Month: May 2025

Distance: 29km

I didn’t sleep very well.  That weird thing where I’m not quite sure I should be where I am, expecting a knock on the tent door all night and a polite request to leave.  It doesn’t happen and I see no one, but I still don’t sleep well.

A mixed day of fortunes on the walk today.  I emerged from my campsite and straight onto the Spey Reservoir, looking oh so scenic on this sunny morning.  I spot movement up ahead, and am thrilled to see three red deer grazing down on the foreshore.  They let me enjoy looking at them for a while, seemingly content if I keep my distance. All three boast a pair of very impressive antlers, though not yet full grown.

Onwards and it’s a long, long roadwalk.  Straight lines for miles with a limited palette on either side. Walk, walk, walk.  It’s not particularly pleasureable, but at least I’m gettting somewhere quickly.

Eventually, I get to the gravel track which will lead me over the Corrieyairack pass.  It’s a strange sort of place.  It feels remote, but front and centre are a line of very modern looking electricity towers guiding the way.  It’s a long, but relatively easy climb.  I notice that a bunch of wild moorland flowers are starting to emerge. Tiny red and pink carnivorous plants compete with giant stardrops, their yellow arms ringed with fringing black hairs.  There are blankets of yellow and white daisies, their heads bending gracefully in the strong wind blowing at the top of the pass.

On top all is quiet, no bird call.  All I can hear is my breath, and the faint buzzing of electricity as it travels along the wires. Eventually, I hear a bike bell or two as well.

I arrive at he Blackburn bothy by 4.30pm.  This bothy is not as salubrious as some of the previous ones I have seen, which is a shame, as for now, I’m the only one here.  Unlike the other bothys, this one has no bed racks but it does have a clean floor, desk and chair and thick walls which keep out the blustery wind.  I’m still trying to decide whether to sleep on the floor or not…the wind is making it hard to choose.  If somebody comes, I’ll definitely set up my tent.  If not, well, it’ll give me somethig to think about this afternoon won’t it?

Of course I set my tent up.  It’s my place of comfort.  Why would I sleep on the hard floor? With that completed, there is only one other thing to do.  Dance.

For the first time on the trip I get my headphones out.  It’s time.  Under their non-judgemental gaze, and with their arms wrapped around me, the mountains hug me to them whilst I dance and scream and sing out emotions of all sorts.  I let it all out like no one is watching, because those beautiful mountains are the only ones who are.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

It was a late start out of the hotel this morning after enjoying a scrumptious breakfast of scrambled eggs, pastries and tea.

This morning was like the opposite of yesterdays walking. Big, bold landscapes with an incredibly remote feel. Just what I love. I get into what I would describe as a “hiker trance”. Nothing going on except for the sound of footsteps on gravel, poles clicking, birds calling, wind gently whistling through the trees, water lapping in the lake. Nothing going on in my head at all except for a profound sense of enjoyment and peace. It is wonderful.

I pass by a loch, huge mountain on the opposite side, boulders tumbling off the sides like rain. I wander a wide valley, greenest of peaks on all sides. A gently flowing river twists and turns in the middle. I sit and have some lunch at a river fork, a ruin and an old bothy looking minute in this enhanced landscape.

I go up and over a mountain pass and meet a friendly fellow with a couple of dogs out for a walk. Further on, he passes me again, walking in my direction this time, but a lot more quickly than I am. We chat again about what it is like to run a sheep farm in the current dry climate.

I traverse through a woodland and reach a small town. Here he is again! This time coming out of a house. And in his outstretched hand, a beer for me to take on my way. He tells me it will be something to remember him by. I ask his name. It is Ewan. I say “Thank you Ewan. I will definitely remember this.” He wishes me luck for the rest of my journey. Once again I realise how kind most people are.

The second half of the day is very different to the first half. Road walking, on what turns out to be quite a busy road. I start looking for camp spots, but everything looks too exposed for my liking. I continue on, down past a reservoir wall and on a punt decide to look up a 4WD track running off the road.

It looks like it might work. Not enclosed, can’t see a house, off the road, reasonably flattish, slightly out of the wind, which has really picked up. I decide to stay.

It’s not the most awesome camping spot I’ve had. But the beer makes it seem something special.

This article was originally published on The Trek and can be found here

A wonderful day of walking through mixed terrain and challenges.

It was the coldest night yet last night, requiring me to pull a thermal top and socks out of my bag. Today though, sunshine greets me again with a wide smile. I smile back.

Whilst everybody on the TGO is walking east, I’m headed west. I follow along old car tracks, the familiar rocky creek always by my side.

After lunch, it’s a bit of a climb on a single path. The track notes tell me it should be very boggy. No bog. Sad for the environment, good for me I suppose. The track takes me to one of the highlights of the trip so far…a beautiful secret waterfall that seems to spring out of a desert type landscape. There is a little suspension bridge over the falls, and down below, crystal clear water sliding over sandstone rocks. It looks just like a tropical oasis with its deep, blue green pools and tree lined banks. It is lovely to sit in the sun and enjoy the flow of this water.

Afterwards, I am happy to see a forest of trees. An easy woodland path takes me onto another water table and back to another gurgling creek. I come across a river crossing which I can’t actually cross without getting my feet wet! Unusually so it seems, it’s the first of the trip. Shoes off, cross, sit in the sun, dry. It works out well.

I reach the Ruigh Aiteachain bothy, a very plush affair which boasts both upstairs and downstairs bedrooms, famous artworks and a fully stocked kitchen and fire set up. I had half decided to push on when I got talking to a teacher out the front. He told me a group of Duke of Edinburgh students were staying the night. That decided me. After my last long distance hiking experience in which I spent several days with the students, no thanks.

I decide to push on another 5-6km and get myself a little closer for the walk in to town tomorrow. I end up near a bridge with the same cool, clear water running underneath. It’s windy, but I’ll stay. Tent up, I huddle inside and enjoy a few hours reading my book serenaded by the occasional splash and squeal when somebody decides to jump from the bridge into the icy waters below. There are some brave souls here in Scotland.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

Distance: 33km

The walk today was like a slow paced song that suddenly reaches a crescendo that just doesn’t stop.

It was really easy walking all day.  That is something that has surprised me about this walk, the flatness.  I’m sure I’ll probably regret saying this, but so far, serious hills have been few and far between.

The first half of day took me primarily along a seldom used by most people…but often used by one guy in a black, speedy 4WD vehicle….road, running adjacent to the rock pool infested River Tilt.

Again, it was hard not to have mixed feelings about what I was seeing.  So beautiful on one hand, but such an altered environment on the other.  Barely a tree in sight.

I had set myself a target of reaching “The Falls of Tarf” by lunchtime.  Right before they were due to appear, the track narrowed to a proper walking path, an ominous sign of good things to come. I sit on the vibrant green grass at the Falls, take my shoes off, soak up the sun and have a break.

From here, I am through the heather, gazing upon a wide watercourse, that strangely has no water in it, when it appears that it should. The Scots have been telling me that the weather is weird, that there is drought and wild fire occurring across the country. Here is the proof. No bog where there should be. No water on the plains. It still looks amazing, even if it’s not as it should be. I continue on to find another surprise.

There are people at the bothy! A tonne of them actually.  The annual TGO (The Great Outdoors) Challenge is on, and these people are all involved. It’s not a race, more an opportunity for people to get outside and enjoy nature and catch up with mates from previous challenges.  There are more than 350 people involved. I set up my tent and go inside to talk to those that are here.

We have a great laugh.  There is Duncan, from England, trying to complete his first challenge (after a broken foot last time round); Tim, also from England who is wearing a kilt and passing the whiskey around freely; Colin, an old hat on his 24th Challenge and ultra knowledgeable about all things Scotland; and, another fellow whose name I didn’t catch, but who did confirm that his son’s name was actually Harry Potter.  

It’s good they are here because it gives me the opportunity to ask them about something that had occured today that I had been unsure about….wondering whether it was just a “Scottish thing” or not. I tell them that just prior to lunch I had passed a guy in hiking boots and giant backpack, but nothing else.  

“What, he was nude”? “Yep”. “Did he say anything?” “Just hello”. The men look around at each other before there is uproarious laughter.  No, apparently that wasn’t “just a Scottish thing”. I guess it was just my lucky day….I suppose I did ask for romance…but not like this mate.  Definitely not like this.

This article was originally published on The Trek and can be found here

Distance: 22km

After a lovely rest day it was up and at ’em again. I feel very ready. It’s another shortish day today, as I have decided I’m going to visit an actual castle this afternoon at Blair Atholl. Seems like a must do whilst I’m in Scotland, so I’m doing it. Should be fun!

It’s a beautiful walk this morning through the magical Faskally Forest, massive trees looming over the track. To the left, Loch Faskally, bubbling away under the bright blue sky. I come to the Pass of Killecrankie (what a name!), a huge railway infrastructure and site of much Jacobean history. I see red squirrels running around in the wood. It’s a great blend of natural beauty and interesting history and the kilometres pass very quickly.

After lunch I’m following the Garry River though it is mostly road walking, or just off road walking, all the way into town. Again, it’s quick though, and I arrive at the caravan park and get set up on my “pitch” (a totally treeless patch of grass) with plenty of time to visit the Blair Castle, which conveniently, is right next door.

I arrive at the Castle, which is white and austere, just in time to watch a solo female bagpiper belt out a few tunes. It sounds amazing, and she does a great job in front of the large crowd. Inside, there are 30 amazing rooms to explore.

It’s hard to describe the mixture of opulence and hard work. All those antiques dating back over 750 years, but with it, all the hand-made tapestries and paintings painstakingly made by the ladies of the time. The rooms are often an amazing mishmash of colours and themes, set off by glorious ceilings, wallpapers, chairs and antlers. It is indeed, life from another world. So hard to imagine. The last couple of Dukes don’t even live in Scotland, but in South Africa. They come back once a year for an annual celebration. I really enjoy the experience, but at the end, am also grateful for my fairly minimalistic life.

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

Distance: 16km

The braes ascend like lofty wa's
The foaming stream deep-roaring fa's
O'erhung w' fragrant spreading shaws
- The Birks of Aberfeldy, Robert Burns 1787

This ruin. I am so grateful to it. Perfectly flat bed. Quiet. Great sleep. Winner.

Off I trot this morning feeling good. The plan has worked. My feet…almost healed. Mental fortitude…good. Quicky hop, skip and jump into town. Hotel and shower and all things good. Time to get a move on.

I finish off the incline pretty quickly. Total height is 523m, but it is a lovely gradient to climb. On the top, the views are sweeping. What I’ve come to learn is typical moor land. Heather, in it’s mauve and white colours, dominates the landscape. It is easy to imagine how spectacular this place would look under a dusting of white snow. Lonely and beautiful.

I’m moving quickly along easy trails, passing a reservoir, creeks and bridges. I hone in on a place described on the map as the “Green Bothy”, the first of many I will come across on my walk. Maintained to perfection, these bothies are, primarily, ancient shacks that provide shelter to wanderers of all sorts.

I go inside and am immediately impressed by how clean it is. Multiple long benches to sit at. Fire wood stacked tightly, ready for the cold. Left over freebies set out for newcomers to enjoy. I spot some Scottish Scotch. Perfect. It’ll go great with my chips. I sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, liquor and snacks. If this is bothy life, it is great.

Onwards, and I’m soon enveloped in a sea of green. This is the largest, and nicest woodland area I’ve seen yet. The “Birks of Aberfeldy”, named after the famous poet, Robert Burns. It is a place worthy of prose. The dominant waterfall thunders through the ravine, with multiple smaller ripples adding to the flow. A series of paths, stone and wooden steps adds to the intrigue of the birks.

I had to look it up. Birks refers to the Birch tree, of which there are many. Signage tells me that this is an area where multiple exotic species were planted to add to the mystic of the native forest. It is a delight to walk through.

I love the town of Aberfeldy. It has a feeling that suits me. Casual and relaxed, but rowdy at times. I had opted for a single room in a “Room Only” hotel (the Station Hotel), in an attempt to save some cash. What a place! Usually, single rooms make me feel a bit…ordinary. This room makes is cool to be single. And the shower is the best I’ve had since getting into Scotland.

A shower, rest and I hit the town. Time to enjoy this rather rowdy Scottish crowd!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

I wake to the sun streaming into my tent.  It’s too hot.  Almost suffocating.  Groaning I reach for my phone to check the time. 9.44am.  What now!?? How did that happen!?? I must have been feeling very comfortable indeed.

It is a quick pack up – not even my morning coffee – and I am away, still looking in awe around me as I climb to the pass.

On the other side, I see a steep mountain, and the River Almond trickling along at the base.  It’s a choose your own adventure style to get to the bottom.  I follow what I suspect is a sheep trail, and it proves to be a good choice.  A little boggy in places, but it takes me to the river in good time.  Pleasing also is that it’s an easy crossing to get to the far side, and I’m right on the gravel road I need to follow next.

It’s easy trail.  Babbling river, bird song and mountains a kaleidoscope of colours.  I see old ruins and a monument cairn to folks whom lost their lives in the great war.

I leave the trail with excitement.  I’ve been looking forward to the next section, and it doesn’t disappoint.  Steep mountains form a deep ravine, up which the track meanders above a slowly running creek.

I come across several lochs, all larger and more peaceful than the last.  The sunny day sets them afire in dazzling silvers and blues.  So much flare compared to the staid, steady mountains.  Again, the remote feeling and beauty of what I am observing makes me feel blessed in a way that only working hard and persevering to see something does.

From here, the day becomes more pragmatic.  I had been hoping to make camp somewhere around Loch Freuchie, but on looking at it, that idea is quickly ruled out.  Too many people, houses, roads and open paddocks. So, I begin a road walk which I know is eventually going to take me up a very steep incline, before levelling out on the moors.  

I’m not thrilled about going up there, uncertain if I will find somewhere sheltered enough or suitable to stay. Despite looking frantically about, I begin the climb.  Part-way up, I spot what might be a reprieve.  An old ruin.  I need to go through a fence to get in there, but the ground is flat, there are no sheep (currently) and I can pitch my tent behind a wall, so no nearby houses can see me.  

I look up the rules for Scottish wild camping again, and decide that I am comfortable enough to stay.  So, that was a big bonus.  And further, I’m already part-way up the hill! Let the good times roll on!

This article was originally published on The Trek which can be found here

Distance: 26km

The farmer won out in the end.  It was not a comfortable bed last night, and I tossed and turned for the majority of it.  I did hear, what I thought was a tractor, this morning…but nobody came running to yell at me and / or get me up and out of bed.  It must have been ok after all.

Partly due to the lack of sleep, I’m feeling rather lethargic this morning.  I slowly make my way, on easy trail though boggy at times, into the town of Comrie.

 I haven’t said a lot about it yet, but I could stand around and gawp at all the little houses in these Scottish towns for an age.  The building materials, the colourful front doors, the carefully selected names, the well tended flower pots, the little ornamentals dotted around the gardens, the fine detail in all the housing embellishments.  I love them.

I decide to go into town properly and have a bite to eat.  See if I can’t jolt myself out of this lethargy. It works to a degree, but what works even better is actively trying to adjust my mindset after lunch.

It helps to get started in a lovely woodland.  It is so verdant green, cool and filled with bird song compared to the open plains of yesterday.  It’s been a very hot day – so to sit in the shade and watch a “wee cascade” is wonderful.

Onwards and there are clear signs that I’m going to be climbing again very soon.  The mountains are closing ranks, standing guard around a swiftly running little creek. Before getting started I sit in the cool creekbed, soaking my feet.  I fill up my water bottles from a tiny, raging waterfall. I’m intending to sleep up in the mountains tonight.

Tentatively, ever so slowly as I climb, the mountains open up.  Ben Chonzie, the highest peak is off to the right, but a huge valley is revealed to the left.  That’s my way.  I try and soak in this feeling of absolute grandeur.  The sun beaming, light, cool breeze, a string of sublime mountains, and a crystal clear creek jumping joyously over the rocks.  It’s a sight alright.

I try to find camp and it’s harder than I expect.  The first spot I try is way too damp.  The second, way too hummocky.  The third, too sloped.  The fourth, a combination.  It looks like it would be easy, but no! Eventually, I do find a suitable little spot, just prior to a mountain pass I will need to go over tomorrow.

I set up and lie back in the sun.  For the first time, it really does feel like wild camping.  My view couldn’t be any more spectacular.  I haven’t seen anybody in hours.  

The sun disappears early behind a mountain, and with that, I can’t think of anything I would rather do more than crawl into my lovely campsite bed, snuggle into my sleeping bag and read my book.  I’m sure I’ll be serenaded by the frogs tonight.

This articles was originally published on The Trek which can be found here