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.

 

Days of Frost & Beauty

Sunset, Friday 13th

The weather is changing. After four days of cold and calm the clouds are thickening, the temperature rising, and the wind starting to blow. The magic of frost and ice and winter sharpness is fading. For now. It will return. It’s still a week to the winter solstice.

Venus, birch, mountains

The first frost came on an evening of serene beauty, the blue sky fading into black, the bright white dot of the planet Venus in the sky, a half-moon rising. The temperature soon fell below freezing. It was to stay there the next three days.

Dawn came with a white world, frost decorating every stem of grass, every twig. Only the conifers escaped, staying mostly dark and sombre.

The Cairngorms

The mountains looked magnificent, shining and bright. I longed to climb up there, into that snowy world, but I couldn’t as I’m recovering from a bad cold and getting used to new medication following an unexpected overnight stay in hospital. Instead I wandered the local woods and fields, admiring the beauty of the frost and crunching over the hard frozen ground.

Silver & gold

The world was not just cold and silver, it was also warm and gold at the same time as the low sun cut across the landscape, lighting the trees and hills with a pale glow. Glorious, just glorious.

Sgor Gaoith & Sgoran Dubh Mor

Feeling a little recovered the day the weather changed, Friday 13, I went up little Tom Mor, a local hill. The temperature was only a touch above freezing but the frost had already gone. The mountains were beginning to sink into clouds, the snow on their flanks already streaked with dark bare ground as the thaw set in.

Cairngorms fading & thawing

A cold wind swept the summit. I sheltered behind the huge cairn – far bigger than on most much higher hills – for a hot drink. The sky turned fiery red and orange, a spectacular sunset.

On Tom Mor

As the colours faded I turned and headed down into the growing darkness. Soon I switched my headlamp on, picking out the patches of ice on the track. All was silent. All was dark, A winter’s night. I love walking by headlamp. Although less than a mile from home as the crow flies it felt remote and wild. Occasionally a distant car’s lights shone briefly. Otherwise I was enveloped in darkness.

Frost in the forest

November Sunset

November is unsettled and so am I. In the month’s case it’s the weather, rolling from mild to frosty, calm to windy, and rain and mist to, just occasionally and briefly, sunshine. In my case it’s the continuing recuperation from an operation that seems long ago but is actually only two weeks ago and in particular the injunction not to lift anything heavy. What is heavy? A day pack? Maybe not. A day pack with ice axe and crampons? Maybe. An overnight pack full of winter gear? Almost certainly.

My venture up my local little hill last week was with a very light daypack and only took two hours. Probably pushing the limits though so I’ve stuck to strolls in local woods and fields with just a camera since then. Some days I’ve taken no pictures, the flat grey light uninspiring for photography though the trees and wildlife were just as wonderful as ever. One day I did take a single photograph, showing fresh snow on the Cromdale Hills. Mostly the hills have been hidden in the clouds.

Yesterday though (November 26) started grey and frosty but expanded into brightness and colour in the late afternoon – which at this time of year means after 3pm. The solid, thick, and heavy greyness began to break revealing layers of clouds in different shapes and shades. The low sun streaked them orange. The upper clouds were dappled, the sky blue behind them. Suddenly the world was alight with beauty.

The setting sun lit up the trees, the old goat willow glowing in the last light. Then the trees turned to silhouettes and I watched the last orange clouds fading away behind the black outlines of leafless birches.I headed home relaxed and at peace.

In a few days I’ll venture a little further and a little higher and see how I get on.

Winter in the Cairngorms, at last: a day on Cairn Lochan

Cairn Lochan

The first real winter weather this year finally arrived in the Cairngorms last week, which is very late. November has mostly been wet, windy, cloudy, and, for the time of year, warm. Now the weather has turned frosty, cold, clear, and calm, at least for a few days, which is wonderful.

Cairn Toul

Taking advantage of the sunshine I headed up onto the Cairngorm Plateau to see how the frost and snow was changing the landscape. As the morning was forecast to be misty I set off late, intending to stay up high for the sunset.

Walkers on Miadan Creag an Leth-choin

Reaching the Plateau took longer than expected as the stony paths were slippery, with a thin glaze of invisible ice on many of the rocks. Trekking poles kept me upright, but I did slip off one boulder at a stream crossing and added some unwelcome cold water into a boot. Despite the freezing weather my foot stayed warm as I never stopped for long. I expect my thick merino wool socks helped too.

View down the Lairig Ghru

A surprise as I gained height was to look across Strathspey to thick clouds burying the Monadh Liath hills and stretching out along Strathspey. Aviemore was cloud-free but just to the west the strath was blanketed in white.

Cairn Lochan

As I rounded the side of Cairn Lochan and looked along the Lairig Ghru I could see more clouds filling the land beyond with just the highest tops of Beinn a’ Ghlo poking through. For once the Cairngorms was sunny when other areas were not.

Cairn Toul after sunset

High up the walking became easier as the rocks were ice-free. The ground was frozen solid. There was much frost to crunch through and some patches of hard snow left from a recent fall to cross. I had microspikes with me but didn’t need them as previous walkers who’d crossed when the snow was softer had left nice big bootprints.

Cairn Toul & Sgor an Lochain Uaine

I paused on the summit of Cairn Lochan for a snack and a hot drink. There wasn’t a breath of wind. The streaks of cloud high in the sky were turning yellow, orange and red as they caught the last rays of the setting sun.

Fiacaill Coire an t-Sneachda

By the time I was descending the colour was fading from the sky. A waxing moon rose over Derry Cairngorms. The first stars appeared. I left it as long as possible but eventually had to switch on my headlamp.

A great winter’s day out at last. I hope there will be many more in the next few months.

A Winter Sunset on Cairn Gorm

Each day out at present feels a little wintrier. I’ve carried an ice axe three times now, though still not used it. A few days ago I added crampons as well, and almost put them on. My load has outgrown my 30-litre daysack. I’m up to 38 litres now. When I need a snow shovel and maybe even more clothing with perhaps snowshoes or skis attached some of the time I’ll search out my 50-litre pack.

The weather forecast was for snow overnight with strong winds then easing during the morning to give a fine afternoon and evening. A day for a sunset from a summit. With short daylight hours I decided on a relatively short walk (about 12km) along the north ridge of Cairn Gorm. The snow was light and the prediction was for temperatures to stay well below freezing all day. 

There were few other vehicles in the car park. A few boot prints led up the ridge towards Cairn Gorm, my eventual descent route. No-one had been along the path I took. There were tracks though – fox and grouse clear, much smaller tracks from vole or mouse less distinct. The snow was thin, brushing the tops of the heather. There was a thin sheen of ice on some of the rocks. Care needed! Lochan na Beinne was calm and blue, beyond it the white cone of Meall a’Bhuachaille.

Climbing steadily, I soon reached the ridge above the lochan and turned to follow it upwards. Across Strath Nethy Bynack More was brown and white and rugged, shadows darkening its lower flanks, the early afternoon sun already low in the sky.

The air was sharp and cold. I had on two warm jackets and was not too hot. Every so often a chilling wind cut across the slopes. Mostly though it was calm. Looking back I saw two brightly clad figures on the edge of the broken crags that fall into Strath Nethy. I was only to see one more person all day, a runner spotted briefly disappearing over Cairn Gorm.

Crossing a long section of gentle terrain as the ridge broadened I admired the wind-sculpted snow streaming out on the lee side of every patch of grass and every rock. Walking round these little drifts I watched out for ice on the almost snow-free gravel. 

As I approached the final steepening before the summit of Cairn Gorm the first soft colours of dusk appeared. To the south mist filled the glens and drifted over cols. To the west the clouds swirled and curled. The silhouette of distant Ben Nevis stood out. Nearer, Creag Meagaidh was at the centre of the circling cloud, the deep gash known as The Window prominent. 

Cairn Gorm was cold and empty. I stopped for a hot drink and watched as the sun sank behind Braeriach. The time was 3.30pm. My thermometer read -5°C. Across the Cairngorm Plateau Cairn Toul and Sgor an Lochain Uaine were fading into darkness under an orange sky.

Between the rocks and small patches of snow the ground was a sheet of ice. I considered crampons but decided I’d probably wreck them on the stones and decided to step carefully over the ice instead. As I set off down, the colour now drained from the sky, I saw that others had worn crampons. They had zigzagged about to stay on the ice and snow. I zigzagged to stay on bare ground or the deeper snow patches. Half-frozen streams bubbled across the path in places, requiring care to cross. The first stars appeared; my head torch went on. I was back in the empty car park at 4.30pm but it felt like the middle of the night in the dark silence.