There are few more beautiful places than Scotland’s winter mountains. But even when most of the snow has melted, isolated patches can linger well into summer and beyond. In The Vanishing Ice, Iain Cameron chronicles these remarkable and little-seen relics of the Ice Age, describing how they have fascinated travellers and writers for hundreds of years, and reflecting on the impact of climate change.
Iain was nine years old when snow patches first captured his imagination, and they have been inextricably bound with his life ever since. He developed his expertise through correspondence (and close friendship) with research ecologist Dr Adam Watson, and is today Britain’s foremost authority on this weather phenomenon.
Iain takes us on a tour of Britain which includes the Scottish Highlands, the Southern Uplands, the Lake District and Snowdonia, seeking elusive patches of snow in wild and often inaccessible locations. His adventures include a perilous climb in the Cairngorms with comedian Ed Byrne, and glorious days spent out on the hills with Andrew Cotter and his very good dogs, Olive and Mabel.
Based on sound scientific evidence and personal observations, accompanied by stunning photography and wrapped in Iain’s shining passion for the British landscape, The Vanishing Ice is a eulogy to snow, the mountains and the great outdoors.
I can't be the only person to have been intrigued over the years by Iain Cameron's photos of snow tunnels and inquiries after snow patches on social media. But this book delves deeper, with Cameron seeking to understand his own obsession, dating back to his childhood and that of other great snowpatch trackers, including the late Adam Watson, to whom the book is dedicated and who has clearly been hugely influential in Cameron's life.
I found particularly intriguing Cameron's descriptions of early snowpatch accounts, often only mentioned in passing in travellers' diaries - a neat echo of how today Cameron seeks out vital clues about snow patch condition in the background of walkers' selfies. His visit to the Gloucester Records Office is gripping - the reader thoroughly is caught up in the historian's quest for knowledge, and I would have loved to have read more of these early accounts.
Not for just anyone is the solitary and often gruelling task of the snowpatch chronicler. But Cameron conveys the beauty and joy of it as well as the integral sadness of snow melting away, and snow patches lasting less and less long.
The book also provides a tour of the snowpatches of Britain's uplands, past and present, but Cameron also touches upon climate change, risk, peak-bagging and many other issues linked to walking and being in the mountains. Scientific information is merged seamlessly into the writer's personal quest.
Beautifully written, the writer's personality sits easily in the narrative and draws the reader into an ephemeral world of ice. At the end, the reader is left feeling much as the author does on contemplating a vanished snow patch - bereft.
The British uplands are quite unusual as they always experience snowfall during the winter months but it almost all melts by the end of the summer season. What's left is (usually) a handful of namely patches, Sphinx and Pinnacles two of the most illustrious; situated deep in the Cairngorms, even reaching their location is not easy. The Vanishing Ice tells the story about where these patches are, who is so enamoured with documenting them and what's so special about each patch.
Where the book really shines is the approachable but detailed account of what it means to hunt snow patches and document the findings. Cameron is not only an expert in the patches through analytical study but also great physical effort to reach the patches in tough conditions. The book contains both detailed statistics but also accounts of long winter mountaineering days the author embarks on to reach certain patches. Similarly, he is not just an expert of today's patches but also interested in relativising historical accounts, often in quite clear exasperation at the careless lack of detail. This was one of my favourite parts of the book as it helped put the current relative lack of long-lived snow into perspective. It isn't often you read a book so clearly written by the expert but which maintains a readable tone.
Whilst walking in the Highlands this summer we stumbled across a snow patch under Aonach Beag. Without having read the book the special significance of this patch or any patch at all wouldn't have been apparent. But after having read it, we stopped for a good few minutes talking about this patch of snow attempting to guess how big it was and whether it would survive the season. It turns out this particular patch is one of the longest living in the UK and it made the walk a bit more special.
Unfortunately the last third the book is let down by some poor editing. There are several chapters which are only loosely related to snow patches and the book would have been better off without. A firmer hand here would have really improved the book's narrative. It's a real shame as the first part of the book is a great read.
As someone who has a passing interest in Scottish snow patches and occasionally visits them in the late summer, this was a great read - a book that was a long time coming from someone who has been following the ups and downs of the (occasionally) elusive Scottish summer snows since he was first inspired by the sight of Ben Lomond as a 9 year old. Included are details on the motivations of a somewhat esoteric hobby/pastime, as well as historical mentions of the highland snows from travellers in centuries gone by. A chapter is dedicated to the Cairngorm stalwart, Adam Watson, who the author has taken the baton from with regards to recording the patches, and historical charts which, when compared with current statistics, show a clear decline in the number of patches surviving to the following winter.
Locations of the most persistent and interesting patches are detailed, should the reader wish to explore on their own, and a chapter at the end of the book covers the interesting topic of how modern means of communication, ie social media, have made life easier and somewhat more visible the hunt for the patches, with the pitfalls this may bring. Some great pictures also complement the text.
Overall an excellent and detailed book explaining one mans passion for the esoteric, and it will have you rooting for the patches to survive to the next winter snows.
I’ve followed Iain Cameron on Twitter for a while now and always really enjoy his updates on Scotland’s remaining snow patches, so I was excited to hear he had a book coming out. In The Vanishing Ice, Iain explores the history of UK snow patches, recounts some days he’s spent trying to find his way to these remote and inaccessible places, and discusses the significance of the recent summers where every snow patch has melted.
I found this to be a really fascinating read. Iain talks about his childhood interest in snow patches and how that never left him – such an inspiring example of the importance of letting children follow their passions, however niche these might seem! He searches through a range of historical accounts, covering an impressive amount of research trying to track the existence of these snow patches through recent history. It’s amazing how much other people have recorded, sometimes inadvertently.
The idea of these snow patches as a capsule of the past is really intriguing – a tiny piece of history clinging on into the future. Iain finds himself to be the first person (certainly at least in recent history) standing on the patch of ground that existed beneath a snow patch that has finally vanished. There’s certainly something really captivating about the chance to glimpse something that’s been hidden for so long, even if here it feels a bit like a dirty secret, catching sight of something that should have stayed hidden.
That is, of course, the crux of some of the current interest in snow patches: the melting that now occurs regularly hasn’t been seen for decades. Climate change is stealing the snow which should be clinging on through the summer. Iain tries to avoid discussing this in too much depth, but its touch on these mountains is unmissable.
The strongest chapters are where Iain recounts some of his trips into the mountains, either solo or with others. The writing is vivid, and it would be difficult for Iain to overstate the dangers of the weather and terrain. I had no idea checking on these snow patches involved such a high level of risk! Iain’s knowledge of these remote areas must be second to none, and it’s interesting watching his mental process as he juggles multiple routes in his head, knowing how and when it’s necessary to head for the riskier options. He gets into a slight tangent about social media and necessary hill kit towards the end of the book, but I found the details of his decision making process to be the clearest example of the importance of understanding the environment you’re planning to be out in – the kind of intricate knowledge that can’t be short-cut.
Iain’s enthusiasm for the mountains and the snow is unrelenting, and it’s certainly left me daydreaming about those long winter days in the hills…
The fact that I now have a strong urge to seek out some dying patches of melting snow the next time I visit Scotland says a lot about this book. It's not a topic I would have imagined you could write an entire book about, but by the end of it I was left wishing there was more. Part memoir, part cultural history, part natural history and part geographical tour, the variety of viewpoints Cameron provides create a fascinating and riveting read. While the core narrative is nominally on snow patches, what comes through most clearly is Cameron's deep love for mountains and wild places. Some of the evocative descriptions and narrative approach reminded me of the classic Mountains of the Mind: A History of a Fascination (possibly my favourite book about the mountains), while 16 pages of photography provide a stunning visual companion to Cameron's eloquent and expressive writing. The inclusion of chapters such as one on Cameron's mentor Dr. Adam Watson and a thought provoking one on some of the issues and benefits that technology bring to the mountains make refreshing changes of pace and ensure interest is maintained throughout. The unmistakable shroud of climate change and its implications for Scottish snow patches is of course an important part of this topic. However, I found Cameron’s matter-of-factness and refusal to make any sweeping claims, acknowledging his limitations of not being a climate scientist to be quite refreshing in what was clearly a well thought out and measured section. Overall, a beautiful and superbly written account that gives yet another reason- as if more were needed- to plan future trips to Scotland. A book that I will definitely be returning too, I’d rank it among some of the best mountain literature I’ve read. Highly recommend.
This book is so much more than the Diary of a Snow Hunter. A fascinating, informative and riveting read. It was really difficult to put the book down. A real must for anyone who loves the hills. Iain has for many years undertaken numerous pilgrimages into remote corners of our hills to measure, photograph and record our diminishing ice age remnants. This book tells the tale not just of these journeys, the history of the patches themselves but also the original master recorder, the late Adam Watson. Iain got to know Adam and over time, having served his apprenticeship, was deemed capable of taking over from the great Adam - no greater complement can have been given to Iain's dedication. Iain conveys, in his diary tales, a sense of the risk he undertakes and accepts in reaching these remote spots, often perched on steep slopes below crags or in gullies and open to falling debris. But the risk is worth it for some of the patches reveal a beautiful underside resembling that found in the underbelly of glaciers - these are the jewels, often though the journeys end is just a dying patch of snow, grubby from debris, dust and grass. Whilst the diary entries are good, the book is really elevated by the strong scientific and historical information that Iain introduces and merges flawlessly into the narrative. The story of how an often lonely and indeed perhaps eccentric hobby has through the advent of social media become something that many more people are now aware of and taking part in, bodes well for the future, although whether global warming will allow for a future for Britain's snow patches is a whole different debate. For Iain, who receives many reports and photos from strangers, it makes his recording task less onerous, although perhaps time walking has been replaced by time on the computer. A superb read
A very respectable obsession. Interesting and relatively pointless. Hadn't realised the author came from what is now my local area, spotting the same patches from a distance that I see each winter although being pedantic I'd say they may be in almost exactly the same places, but they aren't the same patches. Same again? You can't have the same again!
Fascinating - not a subject I am naturally drawn to, however, Iain Cameron introduced it to me with such passion that it is now something I have a deep respect for. I am very glad I read this pic as it was an education and I got introduced to the wonderful Adam. Iain has a great vocabulary - I enjoyed his snow obsession❄️
A fascinating book about Scotland and snow. Climate change is mentioned frequently, as are various nature writers. I found it a bit sad that Nan Shepherd was disregarded, but overall a fascinating read. 3.5 stars
Snow patches and the people who track them, possibly quite niche but enjoyed it. Book is a bit cobbled-together with anecdotes. Olive and Mabel for an epilogue was an unexpected collab.