiving descent.
Upon reaching yet another overhanging crag, I battle the wind to set up, and just catch a stray spotlight beam of sunshine that breaks through to light the top of the falls.
Lasting no more than a couple of minutes, I snap away and feel pretty lucky.
Needless to say it all happens too fast and the shots disappoint as I'm too far away and don't have enough time to compose the picture.
Wait around for a while in hope but the light has gone and thick cloud rolls over head so I descend back into the glen and decide to try again the following evening if the weather is looking better.
...
Next day, the forecast predicts clearing weather, so I return to the falls around 5pm and set up close to the first couple of positions I'd explored the previous day.
The weather has stayed dry but the cloud cover is still in place, despite the forecast and, ominously the wind has dropped.
In the still and falling light, I'm attacked again by the midge.
They are endemic this time of year all over the Highlands but this is something else.
Unbelievable numbers of them coat everything, camera, gear, tripod, me, unbearable!
At least the insect repellent, Skin So Soft stops most of them from biting but, they still swarm all over you as you wave your arms, run around, scream and shout, swat , squash and kill.
Sounds like an exaggeration, but this was the worst I've seen in a long time..
Somehow and eventually the numbers began to calm down, though many of the shots ended up binned because the lens was covered in black spots.
And still the falls hadn't lit up.
Then suddenly, and without any real indication, the sun broke through and lit An Gearanch behind the falls with strong red light, staying steady until some 30 minutes later when the sun set.
I kept shooting until the last light faded from the hill, satisfied with the results and my luck in catching something of what I'd come for.
An Steall is easily accessed by a well marked path leading from the car park at the head of Glen Nevis and takes around half an hour to walk.
Quite dramatic in its own right, the path begins in native woodland and winds along steep slopes high above the Water of Nevis.
Often described as 'Himalayan' in character, the way narrows into a sheer and rocky gorge polished smooth by the fast flowing river, before emerging onto an unexpectedly flat plain squeezed between the mountains, with An Steall impressively at its head.
The river here widens, though is still fast, deep and difficult to cross after heavy rain, though there is a precarious and wobbly wire bridge which accesses Steall Hut and also, the base of the falls.
Crossing this single wire is always nerve wracking, especially so laden with camera gear.
Last time here, the base of the falls were closed as scenes from Harry Potter were filmed with two or three hundred people at work, a constant stream of helicopters overhead and a full Hollywood production in progress.
I visited Steall again in early September as the trees begins to show the first touches of autumn colour, though the forests are still verdant and intensely green.
Over the course of three days, the weather generally stays overcast, though the sun does burst through once in a while to briefly light the glen.
The first day's visit was after heavy overnight rain and caught the falls in full spate with huge amounts of water tumbling down their face.
Crossing to the base of the fall and shooting in the out flowing stream, I'm trying to capture something of the forest canopy and lace work of the waterfall, complicated by a heavy mist of spray and the clouds of biting midge that swarm every time the wind drops.
Shooting long exposures in the low light of the forest brings out some nice movement in the water and the plants which shift around violently in each welcome gust of wind and lends a painterly feel to the shots.
Exposures range from 2 to 6 seconds at f22 and I'm generally bracketing across three captures to compensate for the widely differing intensity of white water and dark green forest.
The river here is the Allt Coire a' Mhail, a tributary of the Nevis, which it joins quite soon after its grand descent.
Finally, when I can stand the midge no more, I make my way downstream grabbing more shots along the way showing more of the falls in their setting, before wobbling carefully back across the wire bridge and back down the glen.
...
Next day, I make my way back up to the falls with the intention of gaining the high ground opposite for some different angles.
At this time of year and due to their orientation, the falls light in the late afternoon and early evening (sunset being around 8pm), so I'm aiming to start shooting around 3.
There's a craggy and steep hill, Meall Cumhann, overlooking the glen and falls and I quickly spot three or four potential spots for shots.
The first is easily gained and gives some good views from the top of a crag as some strong sun bursts through to light the glen.
It doesn't last long, but allows a couple of decent captures before shutting down again.
Deciding to climb higher, I pick out what looks like a simple route through the crags which proves deceptive, and soon I'm struggling up slippery, almost vertical grass and rock to gain the top wondering how I got myself into this (again!) and also how I'm going to get down.
But, having gained the height, I set up again on an overhanging crag, breaking out the waterproof cover as the weather closes in and showers of heavy drizzle cross the glen, frustrating the shoot and constantly spattering the lens with moisture.
The wind is also taking its toll and with the camera cover acting like a sail, I'm nervous about everything blowing off the edge.
However, keeping a tight grip and with some patience, a break in the weather appears and I'm able to grab another few aerail captures from this height showing the falls in their mountainous setting.
Time is getting on, so looking for a way down and, spotting the final location I'd noted from the glen, I slip and slide my way towards it on a slightly more forgiving descent.
Upon reaching yet another overhanging crag, I battle the wind to set up, and just catch a stray spotlight beam of sunshine that breaks through to light the top of the falls.
Lasting no more than a couple of minutes, I snap away and feel pretty lucky.
Needless to say it all happens too fast and the shots disappoint as I'm too far away and don't have enough time to compose the picture.
Wait around for a while in hope but the light has gone and thick cloud rolls over head so I descend back into the glen and decide to try again the following evening if the weather is looking better.
...
Next day, the forecast predicts clearing weather, so I return to the falls around 5pm and set up close to the first couple of positions I'd explored the previous day.
The weather has stayed dry but the cloud cover is still in place, despite the forecast and, ominously the wind has dropped.
In the still and falling light, I'm attacked again by the midge.
They are endemic this time of year all over the Highlands but this is something else.
Unbelievable numbers of them coat everything, camera, gear, tripod, me, unbearable!
At least the insect repellent, Skin So Soft stops most of them from biting but, they still swarm all over you as you wave your arms, run around, scream and shout, swat , squash and kill.
Sounds like an exaggeration, but this was the worst I've seen in a long time..
Somehow and eventually the numbers began to calm down, though many of the shots ended up binned because the lens was covered in black spots.
And still the falls hadn't lit up.
Then suddenly, and without any real indication, the sun broke through and lit An Gearanch behind the falls with strong red light, staying steady until some 30 minutes later when the sun set.
I kept shooting until the last light faded from the hill, satisfied with the results and my luck in catching something of what I'd come for.
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