holy crap!!

Today was an Adventure, with a capital A. Climbing a snowy mountain slope at a 50 degree angle, chilling in a snow hole, breaking down twice on the A9, and fixing the landrover with a screwdriver and electrical tape.

We drove up to the Cairngorms national park fairly late in the day, leaving at 10. We'd planned originally to leave at 7, but after getting in from the pub at 2am, this was never really going to happen.

The drive up was magnificent, with the views over the hills lit by a low sun, and many of the rivers in spate, so the ground glistened and shone between the grasses. After a quick pit-stop in Avemore where I got some walking boots, we drove to the ski station and set out up the mountain, following whatever path we could find.

The snow was thick in places, with a sheen of ice where the top had melted and refrozen. You'd occasionally be walking over the top and break through, and find yourself up to your knees in snow - and have to be quick about getting out and your shoe emptied before it melted all over your socks.

We soon came to the river, which runs from the corrie down, and was in places completely covered in a cap of snow, so that you could walk past it and have no idea that it was underneath. Again, you had to watch your step - in many places you had to walk on ice where you could hear the trickle of water running beneath and had to hope you didn't break through. While it wasn't deep enough to be of any drowning danger, you'd get a very cold boot.#

We found ourselves in the corrie, surrounded by walls of ice and snow, with only paths straight up the sides which were being descended by climbers with crampons, ice axes, ropes and all other equipment we didn't have. Regardless, Dash pressed on - and we followed, up a very steep scree slope, until we came to the snow field and, due to the ice cap and angle, we could not safely go any further. As Dash was keen to point out, if you took a rock and kicked footholes you could make headway, but I wasn't keen to find out what happened when you slipped, and so made my way gingerly back down the slope. I may have been temped to find another way up, but the sun was setting fast, and without a map, compass or anything (I know, I know, A geographer should know better) I took refuge from the gusts of wind that could blow you over in a snow hole that someone had dug in a snow drift while I watched the others descend. Here you can see the corrie - while there was far less snow you get a very good impression of the river and the steepness!

From there, it was only a 40 minute walk back to the car, and we made it in the light, but looking at the ridge we would have come out onto I was glad we hadn't tried it - very snowy, and no easy route down, so we would have got back after dark, which I wouldn't have enjoyed.

Back in the car, we set off to Edinburgh. On the way home the rain came down, and, bombing along the A9 at 60, the wipers decided to pack in - so we came to a shuddering halt in a lay-by while we fiddled with whatever wires we could find. After 10 minutes or so Dash wiggled something that made them go, so we set off once more.

An hour later, we were again bombing along happily at 60 when all the headlights went out, and amid some strong words we screeched to a halt while we tried to see the road ahead. If anyone knows the A9, it's not a road you want to stop on in the dark with no lights, and my pants were in danger of being stained as a truck shot up behind us, before swerving at the last minute. We staggered on to the next lay-by where more swears were said, and after a fruitless wiggle of the wires we called the RAC.

They arrived soon enough, and after some badgering on our parts, we persuaded him to let us short the headlight switch, and go on with it secured by electrical tape. After signing a waver, we were, once more, on our way, with the steering column in tatters and wires everywhere. We got as far as the next roundabout, where the cowling around the steering wheel jammed and we careened into the bank a wee way. Pants defiantly stained.

Once this had been sorted with a few more screws, we hobbled back to Edinburgh. Me and Duncan have got to drive the odd 400 miles back to Bath tomorrow, which might be eventful...