Nature’s Fury

I’ve heard it said many times before regarding Scottish weather: It’s so strange! Four seasons in four hours. Burning sunshine to howling blizzard in a blink of the eye.

While I have experienced some quirky weather in my stay thus far, it wasn’t until recently that I can fully appreciate just how fast weather can change, and just how dangerous these things can be if unprepared.

It had been decided that we would go for a walk in a valley about 20 miles north of Loch Lomond. The original plan was to climb one of Munros in the area, but the fog was quite heavy so it was decided to stick to flat land. It was spitting with rain off and on, but the forecast indicated good weather for later on in the day so we weren’t bothered. Near the beginning of the walk there was a mid-sized stream with a raised bit where you could cross. After that it was flat pastureland alongside a riverbank, under the looming company of 3000 ft. mountains and amongst the sheep. All in all quite picturesque.

About an hour and a half into the walk the rain started picking up. Then the wind. Then the rain turned to hail. Considering we had at least another two hours to go before we could complete the circuit, the decision was made to go back.

But back seemed to be a different place altogether. The rain and hail was now blowing directly in our faces so we could barely see where we were going. Within minutes the pastureland had turned into swamp. The wind was blowing so strongly that we could barely keep our bearings. Waterproof clothing can only keep so much water out – we were soon soaked through. The temperature plummeted and we were freezing cold. We eventually made it back to near the beginning of our walk where, much to our surprise, the former mid-sized stream that we had initially crossed had now become a swiftly moving river. The only way we were getting across was to take a plunge into the water and hope we could keep our footing.

I remember asking the clerk at the outdoors shop where I had bought my waterproof boots whether or not the top part of the boot was waterproof. She (cheekily) replied that the only water they couldn’t keep out was water that spills over the top. I experienced this first-hand as the river water spilled into my boots to soak the last part of me that was still dry.

We made it back to the car, and shortly thereafter to the pub where we sat like drowned rats in front of the fire nursing our pints (perhaps coffee would have been better?). Hardly near-death stuff, but as one of our party pointed out (and as a very experienced outdoorsman I take his words seriously), if we had been forced to be out there for much longer with the temperature and the damp, it wouldn’t have been long before hypothermia could have kicked in. What would have happened if someone had broken an ankle and couldn’t go on?

Just goes to show that even for simple day hikes, you just never know what the Scottish weather might throw at you. Lesson learned!