EXPLORE BRITAIN’S ARCTIC
MARCH Ben Macdui Cairngorms
The British Isles should be colder than they are. Lying on the same latitude as parts of Canada, Alaska and Siberia, it’s only the warming effects of the transatlantic Gulf Stream that lend us our temperate climate.
It’s not always been that way. Glaciers covered northern Britain during the last Ice Age, giving shape to many of the landscapes we love today. It’s among these ice-carved uplands that it’s possible to find the closest thing to ‘arctic’ the UK has: the Cairngorm Plateau. And king of the Cairngorms is Ben Macdui.
Ben Macdui is the UK’s second highest peak, but only gets a fraction of the visitors of its big brother Ben Nevis. Geography plays a part in that. Macdui’s isolated location means reaching its summit requires a little more commitment; there is no ‘tourist track’ to the top. It’s also not as Instagramable as its more handsome sibling, lacking anything with the immediate impact of Nevis’ rugged north face. But when cold north-easterlies bring the arctic weather to our islands, the Cairngorms are transformed, and Ben Macdui along with them.
The car park at the Cairngorm ski centre is the jumping off point for many an adventure around these parts. In the depths of winter, with snow clinging to the mountains, the slopes of Coire Cas play host to skiers and boarders. The scene is marred somewhat by the industrial infrastructure of the lifts that transport the sliders up the flanks of Cairn Gorm, from where gravity brings them back down in graceful swoops and sprays of snow. But beyond the rising spur of Fiacaill a’ Choire Chais, across the open saddle by which Stob Coire an t-Sneachda and Cairn Gorm are joined, and down into the hollow of Coire Raibeirt, the atmosphere changes...
Loch Avon lies at the head of Glen Avon, long and narrow and pinched by high crags. In the grip of winter, it could be a scene straight out of the Scandinavian arctic. Ice clings to the shoreline, spreading in sheets of white and blue towards the centre of the loch. Snow smooths the contours of the surrounding slopes until, when the faces climb too steeply, it gives way to dark, frost-glistened rocks that rise above the pristine paleness.
Around the head of Loch Avon a wall of crags brings the glen to an abrupt conclusion. Tucked away below these is a sea of boulders, broken off from the faces above by the freeze-thaw cycles of centuries. In amongst these is the fabled Shelter Stone. The huge house-sized rock is propped up on smaller boulders, forming an enclosed hollow beneath which has been augmented by piled stone walls to create a dim but surprisingly spacious shelter. This ‘howff’ has provided overnight accommodation for countless climbers and walkers – either planned or not – but in winter it is not uncommon to have to dig your way in and, when it snows heavily overnight, out in the morning.
In the hanging valley separating the Munro Tops of Càrn Etchachan and Stacan Dubha, where eagles soar and ptarmigans hide, the summit of Ben Macdui drifts into view over a frozen lake. Cupped below its upper slopes, Loch Etchachan is the highest body of water of its size in the UK; no lake, loch or tarn is both higher and larger. With the surface covered by ice, the reflected view of the summit is masked. From here, the UK’s second highest mountain offers little of exception; it’s high but rounded, with its gentle curves smoothed further by a blanket of snow. But Ben Macdui has yet to play its hand.
Up until 1847 there was some suspicion that Ben Macdui may be higher than Ben Nevis. The trig point built by Ordnance Survey in 1847 and the subsequent survey brought an end to such speculation. A cairnmounted trig point still stands there today, along with an ornate direction marker, but both can be buried by deep drifts in winter. Aside from these, the summit is a wild solitary place. But the crowning glory of Ben Macdui’s summit lies not on the mountain, but around it.
Cornices cling to the lip of its steep southern crags, and beyond these, over the deep gouge of the Lairig Ghru pass, the most shapely peaks of the Cairngorm Mountains link arms around a geological wonder. From The Devil’s Point in the south to Srò na Lairige in the north, eight summits over 1000m high stand guard over eight corries; vast chunks of mountain that have been rent from the landscape in huge bites. Ridges separate them, gullies and burns pattern them, and the texture-enhancing qualities of ice, snow, and the low light and long shadows of winter turn these ten-or-so square kilometres of missing mountain-scape into an awe-inspiring testimonial to the power of the glacier. Nowhere in the UK is there a view to match it. Nowhere in the Cairngorms is this view better seen than from the summit of Ben Macdui. And never is there a better time to see it than winter.