Sunny Tour of the Cairngorms

I'd spent last weekend sat at home watching the sunshine, monumentally frustrated that I couldn't go out due to being duty manager. So I was somewhat surprised that the fine weather looked set to last across this weekend. I needed to do a bivvy to tick off March but the weather meant that local riding plans were dropped in favour of a longer trip around my favourite mountain range. I'd not made it to the Cairngorms at all last year and only doing the Cairngorms loop group start the previous year. So it was an obvious choice and would allow an easy trip with zero planning, given how well I know the trails around these hills.

The Cairngorms Tour is something of a classic bikepacking route that's been around since long before 'bikepacking' was coined. As per the 300k Cairngorms Loop it laps the mighty Cairngorms plateau roughly following the inner loop as far as Glenmore and then transferring to the outer loop via the fine Ryvoan Pass. This means the difficult terrain over Bynack More, across the Fords of Avon and down to Glen Derry is avoided and instead you get generally easy riding with only one really big climb, a few lesser ones and some nice singletrack, including the fabulous Glen Tilt Descent. 

So this was my plan. However a squint at the Scottish Avalanche Information Service website blogs indicated plenty of snow on high, all of the well consolidated variety. So my next decision was to go with the fat bike, complete with bud 'n lou, and throw in a route variation taking in the Minigaig pass and the high ground to Glen Feshie, in order to hopefully bag some snow time. Friday after work saw my usual scramble to throw bags on bike, stuff into bags, into the car, final check to ensure I'd got everything and then it was up the road to Blair Atholl. A last second addition to the trip planning was a frantic text to friends - "Its sunny, I'm off round the Cairngorms, fancy meeting up near Tomintoul?" - reply = "Yes, see you there!" Great, a good social as well as ace riding.

The chippy at the car park in Blair Atholl was in full flow so I figured on eating here to save carrying food up. I've not had fish and chips for months (years?) so this was most welcome. That said I wasn't planning on going far that evening so I'd no justification for this calorie fest other than it was Friday, I'd had another hectic week, and I could. I set off at 6 into the gloaming heading for a spot at the top of Glen Banvie scoped on a previous trip. 

Fully 5 miles later I got there just as dusk was merging into dark. A bit of nosing around found a spot under trees that would hopefully keep off the worst of the frost but allow the sun in the following morning. Tarp up, into bag, relax - the true value of a Friday bivvy. I'd hauled some cans up with me which were the icing on the cake as I laid back and read, various night noises around me, including the siren warble of a Snipe. This odd sounding bird caused me much consternation when I first heard it many years ago as it didn't sound at all natural - more like some kind of early warning for the milder type of calamity! - however when ever I hear it, it takes me back to a very peaceful holiday on Sanday in the Orkneys and some great fat biking.

After a solid 8 hours sleep I woke to the sun peeping over the hill opposite. It was occluded by some trees for a bit but eventually was shining full into my tarp. It had dropped to -3 in the night so I lazed about for a while eating breakfast and drinking coffee, to give the sun a chance to warm things up and burn off the frost from the tarp. 9am saw me heading over to Glen Bruar on what is becoming a rarity - a nice rough doubletrack that has so far avoided the inevitable motorway standard upgrade for a windfarm, micro-hydro scheme or stalking access. Sadly the partially ruined cottage of Ruichlarie has been flattened which is a shame as it would have made a good bothy, or at least a cheeky shelter.

The temps were climbing steadily, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and barely a breath of wind as I pedaled easily up the glen, eagerly looking at snow patches and trying to gauge what it would be like up top. Soon enough the head of the glen was reached and the steep climb out of it revealed.

The Minigaig is a great route well off the usual haunts of both walkers and cyclists. I've done it a few times now and it offers a fine challenge and great views. On the steep climb a soaring eagle overhead gave me a chance for a breather. I watched it circle for a while, the sun shining golden through its wing feathers. Sightings of these incredible birds are becoming more common now that they are getting much less in the way of persecution from land owners but seeing one never fails to take my breath away. Over the glen side the terrain levels into a wide area of high land crossed by several small burns. Large snow patches were everywhere and I was soon in amongst them. I'd worried that the high temps would have left them as an unrideable porridge but repeated freeze / thaw cycles had left all remaining snow like concrete. The top inch or so was quite soft, necessitating a lowering of tyre pressures for grip. Then it was a case of linking up these areas of firm and smooth going, weaving round the line of path, often only visible due to an odd cairn poking above the surface of the snow. In the middle of one patch I encountered a large frog sat in a hollow but standing out like a sore thumb. I urged it to move on given the nearby monster bird of prey but it sat there with that usual look of contentment that frogs exude, usually just before getting eaten or squashed...

At one point the route drops into a narrow defile which in turn feeds into a wider burn line. I'd done this route in 2015, also at the end of March, but with a lot more snow. This gully was entirely filled and I had ridden across it some 3m above the notional ground level. Today it was a steep drop in.

No snow bridge over the wider burn but snow melt hadn't set in too much (a pre-trip concern) so it was an easy crossing. I went off line up another side burn in order to bag the biggest patch of snow I'd encountered so far.

The snow patches got bigger as the altitude increased and I continued up to the pass summit with only a few gaps, making a normally tough route easy. The trail on this section has faded away - a sure sign of how little use this route gets these days - and it can be a schlep, particularly after wet weather. I contemplated picking up the high peaks of Gaik Forest as there was much snow in evidence but in the end stuck to my original plan of linking through to Glen Feshie. The north side of the Minigaig is also very vague and hard going these days so it's better to head east along a line of hills which link to the Feshie and the best views of the day. The going is fairly easy (on a fat bike especially) over short turf and various sheep paths. A bit of height loss and another huge patch of iron hard snow lead to a steeper climb to an unnamed hill at 912m, complete with a trig point.

The full drama of the Cairngorm Plateau.

This is a fine hill to be on. As well as the nearby Cairngorms and upper Spey valley you can see clear across to the Western Highlands, the hills of Perthshire, Ben Alder and Creag Meghaid. Snow looked to be still much in evidence making me wonder if I should have gone with another skiing trip but looking at where the weather is going, there is time yet for some more sliding. Also of note from here are the upper reaches of the Feshie. This mighty river actually heads due east from this hill before doing a 180, almost at the Geldie, which heads east towards the Dee, rather than the Feshie's northern path to the Spey. It flows for 20k to the point the Cairngorms Loop encounters it as a vast river but that point is only 6k from this hill. This area is a large and remote piece of land. Argocat tracks are finding their way into it these days (for stalking purposes) but very few people visit this isolated spot.

The descent was on a vast field of snow. Having not been in the sun as much it was distinctly slippy. Movement was as much sideways as downwards, justification for the big tyres. One day I will attach skis to the bike in order to reach such fields for some isolated sliding.

Finally the snow was left behind. I'd considered a further climb and ridge of hills above the Feshie but the big track up to them seems to have been removed and there was no obvious way up. (Edit - I've since learned that the lower level track I could see is to be pushed through to the bottom of the Minigaig with a bridge over the Bhran. This will make a fine through route.) I was also aware of the time - 12pm - and the agreed meeting point with my friends at Loch Builg Lodge, some 55 miles distant. So I hared off down the descent to the glen and then settled into a steady gait along the Feshie and the familiar route to the bridge, through Inshriach, Loch an Eilean and Rothiemurchus. 

Looking up Glen Feshie from whence the CL route comes out after the tricky traverse of the Geldie.

Everything was pretty much dry, the sun was beating down and there were surprisingly few folk about. I sat by the loch eating some food as I was feeling the distance but on reaching Glenmore and the Pinemartin Bar I was compelled to stop for more food and a pint of Tradewinds. This used to be a regular stopping point for me on the way to Rob and Iona's old place in Aviemore, usually after doing one of many routes both off and on road over the hills of Deeside, Donside and the Mounth. But since they moved house I rarely pass it, even before pandemic world appeared, so this was mighty fine. As expected the place was hoaching but most people were just finishing lunch so I could sit in peace, contemplating my onward route. One good thing to come out of pandemic world - covered outside seating for cafes. Who wants to cram into a poky cafe when you can lounge outside without upsetting anybody with your 30 mile body odour....

From the top of Ryvoan looking back to the Cairngorms, the gun barrel clearly visible to the right.

So onwards through Strathnethy - as fine a place as you can ride a bike through on a warm spring evening. I cracked on just because I could as much as to try to get within a reasonable shout of my notional meeting time with R&I. The crowds disappeared after the green loch and I had Ryvoan pass to myself, Cairngorm views all around. The last time I'd been through Strath Nethy was a bleary eyed morning in September 2020 on the only group start I'd managed that year. The comparisons between that epic day and this ride would feature heavily in the coming miles. I'd still some river concerns given that the days sun would have melted much snow however rivers Feashellach, Dorback and Brown were flowing but easily crossed. 

Fairly typical cool weather load out for me, which the ICT took in it's stride.

Glen Brown seemed like a haven of peace and tranquility in the evening sunshine. The trail is well established now but I kind of wish people had kept to the south side post Hurricane Bertha in 2014 as this would mean you only crossed the river three times, instead of 7.... 

Tomintoul was reached at 5 and I noted the first bikepackers of the trip - two bikes parked outside the pub. I guess if I wasn't meeting with friends I'd have done the same but instead it was off up the long, long road by the river Avon. This is another great piece of land, the might Avon roaring below with views to the vastness of Ben Avon ahead, still largely white. I passed another pair on gravel bikes, just pitching up by the builg, but I left them with a wave as dusk was starting to fall. As had been the case all day, the trail by the loch was pretty dry and a fine end to a long day. 

I arrived at the ruined lodge to be greeted by Rob and Iona and a gin and tonic - how civilised. We sat out chatting and eating (and drinking) listening to another snipe warbling away, what seemed like Scotland's entire population of grouse and the roar of the river gairn in the background, full of melting snow after the warm day. Squeaking brake noises and lights heralded the arrival of the two bikes I'd spied at Tomintoul. They seemed a bit lost looking for bivvy spots so I flashed a light at them to indicate the lodge which had plenty of space. They were from the Midlands doing a tour from Elgin to Montrose and had had a long day, with another to follow the next. We chatted a bit and compared set ups (Rob was retro with his Yak Bob and Iona was sporting front and rear panniers. This is the future). Eventually the chill drove us into bags and a cold night followed.

Another perfect pitch as the sun shone straight into my tarp as it crested the horizon. It had fallen to -6 that night and all round was ice - inside and outside the tarp, on my bivvy bag (it was stuck to the tarp!) and on the lochan just down from our spot. Much dampness from condensation inside the bivvy bag got me out into the strengthening sun for a leisurely breakfast with further chat as everything thawed out and dried off.

Thanks to the clocks changing I departed the 'lodge' at a leisurely 10.30 for the last of the route. I'd thought of crossing the Gairn to do the ace single track up the glen and down to Linn of Quoich but it was fairly flowing with snow melt, even after the overnight freeze, and crossing would have been either a frozen foot or wet boot job. Plus my freewheel was making some funny noises so I figured I should take the straight road home. To say it was a change from the last time I was here in September 2020 was a gross understatement. Warm sunshine (already 20 degrees warmer than at first light), a gentle breeze and clear views all around made the lengthy climb a pleasure.

Ben Avon with plenty of snow still. I'd idly contemplated doing this today as the snow fields would have made it fantastic fun. Laziness ultimately stopped this idea but I would like to do it as a day ride at some point.

Lochnagar

I bombed the descent and kept to the north side of the Dee, missing out Braemar and a chunk of road riding. This is another fine rough track that actually serves a small cottage but has avoided the inevitable upgrade. Once you cross into NTS land however the track had been scraped out, presumably as a pre-cursor to just such work. The NTS do seem a bit random in terms of removing some tracks and upgrading others. When spying out routes a while ago I was amused to discover that the tracks they had reduced to path sized up Glen Lui and Derry both have argocat tracks paralleling them. Their plan had been to do all stalking off horse back, hence the track removal, but deer numbers have remained high so presumably this plan hasn't worked. Another oddity is the bridge their machine driver destroyed in 2002 up by Derry Lodge. This accessed the bothy and a cottage, the residents of which presumably have to wade the river now. Conversely, The bridge across the Quoich water which was half wrecked the last time I was here has been removed and a new one put in. I wonder how long this will last.... 

Then it was off down past Linn of Dee and into the wide strath that precedes the fabulous Tilt descent, also a joy after the misery of the Cairngorms Loop group start in 2020. I'd had a near total sense of humour failure that time as the wind battered me to a standstill time after time. Today all was calm.

I stopped for lunch at White Bridge, peering up the strath of the Lairig Ghru. The SAIS blog had provided a good shot of the pass from the summit of Ben Macduibh showing much snow. I'd been tempted by an expedition up here as if there was plenty of firm snow then the famously rocky path could be avoided and a much easier traverse effected. Despite many people telling me not to bother with this route, it remains one I will do at some point 'just because it's there,' to quote a famous mountaineer. In any case, my copy of 'Further adventures in rough stuff,' the RSF photo journal part 2, showed pictures of two Lairig Ghru passages by (touring) bike so it should be easy on a fat bike, even though all of NTS's path works got trashed within a few years of being done. 

Food eaten, I cruised across my favourite bit of the land hereabouts. It seemed particularly fine today, the low hills nearby bordering this wide vale, the white tops of the High Cairngorms in the background.

The red bothy nearing completion, just needs the paneling in the interior. The wooden hut to the side has a 4 person thunderbox as well as what looks like more accommodation. I hope its a success given how accessible it is.

That bloody river crossing. Not as wild as it was in September 2020 but high thanks to taking snow melt from the wide land above the Geldie. I failed at the same point as I did the last time but managed to get a foot onto a rock and then across with dry feet. The Bynack and the Seilich were low enough to splash across without a pause. I actually passed a couple of walkers here. I'd expected to meet loads given the weather but I guess not everyone can drop everything and go, like what I can do. Finally I crested the watershed, noting the Tilt as a twinkling trickle rather than a raging torrent as per the last time, then tipped into the descent. 

It was a joy and my riding seemed to respond to the occasion cleaning everything cleanable (by me!) including the rocky bit that angles across the narrow trail. The only danger was to the many frogs sat sunbathing right in the trail. After seeing the one the previous day in the snow, it seemed like every puddle, pond, bog or burn had been alive with them, little beady eyes poking above the surface, jumping around and wandering blithely across my path leading to much frantic bunny (frog?) hopping.

On the narrow trail....

At the crossing of the Tarf Water. The last narrow stepped climb was dispensed with and then it was a nice leisurely cruise down the glen. What joy it was to pass the turn off to Fealar lodge knowing I didn't have to do it....

Total mileage was 113. The fatty had been a blast and I felt particularly smug having stuck with the biggest, heaviest, most rolling resistant tyres known to cycling, purely to enable riding across a few k of snow. It crossed my mind that this could be a good ITT route as a complement to the full 300k CL. If you missed out Glen More it would be largely re-supply free, adding to the challenge. The Minigaig adds a further nice altitude challenge and it would be particularly fine for it to finish right down the Tilt with no sting in the tail. I think that the next time I'm here I'm going to go for the Lairig Ghru. It should be doable in a day so no need for sleeping gear and now that the clocks have changed there will be plenty of daylight. Watch this space!

Non Bikepacking Interlude, Gone (Ski) Touring

I've been ski touring for a few years now and it's a great way of heading off into the winter wilderness away from the crowds - kind of the skiing equivalent of mountain biking away from trail centres. Part of it is the wish to explore, but equally its perfectly acceptable to head for a famous mountain purely for the purpose of 'sessioning' one nice slope a few times. Its particularly fine when the weather is good and you know there will be hoards at the various Scottish ski centres with the attendant lengthy queues and crowded slopes. You will also generally be away from the usual haunts of the Munro baggers and winter mountaineers as the skier is generally aiming for different terrain.

Of course its never as simple as that and a certain amount of determination is required, as well as a willingness to deal with foul weather and the ability to grab the opportunities when they arise. And like everything else these days, ski touring requires a mountain of gear with endless permutations of ski widths, boot types, binding types, etc. etc. that will be familiar to any bike obsessive. Likewise you get the 'old skool' types who do it on skinny skis, leather boots and simple freeheel bindings - a fine analogy of the guy on the ancient steel tourer who will happily take it to the places many would only dare go with 6" of suspension travel.

My own approach is a bit of a mixture. I've spent a fair bit on the latest gear in order to try to compensate for my crap technique (I am all the gear and no idea when it comes to skiing), but conversely have committed my soul to the pursuit of the free heel; i.e telemarking. In the last few years I have also given the skinny skis / leather boots thing a try but so far I've not achieved much beyond a lot of bruising on my backside....

Keeping it local. The Ochills have provided me with some fine skiing, helped by the easy terrain and lack of rocks. This was a fine powder day off the back of Whitewisp Hill.

Even more local - in fact from my front door. Leather boot / skinny skiing the Knockhill couloir.

A less optimal day in the Ochills. I once heard someone describe Scottish ski touring as being a mix of opportunism and optimism. This was me grabbing an optimistic day on the skinny skis. Objectively it was a winner as I spent a lot more time on the skis than off them...

And finally for the local photos, and at the other end of the spectrum - entering the tree line in a foot of powder. Tree skiing is largely unknown in Scotland as snow generally only occurs well above where trees can grow. This was a rare and very special day in the Ochills, winter '21 (it was also my 50th!)

Today I was heading for the hills west of the A9 as it surmounts the Drumochter pass. The forecast was for sun, snow levels should be good and snow conditions potentially perfect. Oh and no avalanche risk. I never ski anything steep enough for this to be an issue in any case but its always nice to know... Driving up (annoyingly skiing requires lots of driving) revealed many bare hills. But a glimpse of solid white on Ben a'Ghlo suggested I was on the money. Sure enough as I burned up the dual carriageway, my target hills were (nearly) solid white. The sun was shining, the temps were low single figures and I'd remembered all my stuff. Oh yes.

The length of the walk in (i.e. before you can put your skis on) is always a consideration not shared by our Alpine cousins. 1 hour seems to be the limit for most folk but it all depends on the end product. A much viewed video on you tube followed two guys who walked up a largely snow free Ben Nevis, in order to ski tower gulley on its north face, the catch being this was mid summers day in 2011! Today my stomp up the track from Dalnaspidal Lodge (the start of the track past Loch Garry to Loch Rannoch via Duinish Bothy) up by the Alt Coire Luidhearnaidh to my first use of skis took half an hour. Looking up revealed many big snow patches with solid cover higher up. Below 500m was largely bare. 500m has no geographical significance but a lot of fat biking experience has shown that this is the magic number, altitude wise, below which there can be no snow and above which loads. I don't know why this should be. 

The best example of the 500m rule - Winter 2014. This was on Glas Tulaichean on a rare nice day that year. Wild weather led to the most snow seen for a generation but it was all above 500m. Below there was not a drop...

Ski touring fun - threading a line through the snow patches to avoid having to take skis off. A bit of nosing about enabled me to pick a line with only some minor heather trimming required. This got me onto the big white room - flat white all round, the sun beating down and a breeze to keep you cool. After much climbing (more later) I traversed the large rounded bump of Meallan Bhuide and summited to get an idea as to where I fancied going. The southern flank of Sgairneach Mhor was my notional target as I've seen this hill many times from the A9, plastered in snow and looking just the place for some easy turns. As I'd hoped it was completely white and looked perfect. This was going to be a good day. 

The snow was quite hard thanks to a number of thaw / freeze cycles and cold overnight temps but the blazing sun should soften it to give the perfect combination of a firm surface but plenty of grip and easy edging, skiing heaven. Dropping some height revealed my new skins liked to glide (also more later) and I was cruising. A line choice error lead to skis off and a brief walk before I got onto another vast white slope heading for the summit of Mam Ban. Now if you were to walk across this sans snow it would be an ankle and knee threatening mass of heather, tussocks, rocks and bunny holes. Today it was billiard table smooth and easy going. And speaking of bunnies I saw several mountain hares in their winter coats - fabulous. Eventually I topped out to see a vast winter panorama all round.

To the south were the Perthshire hills, with the cone of Schiehallion prominent. To the west the jaggy bumps of Glencoe could be seen and to the north east the vast Cairngorm plateau. Closer too were the various bumps around Ben Alder looking dramatic with snow covered crags. I skied around for a bit taking all this in before turning east and heading up the wide ridge of Sgearneich Mhor. I'd walked here in September 2020 on a similarly sunny (but entirely snow free) day so knew the local layout well enough to need minimal navigation on this clear day.

Across the top it was quite icy. Still grippy but my upward progress was accompanied by much scraping. Typically on reaching the summit I noted a fair bit of cloud obscuring the Cairngorms but the sun shone to the south. Jacket on, off with skins and into bag, shorten poles, remove hat and sunnies, put lid and goggles on, adjust boots, step into skis, get ready for the off. Yes ski touring involves a lot of faffing although with practice 'transitions' can be effected fairly quickly. In theory you're meant to spend the whole morning climbing up some Alpine monster and then spend an hour or two going down so you are only removing skins / adjusting gear once. In Scotland you have to be prepared for a lot more ups and downs if you want a full day out, therefore a lot more kit changes. Disaster struck when I bent over to attach ski leashes (these prevent the ski disappearing down the hill in the event of a crash / binding release) as brown liquid poured out of my rucksack, over my head and onto the snow. What? Oh it's tea. Yes my flask lid had sprung and bending over had caused it to open and empty its contents into the rucksack and then over my head. Fortunately my down jacket was in a dry bag and there was nothing else in there I needed but I was miffed to say the least - no tea with my lunch! I seem to be suffering from an abundance of muppetry these days.

Anyway, into the first descent. There was much scraping on the icy summit ridge as I dropped back aways, in order to avoid the steep stuff. I paused for breath and to wait for the cloud to clear as all around me was flat white. The sun came out to reveal a smooth descent to a wide gulley some 1000m (horizontally) below. As soon as I rolled off the ridge I was out of the ice and into perfect soft snow. As usual my first few turns were a bit clanky until I found that perfect telemark rhythm. Lower down were a few obstacles but these just added to the fun, riding round rocks and heather patches and nipping through narrow snow bridges to another wide snow field. Finally I dropped into the snow filled gulley breathing hard with the effort.

Now its a funny thing but I've noticed that hill walkers always seem to want to stop for lunch on the summit of a hill, even if its blowing a gale. This has lead to much building of stone shelters on hill tops across the land in order to try and find some comfort when cowering from the wind and rain. Personally I like to eat lunch in comfort and this was a perfect spot. I sat in a patch of dry grass, the sun beating down and reflecting off the snow around me, with not a breath of wind. Apart from the lack of tea I spent a fine hour sunbathing and eating and wondering what to do next.

Easy, do it again, and again. Skinning up enabled a bit more surveying of the slope to find a much better line than my first run. There was a steady stream of walkers on the summit and heading up to Ben Udlamain - a well trodden munro baggers route - but my personal ski slope was entirely free of others. This is all tremendously hard work of course and my legs were fair aching by the time I finished the third run.

Skiing uphill?

Despite the popularity of ski touring and its various nordic variations, the concept of skiing uphill is still something that non outdoors type seem to struggle with. Skins are the answer - a modern analogy of strips of seal skin that stone age inhabitants of Scandinavia strapped to the bottom of the long carved planks used to travel across deep snow. These days they are either wholly synthetic or use mohair (poor bunnies) to form a dense knap of fibers all pointing backwards. So pushing a ski forwards means the skin glides across the snow but it stops the ski going backwards (thing stroking a cat the wrong way). This enables you to slide up quite a steep hill in order to then bomb back down it again. They attach to the ski base via a self adhesive surface - sort of like extra sticky post-it notes - and straps or clips at the tip and tails. Managing these is a royal pain in the backside, particularly if its windy, as they try to stick themselves to you, the ground, your rucksack and each other. Also in Scotland is the ever present threat of grass which if it gets onto the sticky backing, takes endless hours to pick off. Ask me how I know! How much grip uphill depends on the area of the skin you have, your weight, the snow conditions and the gradient. Problems arise as a gradient increases and suddenly (always without warning) your ski shoots backwards as grip fails. In certain situations (an icy Fiacaille ridge in my case) this can be dodgy as you always seem to be beyond the point of safety when grip fails. If you're on a narrow ridge or slope you need to engage plan B. Plan B involves getting off the skis and into your crampons (you have remembered them haven't you?) which can be a challenge in the kind of conditions that lead you to this point in the first place i.e. steep, icy and exposed. On wider slopes its just a case of cutting across the slope at a shallower angle and zig-zagging your way up. At the end of each zig (or zag) you do what's called a kick turn. This involves a ballet dancer-esque move whereby you kick round your uphill foot so that its pointing the other way, then you swing round the other foot in one balletic movement. Unfortunately this results in feet pointing in opposite directions, obviously whilst attached to 6 foot long planks. The strain on ones groin is immense and I therefore tend to adopt a less stylish but more age friendly approach by shuffling one ski, then the other, round to face the new direction, the difficulty being its easy to end up with one ski pointing up the hill and therefore sliding back down, generally dumping you on your backside (again). 

For narrower nordic type skis a pattern of rear facing 'fish scales' molded into the middle third of the base provides grip for going along and up easier grades. In theory this is much better for varied terrain as you can progress without any kit changes and can make for very fast going. The problem is that the gradient you can get grip on is a lot less than a skin and they tend to be a bit unpredictable in soft snow, leading to more flailing about and falls. The narrow skis are also harder to turn and if you are really going for the true Nordic style you also need leather boots which makes holding an edge solely down to will power. Fishscale bases are finding their way onto wider and wider skis however.

Looking across my personal ski area

On this slope the skinning had been easy. I've seen plenty vids of people negotiating narrow couloirs, steep burn lines and even full on climbing but my preference is for an easy time and some nice skiing. Its why I've skied my local Ochills so many times. Nice grassy rolling bumps just make it so much easier and you don't have to worry about errant rocks wrecking bases if the snow is a bit thin.

So now what. I was tired but the sun still shone and I had a suspicion this may be it for winter 21/22. So I decided to ski up to the point I'd reached earlier to get one more view of Ben Alder before making may way back. I noted that someone else had been down my slope but I was pleased that my visible tracks indicated some nice even turns. I paused for one final look at the view and then turned for home. Three people on skis appeared coming down towards me. We stopped to exchange route notes and they headed off. I was pleased to see they all had freeheel bindings, two on nordic skis and one heroically using leather boots. I felt slightly self conscious on my fancy (and nearly new) skis and hi-tech bindings as I watched them effortlessly glide away.

Its not always so nice - this was a wild day in 2013 on the summit of Cairngorm....

I headed back roughly the way I'd come, less the walking thanks to a better route choice. It's always good when you peel the skins off for the last time and start the final run down. This is also something that for us Scottish ski tourers differs somewhat from what our European cousins have to contend with. For them its just a case of making the best of the last run, right down to the car park, off with your gear and into a bar for a post ski beer. In Scotland its a case of trying to get as far down the hill as possible before the snow runs out and you are back on shanks pony. This led to another ace run as the snow lower down was lovely and soft. Several turns on some big patches linked by narrow bits through the heather got me back to my start point. 20 minutes of leisurely walking later I was back at the car, looking up into where I'd been with a huge grin at having bagged such a fabulous day.