The Light Returns, A Walk In The Woods

Old woods, old path

December is ending mild, cloudy, and grey. The last brief snowfall thawed over a week ago. There’ll be more snow of course, perhaps soon. Scottish winters have always been erratic, the snow coming and going. Climate change is making this more so, with more abrupt changes, fiercer storms, and overall warmer temperatures.

There’s often little snow at this time of year anyway though. Many years ago I walked right across the snowless Cairngorms from Glen Feshie to Corgaff in December. This year the month has actually had more snow than in many Decembers.

The path goes on, the woods go on

I was pondering this time of year as I went on what is almost certainly my last walk of any length of the year. There are three days left but I doubt I’ll get out for more than a short stroll. I haven’t done much more than most of the month anyway due to illness, which I’m glad to say is passing. I just need to get fit again.

Whilst memories of past Decembers came to mind what I was really thinking about was the significance of this time, of the succession of Solstice, Xmas, and New Year. For me these form a whole with the first the most significant. It’s all about the return of the light, the return of the sun. That’s really what is celebrated. The New Year really begins at the Solstice. That's when the world turns.

Larches, birches, and juniper.

That the big festivities take place after the Solstice makes sense. Confirmation that the light is growing, the darkness fading, is needed, the certainty that this is a process that will continue. The long cold nights will not last.

My walk led through birch woods, old and festooned with lichen and moss, mysterious, peaceful. A faint old path threaded a way through the trees. There was no wind, no bird song, no running water, just a deep silence.

The Cromdale Hills

Eventually I came out of the trees and could look across Strathspey to the Cromdale Hills, the summits trailing clouds. Further away thicker clouds blanketed the Cairngorms.

December Darkness

Grant Park Lochan - 'the skating pond', Grantown-on-Spey

Since the snow thawed last week darkness has fallen on the land. At least that's how it feels. I had forgotten just how much brightness snow brings to the short daylight hours and weak low sun of December. Not that the latter has been visible anyway. Dark clouds have covered the sky, adding to the gloom. At midday it has felt barely light, more like dawn or dusk than noon.

Heron & Mallard

The snow melting has been good for wildlife though.  Food is more easily available and nights are warmer. Lochs and lochans are no longer frozen, or only partially so. On a walk through Anagach Woods and beside the River Spey I watched a heron standing motionless in the faded reeds around Grant Park Lochan (known locally as the skating pond) while Mallard ducks swam and dabbled in the still ice-spattered water. 

River Spey

Along the Spey there was no sign of ice, the river dark, full, and fast, rushing snowmelt from the hills down to the sea. Out on the water there many ducks, Goldeneye as well as Mallard. I watched them through binoculars as they drifted with the current then flew low back to their start point. No photographs - I hadn't brought the big lens and they were all on the far side of the wide river. I saw dippers too, and a big raptor flying fast through the trees. Buzzard? Red Kite? Too brief and partial a glimpse to be sure.

At times I could see distant hills, still streaked with snow. High up the thaw will be slow. Walking beside the swirling river, watching the birds and the clouds, the trees and the hills, I felt peaceful. It may be December, it may be dark, but nature is still beautiful. There will be more snow.