Winter Light in the Scottish Highlands

I flew into Inverness on a gray February morning and drove north, into the mountains. The forecast promised rain, wind, and possibly snow. It delivered all three.

The Highlands in winter are not for everyone. The days are short—sunrise at eight, sunset by four. The weather is brutal. The roads are empty because most people have the good sense to stay home.

But the light. God, the light. For those few hours when the sun is up, everything glows. The heather turns gold. The lochs reflect the sky like mirrors. The mountains are sharp and clear, dusted with snow.

I stayed in a bothy near Glen Affric, a stone shelter maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association. No electricity, no running water, just a fireplace and a sleeping platform. I spent three days there, hiking during the brief daylight and reading by candlelight at night.

The silence was absolute. No cars, no planes, no voices. Just wind, rain, and the occasional bleat of a sheep. I cooked porridge on a camp stove and melted snow for tea. I wrote in my journal and watched the fire.

On the last day, the clouds cleared. I climbed to a ridge above the glen and watched the sun set over the mountains, turning the snow pink and orange. It was the kind of moment you can't photograph, only remember.

If you're thinking about this, go in late February or early March. The days are getting longer, but the crowds haven't arrived yet. Bring warm, waterproof layers. Bring a good sleeping bag. And bring a book—you'll have a lot of time to read.