Beyond the Secret Howff

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By the time we had reached the top of Creag an Lochain, the wind was screaming from the north-east and then the snow hit us almost as a solid wall. There have only been a handful of times in my lifetime on the hills when I have experienced a blizzard of this magnitude. Any communication between us was impossible because of flapping cagoule hoods and howling wind. Soon it became very difficult to remain in visual contact with the others and we just plodded along in our own little world. Eventually, just ahead of us we could just make out something of a greenish-blue colour. A few more steps and we all came to a halt on the edge of an icefield, which sloped at an alarming angle down to our right.

Though we couldn’t communicate, we individually realised the wind had pushed us off the crest of the ridge and into the headwall of the burn, which comes off Carn Creagach and which earlier freeze and thaw conditions had converted to solid ice. This was beyond our skiing experience. The question was how to cross it. We still did not have steel edges on our skis, so were unsure whether we could get a grip with our, by now slightly rounded, edges. Should we attempt to cross it on skis, take our skis off, or perhaps turn directly into the wind and driving snow to regain the ridge? This alternative, though practical, was not appealing.

We each stood there deliberating using our sticks to brace ourselves against the wind which threatened to drive us on to the ice. Doug Mollison made a decision. He bent down, took off his skis and we watched as he slung them over his shoulder and edged on to the ice. Almost immediately the wind caught him, spun him round and he was off at high speed down the steep gully and out of our sight. We each stood there in silence, our slowing brains taking in the situation. We knew he would not come to real harm. There were no outcrops of any kind. He would have to find his own way back.