A Last Taste Of Winter In The Cairngorms?

Ben Macdui from Sron na Lairig

The warm dry weather of early April has given to colder conditions with snow on the hills. A wander up into the snow had me thinking it now felt more like December than July. But then, the Scottish weather is notoriously changeable.

Leaving the forest

My two-day walk took me through Rothiemurchus Forest into Gleann Einich and then up beside the roaring Beanaidh Bheag. The forecast was for a few showers at first and then a dry afternoon and evening. A little rain fell a few times as I walked through the pines but never enough to have me putting on waterproofs. So when a shower became a little heavier I assumed it too would quickly fade away so I just kept walking. It didn’t fade away and I was getting wet. On went the waterproof jacket though not yet overtrousers as the rain was coming straight down and my legs were still dry.

Rain!

The sky was grey and mist shrouded the tops of the hills. I could see snow below the ragged edges of the clouds. Leaving the trees I followed the track beside the rushing Am Beanaidh as the rain grew stronger. Reaching the Beanaidh Bheag I turned up beside this burn. There’s no path and I was soon walking though deep heather, sodden deep heather that quickly soaked my trousers. On with the overtrousers, not for dryness, it was too late for that, but for warmth as a cold breeze was chilling my legs.

Am Beanaidh

Above me steep slopes faded into a fringe of snow and mist. I had thought of heading up that way and camping in one of the magnificent northern corries of Braeriach. It didn’t seem an appealing idea now. I’d camp down here I decided. If I could find a dryish site. The tussocky ground oozed water everywhere. Two weeks before in the hot dry spell I’d camped in the Lairig Ghru, just two kilometres or so from here in a straight line, on a site that I thought would usually be sodden. It would be today.  

Camp in the morning

The tussocky ground oozed water everywhere. Eventually I spotted a flattish area not far from the burn. There were pools of water nearby but it seemed the best I was likely to find so I stopped and pitched the tent. This was the third trip in a row on which I was using a Hilleberg Akto and this was the third different Akto, a replacement for the one that suffered a broken pole on a trip back in March (see this post) and which had gone back to Hilleberg.

Morning view

Once I was in my sleeping bag in the tent the world looked a lot friendlier. A few hot drinks and it seemed positively benign. The rain ceased sometime during the night and I woke to see sunshine on Sgoran Dubh Mor and Sgor Gaoith on the far side of Gleann Einich. It would be a while before that sun reached camp, if it did at all, as big clouds were piling up to the east. I could see more of the hills though. To the north-west mist was rising from Rothiemurchus Forest.

Mist & cloud

There was no frost, the overnight low being 1.5°C. There was much condensation, the flysheet soaked inside, the outside covered in rain, and I had to be careful not to push the inner tent against the damp walls. It was a pleasant camp though and I was happy to stay a while, drinking coffee and mulling over which way to go. Although cloud still covered Braeriach it had risen quite a way and I could see more of the snow, which came down lower than I’d expected.

Drying time

The sun did reach camp but not for long as the clouds were thickening. I draped damp gear over guylines and trekking poles. Briefly, as light rain soon began.  I wondered how easy it would be to climb the slopes to Braeriach. I thought the snow was probably soft but I didn’t know that. I hadn’t brought an ice or crampons. If they were needed I’d have to turn back. Above camp a gentler broad ridge led up to Sron na Lairig, a subsidiary top of Braeriach. If I went that way I could then join the main route up Braeriach and take that to the summit or else just descend into the Lairig Ghru and then Rothiemurchus Forest. It seemed sensible to go that way so I did.

Coire Beanaidh

The snow was soft but higher up it was ankle to shin deep and progress was slow, especially as it was slippery in places, the wet snow sliding off wet rocks. An ice axe would have been no use but I was glad of my trekking poles. I’d probably have fallen over a few times without them.

Braeriach ridges

I’d never been up this ridge before – there’s no path and I doubt many come this way - and I enjoyed the excellent views across Coire Beanaidh to Braeriach. The clouds were dramatic now, towering up above the mountains. Just before the flat top of Sron na Lairig boot prints appeared. I was joining the popular way to Braeriach. A rough track had been made through the snow by a half dozen walkers or so. I could see no-one. There was a cold wind here and I donned my insulated jacket as I wandered round admiring the views to Ben Macdui and Braeriach. Up here it was wild and wintry. It felt wonderful!

Braeriach from Sron na Lairig

I was content enough with Sron na Lairig not to go further. I realised that if I went up Braeriach I wouldn’t be back down until well after dark. Heavy rain was forecast for later too. I hopes to be down before that arrived.

Across the Lairig Ghru to Cairn Lochan

The walk down the long Sron na Lairig north ridge above steep crags dropping into the Lairig Ghru was superb, the views breath-taking and spectacular. I hadn’t been this way for several years and I’d forgotten what it was like. I paused often to look down at the tiny narrow thread of the Lairig Ghru path far below. Walking, I had to keep an eye on the ground in front, as the snow was more slippery here as the terrain was rockier than the ridge I’d ascended. I skidded quite a few times.

Creag an Leth-choin

The snow faded away lower down the ridge. Two runners passed me. Soon I was down in the Lairig Ghru and walking out to Rothiemurchus Forest. On cue the rain began and I finished the walk back in waterproofs. I didn’t mind. I’d enjoyed this taste of winter, maybe the last until the first snows of the autumn.

Camp & Braeriach

A Look At The May Issue Of The Great Outdoors

 
The May issue of The Great Outdoors has boot reviews by Lucy Wallace and Alex Roddie (3 pairs each) and sock reviews by Peter Macfarlane and Gemma Palmer (again 3 pairs each) plus reviews of the Rab Kangri Gore-Tex jacket by Steph Wetherall and the Sierra Designs Nexus Lite 35-50L pack by me. 

Reading the others' reviews I was interested to see that both Lucy and Alex choose traditional heavy leather boots as their favourites. 

The theme of this issue is National Parks as this year is the 75th since the first were established in the UK. 

Former TGO editor and author of National Parks of the United Kingdom Carey Davies looks at their story and his own journey through these special landscapes. In the Lake District National Park Hanna Lindon follows in the steps of the Romans on a two-day wild camping trip along High Street. Also in the Lake District Paul Gamble completes his later father's unfinished round of the Wainwrights forty years after ticking them off himself. 

Nature facilitator and writer and chair of the Peak District National Park Foundation Jen Lowthrop recently spent 10 weeks hiking across England's 10 national parks and writes about the sustainability crisis currently brewing in our protected landscapes.

Over in France David Lintern walks the GR54 in the Ecrins National Park and returns with a fresh perspective on looking after nature plus some superb photos.

The magazine's opening spread is a wonderful dramatic picture of Tryfan and Llyn Ogwen in Eryri National Park.

In shorter pieces naturalist Nadia Shaikh is entranced by oystercatchers, Jim Perrin's Mountain Portrait is Bannau Sir Gaer in South Wales, Hanna Lindon gives advice on backpacking with dogs, and Juls Stodel gives advice to an 'oldster' (mid-fities? pah!) in an amusing piece. 

The Wild Walks run from the NW Highlands, where Ian Battersby climbs Cul Mor and has a scramble on Beinn Fhada, to Cornwall, where Roger Butler has a coastal walk to St Agnes Head and St Agnes Beacon. In the Lake District James Forrest visits Muncaster Fell and Vivienne Crow goes up Black Combe. In Eryri/Snowdonia Andrew Galloway walks over Gyrn Ddu and Gyrn Goch. Down in Devon Fiona Barltrop walks lofty cliffs from Lynmouth to Combe Martin. 

A Sunny Walk Through The Lairig Ghru to An Garbh Choire

Camp in the Lairig Ghru below Sron na Lairig

Early April has been a time of warmth and sunshine. A few days ago I sat on the summit of Cairn Gorm, shirt sleeves rolled up, gazing at the golden-brown hills, the snow on which I’d camped less than three weeks before gone. It felt and looked more like July than April.

Summit of Cairn Gorm, April 9

As we approach the middle of the month the weather is changing though, the sunshine soon to be a memory. Snow is forecast for Cairn Gorm, rain for the glens.

During the hot weather I had one overnight trip. I’d looked down into rocky defile of the Lairig Ghru many times during the last few years but I hadn’t walked through this magnificent pass since a trip with Tony Hobbs in October 2022 when the weather was wet and windy. It was time I went back in more benign conditions.

Leaving the forest

As on the trip with Tony I started out in the wonderful Rothiemurchus Forest, slowly climbing through the magnificent old pines until these began to fade away and I could see the cut of the pass not far ahead. A late start meant as the steep sides began to close in I was soon in shade though the hills above glowed in the evening sun. A chill breeze blew down the pass between the craggy northern sentinels of Creag an Leth-choin and Sron na Lairig.

Creag an Leth-choin catching the late sun.

I camped just before darkness fell on a patch of rough grass between two arms of the stream that runs out of the Lairig, the summit of which wasn’t far above. The ground was dry though I guess it’s damp most of the year and not that good a place to camp. On this occasion it was fine.

The cold breeze kept me in the tent*. Thin clouds meant there was no starry sky so I had no incentive to leave the warmth of my sleeping bag.

Waiting for the sun

Dawn was chilly, the temperature down to -2.5°C. There was ice in my water bottles. The days might be hot but the nights were still cold. When I ventured out the ground was crunchy with frost. But high above the sun was brightening the hills. I thought how often I’d waited for sunshine and warmth to reach a cold camp, how many mornings had been like this. It must be hundreds. I’d relished every one. An early riser passed by on the path not far above the camp

An early morning walker passes by

The sunshine arrived just as I was starting to pack up, causing a delay as I took pictures of the camp in the new bright light and waited for the light dew on the tent to dry. Then It was hefting the pack and heading up to the boulder fields that lace the pass, making the walking awkward. This is a rough, rugged, hard place.

Sunshine!

Beyond the top of the pass there’s not much of a descent at first as the path, such as it is, wends a way past the three Pools of Dee, one of the sources of the river Dee. Once past the last of these dark waters, hemmed in by steep, stony slopes, the view opens out. The Allt na Lairig Ghru emerges from a boulder field and begins its race down the slopes. Soon it will join the Allt a’ Garbh Choire to form the infant river Dee.

A Pool of Dee

The main Lairig Ghru route keeps to the left of the stream. I was heading into An Garbh Choire though and took a less distinct path on the right that curves away from the Lairig Ghru and into the mouth of this huge corrie, one of the finest in the Cairngorms. Away down the glen I could see the silver thread of the young river Dee twisting between the steep dark slopes of Cairn a’ Mhaim and Bod an Deamhain (the Devil’s Point).

Sgurr a' Mhaim, Bod an Deamhain, & the River Dee

Soon my attention was seized by the huge spread of cliffs around An Garbh Choire. There was still much snow though not the usual amount for this time of year given that snow usually lingers here longer than anyone else. Shapely pointed Sgurr an Lochain Uaine, often overshadowed by higher neighbour Cairn Toul, stood out in the sunshine. On the other side of the corrie huge rock pinnacles rose out of the smaller Coire Bhrocain to the summit of Braeriach.

Sgor an Lochain Uaine & An Garbh Choire

I sat on a rock and admired the tremendous view. The sun was hot. I looked at the steep stony slopes leading up to Coire Bhrocain. I planned going up those and then on to Braeriach. It looked hard work in this heat with a big pack. Maybe a snack and some water would energise me. It didn’t. I was just happy to sit here and absorb the wild beauty all around.

Back through the Lairig Ghru

Eventually I conceded that I didn’t have the desire to climb further. This was enough. I’d retrace my steps back through the Lairig Ghru, no hardship as it’s such a fine route and the light and shadows and views would be different.

Looking back to Creag an Leth-choin from the top of the forest

Notes:

During the walk I took some little videos which I put together for my YouTube channel. My last post has the link to this. I am still learning how to make passable videos!

The Hilleberg Akto in the Lairig Ghru

*The tent was my original 30-year-old Hilleberg Akto, which I’d used on my continuous round of the Munros and Tops in 1996. I was using it for the first time in many, many years as it’s the 30^th anniversary of its launch. It performed faultlessly.

A video of a trip through the Lairig Ghru to An Garbh Choire in the Cairngorms

 

Twenty-five years ago I was on the Arizona Trail

In the White Canyon Wilderness

Journal entry. 6.00 a.m. March 29, 2000.

“A calm, starry night. Woke to a myriad bird calls. A thick crescent moon hangs over a red sandstone rock peak. To the north-west a slanting wall of coloured rock ends in a sharp cliff. The wall is split by just one steep gully. The rock is red-brown in various shades with cream bands. A similar wall lies to the east, this one double-tiered with a sloping band of desert plants between the two. Cacti are everywhere & the ‘trees’ visible high on ledges & ridges are mostly saguaro, occasionally cholla. This is a beautiful & spectacular place – the finest camp of the walk so far”.

The camp was in the White Canyon Wilderness and the walk was the Arizona Trail. This was day 21 of my 800-mile (round figure, could be less, probably more) 53-day walk from the Mexican border to Utah.

The Grand Canyon

Several years earlier I’d spent a few weeks walking in the Grand Canyon. From the North Rim I’d looked south over a sea of trees to distant mountains, the San Francisco Peaks, and wondered what a walk to them would be like.

The San Francisco Peaks

Some time later I discovered a trail was being developed that ran south-north through the centre of Arizona that included the San Francisco Peaks and the Grand Canyon. I couldn’t resist and began making plans. I really wanted to spend a couple of months in the desert.

First camp!

At least I thought it would all be in the desert. It wasn’t. The first night I found myself camped on snow on a mountaintop. Then there were forests, rivers, more mountains - a far more varied landscape than I’d expected. Of course there was a great deal of desert but even this was much more diverse than I’d assumed.

A typical camp

The walking was a delight, even if I was hot and thirsty at times, but even better were the many nights I spent sleeping out under the stars. I just loved waking to watch the world coming to life as the sun rose. When it was windy or, just once, rainy I pitched a tarp that still gave me extensive views but more often I just threw my mat and sleeping bag down and called that camp for the night.

A tarp to keep off the breeze in an aspen grove in the San Francisco Peaks

Twenty-five years later I can still close my eyes and be back on the Arizona Trail. The heat of the rocks, the sharpness of the air, the blue of the sky, the clarity of the light, the grandeur of the landscape, the gloriousness of it all. It all returns. It was a wonderful experience.

Back on snow in the San Francisco Peaks

Back home I wrote a book about it, called Crossing Arizona. It’s published by Countryman Press and is still in print

Photo note: these images were taken on the Arizona Trail on a Ricoh RDC-5000 2.3 megapixel compact camera with a 38-86 35mm equivalent zoom lens. This was the first time I’d used a digital camera on a long walk. However my main camera was a Canon EOS 300 35mm SLR film camera with a 28-70mm zoom lens with which I took fifty rolls of 36-shot slide film. The film images are far higher quality than the digital ones, unsurprisingly, but I haven’t scanned any of them yet. I must get round to it! I also had a Ricoh GR1s film compact as backup to the Canon. I took half a dozen rolls of print film with this and again the results are better than the digital ones. I should digitise some of those too.

Video: the view from Ben Macdui

 

Camping in the snow on the Cairngorm Plateau