Meall a Bhuachaille

There are no certainties when playing the lottery of Scottish weather. 

In January I arrived to green,

full of disappointment for winter training only to wake to a joyous coating of white the next morning.

Mid June, with cheap -ish train tickets booked weeks in advance,

the only affordable way,

there was still the trepidation of a possible washout.

Aviemore defied the odds, dry, while trees round the station waved wildly. 

Not promising for wild camping in the Cairngorm mountains. 

Long northern summer days meant there was still time for a decent hike on top of the five hour train journey.

A test to see how bad the wind was amongst the racing clouds.

So we headed up through the trees.  Lulled in to a false sense of security by their shelter. 

Meall a Bhuachaille

Clearing the forest, on the track to Meall a Bhuachaille, the ferocity hit.

Sideways buffeting all the way up.

Photographs at the top meant I behaved like an erratic cuckoo.  Appearing from the shelter, attempting to stand still, sit still and when that failed lie still.   Just to take a picture of a few distant hills and some clouds.

Yes I know.

bothy at Ryvoan

Camping in the valley decision was reinforced and we headed down to the bothy at Ryvoan.  Not a place to loiter when commandeered by marauding D of E candidates.   Wind tunnelled  through the pass and flapping  multi-coloured tents did not summon a tranquil evening.

So we strolled on. 

Lochan Uaine

By the captured mineral green of Lochan Uaine to a night of relative ‘glamping’ in a campsite with hot showers.

Positive luxury.