Walking in a winter wonderland

Scotland is a haven for walkers and hill climbers but the winter months transform the landscape into a place of magic. Writer, Kenneth Stephen, takes one of his favourite routes, Loch an Eilein, in the Cairngorm National Park and finds a whole new perspective.

It was the Scottish-born naturalist, John Muir, who urged us to experience the wild in close-up, just to understand its character. Muir would climb trees thick with ice or camp under stars just to gain knowledge of what twilight cool felt like on the skin.

When I ventured into the December frost to circle Loch an Eilein, it was only after looking at the car's temperature gauge reading minus 4 degrees, I realised I'd forgotten to pack my gloves.

The camera, and various lenses, were there. Below a crescent moon, I pulled on my waterproofs. I had even managed to spray my hiking shoes with water repellant the night before, excited at the prospect of a trip up the A9, through highland Perthshire, to the Cairngorms.

My anticipation soared as the outlines of the mountains poked through the clearing darkness of morning and the house lamps of Aviemore twinkled like a string of Christmas lights.

Leaving the car park, however, I was filled with unease. "No gloves!"

Only last year we had wrapped the kids in so much thermal wear we couldn't squeeze the youngest into the back carrier "Better to be prepared," I said, apologetically, folding excess snowsuit below the fastening straps.

Out we set, though, and soon the beauty of the place made the kids forget their stiffness. There was fallen tree roots to climb over and little 'fairy passages' branching off the path to the loch.

A vision in white

Alone, this time, I cursed careless preparation. I thought of Muir, imagining he might be proud of me, experiencing nature so close to the skin. Thankfully, Loch an Eilein soon forced me to focus my attention elsewhere.

With pink fingers in pockets, I walked into an Alpine terrain transformed by winter. The Birch trees blended in colour with the frosted grass and gorse. The silvery white blanket was broken, here and there, by browning fern and the greens of mature Scots Pine. The loch itself was glassed with ice like a curling rink. In summer, water bounces light across its surface. Today, the loch was dark under lifting mist. The six-thousand-year-old-castle, gentle in other seasons, seemed a likely setting for a Gothic drama. In fact, so early into the five kilometre walk, I didn't want to lift my fingers to the biting air but it was impossible to keep them off the camera.

Ospreys and biscuits

Loch an Eilein, translated from Gaelic, means Loch of the Island. The castle which sits there was once a safe refuge for drovers and a nesting ground for Osprey until 1900. The author, Elizabeth Grant, referred to the memorable birds perched on the castle walls in the famous book about her childhood on the Rothiemurchus Estate, Memoirs of a Highland Lady. This morning, nothing and no one stirs here apart from me. The forest is waking. You can hear smaller birds by their twitter but they haven't yet come down from the high tops.

I was day-dreaming of completing the entire walk in splendid solitude when I was met by a black and white Collie Dog. Its owner emerged from the white washed stone cottage which sits amongst out-buildings on the left shore of the loch. In his hand: two Digestive biscuits. "For the Robin Red Breast," he said. "It's been feeding here every morning."

A wintry picnic

The forests around Loch an Eilein are famed for a more elusive bird, not that a biscuit-munching Robin was unwelcome. The Scottish Crossbill lives among the Rowan, Alder and Pine trees. Ornithologists scour below the peaks of Coire Buidhe and Creag Fhiaclach, trying to catch a rare sighting of the finch regarded as the only bird native to Britain.

I kept my eyes to the tree-tops for a few hundred yards until the path crossed a footbridge and signs came into view for Lairig Ghru and Glen Einich. Here the memory of the Digestive biscuits returned and I decided it was time for a snack and some hot coffee.

The Rothiemurchus Estate recently won an award for the best picnic spot in Scotland. As the steam from my flask rose into the air and the forest, dressed in white, stretched out before me, it wasn't difficult to see why the judges were so impressed.

When the Visitor Centre and shop came into view at the end of the route, my face tingled. My entire body felt refreshed; something only a winter walk can achieve. I had spent 1.50 on a parking ticket and a map but left so much richer in spirit. I had seen a familiar landscape dressed in a different, seasonal, garment, and left with a new impression. Winter walking in Scotland offers something so unique even Muir would have stood in awe. Just remember to pack your gloves.