I've enjoyed writing for the past few weeks about little adventures in the Scottish outdoors with my friend Pauline, and I round off January with one more foray into the snow.
During the week the forecast increasingly predicted heavy snowfall for the Scottish Highlands, and we watched eagerly in the hope that for once the forecast would be correct, as it rarely is. As the weekend approached though, huge accumulations gathered, and to put icing on the cake it was to be a cloudless and almost windless day on the Saturday.
On the Friday night Pauline readied her winter outdoor kit, complete with cross country skis. For me, well, unfortunately I had to work on the Saturday. There had been a chance that the school would be cancelled on the Saturday, but we wouldn't be told until the very last minute, which was pretty hopeless really. On what was going to arguably be the best day of the winter so far, I would be stuck indoors with 152 children, and all I would be able to do would look longingly north out of the windows.
Despite my best hopes, unfortunately the school wasn't cancelled. I received a text during the day from Pauline of just how fantastic it was up north. By the time I left work at 5.30pm, I had set my mind to get north. But the roads were starting to freeze up, and more snow was forecast, and though I had taken my full outdoor kit with me to work, anticipating that I would want to join Pauline, the sensible side of me advised against driving north at night, and so, shoulders down, I went home.
But, as I was about to head to bed that night, I remembered that Scotrail had a really cheap offer on of just £17 return to anywhere in Scotland, cheaper than I could drive north and back, and safer in winter.
By midday the following day I was stepping off the train to the snowy wee highland town of Aviemore, welcomed by a friendly Pauline, fresh from her cross country adventures. It was just a day trip, but what a day it had been so far, passing through snowy villages and the ice encrusted gorge of the Soldiers Leap, then through the high mountain landscape of Drumochter Pass, blanketed in fresh snow. Through a cloud of spindrift snow, kicked up by the train as it sped me north, I could see herds of red deer and their stags, scattered all along the side of the sparkly white hills.
Just on the outskirts of Aviemore is a small nature reserve called Craigellachie, which neither of us had ever walked. Deep snow carpeted the ground as we followed tracks already carved along the route by earlier walkers. A sign at the entrance to the reserve had stated that the walk offered "spectacular views of Aviemore". I was intrigued, as I've never heard anyone refer to Aviemore as spectacular, as a view or otherwise.
The path wove its way through the different trees, with the occasional wren flitting about the small amounts of vegetation not covered in snow.
As the path grew slightly steeper it became polished with the passage of previous boots, and I was glad to have steel-toothed grips attached to my boots. As we left the tree line and headed for the summit of the walk, the wind picked up dramatically. The next snow storm was gathering pace toward us from the west. We still had a few hundred yards to go to the top of the small hill, but despite its close proximity and low level, I knew it was still possible to get into trouble even here in these conditions.
Satisfied to have had a proper snowy experience, albeit brief, we descended back into town for a warming hot chocolate. As I reflected on the snowy landscape speeding past the window on the train home, somehow it had felt like longer than just one day, and I was glad I had caught the train, as I watched cars struggle at the snow gates on the A9.
And that spectacular view of Aviemore? Well, you can't have everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment