I’d had a few weekends where chores and tiredness or plain old bad weather had impinged on adventures, and I was conscious that winter was slipping away. Assorted plans of traverses, skiing, igloos and snowholes were likely to be shelved until the next time around, but with a day window I’d at least make it to one of the biggies again, with a bus/bike/hike to Ben Avon.

It’s a long day out and the 30+ km is a tough ask with snow cover higher up which would slow progress – I dug out my Airnimal Rhino (foldable mountain bike) and decided to bike a good chunk of it. It’s a faff dismantling and packing it into a holdall for the bus, but would keep the trip within daylight.

From Keiloch I cranked onwards through the woods, through the various deer fences then out onto the moorland, stopping to chat to some DOE kids with huge backpacks who’d come from Loch Builg, then peched up towards Bealach Dearg.

I could smell burning and soon enough was passing through a battlefield of recently scorched land as far as one could see towards Cairn Liath. Invercauld doing their usual archaic violence on the landscape, desperate to bludgeon nature in advance of their April deadline despite a high-risk alert being broadcast to campers, and the imminent national park ban on fire over the summer – one rule for the little people, another for the landed aristocracy.

I dumped the bike in a rocky cleft and made down the scritchy path, a few old patches of muirburn muddy and spartan and entirely illustrating the lie that it’s good for nature. I retrospect I should have rid further up the hill and then down to the river Gairn. Soon enough I was at the Allt Eas Mhor – foaming with snow melt, and i had to follow upstream until I could sneak across, thankfully without donning the water shoes.

A steep thrunge saw me up on to the shank of Stuc Garbh Bheag and then distracted by angular tors before heading on to look upstream along the Allt an Eas Mhoir, I’d made a good choice as I could see various banked-out bits of path and some collapsed snow banks that would have been tough going to negotiate.

At my first plateau tor, Stob Dubh an Eas Bhig, i could hear ptarmigan around but not see them as they padded through the snow, until almost on top of some which suddenly fluttered. I decided to make my way to the gem-hunters corrie, which was as expected deep in crumbling snow, then on to the left bit of the upper Allt an Eas Mhoir, which also had an impressive snow wall. One year I’ll need to do a snowhole here.

I was a bit behind schedule so skipped the main top and headed to Clach Choutsaich. I stopped for a quick lunch, just managing without gloves to get some munch down before the windchill defeated that, and I dug out the mitts. I’d hoped to head on to the Meur Gorm Craigs further north-east but the extra few miles wasn’t happening in the time available. I headed south the final plateau tor of the day, Stuc Garbh Mhor.

Earlier I’d spotted the two eastern stream gullies, the Allt Phouple and Allt Bad a Mhonaidh and though that despite generally good snow cover they were a bit “thin” nonetheless as the descent slope steepened I managed a few glissades in the soft thawing snow, careful to not teeter over into the depths of the gully where I’d seen a few holes. The reason these gullies have less snow than expected is down to the wind – when there’s been major snowfall, the winds hasn’t been in it’s usual westerly direction. Not much chance this year of snow tunnels on this side.

Back below the snowline the sun came back out and the heat was welcome in drying my glissading snow-soaked arse, and it was a sweaty effort across the rough ground to the bridge over the Gairn. I glugged my remaining water, and it was up the Allt na Claise Moire to get back to find the wheels cached in a rocky nook (point dropped on map app – made the mistake before of struggling to find it). Once on the landrover track, I took a moment to enjoy the view of Lochnagar in the fading sunlight, before letting gravity do it’s thing, a swift but concentrated (small wheels can only handle rocks of a certain size) whirl back, and the breeze from speed was welcome.