Could someone tell me who decides the date of Easter each year? Is it the Government, is it the Church? Whoever it is they screwed up big time this year.
I was in Ullapool on Friday and Saturday, a lovely west highland town that relies on tourism. The chap who runs the campsite there looked across the site where there less than half a dozen caravans, one tent and one camper (mine). He shrugged and told me it was the quietest Easter in Ullapool he had ever known. “There’s going to be a big long lull in business now until the summer season starts,” he lamented.
The weather, of course, was foul. Arctic blasts all weekend, which had been well documented by the media, so people obviously decided to stay at home and sit by the fire. Even the schools have been more sensible than those who decide the dates of Easter. Many schools have decided to have their week-long holiday sometime in April when, hopefully, the weather might be a little better.
I bit the bullet and went on the hill on Easter Sunday. I chose a short day in view of the weather - Meall Cuaich near Dalwhinnie and boy, was in wild. Gale force winds, stinging pellets of snow and hail, mixed visibility and I thoroughly enjoyed it! Isn’t it curious how we can distance ourselves from the nasties of the weather, wrap up well, and simply enjoy the physical challenge? I went out feeling faintly depressed at the prospect - I came home almost euphoric.
Later this week I hope to swap the vagaries of the Scottish spring for sunshine and snow in Morocco. I’m leading a trek to Toubkal in the High Atlas so while I hope there’s enough snow to make it feel like a winter ascent, I’m hoping there will be plenty of North African sunshine too.

The two days couldn’t have been more different and as I lay in the hazy spring sun near the old building at Dalballoch (see below) in the Monadh Liath it was interesting to reflect on the two days that represented two dimensions of my life as an outdoor writer.

Two days earlier I had wandered round the stands and stalls, the presentations and the demonstrations of the OS Outdoor Show at the NEC in Birmingham. I think this was possibly the sixth or seventh of these shows I’ve attended and I didn’t feel any more comfortable with this one than I did with the first. It was probably great if all you wanted to do was buy gear at knock-down prices but I would, personally, rather support my local retailers. It was nice to meet a few old friends, but within a couple of hours I felt a familiar depression settle on me, the discomfort that comes when cooped up indoors with crowds of people. This wasn’t adventure, that wasn’t outdoor experience, this was a kind of simulated, commercial and celebrity driven contradiction in terms. An outdoor show indoors. The closest I came to an outdoor experience was my eventual escape.

Wind on 48 hours.

I left my home, walked up the length of Glen Banchor in spring sunshine delighting in the sound of skylarks, oystercatchers and the first curlew calls of the year. As I climbed higher the character of the land changed, from spring back to winter, into the Arctic monochrome of the secretive Dubh Loch and the broad swathes of the snow covered plateaux. I felt the warm sun on one side of my face and the bitter north wind on the other. Ptarmigan still wore their white coats of winter as I climbed to Carn Dearg, the most shapely of the rounded Monadh Liath summits, and followed its ridge back to the old cottage at Dalballoch where I lay against a sweet smelling grassy verge by the burn and thanked God that I didn’t have to rely on the simulated adventure, high-octane promotion and celebrity culture of outdoor consumer shows to get my fix.

While the indoor outdoor show is so obviously a contradiction in terms I couldn’t help reflect the same contradictions in my own life. The all-too-short experiences of the hills, mountains and trails, buttressed against the long spells of office work, writing, lecturing and travelling. As I lay there in the sun by Dalballoch I promised myself a new resolution - a better balance. It’s time to give up some of the time-consuming add-ons in life, to make way for more experience, more of the real stuff, more of the mountains. When I eventually lie in the last throes of life I know I certainly won’t be wishing I had spent more time in the office! Perhaps, just perhaps, I might take some satisfaction from having made the decision to spent much more time in the wilds.

A few weeks ago I had the great pleasure of a long telephone chat with Ron Craighead of www.backpackinglight.com, probably the world's number one website for ultralight backpackers.

Well, the kernels of that conversation have now been published as a Podcast on the backpackinglight website. We ranged wide in our conversation but essentially we were discussing the emotive side of wilderness. Have a listen, see what you think...

www.backpackinglight.com