I’m back in the hills again – almost two full weekends in two months, I really had forgotten how good it feels to be up high, constantly moving, surrounded by wind, clouds and rain.
Come to think of it, my last proper time in the hills was the beginning of January, the odd packraft trip with other people and day trips with the kids don’t count, it needs to be at least an away on Friday night back on Sunday night job, decent distance or decent effort to have a lasting effect.

January was a fun one – it was cold and a lot of snow, it had taken a few hours to get to the Linn O’ Dee, then I had to dig myself into the car park and abandon the car. The first night was spend in a forestry plantation above Derry lodge, the soft slow fall of snow seen through the pines under the light of a dimmed torch is always pretty special.
Saturday was up on the plateau for most of the day, alternating between making good ground where the wind had hardened the snow pack and slow when post holing in knee deep snow – that will it/won’t it hold my weight sort of crust.
Bitter cold, whipped by rising wind drove me off the tops by late afternoon and I followed the river A‘an through deep drifts to its source at Loch A‘an. It was getting dark by this time, and cold. Cold temperatures and deep snow bring strange creatures to the Cairngorms sometimes, a beautiful 4-man Hilleberg tent sat squarely in its element, banked by snow laid in at its edges, in fact so much in its element I never saw it until I nearly tripped on a guy line. No sign of its occupants, although I could hear the odd call, so they must have been climbing on a crag nearby, winter climbers are a different breed altogether, it must have been -7 or -8°C plus whatever the wind-chill was.

I thought I would have a nosy around the shelter stone to see if there was anybody there – it would save me putting my tent up. My luck was in, no one was there, and a bouldering mat propped by the door – a king sized bed for a poor man – I smiled, dragged it back in and cleared away the worst of the spindrift, warm kit on – stove on, tea time. I went out to melt some snow for the morning and spotted the crag climbers, or rather the spots of light on their head torches, they were about 2/3rds of the way up a route and looking to be moving well in pairs, I left them to it and climbed into my nice warm sleeping bag.

At about half past ten I was woken by the faint crunch of footsteps on snow – blinked one eye open to catch the light of a head torch getting brighter, the odd stumble and uttered “fuck” as whoever it was stubbed his knee or toe, he crawled in the entrance, poked his head around the corner to see a long brown shape, a nose, one eye and a mouth showing in the beam of light from his lamp. “Are you Pete mate” he says, “No mate, I’m not Pete” came my reply “fuck” and he crawled back out and disappeared into the dark.

I lay there wondering if I should get up and offer to help, and with these noble thoughts in my head drifted back to sleep. Woken a couple of hours later when Pete and his searcher appeared, not talking to each other and totally buggered, they were quickly in their bags and still hadn’t moved by the time I left in the morning.

It was a beautiful walk back over Coire Ethachan, Loch Etchachan had disappeared under a layer of ice and snow, and the wind was still bitterly cold.

I met three old guys on the way back out, on skis and pulling pulks, one of them beautifully handmade – they looked like the three happiest old guys on the planet – it was nice to see, they were headed snow holing for a couple of days, and I’m pretty sure there was a bottle or two of single malt stashed away somewhere.

Anyway, back to the present and a Friday – Sunday trip just passed, Aonach Mor, Aonach Begg, the Grey Corries, Stop Ban and Stob Coire Easain and Stob Choire Mheadhoin across the river on the other side. I have a lot to thank Walk Highlands and other similar sites for, most people tend to follow the routes given on these sites, a quick in and out, leaving the rest of the possibilities and ground to lucky people like me. This was no different, walking in through the Leanachan Forest until it started getting dark, pitched up on a piece of ground where the woods thinned to heather on the hill above.
It will take a wee while to get properly hill fit again and it was nice to have an excuse to sit for a moment and get my breath back, watching the clouds move over the ground I’d just covered, until I started to get cold and moved on.

Saturday was a great day, high-ish winds, great ridge walking – fast moving clouds, and although I was on the move for just over ten hours it didn’t feel it – it was good to be back.
Saturday night was camped by a bend of the Allt na Lairge, a rare find in the hills, pristine dry green level grass, surrounded on three sides by bog and the river tumbling past on the other, a splendid setting for Pasta N Sauce and a mug of Horlicks – we are so lucky to have this almost wild land on our doorstep.

Sunday was a different day, no wind and all midge, and bog everywhere you went, even the deer preferred Saturday – but you’ll get no complaints from me, I was just glad to be out, off the beaten track, and far from the madding crowd and people that wanted to talk to me. Saturday had broken my legs in, so the miles fair ticked by and I didn’t stop much – back at the car by late afternoon and a couple more memories to dream of when I’m sitting in my rocking chair in the nursing home.