Country diary 50 years ago: A wild week in the Cairngorms

Originally published in the Guardian on 27 February 1967

THE CAIRNGORMS: It didn't seem at all strange to discover a bedraggled reindeer sheltering from the storm just inside the entrance to the chair-lift the other day, for the wind was like a knife and the ski-runs like tilted ice-rinks. Of course, he might have merely come in for the company - you could see his fellows higher up the snowbound hillside - or he might have been hoping for a chance of something more succulent than the frozen heather roots these creatures seem to live on. But he wasn't very friendly, responding to a cautious stroking by an angry swing of the head, so I left him standing disconsolate near the ticket office and looking as if he'd lost both Father Christmas and his sledge. I suppose they're harmless enough although a notice farther down the mountain warns "Beware of Reindeer," but doesn't explain why. These were the only wild life we saw in the hills during a wild week, except for the ptarmigan in their white winter plumage hurrying through the snow, and once a handsome pheasant strutting across the track through the Rothiemurchus pines. Indeed, there were days, so fierce the winds, when these popular slopes were even deserted by the humans who normally at this time of year swarm like ants, and one day, especially, when I seemed quite alone in the mountains. Ski-ing that day was out of the question - you needed ice-axe and crampons just to get across the runs - and the wind so strong on the plateau it took you all your time to avoid being blown over the edge. But down by Loch Morlich in the late afternoon the wind suddenly dropped for half an hour, and there was the quiet splendour of purpling hills and a foreground of silvered loch with the birches and pines showing black against a golden sunset like a Chinese painting.