Snowy Silence

This month’s image is of the peak of Ben Resipole and was taken from Camas Torsa, about a mile southwest of Salen, on a cold and crisp January morning. It’s the perfect place to watch the day begin during the winter months because the warm light of the rising sun often bathes the south-facing slopes of the mountain, which dominates this part of Loch Sunart, in warm, golden hues. It can be an experience that brings an intense sense of calm, especially on a still winter morning just after snow has fallen, and the sky has cleared. It can make you feel as if the world is holding its breath under a blanket of silence, rather than a blanket of snow, and leave you wondering whether the silence is real or not.

Snowy Beinn I - Beinn Resipol Summit viewed from Camas Torsa, Salen, Ardnamurchan

​Well, the silence is indeed real, and it’s all down to snow’s remarkable ability to absorb sound, an ability that can be explained by its unique structure.
 
Freshly fallen snow consists of a delicate network of ice crystals interspersed with countless tiny air pockets that play a crucial role in scattering and absorbing sound waves. When sound waves travel across a snowy landscape, they are diffused and dampened by these air pockets, reducing the level of ambient noise and this is why a fresh blanket of snow often creates a sense of tranquillity that feels almost magical.
 
The effect is most pronounced when the snow is fresh and fluffy, because this type of snow has the highest volume of air trapped within its crystalline structure. In contrast, as snow ages or undergoes compression — whether from melting, refreezing, or being trampled underfoot — the intricate network of air pockets diminishes. This compacted snow has much less sound-absorbing capability, allowing sound waves to travel more freely across the landscape and restore some of the usual ambient noise.
 
The large, sound dampening fluffy snowflakes are born of creative processes at play high up in our atmosphere where water vapour condenses around microscopic particles of dust and pollen. These specks serve as the nuclei for ice crystals and when the temperature is between about -3°C and -10°C, these ice crystals grow and branch out into six-sided structures, each one uniquely determined by the temperature and humidity of the atmosphere.
 
As these delicate structures descend through the atmosphere, they encounter varying temperatures and air currents and when the humidity is high, water vapour continues to deposit on them, causing them to grow larger and more elaborate as they fall. When it is calm and there is little or no wind, the resulting snowflakes remain intact during their descent, allowing them to maintain their large, delicate shapes and fall gently to the ground without much compression.
 
When the ground is cold, it prevents the snowflakes from melting or sticking together upon landing, preserving their structure, enhancing their light and fluffy nature to create a soft white blanket that is extremely effective at silencing the landscape.
 
Without the hum of occasional distant traffic, the chatter of birds, the rustling of leaves, or the rippling of water, it’s perhaps no surprise that a profound sense of peace often envelops me when I venture out after a fresh fall of snow, once this blanket of silence has formed.
 
The stillness feels tangible and otherworldly and one that is intensified by the simplicity of the scene before me. In the woodlands, the snow has smoothed out imperfections and softened harsh lines. The ancient oaks are draped in delicate white, with their branches outlined like intricate etchings against the hillsides, seemingly standing clear of the chaos that normally surrounds them.
 
As I wander through these familiar surroundings, ones that have been reshaped by the snow’s transformative power, with the crunch of snow under my feet being the only sound to break the stillness, the complexities of modern life seem to disappear and the only thing I hear is nature’s invitation to slow down, breathe in the crisp air and find peace in the change that winter brings.

Morning light illuminating a fresh fall of snow that adorns the tress on the hillsides beside Salen, Ardnamurchan