The First (Mini) Ski Tour Of The Winter

Good to be on skis again

Another night and day of snow showers and the mid-November snow looked deep enough for the skis. It's been a few years since I could ski from the garden gate at this time of year. The sky was overcast and dark with layers of thick clouds. A cold NW wind blew.

View to Ben Rinnes

The snow was soft. Pushing through it the skis didn't glide much but it was still much easier sliding than walking. Returning home I followed my tracks and was able to enjoy the sensation of slipping effortlessly over the snow.

View to Meall a' Bhuachaille

Distant views were hazy. Flat light, the sky and the snow similar shades, a slight air of unreality to the landscape. Silence except for the swishing of my skis.

Feeding ground

Whilst the snow creates a wonderland for skiers and walkers it's hard on animals and birds, especially those reliant on plants. The first day I'd been out in the snow there were just a few fox and deer tracks. Nothing moved. Today, the third day with lying snow, I saw one rabbit just briefly, before it popped back into its burrow, and two buzzards circling high above. Creatures had been active though as there were several areas where rabbits and deer had scraped away the snow in search of frozen nourishment.

Towards the Cairngorms

I looked over dark forests, much of the snow blown off the branches by the wind, to hints of the distant Cairngorms, edges of darker grey that might be mountains. Retreating from the wind blowing up strong and cold from the valley below I took shelter behind a grove of birch and aspen. Not far away was a favourite tree, an ancient battered goat willow.

The old goat willow

Out of the worst of the wind I made a little video.

I returned across the fields as the wind strengthened. Only a little trip but it felt so good to be out in the snow on skis again.

Old gateposts framing a distant Ben Rinnes

The following day a slow thaw started and the first post of the week arrived, the postie having made it up the track, though he did say only just up the steepest bit. The book was the new edition of the Scottish Mountaineering Club's Ski Mountaineering in Scotland. It looks glorious, full of mouth-watering pictures. I hope I'll be some of the easier routes in the months to come (the harder ones I couldn't have done when my skiing was at my best and certainly wouldn't attempt now - of course I am always on Nordic skis and the book is really for Alpine tourers).

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.

October Colours

Oak, aspen, & birch

October is the most colourful month. At least for colour on a landscape scale. Spring and summer flowers are bright and beautiful but they are small in the Highlands. Trees are big. And in autumn they can be startlingly brilliant, with colours that can seem unreal. 

Goat willow

Every October the colours are so strong that I always think they are the richest ever. From looking back through my photos I think that this year that may be true. 

Cherry

After the hot summer autumn began slowly with little colour appearing in late September. Often there are strong colours then. The autumn has been very mild too with few frosts so far. There has been much rain and most days have been cloudy. All these factors must contribute to how the autumn colours develop. It's a complicated process.

Rowan, birch, & goat willow

Not all trees have been bright this autumn. For the second year running rowans, which can turn a beautiful red, have gone from green to a brief orange and then a dull brown. Conversely aspens have been an even more intense yellow than most years.

Aspen

I've posted pictures of the autumn colours in Glen Feshie and Rothiemurchus Forest in my accounts of camping trips in those areas. All the photos in this post were taken on short walks from my home in Strathspey.

Aspen & beech

Birch & cherry

Cherry & aspen

Birch & aspen

Birch, aspen & beech

Birch & aspen

There'll be another week of colour, maybe two, but the leaves are falling now in autumn gales. 

Aspen & birch

Farewell to October. It's been a glorious month.

The other Huntly's Cave

Uaigh Mhor & Huntly's Cave

Huntly’s Cave is a popular rock-climbing crag set in a deep ravine with the Allt an Fhithich (Raven’s Burn) running through it. The crag lies a few miles from Grantown-on-Spey just off the A939, known locally as the Dava Road as it crosses Dave Moor. The Dava Way, which follows the old railway line from Grantown to Forres, passes close by. UKclimbing.com lists 31 climbs on the crag.

The cave that gives its name to the crag is named after George Gordon, 2^nd Marquis of Huntly, who is said to have hidden here after his Royalist force was defeated in the early 1640s. His son is also said to have hidden here not long afterwards. (Information from Place-Names Around Grantown-on-Spey by C.J.Halliday).

However, there is another Huntly’s Cave just four kilometres to the north-east that’s far less well-known. Not much information is available on this cave. Halliday just comments that “it’s said one of the lords of Huntly found refuge here while proscribed by the government”. It lies in a little ravine, the Uaigh Mhor (Large Grave), in an attractive small rocky area on the boggy moorland west of Carn na Loine (Hill of the Marsh) on the northern border of the Cairngorms National Park.

After passing close by many times over the years – as with so many local places I’ve been meaning to “get round to” - I finally decided to go and have a look at it on a day of low cloud and drizzle when the high hills didn’t seem attractive. 

Starting out from home through the local woods I discovered recent storm-felled trees on top of the not-quite-so-recent ones, making the going interesting in places. The woods were damp and autumnal. There were many fungi. 

Once through the trees I was soon on the estate track that runs through the open moorland around the head of the Allt Breac (Speckled Burn). The rocky area holding Huntly’s Cave stands out amongst the bleak expanse of sheep-cropped and muir burned heather. It makes up the eastern side of 420-metre Carn a’ Ghille Chearr (Hill of the Left-Handed Lad) and the little crags are dotted with small pines and birches. The Uaigh Mhor lies at the northern end of the crags and runs down to the track.

The Uaigh Mhor

Whilst only some 150 metres in length the Uaigh Mhor makes up for this with its roughness. A tangle of dense juniper bushes, deep heather, rocks, and boulders makes for slow progress. There’s no path. Why it’s meant to resemble a grave I couldn’t work out – maybe with less vegetation it would be clearer. 

The cave lies near the top end of the ravine, a narrow damp cleft under a boulder. It’s around three metres deep with enough space for two or three people to sit uncomfortably. The floor is sloping and rocky. You would have to be desperate to spend a night here.

From the cave I clambered out of the top end of the ravine and then followed the narrow ridge above back to the track. Another rocky ravine lay on the other side of this. There are many pines. This is a delightful little wild area in complete contrast to the moors just below. I enjoyed my mini expedition and I’ll be returning to explore more thoroughly.

Frost Images

After the first snow of the winter at home thawed ten days ago there were a few days of mild weather then temperatures dropped again and there was a thick frost that has lasted ever since. Tonight temperatures are rising again and it looks like this period of calm cold weather is ending. 

 

Local walks have been wintry despite the lack of snow, the landscape pale, the sky grey and misty. On strolls from home I've taken many pictures as these beautiful and magical conditions are rare. Here's a selection. They are all colour photos.

A Month of Snow in Pictures

The Cromdale Hills, January 23

For the first time in many years there has been snow on the ground throughout January. Snow has fallen on most days too, sometimes thick and heavy, sometimes just a fine trickle. Temperatures have rarely been above freezing, even at midday. However winds have mostly been light. There's not been much sunshine and often there has been dense mist. January can be a dark month when there's no snow and little sunshine. Not this year. The snow has given a lightness to the landscape.

Due to the lockdown every trip has been from my front door and I've never been more than a few miles from home except when driving the five miles into town once a week for groceries. 

Mist, January 3

The snow was thin  down in the glen at the start of the month, though somewhat thicker a few hundred metres higher as I found when I went up a local hill and wished I'd taken snowshoes.

View to the Cairngorms from Tom Mor, January 6

Birch in snow, January 7

At the end of the first week the snow began to build up lower down; heavy, wet snow that clung to the trees and thickened the air.

Pines in snow, January 8

Throughout the month the peanut and sunflower feeders in the garden have emptied every day. As well as many birds red squirrels visit regularly, sometimes five at a time, and rabbits come to the door for food. The snow looks lovely but makes life harsh for wildlife.

Squirrel in snow, January 11

The high Cairngorms, some twenty miles away, were often hidden but looked spectacular when they rose into view above the misty forest.

Cairn Gorm, January 15

In the middle of the month there was a slow thaw for a few days though not enough to remove most of the snow. 

Thawing, January 16

When the snow returned it was heavier than ever, leading to the deepest of the month. Walking became difficult and I turned to skis.

Skis, January 22

Ski tracks at sunset, January 24

Squalls of snow swept the land for several days, interspersed with bursts of sunshine.

Snow squalls, January 29

The month has ended with calm, cloudy weather, the snow still deep. Will it last through February?

Old ski tracks, January 31