Bhein Ghlas

An early rise to drive through snow-laden landscapes under starlight. Sunrise and warm orange to electric blue grade the horizon. Snow and ice cause the car to lurch and glide as the road climbs. After three attempts, the run-ups getting longer on each one, I made it to the car park at Ben Lawers: the landscape swept and rippled under the snow.

It was thick, honest snow, maybe two feet deep in parts, and meant following in the steps of the person in front with concentration-sapping exactitude. Altitudinal progress coincided with more difficult footing - the snow became harder to penetrate and the angles more severe. Kick, kick, step, slip, wobble, kick – zig-zagging up the mountain.

The wind was waiting for us round the final shoulder before the summit. Little snow devils blown from our boots as they hurdled and planted, the chill penetrating the layers in our new exposed position. Everything was bright and harsh. Eyes squinted and the body huddled -kick, kick, step. The view was one of impossible, blue distance above harsh contrast of snow plump landscape and harsh shadow.

Our stint at the summit was short-lived. Sitting down and using my hands to paddle, I slid down the first fifty metres or so, about half an hour’s worth of ascent, in a couple of minutes. Dusting myself off and with ice-axe in hand I plodded down. The thickness of the snow cushioned the tread on the way and the occasional stumble was embraced with a whole-hearted fall into the powder. Snow eventually gave way to ice and with it abandon gave way to caution. We walked through a passing snow flurry, then a brief shower before sunshine resumed.

Socks and shoes were changed and the heating in the car was cranked up. It had been a good start to the day and an excellent start to the year. The post-Munro glow was in the cheeks and a smile on my face as I set off home in the knowledge of a day done well. And then heading down the icy single-track road I had a head-on collision with another car. You win some, you lose some.