Backcountry skiers can always sniff out magical conditions despite a lack of snow in the resorts

As outlined in last week’s column, the winter of 2016/17 turned out to be well below par for Scottish skiing, with the five ski centres recording a historically low number of skier days – the official statistic, released at the end of June, was 54,156, or about a quarter of the average for the previous five years. But even though the big snowfalls were less frequent than usual, and often followed by rapid, unhelpful thaws, there were still good days to be had, and not just in the resorts. In spite of the challenging conditions, the hardcore members of Scotland’s backcountry skiing community still managed to squeeze in their fair share of memorable sessions.

In the middle of November, the Scottish ski season got off to an unexpectedly early start when a January-sized dump of snow came out of nowhere and transformed conditions at many ski touring hotspots from “wet grass” to “fresh powder” overnight. Ski photographer extraordinaire Mike Guest was one of the lucky few who were in position to take advantage when the skies finally cleared mid-week, and he bounced up to the reservoir beside Meall nan Tarmachan in a bright orange 4x4 which he appeared to have stolen from 1983 in order to get some early season turns. Of the pictures he sent me shortly afterwards, one was particularly memorable: a skier blasting down the south face of Beinn Ghlas, partially obscured by a great bow-wave of sparkling fresh snow, with Loch Tay doing its best impression of Lake Tahoe in the distance.

Sadly, all four events of the 2016/17 Freedom Series – Scotland’s nascent freeride contest circuit – had to be cancelled due to sub-optimal conditions, either good snow but

no visibility or good visibility but no snow. Still, the organisers at least had some fun scouting possible locations: on a recce to the Ben Lawers Range in February, event organiser Iain Ramsay-clapham and his crew captured images of the west side of Meall Corranaich so thickly covered in new snow it looked like a freshly iced cake, while in March, on the day before the (cancelled) Corrie Challenge event at Nevis Range, lensman Hamish Frost took one of the best snaps of the season: skier Liam Swanson launching himself off the cornice into Chancers with thick bands of cloud snaking their way between the sun-kissed peaks in the background.

In May, I received an email from ski guide James Thacker which began with the words: “The Ben Nevis Ski Weekend was finally a success!” A course designed to introduce advanced skiers to the steep gullies around Scotland’s highest mountain, this was originally planned for the winter of 2015/16, but it had to be cancelled after both Thacker and his

They captured images of Meall Corranaich so thickly covered in snow it looked like a freshly iced cake

co-guide Andy Nelson broke their legs in separate incidents in the Alps. Twelve months on, and with all his limbs fully functional again, Thacker reported that “despite a pretty lean season, conditions on Ben Nevis were good high up, and despite some walking we made descents of the Coire Leis and Observatory, No.3 and No.4 Gullies.” The pictures he took showed there was still plenty of soft spring snow lying in the gullies, even if overhead conditions while they were there were a tad on the foggy side.

Blair Aitken first made a name for himself as a serious backcountry skier in 2005, when his film Cano

Bagging premiered at the Edinburgh Mountain Film Festival. Shot in New Zealand, it showed Aitken and fellow Scots Tom and Robin Hutchison skiing down the sides of several Kiwi volcanoes, including the mighty Mount Ngauruhoe which will be familiar to fans of the Lord of the

Rings films as director Peter Jackson used it as a stand-in for Mount Doom. Last season, however, Aitken was enjoying lines every bit as spectacular in Scotland. Not long after James Thacker’s email pinged into my inbox, Aitken sent me a link to a short film he’d made entitled Broken Lines. Shot on Ben Nevis at the tail-end of last season, it shows him and a group of friends making some stunning descents off the summit under almost cloudless skies, with the spring snow in No.4 Gully looking particularly tantalising.

Statistically, then, the winter of 2016/17 may not have been a vintage one, but watching Broken Lines it’s hard to feel too downhearted. If there’s a moral to Aitken’s story, perhaps it’s this: that even in the worst years for Scottish skiing, there will still be a few magical days, for those who are prepared to drop everything and go when it all comes together.