A Winter’s Day on Creag Leacach and Glas Maol in the Cairngorms
I woke at 6:00 a.m. for a 6:30 breakfast, fueling up for a day in proper winter conditions. Heading north from Perth, the road climbed deeper into the Cairngorms. As part of my Winter Mountain Leader (WML) preparation, I had studied both weather and avalanche forecasts the previous night. With freezing levels expected to sit well below the summits, I knew there would be snowfields to explore, perfect for refining key winter skills.
I pulled into the Devil’s Elbow Viewpoint car park. It was late February, and with temperatures dropping again after a warmer spell, winter still had more to give. Just as I was sorting my bag for the day, a hill guide from the Fife Arms, a local hotel, arrived to recce a nearby shooting cabin and ridge for a walk with his clients. We chatted briefly about his American clients who come to explore these hills, then parted ways. He headed off for his exploration, and I prepared to hone my WML skills. My plan was to test a recovering knee, “rescue” an isolated Munro I had left unticked in this area, and find some steep snow to practice step-cutting with my new ice axe.
Stepping out of the car, I double-checked my winter kit. Layered clothing, spare map, compass, bothy bag, food, flask, crampons, and that shiny new ice axe were all present and accounted for. One of the first lessons in winter leadership is anticipating changing conditions and carrying enough gear to stay warm if the weather turns foul. I was glad to have a flask of hot peppermint tea too, my secret weapon against chills. I find it much easier to remember to drink a hot drink than water, and it is far less likely to freeze!
The day began on boggy ground, partially frozen, leading gradually uphill. Soon, the slope revealed a large snow patch, a bright, crisp field with a thick layer of refrozen crust. This was ideal for step-cutting practice, a skill that often gets overlooked but can be invaluable when crampons might only be needed for a short section. Walking on rock in crampons is not easy, and using them on frozen turf can damage rare alpine plants that only grow in these high mountain environments.
Swinging the new axe, I found real satisfaction in deliberately carving steps across the firm snow. This exercise helped me refine techniques crucial for WML assessments, including foot placement, body positioning, and efficient use of the pick and adze. With steep snow beneath me, I was reminded that precise movement is not just about comfort; it is about safety.
I was soon joined by unexpected company. A pair of ptarmigan took flight, nearly invisible against the wintry backdrop. It underscored another leadership lesson: we share these mountains with fragile ecosystems, and it is our responsibility to tread lightly. The delicate alpine flora, such as Alpine Speedwell and Bog Orchids, are easily damaged by crampons.
As I gained height, the snow linked up over more rugged terrain. Rocks gave way to wider snowfields. Periodically, where the snow was thin, I traversed exposed, icy rock. This change in underfoot conditions offered a great chance to fine-tune movement techniques, switching quickly between rocky steps and snowy patches.
Another memorable wildlife encounter was a white hare silhouetted against the sky before darting along the ridge. Its winter camouflage was perfect against the windswept slopes but stood out against the skyline, a reminder that these creatures endure far harsher conditions than I ever will.
Hitting the ridge of Creag Leacach, I felt the slope’s angle ease off. Then the clouds descended. My world shrank to a swirl of grey and white, and a light snow shower quickly escalated. This was the real test. Whiteout navigation is a core skill for WML candidates. I double-checked my bearings, confirming the route on my map.
By the time I reached my second summit, Glas Maol, conditions had deteriorated further. Thick cloud, heavier snowfall, and the dreaded flat light made it impossible to discern surface features. My hair, along with my eyebrows, soon sported a fine layer of ice. It was challenging but thrilling, precisely the environment WML trainees hope for to hone navigation skills under pressure.
Despite the tough visibility, I pushed over 950 meters, where the snowpack deepened, making it perfect for more advanced winter travel. Occasional breaks in the cloud offered tantalising glimpses of the summit. When I finally stood on the top with a hot peppermint tea in hand, the sky cleared just enough for a breathtaking panorama of rolling, snowbound hills. A reward well worth the effort.
My route off the summit skirted the Glenshee ski area, and I soon spotted a small cornice overhanging to my right. Cornices may look stable from above but can be dangerously undermined. One step too close to the edge can lead to a sudden breakaway.
From the bottom of the ridge down, I cut across the country to rejoin a land rover track I had noticed earlier, navigating carefully in the lingering mist. Sure enough, I stumbled upon the shooting butts and a modest hut. Eventually, I found myself back at the car, safe, tired, and thoroughly satisfied.
After changing boots and grabbing a quick snack, I set off for the Braemar Youth Hostel, savouring the day’s lessons. Route choice had been crucial, factoring in the snow line and potential escape routes. My gear selection proved wise, layering was vital as temperatures dipped and the wind picked up. The weather’s final shift validated all those hours spent practicing whiteout navigation.
Beyond technique, though, the real joy was in connecting with nature. Ptarmigan silently blended into the snow, the white hare bounded along the ridge, and the stark, wintry majesty of the Cairngorms was ever-present. It was a potent reminder that our mountains are living, breathing habitats.
“Experience alone doesn’t create expertise; we must engage in intentional learning, coaching, and skill development.”
This quote encapsulates the heart of winter leadership. Every snowy slope, whiteout, or wildlife encounter is a chance to learn, improve, and respect the mountain environment. Days like these prove that developing leadership skills is not just about ticking off summits. It is about growing in knowledge, refining judgment, and leaving the hills a little wiser than before.
Another Winter’s Day on the Cairnwell Munro Trio
The crisp morning air and a hard frost underfoot signalled the start of a rewarding day in the Scottish hills. With my sights set on The Cairnwell (933m), Carn a’ Gheoidh (975m), and Carn Aosda (915m), I was eager to sharpen my winter mountain skills, even though the snow cover was thinner than expected.
A leisurely breakfast and a short drive led me to the Glenshee Ski Centre, where I quickly realised I should have prepaid for parking. With no signal, online payment was impossible. Lesson learned for next time.
With lunch packed and boots laced up, I stepped onto the frozen ground, the satisfying crunch beneath my feet setting the tone for the day. The initial ascent of The Cairnwell was steep but straightforward. Following the ski infrastructure as a handrail to the right, though not the most scenic route, provided a rapid gain in height. At around 800 meters, patches of snow began to appear, offering an opportunity to practice diagonal step-kicking techniques. It reminded me of winter days in North Wales, where finding snow patches to train on was more common than navigating vast white landscapes, as I typically would in the Highlands.
The summit soon emerged from the mist, marked by a large cairn and the utilitarian ski infrastructure, a stark contrast to the surrounding wilderness. Not the most picturesque summit, but another Munro ticked off nonetheless.
Leaving the ski area behind, I headed toward Carn a’ Gheoidh, picking up a fellow walker along the way. He was doing the loop in the opposite direction, with the same out-and-back leg. The terrain here was frozen but largely free of deep snow, requiring only basic winter footwork. The path traced a broad ridge with occasional snow patches, providing a perfect opportunity to refine my step placement and efficiency on mixed ground.
The summit, at the westernmost point of our journey, felt more isolated, its silence broken only by our conversation. For me, a simple meal of sliced bread and cheese, eaten while taking in the panorama, was a reminder that in the mountains, simple pleasures take on new meaning.
Retracing our steps, we were treated to a spectacular sight, a mountain hare bounding effortlessly across a snowfield, appearing to glide over the surface. Shortly after, we almost stumbled into a pair of ptarmigan, their winter plumage providing perfect camouflage. Moments like these highlight the magic of winter in the mountains and the privilege of encountering wildlife in such a remote environment.
Parting ways with my companion, I pushed on toward Carn Aosda, the final summit of the day. By now, the weather had begun to deteriorate, lending an added sense of urgency to the final climb. Though patches of snow remained, the ascent was mostly a steady trudge over frozen terrain, a fitting end to a day spent consolidating winter skills.
At the summit cairn, I found shelter from the rising wind for a quick break, sipping hot tea as I prepared for the descent. The final leg of the journey brought another chance encounter, this time with a Royal Marine fresh from winter training in Norway. Our conversation reinforced the camaraderie that exists among those who venture into the mountains in winter, a mutual respect for the conditions and an appreciation for the challenges they bring.
Despite the thin snow cover, the day had been an invaluable training experience. Practicing footwork on patches of hard snow, navigating in changing visibility, and simply being out in the elements provided a wealth of learning opportunities. For me, winter days in the mountains are never just about reaching summits. They are about honing skills, embracing the environment, and sharing experiences with like-minded individuals, something that has been less common on my trips further north in winter.
As I returned to the car, weary but satisfied, I reflected on the day’s lessons. Even in marginal conditions, every outing contributes to the journey toward becoming a Winter Mountain Leader. The Cairnwell trio had provided another step forward in that journey.