Skiing in Scotland has been on the ‘to-do’ list for about a decade. The perfect storm of heavy snowfall in the highlands plus COVID-19 in Northern Italy created the conditions required to make the trip north. The last-minute nature of the trip left no time to plan beyond jumping in the car with all mountain gear in tow and driving north. Anticipating the weekend would be busy (and have deteriorating weather) we hightailed it to Glasgow on Thursday evening after work.

Friday morning dawned a cool, mostly clear day in Glasgow. Well stocked (thanks Granny) Jordan’s BMW ate up the windy roads of Loch Lomond side. Gentle snow flurries fueled our excitement (that and Haribo plus Relentless).

The approach road to the lift was clear; good news when you’re in a rear-wheel drive BMW. Our early arrival ensured prompt ticket buying and thus avoided the worst queues of the day. On the snow, there was a complete mix of conditions. The worst was sticky deep snow, but the best was chalky, soft, and powdery and the terrain rivals some of the best in the Alps.

Top runs for the day were over near the flypaper, far skiers left from the top, and ‘the darkside’ of the approach chairlift. The whole plateau area was a delight. It was especially fitting to be wearing my Grandpa’s old ski jacket - Glencoe was his haunt for weekend ski trips, and quite possibly the jacket had been before a few decades earlier.

Cheap as we were, and hopeful for more skiing the next day, we pitched on the road to Loch Etive and wandered to the pub. The next morning was typically Scottish and ‘pishing it down’. But tent + car + location = happy campers.

The wind stopped play in the West Coast areas, unfortunately. Not deterred (‘How bad can it be?’) we strapped skis to backpacks and hoofed it up the bike trails at the Nevis range. Testament to how bad it was I have no photos. It was too windy to stand up. 0 turns were had. A retreat was made. Jordan took one photo at the top.

Heading south for a night under a roof we saw that some good skiing was done in the Lake District. Sunday’s forecast for the Lakes was better than Scotland, so south it was. After desperately trying to drive straight through when it started raining heavily, we parked at the base of Helvellyn and again loaded up the skis.

The approach walk up to the mine and then onto Raise was not too long. Though warned of the wind it was barely a light breeze compared to the previous day. The ridge was windblown and bare, but over the top of Raise, there was a gully that had England’s premier ski tow in it. The snow was continuous for at least 20 turns and was extremely novel. Underfoot it was ‘peasoup’ but we didn’t care.

Turns had, the trudge down the valley resumed. OJ for the blood sugar and back south to the flatlands.