Igloos! Igloos! Igloos!

Wheee!

I love igloos. I love building them. I love living in them. I was reminded of all this by an excellent new podcast from John D. Burns in which he talks to Andrew Terrill about igloos and hot tents. Mostly it's about Andrew enthusing about igloos and talking about Igloo Ed and his brilliant IceBox igloo tool. It reminded me of all my igloo trips so I thought I'd indulge myself and write about them again and post some of the pictures.

Igloo Ed outside our first igloo, Yellowstone, February 2007

It was Ed who started my love of igloos when he invited me on a trip to Yellowstone National Park back in 2007. It was a tough trip. Hauling heavy sleds through deep snow and up steep slopes. Building igloos late into the night (there were only two of us and I'd never built one before). Fording a thermally heated river in bitter cold. Temperatures below -30C. I loved it all! The combination of geysers and other thermal features, deep snow, and sub zero temperatures made it the strangest and most wonderful winter trip I've ever done. I wrote about it here.  

Igloo Ed outside our second igloo, Yellowstone, February 2007

My first night in an igloo amazed me. It was so comfortable - so much space, stillness, quiet. Very different to a tent. The warmth compared with outside surprised me too. -3ºC, with the stove going, -7ºC without when it was -23ºC outside.

First igloo and Lonestar Geyser on the second Yellowstone trip, February 2008

A year later I was back in Yellowstone with a group of Ed's friends. Unfortunately Ed was unwell and unable to take part. It was a great trip in easier conditions than the year before. 

Dawn after a night of snow at the second igloo, Wind River Range, April 2009

The following year we went to the Wind River Range, just south of Yellowstone. This was a spring trip and the warmer temperatures were welcome, though not when sticky snow stuck to the base of our sleds! We had company the first two nights then it was just myself and Ed.

Igloo Ed in our second igloo, Wind River Range, April 2009

By now, living in an igloo had become familiar and a pattern established. Comfort was assumed!

Igloo Ed at our third igloo, Wind River Range, April 2009

Our igloos were in spectacular situations on high points looking over the forest to the rugged Wind River mountains. I wrote about the trip here.

First Cairngorms igloo on the slopes of Carn Ban Mor, April 2010

That was my last igloo trip to the Rocky Mountains. However the next year saw the first igloo weekend in the Scottish Highlands with the Inverness Nordic Ski Club (now the Inverness Backcountry Snowsports Club) organised by Andy Ince. This became an annual event  (when there was enough snow and no lock-downs) on which I helped out with igloo building instruction and work. 

Waking to a blizzard we had to use compass bearings to find the descent route from these igloos on Carn Ban Mor in January 2011

Scottish Highlands snow not being as reliable as Rocky Mountains snow we had to be selective as to sites and times. There was usually only enough snow well above the glens too so stormy weather was more likely. 

On the slopes of Toll Creagach above Glen Affric, January 2012

As well as the Cairngorms we also went to Glen Affric where Andy knew there was often deep enough snow on the slopes of Toll Creagach.

After the thaw, February 2013

Only once did an igloo fail. That was on a trip where high winds prevented us reaching Carn Ban Mor and we built two igloos beside the path high above Glen Feshie. After dark the temperatures rose rapidly and a big thaw began. We'd built two igloos. The side of one collapsed and the four of us squeezed into the other one which just made it through the night. I wrote about it here. 

Igloo in sparse snow, Strath Nethy, Cairngorms, January 2013

Earlier the same year a group of use built an igloo on another stormy day when the weather kept us even lower down. There wasn't quite enough snow and we ended up dragging it to the igloo on plastic survival bags. The igloo was a success though.

The igloo meets went on each year, with a break due to the Covid lockdowns. Here's some more pictures.

Back on Carn Ban Mor in excellent weather and snow in April 2014

Not so much snow and not so good weather on Toll Creagach in February 2016. Successful igloo though.

Windy with spindrift for a pair of igloos in Coire Laogh Mor on Cairn Gorm in February 2017. Too stormy to go higher. 

Deep snow & perfect weather for igloos on Toll Creagach in February 2018. We reached the summit for once and had splendid views.

Four years later and a repeat on Toll Creagach in April 2022. Deep snow, perfect weather, and spectacular summit views again.

Rainbows, rain showers, and only just enough snow for our March 2023 igloos in Coire Laogh Mor. But we still built two plus a tiny solo one in which I slept.

A stormy approach followed by a superb day for the March 2024 igloos on Carn Ban Mor. For once I camped.

A brilliant starry night at the igloos on Carn Ban Mor in March 2024.

November Sunset in the Cairngorms

Cairn Toul & the Lairig Ghru just before sunset

One of the big advantages of the winter months in the Scottish Highlands is that sunset is in the middle of the afternoon not the middle of the night. I took advantage of this late in November when the forecast suggested clear calm weather. Just right for watching the light and descending in the dusk.

At the start of the walk, looking towards Cairn Gorm

My plan was to climb to the Cairngorm Plateau. However I made a mistake just before I set off. I left my snowshoes in the car. There wasn’t much snow visible at the start of my walk so I decided I didn’t want to carry them. Soon the snow became deeper and walking more difficult. I’d come just far enough that I didn’t think it worth going back for them. It would have been.

Enough people had been along the route to punch holes in the snow but not enough to create a trench. Some of the holes were knee deep. I stepped in and out of them. Laborious but easier than breaking my own trail. Sometimes shallow boot prints collapsed under my weight. I lurched slowly upwards.

Cairn Lochan

A couple passed me descending then a lone walker. This turned out to be Dan Bailey of UKHillwalking and we spent a pleasant few minutes discussing the snow (should have brought snowshoes we agreed), the weather, gear, the state of outdoor publishing, and more. Dan said he had a down jacket to test but it was too warm in the sun to try it.

Last sun on Creag an Leth-choin

I was in the shade as I headed up and it was well below freezing. However as soon as I reached the large flat area of the Miadan Creag an Leth-choin the sun reached me. It certainly was too warm for a down jacket. Indeed, I took my gloves off, unzipped the top of my Paramo jacket and sat on my pack while I had a snack and a hot drink and admired the snow and the view.

The sun about to set over Braeriach

The very best views here are on the edge of the steep slopes leading down into the Lairig Ghru pass so I left the boot holes that marked the path and headed that way. My admiration for whoever had broken the first holes soared. Plunging through the snow was incredibly arduous and the two hundred metres or so I walked seemed endless. I wished I’d brought those snowshoes!

Sunset sky over Sgor Gaoith & Sgoran Dubh Mor

Every step was worthwhile though. The view up and down the Lairig was magnificent. The sun was close to setting behind Braeriach and the light made the landscape glow. Orange and red crept across the sky as the vanishing sun lit up thin bands of cloud out to the west.

Last sun on Cairn Gorm

As the brightness faded from the mountains they suddenly looked cold, the pink tinge on the snow turning blue. Just the summits and then just the sky kept the warm colours.

The dusk darkens over Cairn Gorm

I set off back down, admiring the snow-plastered cliffs of Cairn Lochan. A crescent moon appeared in the sky. It had been a good day. Even without snowshoes.

Moon rise

Cairn Lochan

I made a little video while I was up there.

 

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).

First Snow of the Winter

 

The snow started falling yesterday afternoon, big wet flakes drifting down from the dark grey sky. Today I woke to a changed world, a white landscape, the first snow of the winter. Until now November has been mild rather than wintry. Snow usually arrives earlier than the middle of the month, often in October. It's late this year.

The snow was soft and deep out in the open, making walking hard work. In the trees it was just a thin layer, most of it on the branches rather than the ground. Not quite enough snow for skis but snowshoes would have made the going easier. I wasn't in a hurry anyway. I wasn't going anywhere, I was just out here to enjoy the changed landscape, admire the snowy trees, feel the bite of the wind, the wet touch of the occasional flurry of snow, experience this first taste of winter.

The sky was a mass of layered clouds in different shades. Patches of blue burst out at times, then golden touches from the low sun. In the distance the hills were hidden, draped in greyness. 

The conifers - pine, larch, spruce - looked heavy and big, muscular even, their limbs enlarged by the snow. The birches however looked even more delicate than ever, the snow forming an elegant fragile tracery on their twigs. 

A few snow showers swept over me, the northerly wind increased. As the light faded I headed for home and a warming mug of hot chocolate.

I made a little video of the walk.

A Local Ski Tour

View over the mist to the Cairngorms

With the snow lying deep all around I’ve been ski touring in the local area. There’s no need to go further afield and it seems sensible to make the best of these conditions while they last.

In the mist

My longest ski tour took me from the garden gate through woods and onto the low moorland at the head of our little side glen. Not high up and not very far but the snow made it wild and beautiful, enhanced by skiing out of thick mist into sunshine.

Hot in the woods!

The hardest skiing was at the start when I crossed a very rough field and went through equally rough woods. As the temperature was well below freezing I set off in hat, gloves, and fleece plus a Paramo smock. After ten minutes off came hat, gloves and fleece and I opened all the vents on the smock as I was overheating from the effort of skiing in the deep soft snow and over many tussocks.

In the woods the terrain was even tougher. I had to take a circuitous route round many fallen trees and negotiate branches and stumps hidden under the snow. Skis weren’t ideal for this. Snowshoes would have been better.

Silent and frozen

The woods were frozen and silent. Whenever I paused I could hear nothing. There were many roe deer tracks in the snow. A line of fox prints. The marks of a squirrel. But nothing moved. No rustle in the undergrowth, no bird calls.

Once I came out of the trees and joined an estate track the skis came into their own. The snow was packed harder here, especially where there were some tractor tracks, and other skiers had been along the first section. I could kick and glide on the flat and coast down the few gentle downhills.

The air was colder put in the open and I wasn’t working as hard so back on went the hat and gloves and I closed the vents on the smock. Staying comfortable – not too hot, not too cold – is important.

Leaving the mist

As I skied along the track hazy hills and trees began to appear. I was slowly climbing out of the mist. The moon hung high in the sky. Soon I could look back down at the mist-filled glen. The Cromdale Hills started to appear and then the more distant Cairngorms, lit gold by the low sun.

View over the mist to the Cromdale Hills

At the top of the track I stopped for a hot drink and a snack. Almost instantly I felt chilly and quickly donned my down jacket. Although only a half-day trip from home I had brought my usual winter hiking gear, apart from ice axe and crampons which I knew I wouldn’t need.

A welcome rest

Finding a comfortable seat with my back against a rock I decided to make a little video about the ski tour and set up my tripod and camera. As I switched on record two jets roared overhead, the first sounds other than the swish of my skis. They couldn’t have timed it better. Eventually the jets faded away and I continued the video. I’ll post it soon.

Heading back into the mist

The temperature was -5°C when I decided to pack up and head down the track. Swishing along my ski tracks was easy and delightful. A wren bobbed in a bush, a flock of fieldfares flapped overhead, the only wildlife I saw all day. Soon I was back in the mist.

At the track end I decided to return home via the road rather than back through the woods as it would be easier. The single-track road had been ploughed and gritted several days ago but not since and I was able to ski along it much of the way. Then it was up our track through the woods to a warm fire and hot chocolate.