Anna Wells enjoys a one night wonder in the Cairngorms to reset after a relentless few weeks chasing deadlines.
Work had taken over, spilling into evenings and weekends. Adventures had been quietly sidelined. While I accepted the temporary imbalance, I could feel myself slipping into a gloomy mood with a dulling energy.
Then, one Sunday afternoon, something stirred. After spending the majority of a sunny day indoors, I habitually checked the weather forecast and noticed the promise of a spectacularly clear night. I’ve always felt a strong pull towards the majestic light displays that come with sunset and sunrise; there is something utterly magic about watching the world transform.
I wouldn’t have to go far. Meall a’ Bhuachaille sits within the Cairngorms National Park, a forty-five minute drive from home. The walk to the summit takes less than an hour, but the summit feels astonishingly remote, offering vast panoramic views. If I left home just after 7pm, I could reach the summit by sunset. With an early dinner before leaving, I could pack light: sleeping bag, bivvy bag, ground mat, water, my campstove to brew a hot water bottle, and… my paragalider!
Carried by a wave of spontaneity and bubbling excitement, I drove over and began my ascent. I chased the low evening light up the hill, stopping every few paces to take in the stunning scenery, awestruck by the scale and stillness around me. I had expected solitude, but heard animated chatter from a family camping close to the summit, delighted to see two young children having such an exciting experience. I looked down at my own growing belly, eager for all the adventures that I hope to share with my future child.
I found a quiet spot on the far side and laid out my sleeping kit. As I prepared my hot water bottle, I watched the final lightshow unfold. The Cairngorms turned a soft pink and Loch Morlich glowed orange as the sun slipped below the horizon. I felt a million miles away from my laptop and responsibilities, transported into another existence.
I woke often through the night, stirred by midges or shifting wind, but each time I was rewarded with an extraordinary, magnificent vista of stars. When my alarm finally sounded, dawn was already ablaze: a deep, burning orange lit the horizon. Below me, the glens had filled with a spectacular cloud inversion, stunningly beautiful to behold, but troubling for my intended method of descent by paraglider!
The usual landing field lay buried beneath clouds. I spotted a strip of forest track that might work instead. The inversion was fast approaching - if I was going to fly, I had no time to lose!
Sleeping bag packed. Wing laid out. Harness on. Helmet secured. Clips checked. A familiar blend of nerves and exhilaration fluttered in my stomach. I knew this would be one of my final flights before I hung up my gear for the rest of my pregnancy. The wind was perfect, and after a final pre-flight check, I took a couple of steps and launched into the sky.
The immediate shift from anxious nerves to utter delight was profound. As I soared through the sky, I took in my surroundings as the world below me sparkled in the morning light. A glorious sunrise stretched forever in every direction. Glancing back at the mountain, I could see the spot where I’d spent the night - a tiny speck in an immense landscape. I felt free.
Driving home, I felt restored and rejuvenated. It had been less than twelve hours since I left, but I felt the lightness of a week’s holiday. I was ready to pour myself a cup of tea and sit quietly at my laptop. I reminded myself how truly easy and transformative it can be to find a wonderful little adventure so close to home.