CHAPTER XLI 



CAIRN TOUL : AN ARCTIC CLIMB 



DOWN in the glens rain, sleet, and soft snow had 

 fallen continuously for many days, carried on a raw 

 north-easter. The glass steadily crept backwards. 

 Then, without warning, the air cleared one evening, and next 

 morning broke with the ground in the grip of the frost, the air 

 clear and still, and all the high hills free of mist almost to their 

 summits. Even the lesser hills carried a thick covering of fresh 

 snow, and their slopes were of an unbroken white, except 

 where moving herds of deer showed up as black specks against 

 the surrounding expanse of whiteness. In the big glen the 

 larches were still golden, and some of the birches retained 

 their brilliant autumn colouring. The river here was faintly 

 peat coloured, and no breath of wind disturbed the calm of 

 the deep placid pools. Over the little village of Inverey blue 

 smoke hung, and from across the river came the strains 

 of the pipes. In Glen Lui many stags were grazing, and 

 hoodie crows flew restlessly, their harsh cries carrying far. 



The ascent of Cairn Tout may be said to commence where 

 the waters of the Derry and the Luibeag meet, for here the 

 road is left behind and the track strikes west up Glen Lui- 

 beag, perhaps the most picturesque glen of the Cairngorm 

 hills. Here, at a height of 1,500 feet and more, are splendid 

 specimens of the native Scots fir, most of them veterans of 

 over a hundred years and possessing a beauty and symmetry 

 which firs in a plantation can never acquire. Many of these 

 pine trees lie as they fell during a great storm of former 

 years, their stems bleached by summer sun and winter 

 storm. 



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