Over the next day or so, temperatures plummeted to an eye-watering –20°C during the night and around -16 in the day

When I travel up to Scotland with Gary, transport is always a bit of a logistical dance. We drive up together, but once we’re there he needs the van for work so I’m usually reliant on buses, or on Gary being able to drop me off somewhere in the morning so I can bus my way back later. It limits me to where I can go so over the years I’ve been revisiting the same places - luckily, it’s fairly easy to get a bus from Grantown-on-Spey, where we stay, into Aviemore, and then another up to Glenmore which is a great base for walks – but the buses can be a bit temperamental and I’ve been stranded on more than one occasion when my bus hasn’t turned up – or I’ve stressed over getting back for the last bus knowing if I miss it then I’m goosed!

On this day, Gary was out with his wildlife photography guests near Glenmore, so I cadged a lift and spent the day wandering around Loch Morlich, which was mostly frozen. The forest walk was pure magic. Snow weighed heavily on the branches, bowing the trees into white arches. The air was utterly still, with only the crunch beneath my boots. Nala trotted ahead, never far away, frequently stopping to look back and check I was still there.

There were lots of cross-country skiers gliding through the woodland paths, which looked great fun and this must be a rare chance for them to enjoy deep snow at low level. I was politely asked not to walk in the ski tracks, which was more than fair, and easy enough to avoid. I made my way to the far end of the beach at Loch Morlich and stopped for a bite to eat, pouring myself a herbal tea from my flask. I always carry hot water and a small selection of Pukka tea bags and some coffee so I can choose what I fancy to drink.

Later, I joined Gary and his group at the Cairngorm ski centre. Unsurprisingly, it was busy, full of people making the most of the snow on the slopes. The group were photographing snow buntings, and I watched the comings and goings of these super little birds through my binoculars.

The following day, I joined Gary again as he took his clients into the Findhorn Valley in search of mountain hares. It’s an incredibly beautiful place in the Monadhliath mountains and I never tire of going there. I usually head off on my own with Nala, keeping well away from the group so as not to disturb the photography.

Often, I’ll spot mountain hares when I venture higher up but not today. It was beautiful high up in the hills, no blue skies today, but a soft overcast blanket and everything felt hushed, no wind, no sound but for the crunch of my boots on snow. Absolute stillness and calm – it’s hard to explain how it felt

I eventually descended back into the valley and sat beside the River Findhorn while waiting for the group to return. Parts of the river were frozen, it was extremely cold but still. I sat there drinking from my flask until the group returned.

The next morning brought a shock. Overnight, temperatures rose from –16°C to +10°C, and with that warmth almost every trace of snow disappeared. Meltwater surged into the rivers, swelling them fast. The transformation was surreal.
I headed up Cairngorm Mountain, over 4,000 feet high, where there were still some patches of snow remained but nothing like the deep cover that had blanketed it the day before. I barely saw anyone, apart from a couple of winter skills groups making do with the remaining scraps of snow for their training. To see such a complete change in less than 12 hours was extraordinary.

Eventually, I descended to the ski centre café, found a comfy armchair beside the roaring fire, and sat with a hot bowl of lentil soup. I stayed longer than I probably should have, hypnotised by the flicker of flames. It was lovely.

The next day, it was time to return to Wales after a truly relaxing and restorative visit to the Cairngorms. No huge mountain days this time, just familiar routes I’ve walked many times before.