THE FIRST FEW HOURS after a heavy fall of snow are always the most special. Silence envelops a changed landscape, and our inner child awakens. A blank canvas awaits. There is a sense of urgency to take it all in whilst it is still untouched, and an inevitable tinge of sadness when it starts to melt. It takes no time at all for the snow to lose its fresh vitality: tracks appear; the drip, drip, drip of the thaw takes hold; and there’s a sense of returning to the mundane. The magic of snow is its ability to transform, to bring newness, to stir our curiosity.
FEELING PRESENT
The Coulin Forest is the region of hills between Glen Carron and Glen Torridon. A 'hidden gem' of a place, its peaks are slightly less charismatic than the giants of Torridon to the north, but they attract a fraction of the numbers of those hills, are studded with beautiful high lochs, and boast some impressive mountain architecture of their own. I planned to climb one of the region’s Corbetts, Fuar Tholl, and - if energy and light permitted - one of its Munros, Sgorr Ruadh.
