Don Juan learns to ski - Lecht and Cairngorm 26/27 January 2008

vThe last few weekends have brought unprecedented (in recent years) amounts of snow to the Scottish Hills, and my incessant raving about the sheer brilliance of it all has inspired my good friend Don Juan to make a visit. Don Juan’s never skied before, but does ride a motorbike so I figure he must be good at balancing.

Some weeks ago, we set a date of January 27/28 for Don to venture Northwards. That’ll be the Jan 27/28 that immediately followed the “Great thaw of January 26 2008” then. Yes, in true Scottish skiing-style, Friday has brought double-figure temperatures to even the highest summits, and all that lovely white stuff is thawing so fast that parts of Speyside already resemble an inland sea. But more on that story later.

Don arrives in Glasgow on Friday evening, where we head out for a few jars. In the Chip (the bar bit, we’re not classy enough for the restaurant) we lapse into conversation with an interesting couple called Kevin and Karen, and a mention of skiing elicits another conversation with a drunk lad called Eric the Viking. Eric may be a bit drunk, but he is every bit as enthusiastic about the wonders of Glencoe as I am, and many glasses are charged to its name. Eric disappears when his even drunker friend Dougie attempts to snog Karen, who is more bothered about her husband’s lack of interest in the situation than Dougie’s attempts at pulling.

Far too many drinks later, we stumble out into the wild streets of Glasgow and find our way home.

The next morning, we find ourselves heading Northwards in the trusty company Astra towards Aviemore. Fuelled by a Maccy D’s sausage and egg mcmuffin, we admire the flooded wastes of the Tay and Spey valleys and pitch up at Aviemore Tourist Information Centre. The enlightened woman behind the counter informs us that the ski road to Cairngorm is under water, so advises the Lecht instead.

I normally avoid the Lecht – it’s a bit too far and not very challenging – but as a beginner’s resort it’s ideal. Don is able to procure a beginner’s lift pass and all equipment for a bargainous £17, which is tremendous value. Much hilarity is had by Don falling over a lot, and generally getting smoked on the slopes by five-year old skiers. He sticks at it, though, and impressively is the last one on the hill at the end of the day. The Lecht staff have to physically carry him off the magic carpet lift and into the base station to return his equipment. The French assistant in here is having an animated conversation with some French tourists in her own language, so for a minute it feels very alpine. We get outside into a dark, slush filled car park with howling rain and the feeling soon goes!

We book into a very nice B&B in Aviemore, and head out on the town in search of hot snowboarding chicks. The Winking Owl offers hot chickens instead, which is a start. They also have a beer called “sheepshagger” – popular with visiting Aberdonians, apparently.
Hot climbing chicks are found in Café Mambo, who have been defeated in their attempt on Ben Macdui today by the weather and elected to get sloshed instead. They can’t leave because their car is stuck on a newly-created island amidst the rising floodwater! We consume much beer ourselves, before a group of Edinburgh lads muscle in on our action, although they do buy us whiskies to compensate. Don Juan and I decide that champion skiers like ourselves should retire in preparation for a morning’s skiing tomorrow, but its still half midnight and we have to wake up the B&B owner to let us in.

The next morning is mild – but crucially DRY! Our initial attempt to access the ski road is thwarted by the Caspian sea having migrated to Rothiemurchas, but the back road from Boat of Garten is passable to we get up to Cairngorm eventually. Don Juan blanches at the considerable cost of equipment hire and lift pass compared to the Lecht, but is still very keen to get up on the hill. I reckon that the ptarmigan basin is a logical next step from the Lecht’s nursery slopes, so we get ourselves together and board the train. Despite my love of all things flanged (that’s wheels I’m talking about there) I’m no fan of the train – Cairngorm seems very commercialised and doesn’t have the clubby feel of the other Scottish ski areas, but it does seem to have retained snow.

We emerge from the Bakerloo line at Ptarmigan station, and I discover to my horror that the Ptarmigan Basin is closed due to high winds. Thanks for telling us that when we bought our lift passes, CG! This means that Don (Who’s ski experience remember consists of three hours on a nursery slope) has to face a blue run to get down to Coire Cas. We adopt the unconventional technique of me skiing backwards and holding him in a snowplough until the traverse.
The traverse is a good confidence-building run for Don, as the long runout means he can flatline it down and not worry about stopping.

Don’s skiing improves fantastically, and we make it down to the zigzags with him doing comparatively few falls. By the time we arrive at the Coire Cas T-Bar, things are looking good. We get on the T-Bar (at the second attempt!) and another good run down the Cas is had. I head up for a fast run down, and make a tit of myself while showing off by trying a jump in the Gunbarrel, catching an edge and doing a spectacular face plant.

Regrettably, Don has booked himself on the 1545 train home from Glasgow. I reckon he’d assumed Scotland was probably not much bigger than the Isle of Man, and hadn’t reckoned on the three-hour drive back. We reach Perth an hour before the train is due to leave Glasgow, and make an executive decision to head for Edinburgh instead and pick the train up there.

Don is very happy though, and I am pleased to have made it out into the hills despite the thaw. Dossing around on the nursery slopes with Don has been a top doss – next time I’ll hire telemarks and we can both fall over all day!