The first snowy walk of the season.
As I had a vague idea of attempting a solo mountain walk in a few weeks time, Tom suggested I should test my navigational skills on a familiar route. The tops of the hills were swathed in cloud as we approached, giving us little sense of how wintry the conditions would be above.
At about 700 metres, we reached the snowline, and the mountain seemed even more mysterious. Just how much snow could there be up there?
There was quite a lot by 800 metres. . . .
. . . and an awful lot by 900. My navigational skills in such conditions are officially rubbish, and both of us found ourselves wishing for poles or ice axes (which we had come without). But it was very good simply to get out, and go up and down a mountain, and I can report that my woolen vest, base layer, sweater, and two pairs of thick wool tights, protected me more than adequately from the sub-zero windchill (I heartily recommend two pairs of good woolen tights for cosy legs and ease of movement. One can don the hideous, draughty, sweaty waterproof pants if and when the weather gets wet). On the descent we were treated to a fabulous West Highland sky
and we treated ourselves to a tasty pint at the walk’s end.
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