By Mike Cawthorne: ‘Champagne and Powder’ was coined by a budding wordsmith on the committee, a weekend tucked away at a remote hunting lodge in the heart of the Highlands. It was much anticipated, especially as high pressure had clamped itself firmly over the northwest in the days before and word from Kev on a preamble ski in nearby Torridon indeed reported that there was powder. Now we only had to visit the off-license.

Excitement was palpable as ten of us gathered at the forestry carpark by Craig and loaded a trio of 4x4 vehicles and headed off over the railway and bumped and rattled six miles down a snow-covered track to Glenuaig Lodge.

A magical place with high hills all about and situated over 300 metres, and with glens on both sides we were officially on the Scottish watershed, a fact of interest to geographical geeks like me. Having matched our keys to the correct door on our third attempt we flooded in and went room to room like gullible house buyers. This bolt-hole was super-comfy, spacious, log-burners in kitchen and lounge, beds with real sheets, showers and even a rumour of a bath somewhere. A cork popped and the weekend had begun. Troy rolled out a fantastic curry and later folk went out in the deep frost to gaze at the firmament and witness a waning moon cast its silver on the snows.

Faultless skies the first morning and the hills resplendent. Breakfast finished we split into two teams, one of Fiona, Kev, Bridget and Al going for steep stuff, while Lizzie, Troy, Andrew, John and myself were just looking for a great tour. Peter, still on the mend and unable to ski, set himself up outside with tripod and long lens and would survey our progress.

The long east ridge of Sgurr a’ Chaorachain provided a fine skin and lifted us above the glen and in an hour the views north and west rendered us almost speechless – snowy hills in an arc from Sutherland to Skye, and reaching the summit we could see Ben Nevis, the Aonachs and Cairngorms. The A Team (let’s give them the benefit of the doubt) joined us for photos. 

They wandered along the ridge eastwards to pick a plumb line whilst we skied back down the shoulder and dropped into the corrie and carved lines through fantastic powder. We tarried to watch the brightly coloured quartet one by one drop down a gully and disappear behind a great prow.

Meanwhile we skinned back up and tore more lines and this time belched steam to run the ridge round to finish in the sunshine by the lodge, and there was Peter laughing at our antics. A little tired but we shucked it off and rode the wheel and Lizzie, Troy and myself skinned to the col east of Sgurr nan Ceannaichean and chased the evening shadows back down. Always good to be last in.

The evening in full swing by now, everyone reunited and word from the A team that one had suffered an epic fall, a cartwheel into the powder. Even the Go Pros had been switched off but it was a great tale and the talk at dinner all the richer for it. And what a dinner.

Not only had Troy left no stone unturned, he’d burrowed beneath cliffs and excavated whole mineshafts to provide a culinary experience fit for prince and princesses. It may have been cooked in a bag but each bag contained a hunk of beef in a bed of herbs and spices that had been precooked for seven hours. Heck, you can travel to Moscow and back in that time. We filled the dishwasher and retired to the lounge for beer, wine and John’s cakes and talked hills and skiing, and Troy’s recipes were traded like rare metals and later listened in stunned silence to Peter and his guitar belting out their repertoire.

Sunday dawned almost as bright and this time we headed for the great bulk of Maolie Lunndaidh. The A team now bolstered by Lizzie, trail blazed the steep flanks of Carn nam Fiaclan, we not far behind and finding it so steep that at one point we removed skis and climbed with axes.

When we arrived at the plateau-like summit area Kev was poised above a corniced Fuar-tholl Mòr (Big Cold Hole) and promptly disappeared into its shadowed abyss. Possibly the first ever ski descent of this remote headwall. The remainder of his team dropped into the south facing Toll a’ Choin (Hole of the Dog) and reported steep and amazing powder. No cart wheeling this time.

The four of us gathered at the summit and made great sweeping lines on the north side then east by a burn and steeply into the lower corrie with rocks to avoid and now joining Kev’s tracks and skiing the marginal slopes of this fantastic narrow amphitheatre, Glenuaig below bathed in sun and the last snowy reach of a thigh-burning no-turning ride over a canopy of heather. The others were not far behind and all mustered over pots of tea and coffee to chew over the day and weigh what magic the hills and company had given, and to parcel it up for the memory store, and title it ‘Champagne and Powder. And damn good grub’.

We had planned to go to the Fort William Mountain Festival and ski on the hills the day after. We successfully implemented our plan but these bald facts do not tell the full story. 

A few had Friday off work so decided to whet the appetite with a windy ascent of Geal Chàrn starting from Balsporran Cottage next to the A9. Windy it certainly was - the sort of wind where even the slightest doubt planted in anyone's mind would have been enough to abandon the attempt on the lofty peak. We all knew though that some proper suffering was in wait for us so crossed the railway line and ascended the majestic moss of Geal Chàrn. The descent was actually quite good with a strong gale behind us and we returned to the vehicles to convince ourselves that it had been fun.

Friday night at the festival provided two options: a backcountry ski evening at which our esteemed president presented a film and the second option which was a talk by Greg Boswell, one of Scotland's most prolific winter climbers currently.  

Saturday and the wind remained a constant. Four intrepid skiers headed for Beinn Teallach just to the north of the Laggan Dam. Unfortunately the dog decided to explore the forest and then return to the car meaning one person didn't get much of a day out. 

The rest headed towards the lower slopes of the beinn though only to be rebuffed the wind and father time. The descent was good though. 

Saturday night at the festival really was good. A team called "Bob Shepton and the Wild Bunch" didn't just talk. They played maritime music and had some great stories. Check out this video. 

Sunday saw another three people on a covert mission into the "back corries", which misnamed, as An Cul Choire means the back corrie, to research locations...  

There is some amazing terrain just to the north of the Braveheart Chair which is well worth a short tour. 

We made it as far as 900m above sea level when we decided that the relevant information had been gathered and it was time to feed it back into the Club computer for later consideration. 

 

 

 

 

 

By Donald Morris. As is the norm for the last weekend in January, storms and severe weather preceded and dominated the forecast. In 2014 we had trouble standing up on Beinn na Lap. In 2015 we battled the hurricane force winds on Leum Uilleim so we were hoping for more of the same in 2016.

We gathered the bits and pieces at Spean Bridge and an advance party departed with wine boxes, ski equipment and lots of food. Despite ski touring being relatively popular in Scotland we still attracted some strange looks from fellow passengers. No doubt the absence of snow and huge thaw just before the trip made them wonder if we had looked at the forecast. We had and saw that it promised snow. Fortune favours the brave and we intended to shuck off our tiredness and ride the wheel of freedom.

When we arrived at Corrour there was no snow in sight but given that it was dark this wasn't too surprising. A 20 minute walk saw us arrive at the excellent Loch Ossian Youth Hostel which is run by Jan. It's worth pointing our how good Loch Ossian is for skiing; there are various good ski hills nearby, it's at about 390 metres above sea level and often has good snow. The hills are not too rocky and the accommodation basic and cosy.  This hostel and Glen Affric are the SYHA's two main mountain hut type hostels and are a welcome contrast to the more urban establishments. This was the second hostel opened by the SYHA (the first being Càrn Dearg near Gairloch) and has a lot of history attached to it. It used to be the waiting room for guests of the original Corrour Lodge who would be taken by boat to the east end of the loch. It's imperative that hostels such as these are maintained and used. 

Saturday morning dawned wild and windy with lots of snow blowing about. Not a day for the hill at all so we walked around Loch Ossian and past the new modern looking lodge which was built using money earned from cardboard packaging. Had we had track skis the day would have been even better as the snow was perfect for kicking and gliding along nice tracks but the walk was still excellent. 

Meanwhile the Club President made himself known over the radios. Unfortunately he had a tyre blowout on the journey to the train station and was delayed in arriving at the station. His arrival saw an attempt on the awesome peak of Meall na Lice (Hill of the slab) which we knew held snow on its east facing side. The rest of the party stayed in the hostel to keep the wine and whisky company. 

Calum Munro and Mike Cawthorne must receive special thanks as they cooked and catered for us during the weekend. Calum wasn't even there but his chilli was tasty and provided a good basis for 1 litre of Echo Falls (a red wine).

Leum Uilliem, that tempter of skiers, that featured and beautiful hill and one that had repelled IBSC on previous attempts just like Cerro Torre and Gasherbrum IV had their respective ascentionists. Yes! It let us approach to the bottom of Sròn an Lagain Ghairbh and up the nose itself. We are getting to know the terrain of this special hill quite well now. The verdict is positive - the hill provides excellent ski terrain for all standards and gets better the closer you are to the hill. 

Sròn an Lagain Ghairbh

Various parties went their separate ways; one into Coire a' Bhric Bhig, onto the ridge of Tom an Eoin and the other straight onto the ridge to the summit with the attention of traversing to the north. We were allowed to attain the summit on this occasion and onwards to the bealach betwenn Leum Uilleim and Beinn a' Bhric. 

Bench on Leum Uilleim

At the bealach we built a luxurious lunch bench to rest the juices and allow the bubble belly to settle. Don't go jumping down from snow benches though as this is just the sort of thing that causes the veins to become engorged. 

Looking to Loch Ossian - Spot the station

Unfortunately a navigational error saw us descend slightly west of where we wanted to be meaning we had the bonus of a short ascent of the ridge. The ridge to Tom an Eoin is very easy angled and not that exciting to ski but does provide excellent views to the east and the bowl where Loch Ossian is. We descended the slopes to the heathery corrie floor and debated what to do. 

Tom an Eoin

One party had returned to the hostel after a few first descents and excellent skiing in the coire. Another decided to re-ascend Leum Uilleim to take advantage of the excellent ski terrain and snow on the east side. It was worth it. We skied down excellent gullies and all thoughts of our spoor and scratching it were forgotten and replaced by the wheel of freedom. 

An Ostail - The Hostel

Returning to the hostel as it got dark was satisfying - it had been a full day on the hill with excellent skiing. Well worth the effort. We tidied up the hostel and skied back to the station, travelling full draught and laden with everything we had brought with us. It wasn't lightweight at all. 

Jan, the hostel warden, had decided to sit out the severe weather forecast for the next day, near Fort William and we all missed this special place the second we left it. 

Ceò - Steam

Scotrail are to be commended for running their services to time and dealing with the severe weather. Again we attracted some funny looks on the train as we boarded with a tonne of gear and big smiles. 

Soraidh slàn - Farewell

So the West Highland Line delivered. Loch Ossian delivered. Leum Uilleim delivered and we delivered as a team. Can you ask for more?

By Martyn Crawshaw. Six club skiers headed over to Lecht uplift for a day to practice the free heel telemark bran of backcountry.  Helen brought alpine touring kit which does not telemark turn so instead she was the braves with metal edge nordic forest skis and a Salomon bar binding.

Rhona Steele (with new skis from last year!) and Helen brushed up on down hill technique while Sandy Macleod took Steve Bunn and Roy Gibson to the steep and deep on the east side of the Glen.  We all enjoyed skiing in company trading tales and tele-tips but most of all enjoyed great snow and blue sky weather.  

Telemark skiers are like corks in a barrel they tend to collect together and ski sociably just because it feels good and its nice to compare different styles. Many of the runs were not on piste so although we did not use skins or maps it was a kind of backcountry day.

It was not steep, nobody needed transceivers but we did have fun and that was the aim of the game! 

By Mike Cawethorn (Pictures: Helen Rennie). On a dark frosty morning you couldn’t have missed the dozen or so folk in the corner of the Inverness carpark, all brightly attired like some travelling troupe of dancers. Or a bunch of backcountry ski enthusiasts. Members became re-acquainted, some new faces introduced themselves, and in that generous spirit folk offered their vehicles for the conveyance of all to our destination in the arboreal wilds of Feshie, at a pull-off a few kilometres short of Achlean. Here we were joined by a handful of other members and in twos and threes and with skis attached like antennas we eased up through native Caledonian Pine to the open moor. 

The glen was locked in frost but it was the promise of good snow higher up that had lured us here. At about the 500 metre level we donned skins, left the path and headed in the general direction of Coire na Cloiche. To be honest the skinning was marginal. The tall straggly heather held just a few inches of powdery snow and avoiding each others’ tramlines was the order of the day. Only sheer zeal got and us up that first bit.

As we pulled to Meall Buidhe the bright morning had given way to cloud and a snow-blowing wind but at least the rock count was less. Realizing no shelter was to be had anywhere for lunch we simply bunched up and turned our backs on the weather in the manner of a group of Arctic muskox. The similarity ended when one of our number pulled a fancy stove from his sac and brewed a mug of coffee, not something I’ve even seen muskox do. Batteries recharged – or was it that everyone’s hands were beginning to freeze – and with renewed enthusiasm we skinned the kilometre or so to Sgorr Gaoith and all gathered and prepared for an amazing descent. In near white-out I for one felt pretty rusty making my first turns of the season, edges clipping the odd lump of hidden granite and struggling with variable windslab. But there was some impressive technique on show.

While three of the party retraced their tracks to Meall Buidhe the rest chased a brilliant run into Coire Allt a’ Mharacaidh, a great ski on the best snow on the mountain and well worth the additional skin up. Then it was every man and women for themselves in the final descent, skirting rocks and ditches and floating over heather in great thigh-burning switchbacks each terminated by kick turn and shuffle and many a flounder. Scottish off-piste at its absolute best. Only one member managed to reach the path with her feet still attached to her skis, and she is famous for such antics. All in all a great first day’s skiing.

By Mike Cawthorne. I’m not altogether sure why the met office has begun naming storms that sweep these islands. But at least we have someone to blame for the atrocious start to winter. The early culprit was Storm Frank, all the way from the tropics and carrying a very large bladder of warm rain that all but stripped the pre-Hogmanay snowcover. When five of us gathered on a grey morning at Inshes we knew it was only for a hill walk. Ice axes strapped to our sacs were for decoration only. Or so we thought.

At Wyvis car park we were joined by Dave More from Ullapool who told of big winds by Glascarnoch and a forecast of hill snow later that day. It might feel a bit like winter afterall. I threw in my gloves, though not my monkey cap. Let’s not get carried away. So there were six of us on the path to a cloud-swathed Wyvis – Troy, Donald, Dave, Terry, his son Ruairidh, and myself. I’m not sure if Donald thought the early pace a bit slow but after ten minutes he decided to run back to his campervan. Forgotten something, so he said.

The pace definitely slowed as we approached the shoulder of An Cabar and fought periodically against a big sou’easter. It toyed with us in gusts and lulls and at some point we hunkered in the lee of boulder perched on the ridge and munched sandwiches and remnants of sweet treats from the festive period. Rime had begun to coat grass and rocks, and the wind felt bitter. It was not exactly a council of war but at this stage Dave, Terry and Ruairidh decided they would climb a little further then turn back, happy enough for the small workout and to see the cobwebs away. Donald, Troy and myself pushed on, and I’m glad we did. Over whitened ground we were pummeled sidewards by hail and blown snow the two kilometres to the summit. The only let up in the onslaught was a space fifty or so metres below the trig point, a strange pocket of stillness from where we took a minute to examine the great snow-holding bowl of Coire na Feola. Virtually snowless thanks to aforementioned Frank.

For variation and because we wanted to escape the wind we dropped a little and made a more direct route back to our ascent ridge, and here we came across a real rarity, an extensive snow slope. It swept down to about 800 metres and we reckoned would have made a wonderful ski descent, though on balance it wouldn’t have been worth the sweat of lugging our skis all this way. Inverness Backcountry Ski-carrying Club doesn’t quite have the same ring. Or appeal. Anyhow ice axes were required to safely traverse it. A little further on we found the ridge and dropped below the cloud and trundled down in good humour. Frank had done his damndest yet there was still snow. Just hope he doesn’t have any friends.

By Calum Munro. With the first snow dump of the winter upon us the backcountry skier’s mind turns to the season ahead each according to their own ability, ambition, or in my case age, views the season ahead differently.

In my case a prerequisite to enjoying the season is keeping warm and at the heart of that is the choice of thermal base layer. It could be argued that my longevity in the sport and indeed on the planet is founded on my constant quest for thermal balance – the foundation of skiing nirvana. I can genuinely claim that my initial skiing outfit was based on my father’s cast off white wool long johns and vest under wool breaches, tartan wool shirt, a Shetland wool sweater and a cotton anorak! As the decades have rolled on I have experimented with every new development and sought comfort in knitted polypropylene (smelly helly), Modal (a definite no! no! for sweaty sports), Merino (wool coming round again…) and almost every mix and combination of material in my “combinations” know to inventive outdoor marketing people. Each iteration claiming to be THE solution to the challenge.

Last year despairing of yet another sweaty/cold/sweaty/cold… season I read the advice of Andy Kirkpatrck on the subject of winter warmth. He recommended a base layer outfit by Brynje of Norway topped with a thin merino or fleece shirt. (Brynje is suppled through www.nordicoutdoor.co.uk) Basically it is a polypropylene mesh – a sophisticated string vest! Brynje supplied the mesh thermals that Tenzing and Hillary wore on Everest in 1953 and their products are a firm favourite with Nordic explorers and “Special Forces” across Europe. It comes in two version – plain polypropylene and a polyprop/merino mix. The colour options are Navy or Black. I have gone with the plain polyprop. The down side of the kit is – as stated by one military reviewer – “ …great kit but don’t let your mates see you wearing it!” As the picture attached shows it has a certain burlesque ambiance… The Polyprop/merino mix version is highly recommended by the great backwoodsman Ray Mears and I suppose in a survival situation the mesh structure would be good for catching fish.

Last season and so far this I have been using a high zip neck shirt with short johns (supposedly knee length but they come half way down my calf -Norwegians obviously have very long inside leg measurements) topped with a thin fleece shirt under a Paramo salopettes and smock set and find it comfortable and efficient with little wick back onto the skin when at rest. I have a slight reservation about the string vest like structure on my shoulders under the straps of a heavy sack but I haven’t experienced a problem so far. However I notice that the military versions of the Brynje gear have plain material shoulders instead of mesh. Aclima of Norway do a similar range of both polyprop and merino/polyprop but they have protected shoulders on all their shirts and protected knees on their long johns. Their kit is available in Scotland through Nordic Outdoor of Edinburgh - www.nordicoutdoor.co.uk

On an associated, if delicate topic - Helly Hansen, Brynje and Aclima all produce wicking wind protection briefs/trunks/shorts for gentlemen who appreciate their assets. This may seem like a luxury bit of kit but the zip in trousers/salopettes is a true weak spot in most designs… Those of us who are mature enough to remember the Sarejavo Winter Olympics may recall the excruciating tales of damage done to male skiers through a combination of faulty kit design and very low temperatures that came from the event.

If you appreciate warmth in the winter mountains and can get past the slightly off putting look and the Rab C Nesbit associations this style of kit could be for you.

The Club Secretary is always exhorting us to “get our juices flowing” well this kit helps get them flowing but more importantly keeps those juices flowing away from the skin so that we stay dry and warm.

We were once again welcomed by Glenmore Lodge and allowed to use their transceiver park. It really is an excellent resource and available for all to use. The evening brought together a variety of people with different strengths with regards to transceivers and their use. Mark expertly guided us through various scenarios which involved hiding stuff in the undergrowth and groping around for it afterwards.  

The more devious decided to hide their transceivers in the bushiest bushes which required considerable thorn action to get to them. Certain scenarios saw people retrieve a transceiver from trees. It's unlikely to be a common occurrence but we must all practice and expect the unexpected. Next year we hope to be looking for transceivers immersed in liquid or attached to a drone.  

The Club has transcievers for members to use free of charge.  See Equipment.   

By Donald Morris. We had planned and envisaged many things for this day. The first idea was to use the Scottish Ski Club's hut on Cairn Gorm as a social point but it turned out it wasn't available. Then we had the idea of having a barbeque at the bottom of the Braveheart Chair at Aonach Mòr. Lowering the beer keg over the cornice and then skiing down the coire with it in front on a rope was considered. Several scenarios were mapped out all of which drew comparisons with the famous bouncing bombs of the Dambusters.  

In the end though we decided to gather at Loch Morlich after a day out on the hills. One party went up Bràigh Riabhach and another up Cairn Gorm. It was all very pleasant and relaxed in the April sunshine. The back of Cairn Gorm actually held a lot of snow despite the west is best nature of the winter to that point. 

The Club radios proved to be invaluable in adding to the confusion as to where the best descents were. We chose the excellent line down towards the saddle in Strath Nethy without actually getting to the bottom due to some massive avalanche debris. 

A beast of a skin back up followed and that classic moment when some mentions another run down. Yes you do want to but the sweat and exertion from the ascent are still fresh. We did though. 

Then it was down to Loch Morlich for a relaxed gathering by the beach and an excellent BBQ prepared by Troy. One person even barbequed a scotch pie instead of chicken. Now that's clever!

By Mike Cawthorne. On the edge of Dalwhinnie in the black of a winter’s evening Troy, Donald, and myself grappled with the perennial problem of how to attach skis, boots and an assortment of overnight gear to the frames of our bikes, and maybe forgetting that panniers, pouches and packs have a finite capacity however cavernous when empty. A rolling start was needed and our bikes under the strange glare of torchbeam and weighed down with shoddy appeared bloated and misshapen, as if we were itinerant merchants who would shout our wares at passing crofts. Or Castles.

We passed beneath the turret of the gatehouse and bumped over the cobbles then Donald led the charge along miles of track by Loch Ericht, coaxed by an east wind that had us freewheeling on the flats. In no time we left the grand lodge and loch and began grinding up to the open moor.

The wind shoved us along the last rough miles of a stalkers’ path to Culra bothy. Knowing the bothy to be off-limits we’d brought tents and a bivy, and set up camp on an alluvial plain by the burn.  A brew, some bites, and now wrapped warm in our bags and about to engage in eight hours of well-earned rest, Donald cried out, ‘What if the burn floods during the night? Thanks Donald.

We awoke to a glaze of frost and the surrounding hills shaking off early morning cloud. Ben Alder looked stunning, its corries seeming to groan beneath the weight of winter snow, but we had to reach them first.

 

We traced the burn uphill and where it divided and narrowed we crossed. Some tumult here. A lot of melt was coming off the hill. Our plan to attempt a complete traverse of Beinn Bheoil and Ben Alder was not possible as the lower west-facing slopes had been scoured of snow, so we skinned into the great corries of Alder, the sun now beating down, linking the lower fields and reaching the frozen Loch a’ Bhealaich Bheithe.

Time to rest for a moment, apply a little more sunbloc, and register what we could of this magnificent place. Listen to the silence and gaze up at the corniced rim of Garbh Choire that reached half around our orbit, its cliffs and ice architecture draped in noonday sun. Troy’s first visit to this sanctuary in winter and he was suitably awed.

Donald led east around the loch, into the icy shade beneath some great cliffs, and steeply up to the bealach where we one and all dropped and lay spread-eagled in the sun, lunching and drinking, then a little recovered we pointed out familiar hills – Cairngorms, Schiehallion, Ben Lawers, Ben More and Ben Lui to the southwest.

A steep skin-up to the plateau then along the corniced cliffs to Ben Alder’s summit, one of the remotest spots in Scotland and probably its best viewpoint. Lochaber and the Northwest opened up and I reckon we could see half the Highlands.

At first we skied to the plateau’s edge to take a peek at the Short Leth-chas, a possible way down. The prospect of a very steep and icy downclimb to reach the ridge was a little daunting, especially as we had only one pair of crampons between us. We returned the way we’d come. A great choice.

Once we’d skinned back along the corniced edge we plunged 300 metres vertical to the bealach.

Sumptuous skiing on perfect spring snow.


We blasted down to the loch and skated its fringe to keep momentum and cruised the great snowfields below the Leth-chas and finished almost where we crossed the burn that morning.

Nearly 700 meters of descent. Magic. And the sun never stopped shinning. The one thought as we clumped the last mile in ski boots was Troy’s much lauded chicken curry.

To keep it cool he’d buried in a snowbank by our tents. But would it still be there? It was.

After a near ten hour day our taste buds were tingling at the prospect. As darkness fell we chewed over an incredible day’s skiing – sun, scenery, great company, it had everything. And the curry was exquisite.

A grey and overcast morning, and a little leaden legged after yesterday’s exertion, we turned our bikes and bounced back along the path and leathered it along the lochside, working up a great appetite for a late breakfast in Aviemore.


Mike is a professional writer.  Find more of his writing here.  

 

By Rose Norman. On the Saturday morning seven travellers from everywhere between Skye and Edinburgh assembled at Aviemore Youth Hostel to begin a weekend course aptly entitled ‘Winter Skills for Ski Mountaineers’. Our on-foot winter skills were to be developed on the edge of the stunning natural amphitheatre that is Coire an t-Sneachda. The weather was beyond all expectation with windless blue skies and the rocky slopes to the sides of coire bustled with particularly vocal ptarmigan.

Improving ice axe arrests was a key focus and the more enthusiastic ended up trying to get as many arrests into the downhill run as possible. (Although amazingly fun at the time, this had its cost in subsequent bruising). We also practiced our crampon movement, cutting steps, measuring slope angles and navigation. The shortest group member (myself) attempted to enter a semi collapsed snowhole and we shared the stories of when our skills had failed. A childlike happiness while digging in the snow was unanimous.

Sunday was highly anticipated as it involved skis/splitboards. We started out with studying past avalanche forecasts and working out where we could go/avoid in those conditions. The group, which was composed of two splitboarders, one telemarker and the others with varying degrees of newbie-ness on alpine kit, headed up the hill in glorious sunshine. Together we covered route planning, navigation, exploring the points at which where our skins would struggle and how to safely climb steep slopes, including transferring from skis/boards to crampons and vice versa. The heather on the lower slopes also provided excellent cover for transceiver hide and seek.

Our first section of downhill was chosen for its skill improving challenge. Although the slope angle was measured it will not be disclosed as this could prove too amusing to the club’s more experienced members, but let’s just say it was very icy and with convexity. On the one year and one week anniversary of my 1st ski lesson this promised to be ‘interesting.’ Although the more experienced splitboarders managed the descent with infinite cool, it proved more of a learning experience for the skiers. The main lesson was probably regarding the importance of self belief and the satisfaction that always comes from proving initial skills related concerns wrong.

A key discovery of the day was being introduced to jump-turns, a skill with which I’m hoping to gain a (predominantly) healthy relationship. And on the final snow ribbon a reminder to remember to stick boots into downhill mode. Thankfully a touch-my-toes abrupt stop in the heather was marginally less messy than past sub-surface heather snags that allowed for the full test of safety binding release! 

A huge thanks to IBSC for organising this course, it was enjoyed and found useful by all. Our tutor, Mark Ker of Cairngorm Adventure Guides, was excellent in catering for our areas of interest and contributing to the good craic. The consensus is that it would be brilliant to have a similar course at the beginning of next season. The weekend’s photos are credit to James and Matt. 

By David Ross. Yes the bus ran yesterday to Nevis Range.

After lots of thought and a fair bit of effort, a 17 seater minibus ran to Nevis Range and would you believe it we had sun, new snow, wind, mist, backcountry/coire skiing (Peter), off piste skiing through burns, heather gravel and new snow. And all returned refreshed and invigorated.

Many thanks to all who contributed to an enjoyable day. The craic on the bus was exceptional and while some comments would fall under the heading of ‘too much information’ was all the better for being aired. 

The radios were/are a great success, reception in Caol was crystal clear, just hope Peter did not have the volume on high!

So look forward to the next outing which is 15th March 2015 - Day tour – Drumochter.  

By Donald Morris.  We joined forces with the Moray Mountaineering Club for this trip and headed to the remote southern area of Druim Uachdar.  The plush coach dropped us at the head of the pass and six of us got off to commence a mega faff and gather all of our bits and pieces.  We then crossed the road and railway to start across the moor to a track on the map.  The initial objective was Sgairneach Mhòr which looked great covered in snow.  

The snow was lying on eastern aspects with western aspects very bare.  Looking back across to the other side of the road showed that A' Bhuidheanach Bheag was not well covered so we congratulated ourselves on a fine choice aided by intelligence from IBSC Militia earlier in the week.  

The juices began to flow on the ascent and left a bit of a mess but once cleaned up no one said anything else. Our descent to the bealach between Beinn Udlamain and Sgairneach Mhòr was a classic of Scottish skiing - keep the speed over the heathery bits and find a continuous line to the bottom.  Friendly weather and lovely snow all made it feel very pleasurable.  

Skins back on, we made the short ascent to Beinn Udlamain where we met more of the MMC party on foot. Skinning and walking were about the same on the day with ascent times quite similar. The party then split and one lot headed towards Fraoch-choire (heather corrie) which was in excellent condition. The radios proved to be very useful in keeping the team together and we all enjoyed a second descent on perfect snow. 

By this time we were becoming aware of the bus departure time from Balsporran Cottage (Beul an Sporrain - mouth of the sporran) so thoughts of a third ascent to Geal Chàrn were ruled out in favour of making it back in time. With hindsight, we might have been able to make it in a similar time as the descent of Geal Chàrn looked more appealing than the long trudge out in ski boots. The juices dried up at this point and it was like lubricating a chain with sand.  

Supplies were available at the Cairn Gorm Hotel and we all agreed that the joint meet had been a success and the posh bus a nice way to travel.  

Thanks to Dan Moysey and Derek Knox for the pictures.  

 

By Mike Cawthorne. I will admit the forecast wasn’t promising, so when Martyn and myself rolled up at Chisolm’s Bridge, Glen Affric, I was pleasantly surprised to see so many members in various states of readiness.

 

As we packed the talk was all about route choice, snow conditions, fancy new gear, and whether that igloo Andy and Graham built weeks before would still be standing and give shelter for lunch. Plenty of short straws were packed as well because we were certainly not all going to fit into it.

With skis attached to our sacs we set out along the track with the eventual hope of reaching Toll Creagach. Falling snow drove at us from the down the glen in wet and tactile flakes. Just a passing shower, the optimists among us said. We clomped along in ski boots, heads bowed, and wondering whose idea this madness was. Maybe after a couple of kilometres the drifts seem sufficiently joined for us to don our skis, but it was marginal as we scraped over heather and through burns and sunk a little in the peat. 

Then a little east of Allt Toll Easa a broad snow-filled hollow lured us uphill. At least now it was colder and the horizontal snow merely bounced from us. It could only get better. One reason why Toll Creagach is always on the IBSC calendar, beyond it providing a great ski run and its relative ease of access, is a perception that the hill gives shelter from the west. It’s all to do with that wall of hills, the likes of Càrn Eige, Mam Sodhail, and even the shielding arm of Tom a’ Choinich. Home-spun meteorology and wishful thinking maybe but it had gotten us to this featureless hill-side in a white-out. Anyway it was time for lunch. Where did Andy say his igloo was? No igloo here so we all started digging. At least the labour thoroughly warmed us and in fifteen minutes we’d constructed a decent wind-break long enough for ten backcountry picnickers and we drank from our thermoses as snow rattled overhead at a safe distance.

At least the snow had eased as we clipped into skis again and pushed on for the summit ridge, now only spindrift to contend with. A few of the party turned around before the top. Donald, Martyn and Co reached a wind-scoured place where we could hardly stand, then right on cue, as usually happens on IBSC days, the wind dropped a tad, a half sun appeared and the snow became all gleaming and shadowed, and it looked blinking perfect. It was.


A few inches of fresh on an old hard base and even those of us with rusty technique were whooping as we carved big meanders or went coiling out of sight down steeper lines. Exhibition stuff all the way to the valley, well almost.

The weather closed in for the walk out but the wet flakes were now thudding against our backs and we could trundle along upright and hold a conversation. The talk now about where we would stop for a beverage. The Slater’s Arms in Cannich and we reflected on a fine day and probably the best ski run we’d had all winter.

 

 

 

   

   
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