Friday eve wasn’t in the cosy pub but spent trundling on the bus to Braemar, then hiking briskly out into the night chill to Auchallater. With the moon occasionally peaking through clouds, my head torch remained mostly off and I enjoyed the moon sparkling on the river and ice on my way out to Callater bothy.

Reaching the loch, the moon had lit up Tolmount beyond and the snow covered hills, and rather than retreating from the cold into the bothy, I decided to have a stroll along the lochside, snapping the odd photo.

My hands soon became pretty cold and I retired to sleep in the bothy, thankfully empty of “boozy party crew” which seems to be the thing nowadays. Glad of an uninterrupted sleep as up well before dawn for the next day’s mission: a travers to Crathie, hopefully catching sunrise high on the plateau.

Heading up to Carn an-t Sagairt Mor, the crampon went on quite early – the snow had a hard crust, and although somebody had post-holed this way the day before leaving now solidified steps, there was the occasional snowfield ready to slide down. I was trying out something new: I was travelling relatively lightweight in gear with inov8 g400 boot and a newly-acquired pair of kahtool KTS crampons which can attach to a softer boot.

The path and footprints disappeared under snow in places but I was soon ascending following the old iron fence posts to the top, scattering a few ptarmigan and hare. The first glow of dawn was beginning to glow but a low cloud layer meant it was unlikely to see daybreak in full glory.

Heading to cross the burn of 2 birches, the snowfield was low in contrast but just enough light now to see there was a drop for a cornice which I had to work my way around. I did have my “whiteout string” with me – a length of dark twine with a carabiner on the end to throw outward creating a visual reference of how the ground lies.

It was bitterly cold but slightly sheltered here so I stopped to eat and refill water from hole in the stream as I doubted there’d be any free-flowing water heading upwards across the plateau.

The rimed cairn of Carn a Choire Bhoidheach is an unimpressive small rocky blob but for me a very important navigational anchor to head off-path across the gently meandering and mostly featureless plateau to the east. Today visibility was limited with an occasional burst of sun almost breaking through the arctic gloom, and on a bearing I took a note of the time and made a start on shuffling towards Coire Boidheach.

The mists, glows and drifts of the white void wrestled with the low winter sun, and in my head the wonder and awe at the desolate beauty, battled with doubt and reason at the contours and direction, eventually declaring a truce in the windswept nook of Coire Boidheach’s sculpted forms of snow.

The next stage of travel was a gently curved tramp avoiding, mostly successfully, hidden bog pools and deep drifts, until again edges and shapes coalesced once more at the upper notch of Coire an Daimh Mhoile.

Here crackled neve from a month prior and pockmarked with dirt, had been mostly covered by an encroaching wall of blue and pure new.

Overconfidence in the stream floor being well frozen was misplaced, and a dunk up to the knee through a collapse warned of worse so I teetered along the gully edge heading down, tired by the battering wind and tempted by the shelter.

Further down the snow turned to a breakable crust and the going was tough. I pondered route at the stream fork: head down to the footbridge and around, a longer and probable plootery mess, or cut the corner of Lochnagar and get hammered by wind again. I chose the latter and it was a fortunate decision.

Making my way over a snowfield, probaly the ‘crooked wreath’ that Cuidhe Crom is name after, a sudden motion in the sky caught my eye – and eagle appeared out of the mist, swooping past closely but eyes fixed on something else than me: a hare amongst boulders, exploding into escape at the last moment, skittered across the snow. The eagle continued cruising along the ridge, making easy work of the storm but not the hares, who scattered hither and tither. Considering I had to occasionally brace myself and drop to one knee to bolster against gusts, this feat of flying was impressive. With my big mitts on, there was no chance of a photo, but a wildlife encounter to savour.

Heading across to the top of the ladder, the wind was intensifying and I was glad to be heading down, with stops to brace against the wind becoming more frequent.

Speaking of the big mitts, a recent purchase: Montane Symphony modular mitt. The intense windchill hadn’t defeated them yet, even without using the additional insulated liner. Half way down the ridge I took out the gauge to measure reading -20c.

I’d spotted a few folk at the col, some had turned back getting the full force of wind now in their faces, but others had stuck around and I realised one was folk I knew from the club out doing some winter skills practice. I hung out for a bit before leaving them to it.

I checked my timetable and I needed to get a jog on, but the track was swathed in bars of snow, and the pack was beginning to weigh.

Approaching the pyramid woods just before sunset I knew I’d reach the end in time, but a fair old clunky and sweaty jog down, glad to get on the bus and chill back to Aberdeen after a worthwhile winter sortie.