In Search of Winter

Backpacking from across the Cairngorm plateau in early March

Mar 11, 2025

Introduction

In March 2024, I got my first taste of arctic conditions in the Cairngorms when I took a winter skills course. Our instructor's parting remark was, “make sure you practice what you’ve learnt because many people forget.” I’d relished the thrill of climbing Cairn Gorm via the steep face of an ice-encrusted corrie, so I hatched a plan to return the following March to backpack 36 miles across the remote plateau from Balmoral to the Cairngorm Ski Centre. (Link to gpx file here.)

If you’ve been following my posts on Substack or read my book Skye Line, you’ll know I’m no stranger to long-distance hikes. However, after a one-night solo camp in a blizzard at frozen Loch Etchachan, the day after my course in 2024 (full story here), I realised that my existing kit - tent, air bed, gloves, waterproofs - weren’t adequate for the conditions, so I spent the next 12 months upgrading.

I finally set off from Balmoral last Thursday (6th March) expecting to wear my crampons for most of the journey. However, for the most part, they languish in my backpack due to unseasonably mild weather. Instead, I was treated to blue skies and sunshine with excellent visibility - something not to be sniffed at in the Highlands of Scotland, especially when there are no midges to spoil the fun.

Throughout the trek, I carried around 15kg of gear and food on my back, much of which was unnecessary, and every step uphill felt like I was in a weightlifting contest. Lugging my ice axe across the snowless fells I must have looked like an overzealous Noah building an ark in the desert. But as one fellow hiker I met remarked ruefully, “If you didn’t bring it, you would have surely needed it!” True, true.

I was out for three nights, and on the final night, I experienced my highest-ever camp just below the summit of Ben Macdui at 1100 meters (3600 feet). I finally found the remains of winter I’d been searching for and pitched my tent in a snow-laden corrie. My new kit was more than adequate, and I slept soundly in my Scarp 1 Tarp Tent tucked up in a four-season sleeping bag on an insulated air bed. The outside temperature only dropped to about 2°C.

The following morning I ate breakfast, admiring a glorious sunrise over the hills I’d just traversed.

After breakfast I packed up, donned my ice axe and crampons, and climbed up the corrie to the summit plateau of Ben Macdui - finally I could justify carrying the extra weight.

Corrie just below the summit of Ben Macdui with Beinn Mheadhoin on the horizon

Trip Report

Day 1: Balmoral Castle to River Gairn ford (16 miles)

I walked much further than I intended on the first day because, on a whim, I detoured through the Balmoral estate to get views of the castle. Despite suffering back ache, it was worth it because there were majestic Scots Pine trees, birds singing, and frogs hopping across the path.

I crossed the River Dee on a white footbridge before venturing into the foothills, where I caught a striking view of a valley near Keiloch with rejuvenating woodland. I almost expected to see buffalo stampeding across the plane (photo 6 of 9).

Higher up, the landscape regressed into a typical managed shooting estate polluted by smoke from burning heather and scorched earth.

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Day 2: River Gairn ford to Moine Bhealaidh (10 miles)

Day 2 began with a river crossing because the footbridge marked on the map had been washed away (photo 1 of 9). I removed my boots and waded through the icy water in a spare pair of socks to protect my feet from stones. A bracing start!

On reaching the plateau of Ben Avon I was enchanted by the majestic tors that rose like natural granite castles. Small flocks of snowy white ptarmigan kept me company, gobbling and squabbling, over the snowless rocks.

The only challenging section of the path was a steep drop and scrambly climb at a point marked on the map as ‘The Sneck’ from where there were views of several corries that retained some snow under Beinn A’ Bhuird (table mountain). As Ronald Turnbull remarks in my Cairngorms guide book, if you’re a mouse on a bothy table, a walk across the table is fairly uninteresting, it’s when you look over the edge it gets exciting. That’s Coire nan Clach below Beinn A’ Bhuird (photo 8 of 9).

I pitched my tent on a large flat peat bog called Moine Bhealaidh just as the weather turned and the landscape was engulfed in thick fog. I fell asleep listening to haunting noises I couldn’t quite place, drifting across the ether.

Day 3: Moine Bhealaidh to below Ben Macdui (6 miles)

I woke to a void of nothingness, and feeling physically exhausted, lay in my tent for several hours. The strange whooping noises continued, and eventually, I cooked my breakfast and packed up. A window appeared in the fog through which I glimpsed a flock of fourteen ghost-like birds on a distant tarn.

Geese? No.

Swans? Yes.

Whooper Swans, with bright yellow bills from the Arctic tundra. What a find!

I didn’t walk far today. I climbed Beinn a’ Chaorainn (1082m) on the slopes of which I practiced my ice axe and crampon skills on a snow patch. On the far side of the summit, I stopped for a cup of tea as the cloud lifted, where there were majestic views of the western Cairngorms over a steep-sided valley (photo 5 of 9).

I descended into the valley before climbing up to Loch Etchachan via a small mountain hut that made a striking focal point in the vast landscape. On arrival at the loch, the arctic conditions I experienced last March were in full retreat. Then, I’d dug through the snow to find running water, now the stream flowed freely. Then, the loch was frozen solid, indistinguishable from the land, now the ice had broken up into giant hexagons.

I took advantage of the benign conditions and climbed higher to just below the summit of Ben Macdui. I pitched my tent on a snow patch next to a tarn with views eastwards to the top of Beinn Mheadhoin (middle mountain) with its distinctive tors.

Day 4: Below Ben Macdui to Cairngorm Ski Centre (5 miles)

It was a starry night and a clear morning. Despite my elevated altitude, it was warm enough to eat my breakfast outside watching the sunrise. Golden rays kissed the small tarn below my tent, which glowed orange - embarrassed for not being frozen solid.

After packing up, I used my spikes to climb another short snow patch to near the summit of Ben Macdui where I came nose to beak with a cheerful snow bunting. Another pair of early risers were already at the summit (amazingly, they had driven from Edinburgh that morning), and one of them kindly took a photo of me at the trig point (photo 9 of 9). We walked down the hill together chatting about books. I told them I’d kept myself entertained during the long nights reading Ghostwritten by David Mitchell on my Kindle - a story about stories.

Many walkers climbing up the hill towards us wore nothing but shorts and tee-shirts. Those in coats were overheating. Only one carried an ice axe. Down at the ski centre car park, I hitched a lift with my new friends down to Aviemore where I enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast butty and coffee before catching the train home.