The amphibious assault – Sgurr na Lapaich (Walk 15) from Loch Mullardoch on the approach to Walk 16
By car
Walkers generally drive to the hills. Given the freedom, flexibility and kit-carrying capacity of a car it’s easy to see why – particularly if the cost and carbon footprint is shared between several people. Many of the walks described in this book are simply inaccessible by public transport alone.
By bike
Quieter Highland roads are ideal for cycle touring, and this is a satisfying way to spend a holiday, ticking off a walk here or there along the way. A train/bike combination is also worth considering, as many hills are in easy cycling distance of rail-friendly centres. Drivers can also get in on the fun, as routes that involve significant tarmac walking can be made more convenient with a cunningly pre-stashed bike.
And biking doesn’t have to end at the road-head. The profusion (some would say excess) of 4WD estate tracks in Scotland makes a pedal-powered approach a realistic option for many of the walks described in this book, even for those averse to full-on mountain biking. Saddling up is arguably the most enjoyable way to negotiate long low-level track approaches such as Seana Bhraigh (Walk 6) and the end-of-day downhills can be particularly fun. The walk information box includes notes on approaches where two wheels are a good option.
High-spec full-suspension mountain bikes are unnecessary for the gentle variety of off-road cycling found in this book, but a sturdy frame, fat tyres, front suspension, mud guards and a rear pannier may all prove welcome on pedal-powered hill forays. Go armed with a basic tool kit, spare inner tubes and a pump. It’s better to carry all this and end up not needing it, than to take your irreparable steed for an unintended long walk.
Loch Quoich from Sgurr na Ciche, 4.20am (Walk 21)
By boat
Water makes up a large part of the Highland landscape, so it’s worth making practical use of it. Lochs – both salt and fresh – can serve as highways, stretching far into remote country to give access to the hills. Where possible, paddling is much more enjoyable than plodding along bulldozed tracks, and somehow it feels more adventurous than cycling too. To follow in the wake of Polynesian island-hoppers, Inuit hunters and Yukon pioneers – if only for a weekend – is the yarn from which dreams are braided.
Long journeys by paddle power are the aquatic equivalent of backpacking, the meditative dip of blades echoing the rhythm of a hiker’s footfall. Approach a big hill route by water and you should have the best of both worlds – a trip on which the first part of the journey is at least as memorable as the high-level destination at the end of it.
A handful of the walks in this book can be accessed amphibiously, and if a practical waterborne option exists this is noted in the walk information box. Although a boat on a loch might be more romantic than a slog through a bog, none of the paddles described are strictly necessary; there is always an alternative – in some cases taking more time and effort, and sometimes wetter. In most cases paddlers will want to make a weekend of it – and here’s where boats excel, since their generous load-carrying capacity permits more luxurious camping, from disposable barbecues to wine boxes (as long as you take them back out with you, of course).
The most suitable vessels are sea kayaks and open canoes, each of which have their adherents. Specialist equipment differs between them, but the two essential bits of kit common to both are dry bags in which to store all spare clothing and bedding, and a buoyancy aid. Boat-handling skills are different in each case too, and best learned on a course or with a club. Safe sea kayaking, for instance, requires a broad set of skills and a familiarity with currents, tides and other nautical mysteries. No open sea crossings are suggested in this book, and only a very few trips in salt water are mentioned at all. But even freshwater lochs can be unforgiving. Wind, waves and extremely cold water are all things to be wary of, and the best advice for the less experienced is go in a group and wait for ideal conditions. Even then be cautious.
Camps, bivvies, bothies and howffs
It was tempting to title this book ‘Great Mountain Days and Wild Nights Out’, since the latter are integral to a hill-walking life fully lived. The roar of rutting stags echoing through empty evening glens; ridges rolled out under a starry sky free of light pollution; dawn tinting frosted slopes pink and gold – walkers who habitually forsake hills for the nocturnal comfort of valleys miss out on so much.
To camp wild is to take temporary refuge from the everyday, deepening awareness of nature and landscape by making yourself at home within it. With silence and solitude comes freedom simply to be. From high cols and sheltered lochans to remote sea shores, potential camp sites are as diverse as Scotland’s wild landscapes. Thanks to liberal access legislation we are officially entitled to pitch up at will, although the usual caveats about responsibility and discretion still apply. Camping wild is an activity best conducted far from roads and houses.
Bivvying is more flexible than camping, as a reclining body needs a smaller floor space than even the most compact tent. Because less gear is generally involved, the bivvy is a true lightweight option. With a roof of sky instead of nylon there’s a sense of unmediated immersion in the environment; isn’t this what we go to the hills for? However, the two biggest drawbacks of going tent-less are rain and midges, and too much immersion in either is miserable. Hooped bivvies and tarps are a middle ground between tent and bag, but as with most such compromises there are disadvantages – less comfort than camping, and less of the specialness of lying outside on a starry night that is bivvying’s strongest draw.
Tent-free walkers often resort to some kind of shelter, be that a laboriously excavated snowhole or a cave-like howff secreted under boulders. Snowholes are an excellent winter option, but constructing them properly and using them safely takes more time and knowledge than might be supposed. The best howffs have generally been improved by hand to afford a relatively salubrious, moderately weatherproof residence. The location of some is a closely guarded secret, while others – such as Loch Avon’s Shelter Stone – are part of hillwalking folklore and rarely without a weekend occupant.
If a damp cranny under a boulder or a camp in a storm sound rather too close to nature, then consider something with four solid walls and a (more or less watertight) roof. While not entirely unique to Scotland, bothies are a big part of the country’s hillwalking scene. Dotted across the land, these remote huts range from the most spartan mud-floored biers to well-appointed cottages with such mod cons as glazed windows, bunk platforms and fireplaces. There are even a couple of bothies with sit-down toilets, although facilities more typically consist of a bog and a spade.
Tent versus bothy – Corrour (Walk 40), dwarfed by the Devil’s Point
Bothies are free to use and open to all comers, an admirably inclusive ethos, but with the downside that well-known huts in popular areas may fill to capacity (and beyond) at peak times. Bothy culture is very accepting of high spirits (generally lubricated with spirits of the liquid kind), so those seeking guaranteed peace in busy locations such as Shenavall (Walks 9 and 10) or Culra (Walk 25) probably ought to consider camping instead.
Many Scottish bothies are maintained by volunteers from the Mountain Bothies Association (MBA) (see Appendix 4), a charity that exists to look after remote buildings for which estate owners typically have little use, but which remain important to walkers. Although they are keen to point out that there are no actual rules, the MBA does offer guidelines for visitors. In essence the Bothy Code is to keep the building and its surroundings clean and tidy, extinguish fires before leaving, respect other users and restrict groups to six or fewer.
Maps and guidebooks
Even GPS users should carry a map and compass (and know how to use them) in case of electronic gremlins or battery failure. The Ordnance Survey (OS) produce comprehensive mapping of the whole country in a