Beyond the Podium: Scotland's Raw Winter Landscape
While the world's eyes fixate on the polished spectacle of the Milano Cortina Winter Olympics, photographer Dougie Wallace turns his lens to the rugged, unpredictable ski areas of Scotland. In Glenshee, Cairngorm Mountain, Glencoe, and Nevis Range, he captures a winter experience defined not by shiny medals but by the relentless dance of weather, people, and place.
The Fickle Nature of Scottish Snow
In Scotland, the line between a thriving ski season and a disappointing one is razor-thin. A mere shift in a weather front by ten miles north can transform everything. Thaws, gusts, and bands of rain arrive without warning, reshaping slopes and spirits in minutes. Wallace spent seven days documenting these resorts, encountering only two clear, blue-sky days amidst common flat light and bracing cold. Sleeping in a camper van at the base, he faced blizzards and rapidly changing conditions, a testament to the toughness required here.
A Community Forged in Cold
Skiing is just one part of the story. Visitor numbers often swell beyond those on skis, with families, tourists, and sledgers flocking to the mountains. During Covid lockdowns, some of the best snow in years lay untouched, a season of perfect conditions frustratingly out of reach. Now, the resorts buzz with activity again. Car parks max out, infrastructure strains, and weather warnings flash, yet when snow falls, people return. Cafes become checkpoints, queues a discipline, and small private victories—like tired legs conquering a slope—define the day.
Global Winter Meets Local Tradition
Snow tourism has grown, attracting visitors from warmer countries like India and China, many experiencing snow for the first time. Wallace met a woman from Bengaluru in a sari, not here to ski but to absorb the winter landscape. Meanwhile, local traditions endure. Gaelic placenames, revived under the Gaelic Language Act, whisper of an older land. Irn-Bru, Scotland's fluorescent orange drink, serves as unofficial recovery fuel, a generational joke rooted in industrial mythology.
From Sledges to Olympic Dreams
At Glencoe, sledging outnumbers skiing three to one, with over 30,000 visitors coming just for plastic sledges on machine-made snow. This grassroots fun mirrors Olympic pathways, where national success in skeleton events begins with humble sledges returned to cafes. The project, inspired by imagining Olympics in Scotland, reveals a world where weather shapes every moment, from a child's first fall to a phone call made from altitude.
As engines start in frozen car parks at day's end, temporary victories are packed away, leaving only tyre tracks and melting snow. Wallace's work celebrates not glamour but resilience, patience, and the quiet beauty of Scotland's winter hills.
