Where there were roads, we could drive. Where there were relatively flat parking spots, we could live. And where there was snow, we could ride. Craig knew of some leeward slopes within a half day’s drive that could be holding a bit more snow. The day started out driving through a snowstorm. All of a sudden it felt like we were in Niseko, Japan. Huge flakes hurled themselves into the windshield. I was tick-led with excitement, but it was short lived. When we arrived at the trailhead, it was cloudy and damp. Geared up and on the trail we soon encountered our first property gate. It’s illegal for landowners to lock these gates—I guess they’re more of a reminder you’re entering under the guidelines of the Scottish Outdoor Access Code. Given the state of the weather, I didn’t expect a productive day. More clouds than trees usually isn’t a magic combo. We scouted the snowy runways that striped the mountainside between peat moss, grass and rocks. It was the best riding we could see—best being a corn maze on a slippery slope—but it was way more fun than we’d anticipated. Just before dropping in, we saw two people touring quickly toward us, as if to see who was tromping on their turf. They each had an Australian shepherd tailing them (without tails). Splitboards and Aussies are two of my favorite things, so I knew we’d get along. These guys were no different from the rest; genuine characters who, when they found out we were visiting from Jackson Hole and Whistler asked, “Well, what the fuck are you doing here?” Snowboarding was one of the things we were doing in Scotland, and that was the short answer. We found some fun terrain when we roamed through unlocked gates in an area called the Back Corries off the back-side of Nevis Range Mountain Resort, which is just down the range from Ben Nevis, or “Big Ben” as the locals call it. There, a collection of steep, rocky chutes drops off a long ridgeline, comparable to terrain you might find stateside in the Rocky Mountains. While the snow wasn’t deep powder, it was enjoyably smooth, likely thanks to the wind. I try to always remember that powder is a state of mind anyway. Freedom was the prevailing emotion of the trip. Where there were roads, we could drive. Where there were relatively flat parking spots, we could live. And where there was snow, we could ride. Our only worry was running out of propane. We even found one of the area’s plentiful huts for an overnight stay in the Highlands. They’re called “bothies,” and they’re shelters for travelers seeking refuge from an un-expected squall. The huts are basic shelters with a wood stove and maybe a bed platform or two to keep you off the stone floor. They’re free and first-come, first-served, and if you’re wanting a warm night, you’d best pack in some wood. The long answer to what we were doing was we were there for the sake of experience, to see a place in the world that was new to us through the eyes of the people shaped by this land, and maybe inspire others to learn more about it. The other underlying interest was to see how this whole right to roam thing works. In the United States, our current government is making what a lot of us consider to be ter-rible decisions in the tussle over public lands. The current Secretary of the Interior was tasked with reviewing a number of our national monuments and, per his review, the president has decided to shrink some of these areas. I can’t help but assume these shrinkages have to do with behind-the-scenes financial interests. But if the United States continues to sell off public lands and we reach the point at which it’s all privately owned, much like Scotland, how will we handle it? The Scottish people may not have been dealt a great hand, histori-cally speaking. Their story lacks romance. The climate isn’t ideal for crops and the winters can be harsh, but when I sunk my knife into the haggis, much more flavor than I expected spilled onto the plate. There’s a deep reverence for freedom here. The people we met put up no walls. They were genuine and gracious. It’s almost as if stark injus-tice has consequently wired a sense of comradery and generosity into the population. Most of the land is being shared. There are nearly no trespassing laws. They’ve developed a compromise for the sake of being able to exist as the animals we are. We all have the right to breathe. Shouldn’t we all have the right to roam? 062 THE SNOWBOARDER’S JOURNAL
The Snowboarder's Journal frequency 15.2: Page 62
