IT SNOWED as I went out for my morning walk today, a wet, slobbery kind of snow, but snow nevertheless and, with all the media suggesting it's going to be an early winter, I've been keeping a close eye on the barometer and the weather forecasts.
We seem to be suffering more and more from short and sudden wintry storms, possibly one of the results of global warming, and if nothing else the violent nature of these storms has turned me into a dedicated weather-watcher.
All last week the forecasters had been suggesting it would be wild and stormy with gale-force winds and snow on the tops but, at last, things relented slightly.
There might, they said, be some relatively quiet weather on the way, with the possibility of some sunshine thrown in for good measure.
Already these shorter autumn days have afflicted me with a bout of Seasonal Affliction Disorder, the SAD syndrome, so if there was any sunshine on the go I wanted a share of it.
I headed for Glen Feshie in the Cairngorms from where a round of Creag Mhigeachaidh, Geal-charn and perhaps even Sguran Dubh Mor would give me a good four or five hours on the hill before the expected gales returned.
The forecasters got it spot on.
I parked the car, wandered through the woods alongside the burn and climbed up through the old Caledonian pines onto the slopes of Creag Mhigeachaidh, a little outlier of the Sguran Dubh Mor ridge that rises steeply above Lagganlia in Glen Feshie.
The steep, rocky slopes that overlook the glen are remarkable in that the pines that grow there form some of the highest natural treeline in the country, and thanks to much good work by Scottish Natural Heritage over the years that treeline is climbing higher and higher.
Indeed, I found young pines growing well up Coire Ruadh at almost 600 metres, young trees that in the past would have been eaten by red deer.
By reducing the numbers of red deer in the corrie, the pines have been given a chance to flourish, and they are certainly doing that.
A narrow path leaves the lower woodland and climbs up towards a rocky niche between Creag Mhigeachaidh and its higher neighbour, Geal-charn, 920 metres, a rounded extension of the ridge that runs off Sguran Dubh Mor.
When I first climbed this hill in the Seventies, it was classed as a Munro, but it lost its status in one of the periodical revisions by the Scottish Mountaineering Club.
It is, however, the most westerly three-thousand foot top in the Cairngorms, and it's certainly worth climbing for the views it offers up and down the length of the Spey.
As always, it was good to get up onto the high ground, despite having to battle with a strengthening wind.
Beyond the summit windbreak cairn, a flock of snow buntings kept me company, chirping away as they tried to fly into the teeth of the wind, their beating wings flashing and glinting like snow flakes.
Away to the west, the snow-covered hills that earlier had been magnificently lit by the early-morning sunshine had now vanished, suffocated by the approaching weather front, and ahead of me whirling spumes of cloud were spilling over the higher Sguran Dubh ridge.
Beyond it, the sky had turned from a cloud streaked blue to iron grey. It was time to think of descending.
After Geal-charn, the ridge continues to a higher, unnamed top at 976 metres which makes the fact that Geal-charn was once considered to be a Munro even more curious.
Beyond this summit, heather slopes dropped down into the shelter of the valley of the Allt a'Chrom-alltain.
It wasn't long before I picked up the recently refurbished footpath that runs down the length of Coire Ruadh all the way back to the pine woods I had walked through earlier.
By the time I reached the car park in Glen Feshie the sky had turned black, the wind was rattling the trees and the rain was only minutes away. My timing was perfect.
