NOTES FROM GLENSHEE
Glenshee is Scotland's largest ski area: I do not say 'resort'. From the winter of 2013 .
At the top of the Meall Odhar lift, skier after skier pulled off to gaze, in wonder I think, down the glen.
MUCH SNOW FELL IN THE EAST; it was mid February, and we went to Glenshee for the day. They had a poor season in 2012, suffering the early thaw and getting nothing from the late snowfall. But survived, yet again.
The surprise was to find a new chairlift. Small but well formed, the single seater Baddoch chair takes you up a hundred metres or so to the Cairnwell-side cafe and the lifts above it. It was quickly apparent that every run was covered, and that while temperatures stayed low the snow would be excellent: thick, grippy, minimally groomed.
By 10 the whole of the big car park was full and the overflow on the west side of the road looked full too. I hope they got the revenue to keep the place open, and record with a bit of shame that I took a senior pass at one-third off.
On the Sunnyside there was even more snow. Being that bit warmer, it was heavier, and hard work for the Alps-softened legs. No new lifts over here and indeed I think that every lift, and every hanger on every lift, was probably there in the great April snow of 1983.
A liftie and his handiwork in the Fionn Choire
The Fionn Choire is two hills away from the road and looks straight across to the big Cairngorm hills. It is a quiet, spacious place and it was good to see skiers making the use of the whole of the far hillside, picking their own routes between bits of crag. As we did ourselves.
Lunch at the Meall Odhar cafe, and the best soup of the week, clearly home-made. It's just a wooden hut with no road access but they manage fine. Just as they would in the Alps.
At 2 o'clock the sun came out, flooding Glenshee as far down as the woods above the Spittal. At the top of the Meall Odhar lift, skier after skier pulled off to gaze, in wonder I think, down the glen. It was time for the finale -- a trip back to the road, and across to the lengthening queue for the Cairnwell chair. This bit of living history is from the heroic age of stretchy ski-pants and cable bindings and delivers 240 lucky people an hour to Cairnwell summit and the Tiger run.
The Tiger is black, but in these conditions not much of a test, and I do like the sense of being a bit cheeky, enjoying a run that heads straight for a busy main road, and ends just a few metres away from it. Well, more tea and yet more Scottish baking from the cafe, which is like the rest of Glenshee: it is a bit rough, it is good value, and it is home.