HOME COMFORTS THAT PROVIDED RESPITE FROM WINTER GLOOM

THE speaker could talk the talk and walk the walk but the one thing he wasn't prepared to do was sit down and write about his experiences.

His reasoning was simple. Time is precious so this was something of a Catch-22 situation: writing a book would require too much of a break away from actually walking the mountains.

It made perfect sense. I'm often asked when the next book is coming out but despite having had a couple of projects in the pipeline for a while, I'm at the stage where every day in the hills is more important than spending time working indoors.

This reality has been crucial during the first few months of this year where, for one reason or many others, I haven't so far been able to make the inroads I'd hoped for with my mountain plans. All very well compiling a wish list, bringing it to fruition is a different matter.

January provided a frustrating start, incessant rainfall in the eastern half of the country ruling out most hill-going and even making travel over to the unusually peaceful winter conditions of the north-western hills difficult and unpredictable.

Days out were confined to snatched hours on home ground between the downpours. February was an improvement but that wasn't saying much. A long weekend based around Aviemore was as far as we travelled, three days where high winds and avalanche warnings restricted ambitions for the highest summits.

And so to March and the partial resumption of normal service as the winds switched course. The problem now, however, was similar to that of the speaker who didn't want to write – too many mountain commitments that didn't involve being outdoors. There were book reviews and writing assignments, exhibitions and talks; all worthy and enjoyable, but combined with day-to-day life's usual upheavals it made multi-day trips impossible. And this is where the local hills came into their own.

The shorter travelling times and kinder weather meant it became feasible to fit in some great single days out either side of the bigger indoor events. First up was the Skills for the Hills event in Stirling, a day of displays involving mountain rescue and dog search (Sarda) teams, plus talks on first aid, navigation and weather forecasting and so on, while most of the big outdoors organisations were on hand to chat over all aspects of mountain safety and awareness.

It was good to catch up with friends old and new as well as engaging with the hundreds who poured through the doors to enjoy the atmosphere. I'm always grateful, but not surprised, at the generosity of those who attend these events, and my 2026 collection for Scottish Mountain Rescue got off to an amazing start.

The attendance was even more impressive when you consider that the weather was perfect for a day in the mountains, and we couldn't resist nipping up a local hill to try and catch a sunset before the journey home.

The second not-to-be missed experience was a presentation by Kirsty Mack, the first Scottish woman to summit K2. This mountaineer extraordinaire from Bridge of Allan was the guest speaker at the Grampian Club dinner in Dundee and she held the room in the palm of her hand as she recounted her adventures on the world's highest peaks. Her photos and film clips were breathtaking, her raison d'etre straight from the heart and as with all the best speakers, the understated delivery made her achievements all the more human and remarkable.

But the more you hear about mountains, the more you can't wait to get back out there and swirling around these pivotal events, it was great to be able to fit in some grand days out.

Some were brief moments of calm such as a dry stop-off from a rain-soaked journey home from a meeting to nip up Dunsinane, the hill fort that is said to have provided Shakespeare with the inspiration to pen Macbeth, and our evening excursion on Lewis Hill.

Visits to those wonderful mountains in miniature – Clachnaben and Bennachie – were driven by the fact that they were in the only corner of the country with decent dry conditions, and we got lucky with our traverse over Ben Chonzie: as we crunched over the ice sheets in the higher parts, we watched the storms raging off to the west.

Then there were the blue sky days in Glen Doll and Glen Clova, the former involving a successful search for an underground howff in the dramatic Winter Corrie, the latter a stunning wander around the contrasting light and shadow on the heights above the frozen ground and snow-laden faces of lochs Brandy and Wharral.

The bigger and more far-flung journeys resume this weekend, but sometimes it's good to be reminded of just what you have right on your doorstep.