A Scottish Winter Weekender

“Stick your axe out! Stick your axe out!” I could barely make out Mungo’s words before they were whipped away by the near gale-force winds. I was on my back skidding down the side of a snow-covered Scottish mountain towards the boulders at the bottom of the valley… Head first. Using all my will-power to focus on the instructions being yelled at me, I threw my ice axe out to my side, two numb hands desperately clinging onto the metal handle, defying my damp gloves’ urge to lose traction. The pick feathered across the surface of the snow for a gut-wrenching moment, before finally gaining purchase.