Scottish panoramas The iconic red deer of the Cairngorms on a winter hillside

BARRY DIDCOCK

AS the first major snowfalls settle in glens and on hillsides, the landscape begins to take on the dramatic and forbidding look which, depending on the severity of the winter, it will keep until spring. Few areas of the country match up better with the picture postcard idea of a Scottish winter than the Cairngorms, where this picture was taken on December 8, 2014.

The place is Glenshee, on the edge of the Cairngorms National Park. It’s known in Gaelic as Gleann Shith, the Glen of the Fairies, but it’s also the glen of the red deer, which graze on grasses, sedges, heather and woody plants and live in the Cairngorms in large herds. Except for during mating season the deer tend to stay in single sex groups and this image shows four stags foraging for food on a hillside which already has its first covering of snow, their antlers picked out in silhouette against the sky.

If the image seems familiar or evokes a response there’s a reason. Just under 200 years ago, in 1824, the English painter Edwin Landseer journeyed north from his home in London to enjoy the first of several visits to the Highlands. It was during one of these that he made the sketch that would become his most famous work: The Monarch Of The Glen, completed in 1851 as part of a threepainting commission for what was euphemistically known as the Refreshment Room at the House Of Lords. When the ermine-clad peers refused to stump up the £150 fee, The Monarch Of The Glen passed through a variety of hands and eventually ended up in the Scottish National Gallery. By then it had become roaringly popular and emblematic of what you might call the “biscuit tin” view of Scotland.

Landseer’s stag has 12 points, or tines, to its antlers, making it a Royal stag rather the Monarch variety, which tend to have 16 points (asymmetric antlers featuring uneven numbers of points can occur). An Imperial stag, meanwhile, would have 14 points. None of ours look like they can even muster 12, though they are no less impressive for it.

That said, you might smell them before you see them, especially if they are present in numbers. That’s what happened to mountaineer Brian Shackleton, a descendent of polar explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton, while walking in Glenshee in 2017. Catching a “very, very strong smell of deer” as he crested a ridge he found himself looking at a grazing herd of between 800 and 1000 deer. There were so many there was steam rising off them.

Deer produce considerable amounts of methane as well as steam, and herds can have a detrimental effect on biodiversity. Accordingly, there are increasing calls for legally enforceable culls. Landseer’s romantic 19th century vision of the Scottish landscape is one thing, maintaining the living mountain in the teeth of 21st century environmental collapse quite another.

What to read: In The Cairngorms, a collection of poetry by famed nature writer Nan Shepherd.

WHY DO YOU GO THERE?

Braeriach is representative of all Scottish mountains for me. But I thought I should probably try to be more specific. I’ve chosen Braeriach and the mountains around the Lairig Ghru because the area is, in the winter at least, open and wild and above all quiet. A total escape from all manmade things.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU GO?

Not nearly often enough. I live in Cheshire and would dearly love to be further north, but practically it makes more sense to be more central with easier access to London or an airport. As soon as the first proper snows come and travel is allowed, I’ll be back.

HOW DID YOU DISCOVER IT?

My dad was (and still is) a keen hillwalker. Even though I grew up in the least bumpy part of Scotland, in Troon, the mountains were always a favourite destination. And they became that much more important once I had moved down to London because they were a very necessary antidote to big city life.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE MEMORY?

A couple of years ago I experienced one of my most joyful days in the mountains, climbing Braeriach, as well as Sgor an Lochain Uaine and Cairn Toul, in the snow, with my dogs, Olive and Mabel. It was 25 miles, 8,000ft feet of climbing and just me and the fur sherpas for 12 hours. Bliss.

WHO DO YOU TAKE?

Olive and Mabel. My partner Caroline loves long walks but not necessarily ones which involve a gradient. And certainly not snow. Quite often I end up climbing with a chap called Iain Cameron, who is a published snow expert. We talk about things like wind slab avalanches while the dogs eat sheep droppings.

WHAT DO YOU TAKE?

More gear than you think possible to carry. But, on serious note, it is not a place to be caught lacking in clothing or equipment. And I’m a sucker for all the gear. The people at Tiso, the outdoor store in Perth, rub their hands when they see me coming.

WHAT DO YOU LEAVE BEHIND?

Nothing. Litter is a national disgrace in Scotland and the UK as a whole. Of all the countries I have visited, I have never seen anywhere else where it seems to be a problem on such a scale. I find it infuriating and baffling that people who go to visit the beauty of the countryside will be so selfish as to then spoil it. Leave nothing but footprints. And paw prints.

SUM IT UP IN FIVE WORDS.

Cold. Vast. Wild. Quiet. Beautiful.

WHAT TRAVEL SPOT IS ON YOUR POST-LOCKDOWN WISH LIST?

To get back to Australia and visit Caroline’s brother Johnny and his family. And get some Vitamin D. But I’ll miss the dogs.

SUSAN SWARBRICK