Dalwhinnie - What would Dougie Vipond do?

My skis were waxed and ready to run when I stepped off the Friday late-night train at Dalwhinnie. There were just two problems. Firstly, there wasn’t much snow. Secondly, I couldn’t find a spot close to the station to pitch the tent. It was already late and bitterly cold as a wintry wind blasted clouds across a crescent moon. I plodded around in the dark, searching by torchlight on either side of the trail for a piece of dry, level ground but found only soggy lumpiness.
  

When faced with a problem that you can’t solve, it’s useful to turn to your hero and ask yourself what they would do in the circumstances. And so I posed the question, “what would Dougie Vipond do?” The unhelpful answer that I arrived at was that he and the Adventure Show crew would of course check into the nearby hotel! As that wasn’t an option, a little more scouting eventually revealed a grassy, tent-sized shelf behind the railway line. 


As for the problem of not much snow, there was nothing for it but next morning to haul my heavy pack and skis a long way up the hill to the snow-line. At the top edge of a patch of forestry I cleared some snow and made base camp in the last of the trees where there was a little shelter from blasts of icy wind that whipped across the hillside. 

I strapped my skins to my skis, my skis to my feet and headed uphill, threading together the remaining lines of snow. At the top of the hill the skins were off and so was I. As I descended the snow that lingered in the narrow stream gullies and made my own twisting tracks, I felt quite the expert ski-tourer and, despite my dire downhill technique and the gusty wind, I somehow managed to stay upright all the way back to the tent. The wind pummelled the tent all through the evening and into the night but I was quite comfy inside, passing the dark hours with a pot of hot tea and that fine literary tome, the Scots Magazine.   

Next morning the wind and the thaw had diminished the snow cover a little further so I left the skis at the tent and headed out on foot. The land was still dressed in dowdy browns where the snow had receded and a low ceiling of grey cloud completed the drab scene. But a few rays of sunshine penetrated the gloom to catch in their spotlight a herd of red deer grazing below the snowline. To the northeast deep passes in the Drumochter hills revealed tantalising glimpses of the snow-covered Cairngorms. Red grouse flapped back and forward in a frenzy and every now and then a white mountain hare exploded from its hiding place, kicking up a plume of snow with its big back feet and leaving behind snowshoe-shaped footprints.  

Back at base camp the wind had saved me much of the effort of taking down the tent. But at least the sun came out and bathed Dalwhinnie and its surrounding green pastures in faintly warm sunshine. A lapwing made its “peewit” call overhead, a sound that I always associate with spring in the way that the screech of swifts makes me think of summer or the noisy cackle of passing geese conjures up winter. I packed up, picked my way back down the hill and plodded to the train station along Dalwhinnie’s main street, pausing by the hotel. 

Peering in through the windows of the bar, I could have sworn I saw Dougie Vipond.

Fact file

Start/finish: Dalwhinnie Rail Station, occasionally serviced by the Inverness trains.

Map: OS Landranger 42

From Dalwhinnie I took the track that goes a little way along the south shore of Loch Ericht to access the lower slopes of Geal Charn. I was using Rossignol Free Venture skis, a very short, fat ski with a binding that fits leather winter boots designed for a step-in crampon. The binding has a fixed position for downhill skiing or free-heel position for climbing and the skis have their own skins. In case you don't know this term, skins are furry strips that attach to the underside of the ski to give you grip for skiing uphill. Basically the "hairs" of the "fur" allow the skis to glide on the snow in a forward direction only, so you don't slide backwards. They were originally made from seal skins but of course these days they are synthetic. The skis are a bit of a compromise on all fronts and not ideal for any particular type of skiing. But because they are short, light and can be used with winter walking boots, they are very versatile for accessing distant snow by foot – perfect for Scottish conditions.

The unbearable lightness of being ... outdoors

Plodding through the peat of the path up Stac Pollaidh. Crouching in the cold behind a cairn in the Cairngorms. Murdering midges on a muggy Mull day. Freezing off your Fannichs in February. You might wonder why anybody would actually enjoy being in the Scottish outdoors. The elements in Scotland are certainly wild but, if you are prepared to take on the challenges, the rewards are immense. Imagine throwing your tent up by a high lochan in remote mountains and watching the sun sink below the peaks to reveal a million stars in an inky sky above; or setting the first footprints in fresh snow as you climb through a winter wonderland on a clear, crisp day of endless vistas. Nowhere in the world do the natural elements, the northern light and the landscapes blend as beautifully as they do in Scotland. I love it and I live to be outdoors.

I’ve been exploring Scotland for over twenty years so you’ll just have to put my use of the word “girl” in my blog header down to artistic license! But I’ve been away for two and a half years, cycling around the world and exploring foreign landscapes. Some of you may have followed my blog of that adventure, “the bicycle diaries”.  But now that I’m back, I’m hoping you’ll join me in this new blog as I explore Scotland and fall back in love with this beautiful country … or just fall … often.

Ahead of us lie days of trekking remote mountain ranges, cycling the quiet back roads and hill tracks of the countryside, paddling through the calm waters of a hidden loch and hanging out in rural rail and bus stations wondering if the ride home will turn up. In the evenings we’ll throw the tent up at a gorgeous spot by a babbling burn and while away the dark hours with hot soup and a copy of the Scots Magazine. We might even talk about gear and what to do when your hair’s been matted under a helmet for several hours.  You don’t get that kind of thing from Bear Grylls!

But most of all I want to share with you the passion and simple joy of being outdoors.

There'll be lots of photos coming up but in the meantime click here to see my favourites from the pics I've taken in Scotland over recent years. To view individual pics click on the small images to see them full size with a description below or use the "slideshow" button.