White Bliss

An irresistibly optimistic forecast overcame my sleep urges since combined with recent snow falls meant particulary good prospects. So barely into my REM's I had to get up but it meant that I got to the mountain pass road over Ben Lawyers nice and early at about 8am just as the sun rays were having a bit of an effect.

Road conditions were a bit icy but as I got higher so did the snow, but there wasn't anywhere to turn into and besides my eyes and concentration were glued to just keep going up the way, and in theory down the other side of the pass. That is until I had to halt when I came to a stuck car near to the car park for the mountain centre. Not the worst place to be held up mind you - the views were made up of the January sun coming up, mist in the valley of Loch Tay, mountain scenery a startling brilliant white and a richly golden-coloured dawn. Although the snow was 'only' a foot deep it had thawed and frozen leaving tracks the tyres couldn't get out of.

I helped the two guys get their car into the car park, and they returned the favour - unfortunately my van weighs a lot more than the average family car - when another car appeared, the driver gave us the extra push force we needed to finally got me going and keep me going in the tracks that were carved round the car park - I was now facing down-hill again - but by then more cars came up so we were facing each other on a single track road. We got that sorted with the increasing amount of manpower (moving vehicles like chess pieces) and finally I got away - my day was in serious danger of being a wasted trip - back in the valley the memory of the scenic splendour was being squelched by the dreich gloomy mist and my spirits were a little low, worried now that my intended route was out of my reach due to the road conditions. I decided to try for it anyway by a longer way; there was lots of ice and slushy patches but I did get to the car park, two hours later than planned.

There was a good path in dryer times but walking conditions were very icy , and snow at the sides was giving way underfoot. Then out of the woods it got even harder as in parts feet were sinking in to my thighs in the white stuff. Walking in footprints was the best way to get any sort of rhythm, but it was heads-down stuff, and very tiring. I had a long rest taking pictures, and basking in the sun that wasn't unlike a sunny day at the beach.

I chatted to a teli-mark skier as he waited for his friend. The huge dump of snow of the previous week, the sun and superb visibility (plus it being a Saturday) had made it THE day of the decade to be out on the mountains. Unfortunately his usual skier friend had his parents Golden Wedding Anniversary to attend! A three-line whip I was informed.

I finally reached the top, all the better as it had been like walking in treacle. The views were exceptional, from Glen Coe to Ben Nevis to Cairngorms - Scotland was quite small really, certainly the central mountain area. The tele-mark skiers showed me the skins they use that stick to the underside of the ski and allow them to slide forward but get grip in the opposite direction to stop them sliding backwards - artifitial ones but seal skin was once used. Going organic isn't an opotion these days. Once I got to the top though, I had this desire to get an even better view by taking a hot-air baloon out of my pocket and going wherever the slight wind drifted me.

I had hoped to do a further three Munros, I started off for the second one but my legs were telling me it was really time to go. The skiers were off across more rocky terrain. If they had headed down the gully I was in they would have had amazing skiing, I had to content myself with a nice bum sledge. The depth of the snow made it really easy to descend quickly but in the shadow of the mountain the air was now very cold, as the ground levelled off it became harder again. The snow took my weight for the next part, just as well as it would have been the hardest part of the day.

The climb had taken 5 hours. I made a small detour and went in by Crieff to see Granny for an hour before her tea. There are a lot of Polish people in her home. Her husband had spent several years as a POW in Poland, though with help from local people he eventually managed to escape. Perhaps during those long years the Polish people he'd encountered hadn't been as good as the ones who risked their lives helping him escape, as she called them in the nicest possible tones of course 'buggers'. In those sorts of times maybe wasn't too bad.

That's the weekend almost over. Calves are a bit soar. I'll be keeping a close eye on the forecast waiting for the stormy skies to pass.