In reply to Anonymous:
I had just been re-reading Ian Thomson's book " The Black Cloud" last week. The first chapter is about the loss of Baird and Barrie in Gleann Einich in similar conditions in 1928- they were trying to get from Corrour bothy over Braeriach to a bothy that was at that time in Gleann Einich - like one of these poor lads, Barrie's body was found only a few hundred yards from the bothy and shelter. They were also young and were university students(Glasgow). Hugh Barrie was also something of a poet and had written this the year before he perished in the blizzard:
When I am dead
And this strange spark of life that in me lies
Is fled to join the great white core of life
That surely flames beyond eternities,
and all I ever thought of as myself
Is mouldering to dust and cold death ash,
The pride of nerve and muscle- Merest dross,
This joy of brain and eye and touch but trash,
Bury me not I pray thee,
In the dark earth where comes not any ray
Of light or warmth or aught that made life dear;
But take my withered bones far, far away
Out of the hum and turmoil of the town,
Find me a wind-swept boulder for a bier
And on it lay me down
Where far beneath drops sheer the rocky ridge
Down to the gloomy valley, and the streams
Fall foaming white against black beetling rocks;
Where the sun's kindly radiance seldom gleams;
Where some tall peak, defiant, steadfast mocks
The passing gods;and all the ways of men
Forgotten.
So I may know
Even in that death that comes to everything
The swiftly silent swish of hurrying snow;
The lash of rain; the savage bellowing
Of stags;the bitter keen-knife-edge embrace of the rushing wind;
And the still tremulous dawn
Will touch the eyeless sockets of my face;
And I shall see the sunset and anon
Shall know the velvet kindness of the night
And see the stars.
Rest in peace, lads