Winter in the Cairngorms

8am on a crisp February morning in the Cairngorms and I’ve just broken out of the cloud smothering the valleys. After a climb in the clag, the surrounding summits reveal themselves in all their splendour, cloaked in white, the topmost layer of cloud diffusing the thick morning light. I struggled to contain my excitement – sun and blue skies were forecast, but I had woken at Corrour Bothy to grey gloom, and after an hour of climbing in said gloom I had resigned myself to a day of cloud.

I’m about to reach the first summit of the day, the Devil’s point at a stone’s thrown above 1000m. Its Gaelic name, Bod an Deamhain, is much more vivid, translating literally as the Devil’s penis. Legend has it Queen Victoria when visiting the region asked her guide for the name of the peak, who made a deliberately ambiguous translation into English. I thought I was alone but on the final stretch I came across hare and ptarmigan tracks. I’m then given a start when I stumble into a pair of rock ptarmigan, pottering about a few metres in front of me. In their winter plumage they are well camouflaged when still, but they seem happy enough with the rude interruption and keep pottering. The hare was more elusive, but its tracks led all the way to the summit of the devil’s point, presumably to enjoy the sunrise. Having recently returned from winter in Slovakia, it was nice to be reminded how spectacular British winter can be. A brocken spectre even made an appearance, but unfortunately no wild haggis this time. 

Devil’s Point emerging from the cloud

Hare tracks leading to the summit

The topmost layer of cloud diffusing the thick morning light

A Brocken Spectre

Whilst not as sunny or spectacular, the walk in to the bothy the day before had been beautiful in its own way. I started at Loch Morlich, headed through Rothiemurchus forest heading up Lairg Ghru and swapping thick vegetation for rock, ice and mist. The descent to the Corrour bothy, past the Pools of Dee was pleasant and before long my view was dominated by the imposing Devil’s Point, with the bothy nestled beneath. The first time I stayed there, it was a gregarious full house, with enough firewood and coal to be unpleasantly warm and the good company had us laughing until late. In contrast, this time neither I nor the other two walkers had any firewood or humour. The highlight was my shallot pasta dinner (as an aside this recipe by Alison Roman lends itself beautifully to camping. You make a concentrated caramelised shallot and tomato paste (in advance), to which you add pasta water and pasta at camp.) 

Corrour Bothy

Corrour bothy

the Devil’s point, imposing from above

Looking towards the Angel’s peak

the scenic descent of Lairig Ghru

Swapping thick vegetation with rock, ice and mist

After admiring my foggy halo on the Devil’s point, I continued north along the mountain chain. Over the next few hours, I summitted Cairn Toul, Sgor an Lochaine Uaine (the angel’s peak), and finally Britain’s 3rd highest mountain, Breariach. I had the hills to myself, not meeting another soul until lunchtime on Breariach. We had a brief chat, in which I asked him what the Insignia on his t-shirt was (it turned out to be an army regiment named after a Duchess). He then asked “what about that?” pointing at my chest. I followed his gaze to the Eagle on my binoculars case. “Oh, that’s just the logo of my binoculars” I replied. There didn’t seem to be much else to say after that awkward exchange, so we went our separate ways and it was back to solitude in the mountains with no one around to notice my social ineptitudes.

The Devil’s point looking less imposing from above

Gullys leading up Braeriach

The top of one such snowy gulley

The summit of Cairn Toul

The view from lunch, towards Lochan Uaine

The sun was warm and pleasant, at times I was walking in a t-shirt and the flask of hot tea no longer seemed so appealing. I had lunch on the summit, which offered excellent views back towards the Angel’s Peak and Cairn Toul, and a frozen Lochan Uaine. The cloud had burnt off by now, the Devil’s point looking like a small hill in the distance. From Breariach it was a slog in B2s back to the Cairngorm Ski centre via Lairig Ghru and the Chalamain Gap, where my chauffeur Lucy awaited. To call the wash in Loch Morlich a swim would be an unlicensed embellishment, but it served a purpose. It’s been two years since this trip, in which I haven’t been back to the Cairngorms. I think it’s time to return.

All photos shot on Portra 160 film with my Nikon FE. Any ideas why there is a curved line in almost every photo please let me know!