Above: Tanks rumbling along on Greek Independence Day.

If you walk into Exarcheia Square at any time of day from any direction you will see fully kitted out riot police standing there. On some streets there is just one lonely police officer whiling away the hours but on some streets there are groups. Resting on their shields and sporting immaculate haircuts, they seem to be unconcerned by the life going on around them. They mainly seem to be trying to catch the eye of passing groups of women. These riot officers seemed to be solely men from what I could see. They are not physically threatening to a passing tourist such as myself but their constant presence is an indication of the undercurrent of confrontation. The square itself is barricaded off and the cafes around the perimeter continue on in their usual way. There are many ironies in Exarcheia. It is a place which has produced genuine anarchist views and seeks to administer all elements of civil society itself and yet the state is so visibly present. Here, they have been administering their own healthcare and societal groups have replaced many of the civil society roles of the state. It is a place with run down buildings coated in graffiti of varying quality. But, as with any cool place the gentrifying middle classes are never too far away. Cafes with expensive but minimalist decor house digital nomads, tapping away on laptops worth thousands of pounds, from across Europe. There will be a jazz night there later and people dripping in Stussy designer wear will be resting their expensive jackets on the wooden chairs. ‘Anarcho-chic’ is the new black this year.

Above: The view over Athens from Strefi Hill in Exarcheia.

I sat at the HBBH Cafe in Exarcheia Square and ordered an espresso freddo whilst the sun shone on my face. The coffee was delicious as I found to be the case in every cafe I went to in Athens. It was always between €2 – €3, which was very reasonable for the quality. This cafe has a lovely set of outdoor seating and the staff were very friendly but it certainly felt more geared towards tourists than locals. Chatting to the people on the table next to me it became clear that this square has changed markedly in the last few years. What was once a convivial meeting place has now become a commercialised centre. Which is probably why I was able to find a table so easily! All around Exarcheia the young artists and musicians amble by sporting mullets and a whole host of other 70s hairstyles. In the daytime I sat thinking that the general hype around this area was probably just pearl clutching. It seemed to be a deeply gentrified place with a few rough looking streets where you had to watch your step to avoid a coating of dog poo. I wandered around the streets and glanced at second hand clothes shops and a few nicely decorated bookshops, sadly, (but understandably) the books were all in Greek so there were only limited browsing opportunities. They were cluttered with all manner of old books. Some piled high on tables and some neatly organised along shelves. These bookshops resembled the cluttered minds of aged Greek intellectuals. Facts and fiction strewn across in a vaguely ordered manner. They were certainly not the characterless chain bookshops we have become accustomed to. I doubt any of the books were written by washed up tv personalities.

As my feet tired I decided to head up to Strefi Hill and find a spot to sit with a view. Weaving past clouds of weed smoke I made my way up the graffitied steps and into this park. Booming Greek rap was coming from the football pitch where a motley mixture of men and boys were playing a lively game. Crowds were nattering away, absentmindedly watching a middle aged man play a one two with a young lad and then send his shot well wide of the goal. It was pretty idyllic. The rocks and walls of the park are covered in graffiti too but as you follow one of the tracks you slowly climb up and away from the shaded bustle of Exarcheia. The Acropolis casts a watchful eye over this disruptive district. 

Above: Wine on Koletti Street.

At both ends of Koletti Street are the best bars in Athens. The lower end is pedestrianised and all the bars flow out onto the street forming a long line of chatter. The candlelit tables, with the backdrop of elaborate graffiti and anti-capitalist posters, create an interesting atmosphere. From around 8pm onwards the tables were pretty much all occupied by twos and threes. Everybody is drinking away but there seemed to be none of the edge which you would expect if this was a British street. The usual chains were nowhere to be seen too which made a nice change in a capital city. The bars are lively and offer reasonably priced beers, around €4 – €5 and they often have an offer for wine by the litre. At Η σκάλα bar there was a deal for red wine at €9 a litre, it was delicious and the accompanying nuts were very welcome. Maybe not as good as French or Italian wine but still very tasty. Inside, it was decorated in a chaotic way but the lights were dim so it was hard to make out much. I wandered around a few of these bars and enjoyed a range of music and later on a range of the tasty snacks on offer. As you walk uphill and leave the pedestrianised street there is a barren patch before you reach the top end of Koletti Street where another collection of bars lie. These bars, along with the people happily drinking outside them, are another example of the varied life of Exarcheia. In Spira Cafe & Bar, it was very basic plastic chairs, cheap drinks and it was packed with the bustle of people. Not self-conscious people, just people who fancied a drink on Saturday night. But, in the Cusco Cafe across the road it was a different story. A nice place serving reasonable drinks whilst playing decent music but inside there was a collection of pretenders. One clearly wealthy young guy had brought his dachshund into the bar as a prop. The poor little thing scurried around nibbling fallen snacks and trying to avoid the swaying, increasingly tipsy, hipsters. I felt like I was in a similar position. 

After being at the top end of Koletti Street and deciding that the time was up on my evening I ambled down towards the Cookoomela Grill which offered up a delicious range of vegan gyros which I have discussed in a separate piece about Athens’ street food. When I arrived at this street I was confronted by smashed glass all over the road and the hanging, cloying smell of tear gas. Further down the street a formation of riot police with helmets on and shields in hand were marching off. Surveying the devastation was the owner of the neighbouring gyros place who I chatted to for a while about what had just happened. He explained that the people are very angry about the metro station as it represents the encroachment of consumerism into their district. When I asked him about how he felt about the military parade which had gone on earlier that day, just a few hundred metres down the road, and about Independence Day as a whole, he simply replied:

“Independence from who?”.

It was clear that the current government is not popular in this district and the paltry showing along the parade route made it clear the general nation felt similarly. Few had made the effort to come and clap the passing soldiers. I was able to find a front row spot after arriving just minutes before the first vehicles rolled past. The smashed glass and tear gas that evening explained why there was little love felt between rulers and ruled. It was another strange contradiction. Here was an expression of the might of the state in the morning and in the evening they scurried around with helmets and shields dodging bottles and polluting the air with noxious gases. Those older members of this district seemed completely impervious to the goings on and after a few minutes the area was full of chatter again. Instantly it was hard to imagine this as anything but an increasingly gentrified district with a punky past.

The process of gentrification is something interesting to witness as an outsider. At this moment in time, the process is still in its infancy. The first luxury hotels stand bravely. Their inhabitants hopping in taxis and enjoying rooftop sunsets. Coffee is an important part of Greek culture and the general day, but a few of the newer looking cafes wouldn’t look out of place in Shoreditch. Exarcheia Square is ripe for commercialisation and the Mayor and President are well aware that here lies profit. Down little side streets there are places which have seen the rise and fall of military dictatorships and sold spanakopita to everyone from Palestinian refugees to American backpackers. Art students from Bavaria and Paris sit alongside digital nomads working on acquisitions for tech startups. Like all of Europe’s rougher corners (think of Lisbon, Berlin or East London), Exarcheia is highly Instagrammable and with this brings the idle rich who want to be seen in leather jackets drinking beer out of plastic glasses with the masses. Yet, those that can truly call this place home are still having street battles with riot police. They still live on top of each other and offer those fleeing war and famine a place to stay. There is still plenty of integrity around. They just need to wait out this flight of fancy. A new destination will be chosen. Perhaps it will be Bucharest or Catania. For their sake I hope that property is not sold off to hotel chains in the meantime. 

If you would rather a more traditional Greek taverna then I would highly recommend Rakoumel. The decor was simplistic but stylish and the place was packed with older Greek couples and families all enjoying their weekends. Tucked down a side street this seemed the perfect place to rest some weary legs and try one of the many Greek salads on offer. I chose the Cretan Village Salad which was absolutely delicious. It came in a large bowl with enough feta to keep me going for a long time. The feta was seasoned with oregano and olive oil and it formed a delicious combination. For €6.50 I was nourished and my belly was full. They were extremely friendly here and very attentive. At one point, as I lazily stared into the middle distance somebody stole my bag and if it wasn’t for one of the other guests shouting out and then running after the person I would have lost it! Thankfully I got it back, it only had my jumper and a water bottle in it so maybe the would-be thief decided it wasn’t worth the hassle! It was a good reminder to pay a bit of attention, though.

One place which finds itself in the centre of Athens but would be just as comfortable in a tiny village on one of Greece’s many islands is the Pnyka bakery. Having weaved past an H&M and all the other usual chains I felt as though there was no point even looking at any of the food places in the area until I happened to take a small side street and walk past this wonderful place. Racks filled with delicious looking treats and a whole assortment of things which I had never seen before caught my eye. The fact that there was an older Greek couple leaving with bags stuffed full of goodies made me think this place must be worth a look. I chose a couple of pastries which I will admit that I have no clue what they were. They cost me less than €4 and they were an absolute treat. Incredibly flaky pastry and again a strong presence of dill and spinach. It was somewhere I would definitely recommend as a place to grab a few pocket snacks whilst you wander around.

The rules which I stood by in choosing good places for little street food bites or for a full meal are the same I would use for any country or city where I am going with the express aim of eating their cuisine. First of all, if a place is busy then it is usually worth trying. The next, and I would argue this was particularly important in Greece, is to avoid anywhere that advertises in English or has an English name. In Athens I was always keeping my eyes peeled for a bakery or taverna with purely Greek writing. Of course, there are some exceptions such as the Magic Kitchen which are serving more contemporary food and are aimed at a younger market. The last is to see who is eating there. All the places I ended up eating were full of Greek people with the odd tourist tucked in. This guarantees the best atmosphere and is also a sure sign that the place has a good reputation. Created by relaxed people chatting away with good music accompanying their discussions. It feels calm but also packed with possibility. Whatever you do, eat as much gyros as you possibly can and try out all the delicious treats that are on offer in the Greek bakeries.

Walking into Aberfeldy is a unique experience. You come down off the moors into the famous ‘Birks of Aberfeldy’. An area immortalised in the poetry of Robert Burns. Excerpts from this poem are dotted around this area which we stopped to read. This gorge houses dramatic waterfalls and thick, old growth woodland. Twisting beeches reach out across the drop below, defying gravity. Below them the soil is thick with wild garlic, the whole place smells of this lovely scent. We had set off at 7.30 that morning and we were fading so we sat on a bench and looked up the menu of a pub in Aberfeldy. The golden words of ‘sandwich and chips’ provided us with renewed energy. Further down, there was a statue of Burns sitting on a bench. It depicts him writing one of his famous verses about this enchanting place. I imagine that he had a handwritten copy of the menu to glance at if his spirits dropped. The Birks are a beautiful area of intact native woodland surrounding intermittent waterfalls and pools. It is not hard to see why Burns was so enamoured with the place.

Aberfeldy is known as the town at the centre of Scotland, as it is roughly equidistant east and west whilst being at the middle point of the north and south axis. It is in this way that the town has gathered an unusual reputation. Geographically, it is situated at the bend of the river Tay not far from the grand Loch Tay. Across the Tay is one of General Wade’s most famous bridges (the Tay Bridge) which was built in 1733. Wade built bridges and pathways across the Highlands to allow faster movement of troops to quell the warring Clans. He was an English General who had a fearsome reputation. Today, his legacy is one of a depopulated Highland landscape and an example of English colonisation of Celtic cultures. This bridge stands as an eerily beautiful monument to English repression of the wilder Highland peoples. It is strange to stand in a place where people have so readily welcomed us despite this divisive history. It is important for English people to understand our history and to see that our wealth and diversity is born from violence everywhere from Aberfeldy to Amritsar. Of course, Scottish people were active colonisers too. But here is an artefact to the English militarily targeting the Scottish Highland Clans. An action which contributed to the Highland Clearances and the ensuing eviction of smallholding tenants. Land became concentrated into fewer hands and the large estate owners abandoned mixed farming in favour of sheep and deer. The consequences of these events shaped Scotland as it is today. The Highlands are carved into vast estates, often owned by absent landowners. These estates often exist solely to produce deer and grouse to shoot and house innumerable sheep that eat every last branch that appears on these bare hillsides. The concentration of land ownership into a few hands has robbed rural communities of their connection to the landscape around them. Only recently is this trend beginning to shift. It is remarkable how a chain of events which began in the early 18th century still determines the fate of the hills around us.

Without walking we would never have known about this place. We also would not have the enormous appetite that allowed us to eat all of that food and be hungry again for a burger just hours later. In Aberfeldy there are three pubs: The Blackwatch, The Fountain and the Schiehallion. Upon our arrival, after chatting to an old local, we were told that all three have almost exactly the same menu so it really doesn’t matter which one you choose. We preferred the Blackwatch just because of the local characters. It was not a fancy pub, a slightly sticky floor being the ultimate indicator but the staff were very friendly. After laughing for a while we had long funny conversations with the older locals which mainly ended with them pointing out that we were just wee English pricks so of course we wouldn’t get it. We didn’t mind this at all, in fact it felt more like a backhanded compliment than anything else. There were all manner of thick Scottish accents around and it was entertaining to be surrounded by so many people again. We decided to stay the night in a B&B just across the road from the Blackwatch. The place was perfect for us and Bob, the owner, was very entertaining. It was a common theme across Scotland that the older locals were incredibly friendly to us and invariably had some useful advice for us. One of the guys used to walk to Pitlochry (our next destination) often and he told us of a nice route to take which would pass a large bluebell wood. The further north we went the more people seemed genuinely happy to see a few new faces. It often happened when we were flagging that we would bump into somebody who would recharge our enthusiasm with encouraging words for us. This did wonders for our morale.

From Aberfeldy our next stop was the town of Pitlochry. Our walk took us along the bank of the Tay winding upriver. The luscious river banks are covered in all manner of wildflowers from ragged robins to bluebells. It was really beautiful and very easy walking to begin with. Eventually we crossed the river at the affluent town of Grandtully. From here, it was a steep walk up the hill through forestry plantations until we reached the open hill at the top. Standing alone up this hill was a lovely old Scots Pine that provided us with a nice shady spot to sit and admire the view below us. It was quite a short walk to Pitlochry, probably only ten miles, but these few towns would be our last chances to sleep in a bed for a long while so we allowed ourselves the luxury of a slower day.

Pitlochry itself is a Victorian-era tourist town. It was bustling when we arrived as the Pitlochry Festival Theatre had a set of events on. Nearby to this theatre is the Pitlochry Fish Ladder. This feat of engineering allows migrating salmon to bypass the dam and head upstream to their spawning grounds. We couldn’t see anything through the viewing point but as we crossed the bridge we saw an enormous salmon leap out of the water just upstream. It was very exciting to see such a revered wild animal in its natural habitat. Especially as their numbers have dwindled significantly. We stayed in a slightly more sanitised B&B that evening. The room was very clean and had two large comfortable single beds but little of the charm that some of the smaller, more informal places we had stayed had. We also felt a little bit less welcome than we had in the more rough and ready town of Aberfeldy. It certainly didn’t help that we were the only other walkers and the other clientele were fairly smartly dressed middle aged couples.

The following morning we bought our supplies for the next few days and began another relatively leisurely stroll to Blair Atholl. It was a perfect sunny day and we spent most of it walking along forgiving paths beside the River Garry. We passed the site of the Battle of Killiecrankie which took place in 1689. This famous battle was part of the Jacobite Rebellion which was essentially a war between the predominantly Highlander Jacobite armies and the Government troops. This battle was a resounding victory for the Jacobites but it was costly for all sides. Nearby there is also a rock from which a fleeing Government soldier is said to have leaped across the river to escape pursuing Highland forces. Standing beside it, it is impossible to imagine the fear which must have driven somebody to risk jumping the huge distance across the steep-sided river. We arrived at an old hunting lodge in Blair Atholl that evening in bright sunshine. It was warm enough to sit outside and sample the local ales in just a t shirt which felt like a great luxury. The village of Blair Atholl is a slightly strange place that does not feel as though it has permanent inhabitants. There are many pretty holiday homes dotted around but it feels as though there is no community. After wandering around for a bit we got an early night’s sleep in preparation for crossing the Cairngorms.

Crossing the Cairngorms in early May is a sure-fire way to experience all four seasons in one day. As we opened the curtains in the morning we were greeted with sheets of rain. Luckily, we had breakfast downstairs first before we had to get drenched. In the echoing dining room we ate a light breakfast with smiles on our faces as we had been excited for this section of our journey for quite some time. We repacked our backpacks, fully loaded with supplies for the next three days. Our route took us up the Tilt river and past the grounds of Blair Castle. It is an enormous building but the mishmash of architectural styles makes it look a little bit like a child’s drawing of a castle. As we walked further up the river the banks were lined with beech trees in their gnarled aged state. These eventually gave way to open moorland and the occasional dark forestry blocks.

As we climbed up the valley these forestry blocks became less regular and our only companions became sheep and the occasional strangled call of a grouse. It is hard not to imagine how much life this landscape could hold if there was greater balance between livestock and wild creatures. The occasional splash of wood anemones shows that these hills have not always been so bare. In many ways this bleakness has become part of Scotland’s charm but we are hoping to find a very different landscape as we reach the end of our crossing. We carried on all the way up the Tilt river, past the beautiful Falls of Tarf before we decided to camp near Loch Tilt. This camp spot was in a more sheltered area with a view of Ben Macdui looking gloomy in the distance. For our first evening in this beautiful wilderness we had chorizo and a Tilda rice bag which seemed to be a far more appetising meal than tins of beans. The Co-op in Pitlochry had served us well for slightly more high-end supplies. We had our first dinner of this which felt like gourmet cooking after some of the more questionable meals we had tried, like the disgusting tinned Thai Green Curry we had beside Loch Venachar. There is no greater pleasure than eating outside in my opinion. When you have a sheltered spot and a view of mountains in front of you it really can’t be beaten. The extra Crunchie bar did no harm either.

The next morning we crossed a few burns and then reached a gate which heralds a section of land being released from the heavy grazing pressures. Inside, the first stage of regeneration is underway. Rowan and dwarf birch saplings poke through the heather. Perhaps, next time I walk through this area it will be through thickets alive with birds and reptiles. For now, there is little shade. It is exciting to see this change in attitude towards our outdoors as finally it is being viewed as valuable in itself and not just a resource to be extracted. The Cairngorms is nominally a National Park but in reality much of the landscape is privately owned and used for deer stalking and grouse shooting. Centuries of this has created a very degraded landscape.

Later that day we crossed a rickety scaffold bridge above a waterfall. We had reached the top of Glen Feshie. In the distance a Granny Pine marks the entrance to a landscape which is wholly different. This charismatic tree climbs and twists in front of us. All of a sudden, there is life around. The swishing tail of a snake exits the path ahead of us. A pool of water stands full of tadpoles, a promise of life to come. As we descended further into the glen the transformation was magnificent. There were many Granny Pines around us, all distinctly individual. Their offspring surround them in thick clumps. After seeing Scots pine almost exclusively in forestry blocks growing straight to the sky it was interesting to see how different they look when they grow naturally. Instead of arrow straight they twist and turn all over the place. The path was now flanked by a knee-high layer of moss, heather and bilberries. Above this, is a dense layer of juniper bushes and silver birch. Primroses line the banks of the burns now. It is an amazing feeling to be in this landscape’s natural habitat.

Even though we are not far from the newly renovated bothy at Glen Feshie, we decided to camp on the springy woodland floor under mighty Scots Pines, with silver birch to provide us with the perfect fuel to cook our dinner with. It is a deep sleep. Imagining lynx and pine martens roaming this forest. It should happen soon. From these glens the mighty forests are on the march once more. With a helping hand these areas of strength can flow outwards. The excitement of being in this environment is there for all to see. When we arrive at the bothy the following day, young people from Aviemore are just leaving, having swept the floor and restocked the firewood. They left us a bit of brandy. Neither of us really like brandy but we are so over excited by the luxury of the place we get over it. Glen Feshie bothy is at the height of comfort where bothies are concerned. It has veg boxes outside the front with rhubarb growing in. There is a barbecue, a water source and an almost limitless supply of wood. If this is the only bothy you visit in Scotland then you will have a distorted view of what they are really like. Mostly they are basic but welcome shelters from the weather with a fireplace and place to put your sleeping bag. This is more like an expensive lodge, there is even a compost toilet. It is very welcome though. Glen Feshie is the estate which was bought by the Danish Billionaire and ASOS owner, Anders Povlsen. When he bought it in 2006 it, too, was a degraded hunting estate and in the sixteen years which have followed an almighty change has taken place. Whilst questions remain about the estrangement of the land from local communities it is refreshing to see a wealthy landowner make a positive change to an area.

It is impossible not to wonder about the future of this landscape whilst sitting at this magnificent bothy. Nearby are the ruins of a house that reportedly had a Landseer mural within it. All that remains today is the chimney. Across the Highlands there are the scattered remains of crofts and old houses. Proof that this land was once rich enough to support all these people. That could only happen through diversity. Forestry, sheep and shooting has not left much room for this necessary diversity.

The following morning we left early and walked in the direction of Kingussie and a pub lunch. Waking early and walking in the thin dawn light is one of the greatest pleasures. You feel as though you have stolen extra hours and the world is yours alone. The trees are thick with songbirds. Every mile you walk before breakfast only adds to the glee.We were treated to a heartening landscape and this continued throughout the day. Thick, healthy heather and dense thickets dominate this landscape. The occasional bird of prey wheels overhead. We are hoping to see an osprey as we get closer to the Spey reserve. Unfortunately, no such luck but this is soon forgotten as we passed the enormous remains of Ruthven Barracks. Another legacy of the Jacobite Rebellion and that tumultuous era. From its place beside the Spey it dominates the landscape and it was clearly a powerful place. By the time we made it to Kingussie we were starving. The town itself felt like a middle class town but without any real hub or centre. As one of the places that sit beside the Cairngorms it clearly relied on tourism so there did not seem to be much happening on a rainy day. The first place we saw was the Duke of Gordon where we had a frankly underwhelming sandwich. It was more of a hotel than a pub and its ramshackle outdoor seating should have alerted us but we were so hungry we ignored all the signs!We had full bellies though so this was good enough for us. From there it was a short walk to Loch Gynack and a place to pitch our tent.

We woke up beside Loch Gynack, a small loch just north of the Cairngorms National Park. The wind was howling up the glen and the sparse silver birches around us provided very little cover. In hindsight, we should have sought a more protective area for the night. We had spent the night in and out of sleep hoping that the wind would die down but the crashing of branches around us reminded us it was no passing breeze. This was a menacing wind sweeping down from the Highlands, the sort of wind that kept wolves up at night. It toyed with our tent and taunted us awake. Was this the hostile, albeit belated, welcome that was long overdue? It was definitely in stark contrast to the welcome of the Scottish people we’d encountered along the way.

We woke from this half sleep to find the tent flapping angrily and we began to worry that something might land on our precious shelter. We packed our backpack and quickly set about taking down the tent. Neither of us said it aloud but we were pretty worried and the tension of starting our day in this manner was tangible. This was the worst night’s sleep we had had and in our bleary-eyed state we did not feel too hopeful that this terrible weather was about to let up. Normally, we would pack away our belongings and then sit wherever we had camped to cook porridge before heading off. This morning we decided just to get going and try to find somewhere more sheltered. Trying to pack everything away neatly whilst being blown around was a real challenge. Imagine rolling up the groundsheet of your tent whilst such a strong gale blows into your face and draws tears from your eyes. It isn’t how you would start an ideal day. We had to walk head on into this gale and as we rounded the corner, heading in the direction of Laggan, we were greeted by even worse weather.

The rain came at a horizontal angle, straight into our faces. With our hoods on the rustling was so loud we couldn’t hear each other so we walked in silence for a while. Eventually, we came to an old crofter’s dry stone wall which provided a perfect windbreak. We sat here for a while and finally managed to gather our thoughts. First of all we ate an energy bar and drank some water. After a while of feeling a little sorry for ourselves we saw that there was an open cafe in the nearby Newtonmore. We set off with the promise of hot food driving us onwards. On our way, we came across a fellow hiker going in the opposite direction. He had just done the Cape Wrath Trail (this would be the final and hardest leg of our journey). He warned us it was very boggy and his array of equipment, from GPS tracker to waterproof trousers made us feel pretty inadequate. In the end we were happier to hike in our slightly more precarious way without every eventuality covered. It necessitates a bit more concentration and of course some more luck. Still, we weren’t really thinking of anything but a hot breakfast so we soon buried our concerns.

We couldn’t stop smiling from the moment we walked in to the Antlers Cafe in Newtonmore. When our Full Scottishwas placed in front us there were huge grins followed by about five minutes of silent, relentless eating. A Full Scottish is essentially just a Full English with a fried slice of haggis added too. I am definitely not the biggest fan of haggis but after a cold and windy morning it satisfied the main criteria of being hot. The cafe had a homely feel and they were very friendly to us. I expect weary travellers are regular customers here. The food was exactly what we wanted. Slightly stodgy and greasy. Extra slices of toast began the job of replenishing our energy stores. A cup of tea started the process of restoring our core heat. For £8.50 we were new again.

Newtonmore is an area famous for its Scottish Wildcat population. These small predators are the UK’s rarest mammal, found in just a few places in the Scottish Highlands. The inhabitants of Newtonmore are proud of this and dotted around are various effigies and depictions of Wildcats. Their distinctive, wide flat faces distinguish them from domesticated cats but they, too, are very small. They are rarely seen but if you are likely to see them anywhere it is here.

We walked up out of the village towards the River Calder. As we left the village behind, we passed the Well of the Alder. This is an ancient spring which was the source of water for the village long before there was piped water. Like many such sites it is said to have healing properties. We refilled our bottles on the off chance it would improve whatever ailments we had lurking. Like all of the spring and stream water we drank it was infinitely more delicious than tap water. For a while after we finished this trip tap water tasted horribly metallic and impure. As we continued along the Calder, the woodland petered out and the ground around us began to squelch. Then the path ceased to exist in any meaningful state. We followed the river and wound one direction and another to avoid impassable sections of bog. It was a sight this bog must have witnessed for centuries. We hopped from dry patch to dry patch until, suddenly, what looked like a solid tuft was in fact a very malleable clump of moss. All the while the weather was turning sour again. Slowly we picked our way through bog after bog. Occasionally a section of solid 4X4 track would present itself and we would smile at each other. Then it would just tail off again. Eventually we made it to the A86 at Balgowan and some firm ground. We hated walking along roads, tarmac is unforgiving on all your joints and the drudgery is no good for the soul. After staggering through bogs it felt wonderful. Every step would land and the ground held us up.

We walked the short distance to Laggan and found a warm sanctuary. Specifically, the delightful Laggan Stores which is both a shop and a cafe. It also houses a very chatty parrot. When we arrived we were met by extremely friendly faces and the eerily human speech formulated by the parrot. It sang through its favourite phrases and then fell quiet. After only hearing wind buffeting against our ears for the last few hours it made a strange change. Despite this, it is a place I would recommend to any walker or passerby. There are all manner of delicious treats you can buy and their shop was well-stocked. We treated ourselves to a bowl of soup and a couple of Glen Spean ales. Both of these (and the slice of cake we stuffed into our bag for later) did wonders for our morale. The parsnip soup was delicious. The heartiness was required after a day of being toyed with by the various extremes of Scottish weather. By the time we reached Laggan we had been walking for nearly a month and even though it was the 21st of May it was still chilly.

The next stage of our route was a manageable pass through the hills ahead. This steep formation of hills offered no easy ways round but there is one which was well-trodden, the Corrieyairack Pass. It was a pass designed to carry General Wade’s troops ever further north. But, first of all, we needed to find a spot to camp in order to sleep off the soup and ale! We found a sheltered place by the River Spey and tucked into our slices of cake. As an English person the novelty of being able to just choose a beautiful spot to camp had not worn off. Better still is the ability to sleep there safe in the knowledge nobody will tell you it is private. If anything, people are enthusiastic and happy to see young people out exploring the landscape. The fact people treat us with respect reinforces our respect for each place. Of course, we leave no trace and where possible we pick up litter that others have left. This is how it should be.

As we stirred our porridge beside this lovely river I discovered that the coming night was supposed to be very cold. We were going to be climbing to roughly 780m for the pass so it would probably not be wise to camp up there. It was pretty amazing that in late May it was still dropping to around freezing at night. Because of this, we decided to make the relatively short journey to Melgarve bothy and then make the crossing the following day. That way we would have plenty of time to make it down the other side to the town of Fort Augustus.

Our walk took us past a string of Wade’s bridges. Distinctive in their style and now largely redundant due to the shift in the river’s course. Remarkably, the bridges still stand as imposingly as they have since the day they were built. The route to Fort Augustus, and the domineering Loch Ness, follows General Wade’s military road. A road constructed by the English General in order to quickly move troops around the Highlands and pacify the warring clans. A few weeks earlier we saw the remarkably well-preserved bridge, built under his orders, across the River Tay in Aberfeldy. Wade was a bastard by all accounts and the history of English repression in the Highlands is not spoken about as often as it should be. The repercussions of the Highland Clearances are there to see today with vast areas of land owned by very few people with just the ruined croft walls left to speak of a richer history.

As we walked towards Melgarve bothy we were surrounded by a heavily overgrazed landscape. The weeping sores that are peat hags show how far the sickness has spread. The hordes of semi-tame deer that line the hillsides around us are certainly not helping this landscape. They may provide income and entertainment for a few but their numbers are unsustainably high. I am surprised just how tame they are. I walk to within 15 metres of a reasonably sized Stag and shout ‘bang!’ and wave my walking pole but it does not flinch. Maybe I’m the idiot in this scenario!

We arrived at the Melgarve bothy to find that it was still struggling after probably more than a year of closure during the pandemic. It was clearly once a magnificent bothy but it has now fallen on harder times. Thankfully for us, the space upstairs is still lovely and there was a small chess set. I lost so many games in a row that Will started giving me in-game advice. Nothing more humiliating. Whilst I was in a rut I realised that I had left the guide for the Cape Wrath Trail behind, most likely in the Laggan Cafe. There was absolutely no chance I was going to walk all the way back so we would have to walk that section without the useful tips and advice. It was not ideal but luckily I still had the maps. That night we had a relatively cosy night in the bothy (apart from being startled when some late arrivals walked in). We woke early the following morning to begin the journey over to Fort Augustus and Loch Ness. It was a pretty miserable, grey day but in many ways we needed the cloud cover to keep us cool. Our breakfast was just an energy bar and some beef jerky. If we were quick we might make it to Fort Augustus before the pubs stopped serving lunch. Sitting down without the weight of our backpacks in the warmth of a pub was a very powerful feeling. Suddenly parachuted back into normal life with an ale and some chips.

The climb up was relatively steep and when you are carrying roughly 20kg backpacks it is quite draining. The ascent was a series of hairpin turns on loose stones which was knackering to walk on. Each time you push off on your standing leg it would slip slightly and your momentum would be lost. Near the top, we found a wonderful old fresh water spring to refill our bottles and splash our faces. We had slept the previous night with our hats on and until you rinse your hair, it is hard to feel clean. Whilst most nights it was necessary to keep a hat on it was not a nice feeling to wake up with your hair stuck to your head. Most days we wouldn’t have enough water to spare to clean until we found a stream. The moment you come across a fast-flowing stream with clear delicious water and you can drink and wash is the moment your day can start. We reached the top of the pass and walked in this eerie landscape where very little lives and the odd patch of snow still lingered. There was a very cold wind, we were sweating from the walk but as soon as you stopped to sit down the wind would draw all the heat out of your body. A group flew past on mountain bikes as we brushed our teeth and looked out at the view ahead. Loch Ness is not yet in view but the mountains away to the north made a very impressive view. As we descended we began to see the small town of Fort Augustus and the wooded glen within which Loch Ness sits. Like the false summits that exist across this walk, the illusion of being close to your destination is one that hounded us. It appeared so close and yet after an hour’s walk it still seemed to be just as far away. We decided to sit and enjoy the view with a Crunchie bar and talk nonsense for a little bit.

We were finally getting closer to Fort Augustus but then the path changed into a hard access road for lorries which caused all of our joints to judder under each step. It ground us down but we were rewarded by views of Loch Ness. Generally, I find that famous and touristy places are usually very underwhelming, if not downright unpleasant (think of the Royal Mile in Edinburgh with all the tatt shops and overpriced soulless pubs) but the scale of Loch Ness is incredible. We were genuinely stunned by its beauty. To capture this beauty I think the best thing to do is to sit quietly close to the water line and look up at the vast expanse of water and the yellow streaks of gorse and allow yourself to be impressed. I have not seen any work which successfully transmits how beautiful it is. When we finally made it to the water line we found that someone had had a picnic and just walked away from the rubbish. It’s enough to make us want to leave straight away! Luckily we didn’t and we were fast enough to arrive just in time for an enormous sandwich and chips which soothed our stomachs at the wonderfully named Lock Inn. This meal was washed down with a few pints and the world appeared right again. Fort Augustus is a strange place. It is one of those places which has no real community. It is just a collection of tourist amenities. We stayed in a B&B which was one of hundreds. All soulless and faceless. We picked our key up at a self check-in. No smiley face or Scottish brogue to point us in the right direction of a good meal. Just an email with a five number code to a lockbox. We dropped our stuff off and wandered around the town. Fort Augustus is another place born from the Jacobite Rebellion. Here, General Wade built a fort which was finished in 1742. He intended to build a town around this fort and call it Wadesburgh. An example of a self-centred mind. The fort was taken by the Jacobites in 1746 just before the final pitched battle on British soil, the Battle of Culloden. The Jacobites lost, decisively, and English hegemony across the British Isles was secured. The Scottish clan system was dismantled and the Highlands were gutted. Maybe this is why it is such a melancholic place.

The following morning we woke to heavy rain again. We had been walking every day since we left Milngavie and we were pretty tired. I found that there was a lovely looking B&B in Invergarry for very cheap and we decided that we would have another night inside. We would be walking south for the day which was very disconcerting. We had to follow the Great Glen Way before we would then head west again up Glen Garry. It was easy walking along the very flat paths along the Caledonian Canal. When we first started this trip we would have bitten your hand off for a day of walking along such comfortable paths, but by this stage it felt pretty dull. I’m sure on another day we would have appreciated the beauty more. Maybe we would have sat on one of the many benches and enjoyed a few snacks and chatted about what we would like to do in our lives. But that day it just rained incessantly. We had water dripping into our eyes and our coats, which had stood up to all the preceding tests, could not keep all this water out. My socks were wet and all we could look at were the few metres in front of us. If we had not had the luck of finding a place to stay that night we would have been in trouble. There would have been no chance for our clothes to dry and we would have struggled to warm up. Our sleeping bags and the clothes we slept in were in dry bags so they were fine but everything else was dripping. As it was, we arrived at the Nursery Cottages B&B looking like a sorry pair. We were warmly greeted and ushered indoors to a warm room. It was a very simple place. Really just a house with a couple of rooms inside. We didn’t want to cook that afternoon but there was nowhere open to eat so we went to the Glengarry Petrol Station and bought all the snacks we could carry. We spent our afternoon eating lumps of Jamaica Ginger Cake and watching Crocodile Dundee on the telly in the corner of the room. I’d never seen it before so I managed to keep my eyes open the whole way through. A whole afternoon lying on a comfy bed with a row of snacks in front of us. It was actually exactly what we wanted to do.

Our next day started brightly. We passed a charismatic Highland cow and soon found ourselves in pretty woodland which was in the process of being restored. The rain was interspersed with long sunny patches. It felt like the weather was changing. I tentatively checked my weather app and was greeted with a row of grinning suns. Temperatures soaring and not a raindrop in sight. This optimism buoyed us and we stopped, languidly, and chatted about football and places we would like to go when we finished this trip. We made brilliant progress throughout the day. Our raincoats were stowed away and we walked in t-shirts. Then, we reached an abandoned house at Garrygualach. It had a beautiful view over the Garry River and the forest beyond. Why would somebody abandon such a place? The following two hours we spent walking two miles through impenetrable bog was why. The fucking bog. We would find the remnants of a path and it would take us ten metres then it would disappear. Never to be seen again. We would follow a drier route and make some progress but it would be false. It would be a trick. We would end up surrounded by water with our only option being to retrace our steps and try a different path. We are both pretty easy going people but this pushed us to our limit. We finally trudged through into the scattered remains of a forestry plantation. It was desolate and lowered our mood further. Right beside Loch Poulary was an old oak tree with a few birches on the bank and patch of ground flat enough for our tent. We put it up, barely uttering a word and began to cook our dinner. As we sat on an old tree trunk and ate our rice and beans we suddenly saw an otter on the far bank. It slipped into the water and went under. Then it appeared just downstream of a rock and swam up to it and sat there. It began to dive off this rock and hunt for food before returning back. It didn’t notice us at all and we sat in awed silence and watched. It was beautiful.

We were hoping, after a peaceful night beside Loch Poulary, to re-acquaint ourselves with the otter as we sat and ate breakfast, looking across the water. The otter stayed secluded but it was a nice, dry morning. We set off towards an area which was called East Glenquoich Forest on the map. After a brief traverse along a small one lane road we headed off into what was supposed to be a forest. Or maybe it was just once a forest. Now, there was a patch of hillside fenced- off with a few anaemic looking saplings and a group of red deer that had obviously hopped the fence. Across the valley was an enormous expanse of devastation where once there stood rows of forestry. It was an inauspicious start to our day. But, things started to improve drastically as we reached the top of the pass, and the Glenshiel mountains came into view.  The descent into Glen Loyne was relatively easygoing and there are signs of regeneration around us. The valley floor was bare but we found a few nice stones to sit on and eat a light lunch. We sat around and chatted away. Entirely alone in this massive landscape. Free to eat a chocolate bar, smoke a cigarette and then pick up our bags and lope off towards the next hill.

We began our, by now, typical routine of trying to reach the one pub on our route before they stopped serving lunch. Today, our target was the Cluanie Inn. We passed the edge of the Cluanie Forest, a barren and largely treeless expanse, at around 2pm. It seemed like it could go either way. There was also the very real chance that the pub would have closed down. There was no more heart wrenching feeling. We had Loch Cluanie stretching out below us and we could see that the road which runs along the far side was extremely busy. It was full of campervans and motorbikes and everything else. This was a great sign, chances are the pub would be serving this stream of people.

We were emerging out of relative isolation and it was going to be quite nice to have a few faces around. The path was one of those that never end. Every corner had to be the last corner before we would be arriving but instead there was another twist and surely the last corner in front of us. This carried on for another hour and it was looking very unlikely that we would be tucking into something warm. Finally we crossed the bridge with the pub in sight. We barely said a word to each other in the hope that we wouldn’t jinx it. Sheepishly we opened the door to a worryingly empty pub. We were met by friendly faces behind the bar who said they were doing pizza all day!! All the tension left us both, we ordered two and went to sit outside in the sun. Our vision returned and we looked around us with a bit more care. All over the place there were campervans and hatchbacks filled with young people. Beside the loch there were a string of tents. It turns out the Cluanie Inn sits right beside the North Coast 500. All of a sudden we were surrounded by young people finally free from lockdown, too. That night we camped beside the loch too and spent our first night in Scotland with other campers around us. We also took an extra pizza back with us to have in our tent. We slept soundly and relished the chance to wander back off into the wild again in the morning. Pizza has a way of inspiring one to push oneself physically…after a good night’s sleep, of course!

That following morning, we crossed the main road and walked towards the top of Glen Affric. I wish that we had the energy to descend all the way to the lower glen and see the regeneration which has happened but as it was we simply could not be arsed to walk all those extra miles. We saw the very top of this beautiful glen, covered in squares of regenerating hillside. It was an incredibly uplifting place. We could see how it would look in thirty years. It will be an amazing landscape again. Whilst we were looking around admiring the scenery, Will managed to go up to his knee in a bog. It was a gentle reminder from the Scottish Highlands to pay attention.

A walk past Camban bothy saw us surrounded by the extensive ruins of former crofts. Large walls remained and the intricate network of houses that were once up here must have been a real sight to see. It would have been an amazing place to live. Pretty chilly, though. We wound down the path into our third treeless forest in a few days. Kintail Forest, as it is marked on the maps, was a pretty valley floor grazed to nothing by an army of sheep. One day maybe it will recover. The flat valley floor provided an amazing place for us to camp though and a still, warm evening meant we did not require the shelter of a forest. We dipped our toes in the freezing water of the River Croe and cooked our dinner on the stony beach. We were starting to feel pretty damn lucky now the sun was out most days.

The next day it was clear sunshine, fog clung to the top of the mountains around us and we got up and out in the early light. It was the kind of day that makes you feel as though you have cheated somehow. We strolled into Morvich, the fact there was no shop and the only supplies we could get was Kendal Mint Cake and some dehydrated pasta from a campsite shop made no difference to our mood. We followed a stream up from Morvich amongst a wooded path with a carpet of bluebells around us. As we grew closer to Dorusdain Wood we were greeted by actual trees! It was not just the maps that thought there was life here this time. Okay, large chunks of this woodland were rows of plantation trees but in amongst this was a living ecosystem.

We wound upwards, pretty sharply, heading in the directions of the Falls of Glomach. It was quite a popular route and dog walkers passed us by with a nod and a smile. After a long set of false peaks we reached the falls and found a nice rock to sit on with a view of the cascading water. The tight gully had this thin waterfall pouring noisily through. It was a great spot to eat a Kendal Mint Cake and think about where we wanted to camp that night. The path away from the falls in the direction of Loch Na Leitreach was pretty precarious. It was very narrow and with a sharp drop away to our right. Without a twenty-odd kilo backpack on it would have been fine but with that destabilising weight on our backs it felt a little nervy. The thing with falling or slipping whilst you have that much weight on your back is that it is very hard to right yourself quickly. Especially for a pair of untrained amateurs who had just decided to pack a bag and start walking. We made it down unscathed and as we stopped to wash our faces in a small stream a very friendly Scottish hill-walker came from the other direction. He was an interesting and smiley man and again could not have been more friendly. We took his advice to camp by the loch just a bit further down and we found a nice sheltered spot. In hindsight we realised it was not very level at all and we spent most of the night pulling ourselves back up from the bottom of the tent.

It is interesting how when we began this trip, we had to put everything into climbing any hill that came our way. Gradually we must have been getting stronger and fitter but you don’t notice this gradual change. It only becomes apparent when suddenly you have just climbed a hill whilst chatting away. The regular stops to gulp down some air aren’t needed and whatever you were nattering about continues uninterrupted. I was incredibly lucky to go on an adventure like this with Will. He is the perfect person for it. Calm and easygoing we never had any arguments or tension apart from occasionally when I got a little bit hungry. He would sit me down and go and get a snack and that would be that. Now, he is living in Chile and thinking of this journey makes me miss him.

The sun decided we had been pampered enough and took a day off. Under this cloudy sky we wandered a depressing landscape to the Maol Budhe bothy. It was barren and it was silent. Great ‘peat hags’ (the term used to describe eroded patches of peat) lay around us. It was a difficult landscape to cross and a depressing sight. Inside the open wounds in this decrepit valley were the cut stumps of a former forest. Evidence or a richer past. An example of what could be recovered. As we walked around Loch Calavie we were met with a string of dead red deer. Most likely shot as part of the culling process. Their stinking carcasses announced minutes before by the wind as the breeze carried this unmistakable smell of death. It created an unwelcoming atmosphere. We walked on for a while on plain gravel tracks with little of note around us. Eventually we made it to a flat and dry patch of land beside a small stream and chose that as our spot for the evening. We had a small amount of signal, a rarity in the Highlands, and with this we managed to check the weather and see that we had a week of sunshine coming our way. A very exciting prospect.

The following day we were up and walking in shorts. As the day grew hotter we sheltered in shade for the first time. Ticks gleefully flung themselves onto our legs but it was so hot we had no choice but to be in shorts. We were lucky not to have any issues from the ticks because they are abundant and there is no effective spray. Just don’t sit on the grass; and, check yourself a few times a day and then you should be okay. The heat came and we needed a break. The next few days in my diary are blank and my principal memory is arriving in the small town of Ullapool and taking three days off to stay in a charming B&B with views of the sea loch, eating some seafood and lying in the sun. Ullapool is situated beside a beautiful sea loch and it is both the gateway to the Western Islands as well as a major hub for seafood exporters. From here Scottish langoustines are packed up and driven down to French restaurants. A place I would highly recommend was the Seafood Shack. This small street food spot is the work of an enterprising husband and wife duo. The food changes daily as whatever the husband catches is cooked up and served by his wife. The queue was a testament to both of their work. On the day we were there they had tempura battered haddock and crab claws. Aside from a couple of trips to this delicious spot we used our time here to recuperate. We knew we had one more section to come and we just needed to stay in one place for a few nights and sleep with a pillow which wasn’t a balled up fleece. We got a haircut, we swaggered around and we spent a whole day lying on the beachreading. It was quite a small beach and the tide was fairly low so we didn’t brave a swim but just enjoyed our day of doing very little.

By the next stage of our adventure we were at the small clump of buildings that make up Inchnadamph. We had a couple of sausage rolls in our pocket and the sun was shining so life was looking pretty good. Poking out of the grassy banks are common marsh orchids and what I believe are early purple orchids. The odd bluebell still pokes through. It is truly beautiful. As we climbed higher we found ourselves in a landscape that we shared with no other souls. The views on this clear day were breathtaking. The small plateaux were dominated by miniature lochs and the faint tracks of others that have walked this direction. We are reaching the most isolated sections of the Cape Wrath Trail, areas which I had been concerned about since the very beginning but luck was on our side. The rain finally stopped about five days before and since then there had been glorious sunshine which had dried out the route enormously. Where further south we had spent hours tramping through just a few miles of bog we could now skip across the terrain. Schadenfreude kicked in when we saw evidence of another hiker’s slip.

As we reached the top of a big pass we had an incredible view in all directions, with sea lochs and mountains competing for our attention. What is so amazing about much of our walk was how often we could just pick our own path and make our way across glens and up passes. Sometimes, the paths were clear and other times it really felt as though it was just us walking these hills. The descent from this pass was a case of the latter. We zigzagged down and eventually found a track which led roughly the direction we were expecting it to. Small ponds stained black by the peat around them dot the landscape. I imagined them as being 100m deep and filled with prehistoric creatures. I was a little bit scared.

When the sun shines in Scotland there is no place more beautiful. You have enormous landscapes to yourself with just the sound of the wind whipping through the heather. Our day got even better as we dropped into the glen which houses the UK’s largest waterfall, Eas A’ Chual Aluinn, in English this translates to ‘waterfall of the beautiful tresses’. A fitting name for this stunning sight. This lyrical Gaelic name speaks of the region’s heritage. The best thing about it was that nobody was there. We had this natural wonder to ourselves and we chose to camp with a view of it to our left and the sea loch, which it feeds, straight in front of us. The sun was warm enough for us to want to swim in one of the pools formed by a burn. Everywhere around us there were orchids and the last of the spring flowers. It is the 3rd of June but this far north it is still the season for bluebells. When we left Suffolk on the 26th of April they were just starting to blanket the woodland floor and a month and a half later they still accompanied us.

We woke the next morning and strolled down the glen admiring the views around us. We tiptoed across streams that just a week ago would have been in spate and in our boots. Now, we were lucky enough to keep our feet dry. Our buoyant mood was only lifted further when we spotted a load of mussels attached to rocks that are below the high water line. We clambered out and chose five each for our lunch. They were so plentiful we feel our modest pickings shouldn’t impact this ecosystem too heavily.

We walked around the banks of Loch Glendhu until we reached a nice spot where we found a big rock that fitted our backs nicely. The mussels went into the pot with some water, garlic and butter and they opened up perfectly. They were a wonderful orange colour and matched the richness of the waters around us. In fact they were matched in density of colour only by the banks of gorse that line this loch. They are so delicious and their pure protein is exactly what we need. It is very hard not to feel a little bit smug as we sit with our legs outstretched and our bellies full.

The ecosystem clearly saw that we have got a little bit big headed and cut us down to size that evening. After finding a lovely spot to camp by a smaller loch we were descended on by swarms of midges. A dash to the tent and we are okay but neither of us had been for a pee. After losing the battle of the mind we succumbed to our bladders and had to dart outside. The cumulative effect of this was hundreds of the little bastards sneaking into our tent. Slowly we squashed them one by one and then drifted into a sound sleep. Put firmly back into our place by the merciless outdoors.

We had one final day surrounded by Scottish hills before the land plateaus out in the North West tip. Aside from some unwelcome ticks that decided to latch onto us, uninvited, it was a wonderful day. We were surrounded by pink quartz hills and we had miles of space around us and nobody in sight. We stopped for our “athlete’s lunch” which usually consisted of half a packet of beef jerky, an energy bar and a cigarette. Considering we had walked about 450 miles by this stage it shows how you can do anything whilst you are young.

The penultimate campsite of our trip was another lovely spot. The sun reflecting off a loch and a bank of bluebells behind us. We had migrated north with the cuckoo and the swallow and both are present for our farewell. Tomorrow we will walk the last section of the journey. Our destination is not Cape Wrath lighthouse, unfortunately, as the military have a firing range between Sandwood Bay and the Cape. As we didn’t much fancy our chances against a bomb we chose to finish at the stunning Sandwood beach.

Our final walk takes us through Kinlochbervie. We had a snacky lunch and picked up supplies for our final nights. We lugged all these snacks, beers and bacon the final few miles. It seemed like the longest leg of the whole journey but when we arrived it was stunning. The stack on the far left of the bay is striking and the rolling sand dunes provided a perfect shelter to pitch our tent. We swaggered down to the sea, dipped a toe in and realised it was way too cold for us.

When we first thought about doing this trip I was just interested to see if I would be able to do something like this. It was impossible not to wonder if it was a good idea and if we would stand up to the test. It seemed like a bit of a crazy thing for two total novices to do. Equally, we were bored. We had two years of our early twenties in lockdown with any chance of adventure totally removed. Also, after working in a cheese packaging warehouse I probably had a little bit of midriff that needed to go. I will always love Scotland after this. Funny people and beautiful scenery. I only hope that over my lifetime I will see this landscape recover from centuries of mismanagement. Realising that your craziest ideas are totally possible and, in fact, are really fun has given me confidence to plan other trips. Since then I have cycled to Sicily and embarked on other trips around Europe. I think I have the adventure bug!

This mammoth journey began in the unassuming town of Kirk Yetholm. It was raining and there really wasn’t anyone else around on this late April morning. It had taken us all day to travel from the flat Suffolk coast and here we were, surrounded by hills just across the Scottish border. For us, this town is our entry point to St. Cuthbert’s Way, which we followed to Melrose. St Cuthbert was an early Anglo-Saxon monk who was popular in medieval Northumbria after his death in 687 CE. This ancient route was the journey that took St Cuthbert’s coffin to his final resting point in the remarkable Lindisfarne Priory. Today it is a relatively forgotten path. We had chosen to walk the Scottish National Trail. A route devised by Cameron McNeish which pieced together some of Scotland’s most famous trails and ended at Cape Wrath in the far north west of Scotland. Neither of us had hiked long-distance trails before but after being trapped in flat East Anglia throughout the pandemic we were desperate for a challenge, and some hills.

We immediately walked in the wrong direction for 15 minutes. As I was navigating and my friend Will was going to be doing the cooking, it was hard for me to place the blame anywhere. I didn’t fancy starving on this trip. Once heading in the right direction, we passed a few smiley people who were out walking their dogs in the drizzle. It is amazing how entirely unfazed Scottish people (and their dogs!) are by rain. We both felt pretty prepared for the mud and the bogs in our new Meindl Bhutan boots. Without these boots I would have damaged my ankles innumerable times and would have had constantly wet feet for weeks. They are the perfect walking boots for Scottish terrain and held up remarkably well to everything that they came in contact with. Traditional soft leather boots such as these are less fashionable now but for Scotland in spring they are what I would recommend. We had been walking around Suffolk in them for the past few weeks. I later realised that breaking them in on flat coastal paths would not prepare them for the hills we would encounter.

As we climbed Wideopen Hill, the highest point on St Cuthbert’s Way, we could see areas of bare hillside that had been fenced off from deer and sheep to be allowed to regenerate. We could also see little patches of snow which was slightly disconcerting. This was our first experience of steep climbs and although the summit was only at 386m, it felt like a lot more. It took us about an hour to reach the top where we were greeted with a magnificent view of the Cheviot Hills. At the top we had just enough energy to tease each other for how out of breath we were. We had spent a few weeks planning this walk and buying a tent (I can’t recommend the Sierra Designs Meteor 3000 highly enough) and visiting Mountain Warehouse multiple times to get everything from sleeping bags to sporks. But, neither of us had been on an adventure like this before so we were fuelled with nervous excitement. We had been for many day hikes before but I had never been out for multiple days in a row, let alone the six weeks we had for this trip.

For the year before I had been working in a dismal warehouse and Will had been doing an online teaching course. So the freedom of the expansive Scottish landscapes was something that we had been longing for.

Our first week took us through landscapes that were dominated by agriculture. We continued to meet funny characters along the way, such as the two old couples searching for the Waymerks of the Southern Upland Way. These are the coins which form a treasure hunt set up along this pathway. The coins are hidden in thirteen locations along the route and help add some intrigue to this section of the walk. We also enjoyed beautiful sections of the River Tweed and a tasty pub lunch at the Ship Inn in Melrose. Melrose also houses the ruins of Melrose Abbey which is a solemn place but it captures the somewhat bleak charm of the region. We walked around outside this magnificent building and couldn’t help but feel the weight of history around us. Walking and camping in this way definitely ties you to the landscape and with all the thinking time it is easy to drift off into thoughts about who else has walked these paths and how did this landscape look then?

We arrived at the packed pub it but the staff were very friendly, kindly filling up our water and even adding a few ice cubes in. This friendliness, and kindness of strangers, were things we were growing accustomed to.

As the week went on we were hounded by rain and then the blisters which I had on my feet became infected and made walking agony. We had been walking around fifteen miles a day which seemed to be our limit at this stage. On the morning I decided it was too painful, we came out of our tent to be greeted by thick snow falling from the sky. It turns out it is not unusual for such wintery weather in April. In fact, well into May we saw snow in the Highlands with Ben Macdui suitably snow-capped when we reached the Cairngorms.

I had not managed to sleep much as my foot throbbed, but luckily our tent was a very nice place to be. Even with both of us and all our belongings. We were nearing Edinburgh so I decided to go to a pharmacy to see if they could help. Coming into Edinburgh very little seems to change until you reach the town of Balerno. This wealthy town is a satellite town for Edinburgh and suddenly it feels like there is a city nearby. From here you follow the Water of Leith walkway which is a lovely way to enter a city and it whisks you into the city along the river. From here we had to take our detour from the official route to head further into the city to resolve the issue with my blisters. When I arrived at  the pharmacy, and the man behind the counter asked if I had any other boots, it seemed as though there was little chance I would be able to walk the remaining four hundred or so miles.

At the doctor’s I was incredibly lucky to meet a paramedic called Leanne who was both encouraging and helpful. Turns out I had sepsis and needed antibiotics alongside a week’s rest. She provided me with all manner of medical supplies for the rest of the journey to prevent this from happening again. She also told me that blister plasters only work if you put them on before a blister forms. I obviously didn’t know this so put them on too late which in fact makes it much worse!

After spending a week in the beautiful city of Edinburgh, we hopped on a train to a town just north of Glasgow called Milngavie (pronounced Milnguy, as we found out after a few nonplussed looks). My foot has recovered and now I am armed with protection in case another blister forms. It was a nasty experience as it made clear how far away we were from help if anything went wrong. Luckily, it only reinforced our desire to be out in the wilderness and to camp in the beautiful Scottish landscapes. Milngavie is a town with very little to it in the way of sights but for us it was crucial. It is the beginning of the West Highland Way which we would follow to the town of Drymen before joining the Rob Roy Way in the village of Drymen.

As soon as you are north of Glasgow the landscape begins to change dramatically. Heavily forested hill tops surround us and the trees are cloaked in thick moss. Wood anemones and bluebells form banks of colour underneath these dense trees. We arrived at the Clachan Inn, Scotland’s oldest pub, for a couple of local ales and some crisps. A true athlete’s lunch. It is a lovely old pub with a big fireplace and thick stone walls. As there was a glimmer of sunshine we sat in the garden which was well looked after. This pub sits beside the Rob Roy Way and is highly symbolic as the first licensee was Rob’s sister. Rob Roy MacGregor is a Scottish folk hero who was an outlaw in these parts during the 17th and 18th century. He was involved in the Jacobite Rebellion and the ensuing battles with the British which ultimately ended in failure. After this tumultuous period, he was involved in cattle raiding and a personal feud with a local Duke. In this lovely garden, we got a little bit tipsy and forgot to fill up our water as we were laughing at our own jokes. An easy mistake to make when a combination of charming surroundings, weary limbs and alcohol conspire to lull you into a sense of complacency.

That evening we camped close to a trickling stream under the cover of some Douglas Firs as the rain hammered down. The first few nights I was a little bit concerned that our tent would start leaking but after it survived with water pooling in some areas and everything remained dry it was easier to relax. In fact, we actually came to love it when it would rain whilst we were in the tent as it meant all of our belongings were dry. We got very lucky with this and often the only rain of the day would be first thing in the morning whilst we were tucked up in our sleeping bags. Our meals were very basic at this stage as we mainly ate beans and rice for dinner with a big bowl of porridge for breakfast. I actually love porridge so this was no problem for me but red kidney beans became my enemy.

Being outside all day and slowly walking through a landscape is an amazing way to see a place. In the past I have travelled by train, van and car but every time you arrive somewhere to see one place and then shoot off to the next. Slow travel is a totally different experience. Hiking every step is something not everybody has the time for but I would highly recommend every different hiking trail we walked in Scotland. Some are well marked whilst others require some map reading but all provide incredible views and the chance for some peace. The other people you pass on these trails are always very friendly and keen to chat. Often these are older people and in our experience they are usually very funny. Always quick to take the piss out of two English people but never in an unkind way. When we saw someone going in another direction we would invariably discuss the path ahead and let them know what to expect from the way we had come. It is a nice practice where everybody is inclined to help those passing by.

We were making a habit of camping by a river and that night we were serenaded by two cuckoos. They too were migrating north. It was encouraging to hear these summer migrants and even more so when we started to see swallows. We felt very closely bound to nature and her rhythms as we had no choice but to sleep when it got dark and the rising sun got us up every morning. We were cooking on fire and looking increasingly wild. Scotland is a great place for this though as off the tops of hills runs clean water and the wider streams by which we camped provided a place to wash ourselves. This feeling of freedom and self-sufficiency is one I can’t recommend highly enough.

The next day we walked through a valley that had recently been covered in forestry. These had all been clear-felled and what was left behind was a churned up mess of tree stumps and tangled roots. It was an eerie place to walk through. A whole valley with almost no life. The small blocks which hadn’t been cut yet were dark and lifeless too. How we missed the thick forests of rowan, birch and oak from the day before. It is a shame that so much of Scotland is covered in these lifeless blocks. They provide nothing for the ecosystem as very little can survive in the darkness. For us, they provide occasional shelter from rain but we rarely spend much time inside.

Upon reaching Loch Venachar we saw another issue which plagues the Scottish countryside. Rampant Rhododendron. They have strangled the undergrowth and although they may have pretty flowers they provide almost nothing for native species. The view of the loch from our tent is breathtaking though. The tinned Thai Green Curry that we bought from a shop is less so. The following day we stopped in the town of Callander, which sits on the banks of the River Teith. This town is known as the ‘Gateway to the Highlands’. Having just passed the ruined Roman ramparts at Bochastle Farm, it is impossible not to imagine the fear that must have struck those soldiers in this daunting landscape. From our point of view we were looking forward to a lunch of soup and a bacon roll from one of the brilliant Scottish bakeries. A bacon and egg roll from one of these bakeries very rarely fails to hit the spot. After a chilly night our appetite is pretty significant and we also treat ourselves to a couple of Belhaven Bests. Not the tastiest ale but we didn’t come to complain!

We leave this pretty town and continue our journey northwards. Our route takes us onto a large hunting estate. It is entirely deserted but for buzzards wheeling overhead and the occasional Red Deer posing on the ridges above us. There are ruins of former crofts, our first signs of the depopulation of the Scottish Highlands which has been ongoing for the past few centuries. It is a deep shame that this land exists solely to provide rich landowners with something to shoot at. It leaves an uncomfortable atmosphere. The overgrazing that these deer and sheep have caused also leaves this land heavily degraded. There is genuinely not a tree in sight.

It is Will’s birthday today and we have a fairly long walk to do before we will make it to Loch Freuchie where we had planned to camp. Our walk takes us up a misty valley which is increasingly wooded. We spotted our first red squirrel of the trip which was very exciting. As we get higher the mist is very thick and we can’t see more than five metres in front of us. Finding our way gets harder as the route gets boggier and we have to leave the track to keep our feet dry. Out of the fog appear the grouse butts where the hunting class will stand in a few months time and shoot what flies at them.

We make it to camp right on the loch with the shelter of a few trees behind us. Scotland is a wonderful place to camp as the Right to Roam allows us to pitch up in beautiful places without having to worry about somebody shouting at us. It helps us to feel a strong tie to the place and reinforces the fact that we would never leave litter. The fact we could enjoy such places without being surrounded by rubbish makes the experience even better. We sleep soundly as our weary legs need the time to recover. The lapping of the loch is an intensely soothing sound.

To first time visitors Edinburgh will seem like an extraordinary city. Its Old Town and New Town are, together, listed as UNESCO World Heritage Sites and the breadth of beautiful buildings is very impressive. I had been to this city once before to visit a friend who was at university here so I had an idea of what to expect. Personally, it is not a city I would choose to live in because it is too classy for me but it is a lovely place to visit at any time of year.

Edinburgh Castle, in particular, is spectacular and the views it holds across the city are truly lovely. This remarkable castle, built on the remains of an ancient extinct volcano, holds court in the city centre and it’s from here that you get a panoramic view of the city. She’s a haughty, ice maiden of a city, sitting as she does on the frigid Firth of Forth. Edinburgh possesses the arrogance of a capital city (albeit still in the shadow of feudal overlord London), and the smugness which comes from a combination of wealth (some of it tainted by immoral enterprises such as slavery), old and new, history, culture and academia. She knows she’s pretty and classy, in a hard-edged way. Really, Edinburgh is a big village. The centre is free of high rise buildings. There’s a golf course round the corner just next to a faceless Anglican church. It is lovely middle England, with round hills and the stain of centuries of rain.

Edinburgh is desperate to shake off her provincial feel (those Festivals in August help), eclipsed as she is by larger and brasher Glasgow. Edinburgh is the slightly judgy cousin with a well-paid job who never got caught with a bottle of vodka. Definitely likely to find a sensible partner to settle down with and make mutually beneficial tax arrangements. Glasgow is the more unpredictable youngster. Equally as likely to arrive with a black eye as an adopted cat.

Edinburgh can’t wait to strike out as a capital in her own right, free of the sinking ship (HMS Brexit) that is England. Edinburgh wants to throw her lot in with Europe’s diverse and vibrant cultures and economies. Scotland’s kings and queens, some of whom had European ancestry, have long had mutually beneficial dealings with their European counterparts for centuries, as have Scottish businesses. And, it will be a cold day in Hell if a true Scotsman supports England over France and Italy in the Six Nations!

At the same time, Edinburgh is inexorably linked to England by that chameleon, the Anglo-Scot, equally at home in the richer parts of Edinburgh as he/she is in deepest Sussex. Where will these mongrels end up when independence comes?

The Edinburgh of Trainspotting doesn’t exist, apart from maybe in the increasingly gentrified shadows; Leith is now full of sleek bars, artisanal cafes and over-priced flats. In reality, the era of rough British cities is in the past. Homeless people are moved out to provincial towns and the developers have replaced three generations of a family with soulless two bedroom flats that start at £250,000. The small satellite towns house the cleaners, the cities are one long row of Airbnb’s.

Indeed, Irvine Welsh himself has moved on from Edinburgh. This is a slicker, more international city than it was in the mid-90s with not a radge in sight in Leith.  And, the literary scene is more about Alexander McCall Smith and Iain Rankin, not to mention a certain English adolescent with magical powers.

It has also produced one of the most delicious ironies that I’ve ever witnessed. The statue of the highly influential philosopher and sceptic, David Hume, has had his toe rubbed for luck so often that the bronze shines through. The man who rejected the concept of miracles now has to endure the daily ignominy of having his likeness become a lucky charm.

Like all cities in the UK that are popular with international tourists (Oxford, Bath and Stratford-upon-Avon to name a few), Edinburgh is relatively pricey. But, you do get your money’s worth as the aesthetics are unique and you don’t seem to mind mingling with other tourists. The fact that there is less rampant commercialism here than in places such as London’s Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus helps to improve the experience.

In this guide, I have included a variety of pubs and cafes that I visited during a week in Edinburgh. They are all places which will not break the bank whilst still providing high quality experiences and products. For any young travellers these are mostly places which have predominantly young clientele and are busy pretty much every day of the week. Edinburgh has a large student population which guarantees a constant lively atmosphere even in the darker winter months.

There are many great places in Edinburgh for a snug Sunday lunch when the weather is not perfect.  One such place in the New Town, which holds many thriving independent cafes, is the lovely The Cumberland Bar. The wood panelled walls and soft yellow lighting, which I think always creates a nicer feel, combine to lend the old pub a cosy feel. Ideal for those cold Scottish winters. We arrived in the late afternoon to find it relatively full and lively already. Like a lot of more old fashioned pubs it was sparsely decorated with just a few pictures here and there that blend into the background. Mostly it was a slightly older crowd with people sitting in twos and threes, quietly enjoying their drinks and each other’s company at wooden tables or on stools at the bar. I guess the alcohol eventually blurred the discomfort of sitting on hard surfaces. Everybody kept themselves to themselves. We were all cocooned in our own amniotic fluid, not feeling the need to engage with other groups. I wonder how any intrusion into another group would have gone down. This old British pub (I’m sure the Queen was mourned here but what about English ejections from various football tournaments?) is perfect for a quiet afternoon pint, without loud music blaring or big groups of students shouting. I dare say, on quiet weekdays you would find a few souls working on their manuscripts here, writers periodically trying to gain inspiration from the way the beer, or wine, catches the exterior light. Failing that, there’s always another pint or glass waiting to be poured for them.

The younger clientele stay here for a drink or two before heading to livelier places but a few young couples soak in the relaxed atmosphere, no doubt hatching unrealistic plans. The chatter here is at a volume conducive to chatting, even intimate whispers.

The pub has a full menu which contains all of the classic British pub staples if you have developed an appetite. This is not the pub to come to if you want Pad Thai or tacos, or other exotic cuisine. The pub is almost parochial in its Britishness but the hard-core fans are willing to overlook this. Neither is it the spot for a range of wines to pair with your burger and chips. But, they do have a range of vegetarian options from a cauliflower curry to nachos (begrudging concessions to modernity and alternative culinary preferences?) with vegetable chilli. A personal favourite is always sausage and mash and the large Cumberland sausages here were delicious and cooked perfectly. They were slightly crisp on the outside and luxuriantly juicy once cut open. The skin made a crackling sound just before releasing the juice, the mash mounds waiting to soak it up A perfect sign. There was also a good selection of ales. A pint and the meal came to just under £20 which is what I would expect for a pretty pub such as this.

For a more modern style the Bellfield Taproom has a wide range of craft beers and a lovely courtyard to drink them in. Their impressive list of beers, largely brewed onsite, allows them to have a full range of flavours and prices. As this is more affordable than many of the pubs further in the centre it ensures there is always a lively atmosphere. Groups of young people sat around tables chatting away whilst some inoffensive music played. The conversation and music mingling to create a gentle wall of sound that meets you upon arrival. I always find that this encourages me to open up and be a bit louder too as everybody else is engrossed in their own conversations. It is somewhere I would recommend on a Friday night when everybody is letting off some steam after work. It’s not a party venue but the informality of the place allows everybody to feel at home and begin to unwind. Alcohol-provoked intrusions and intermingling of cliques would probably not be frowned upon here. Interlopers aren’t interlopers here, they’re just friends you haven’t met. It’s the kind of place that would collectively lift the moment Deaf Havana’s ‘On The Wire’ comes on.

Whilst the proprietors are brewers by trade they are no slouches when it comes to cooking either. Their menu is not extensive but they have many fried bites and different specials that would pair well with their tasty pints. I was definitely intrigued by the breaded camembert bites but I had no right to be hungry so they will have to wait until another day. The pints varied in cost from between £4-£6.50 which is very reasonable for the quality. I would definitely recommend the Full Moon Stout for an unusual but delicious beer. It is at the more expensive end (a pint is £6), but it is one of the nicer stouts I’ve tried. Mainly though, I drank their Session Ale which was pleasingly hoppy helping it to slip down nicely (the £4.50 price helped too!).

Another pub with a lively atmosphere is the Pear Tree which is situated near to the University. It takes its name from the hugely impressive espaliered pear tree which dominates the front of the pub. There is not such an interesting range of drinks but if there is a sporting event on which you would like to watch this is the venue. They have a large outdoor screen and plenty of tables which soon fill up. I imagine this place is a heaving scrum whenever there’s a Six Nations match on. The fact it is sponsored by Guinness almost certainly means it is a popular spot for a rugby game. They do also serve food but I was just here to watch some Champions League football and drink a couple of pints of Guinness. Its proximity to the University and the relatively cheap prices mean it is packed with a slightly younger, studenty crowd. It is very tidy inside, more of a hotel bar feeling than an old cosy pub. The soft lounge chairs that are dotted around low tables add to the sense of cosiness, sending you subliminal messages to stay longer. The pints are around the £5 mark but they had a cheaper pint of Tennent’s lager. It isn’t for me but if you are on a budget this is usually the cheapest option in most pubs in Scotland.

One of the lovelier pubs in Edinburgh is Bennet’s Bar, this ornately decorated pub has been there since 1906 and exudes an old world charm. It is perhaps a little bit snooty but the staff were very accommodating and we didn’t feel unwelcome at all. The wood panelling and decorated tiles match the ale and whiskey selection behind the bar. Both seem slightly out of their time but make any visitor feel welcome. It’s definitely worth a visit if you want a delicious drink and a sophisticated aura. It is slightly more expensive but it is worth the price thanks to its hugely impressive selection of drinks. Of course, this is Scotland so there is an extensive range of whiskey. Personally I don’t particularly like whiskey much but I did try some of their whiskey from Aberfeldy as I was going to be visiting the town later on. It was actually not too bad but it may have helped that I’d also had a couple of Glen Spean ales. These are delicious and I would highly recommend them anytime you come across them. They are often only sold in bottles rather than draught but they are tasty enough to overcome this disadvantage. As this was a slightly more sophisticated place there was an older crowd here. I came here fairly late in the evening so they had stopped serving food but I would recommend it as a spot for a night cap. It was at the more expensive end with a pint being closer to £6 on average.

Another pub with plenty of heritage is the Stockbridge Tap, this pub displays the old style of half tiled walls. The food is now a more gourmet take on pub grub but the ales are uncomplicated. They have a wide range of guest ales which are largely from local independent breweries and as a result cater for all tastes. We had come primarily because their ale selection has a very good reputation. As a result I didn’t eat here and poured my money into some delicious Scottish ales. The one I would recommend the most was a pale ale called Rogue Wave by the Cromarty brewery. It was a very reasonable £4.50 and really tasty. They also had a whole mixture of unusual beers, one of which was Black Isle – Porter. This was more of a stout so it was a bit of an acquired taste but one I enjoyed. It was slightly more expensive at £5. Stockbridge is certainly an affluent area, with a nearby botanical garden and cricket club highlighting this. The pub itself flies a little bit more under the radar and is not as high end as some of the other pubs and cafes nearby. As a result there seemed to be a few locals propping up the bar and sitting at stools ruminating over their next choice of drink. The other occupants were sitting at pinewood tables on hardback chairs polishing off some sticky toffee pudding or quietly chatting away about the forthcoming week. It seemed like the kind of place two older small business owners would come and have a sandwich at Friday lunchtime and chat about all the things that had niggled in the past week. The clientele were a little bit more friendly and down to earth than in the busier, more student-facing pubs, which is exactly what we were looking for!

There are two great outdoors spaces to view this city from when you are walking off your previous meal. The ever-present Arthur’s Seat and Blackford Hill. Arthur’s Seat is a large hill which anybody can walk up and explore the various footpaths. From here you can look out across the entire city and the Forth Estuary. In spring this hill is lit up a bright yellow as the gorse that clads it comes into flower. It can be reached on foot from the city centre and this lovely walk will also take you past Holyrood which houses the devolved Scottish Parliament. After walking around these hilly streets it is highly likely you will need a bit of sustenance. Not far from Arthur’s Seat are some great places to buy some reasonably priced and delicious food. My favourite was the Nile Valley Cafe where you can buy delicious falafel and aubergine wraps. Their hummus is extremely creamy so I would definitely recommend adding it to any order. These wraps were available for between £5 – £7 and genuinely delicious. There is a reason it is always busy!

If you are looking for a lively atmosphere and an alternative food option I would also recommend the Boteco do Brasil. We had some Bolinhos de Bacalhau (essentially mini cod cakes) and a Caipirinha to grease the wheels. The Bolinhoswere £6.95 and the Caipirinha was £7 which is actually reasonable for a cocktail. Caipirinha is a classic Brazilian drink made from Cachaca, crushed limes and sugar. The fact they are pretty strong means only one will be needed! This bar has an infectious atmosphere and it is often full so be prepared to book a spot. It’s where the locals come to get their ‘Latin/Samba Fix’. Here, ‘let’s get a Brazilian’ means something else.

The bouncy reggaeton and mixing of cultures – is there a sexier, more vocal and passionate people than the Portuguese and Brazilians? And, boy do they know it! –  which draws in passersby. It’s loud here so forget about hearing entire conversations or engaging in profund discussions. Enjoy the food and let the Ibero-Brazilian vibes envelope you. Most of the staff are Brazilian or Portuguese so it feels like a real experience. My friend can speak Portuguese so we used that to our advantage to ingratiate ourselves. This seemed to help and many of those working here would chat away in Spanish and Portuguese amongst themselves. The fact the tables are pretty close together outside meant that everybody was part of the same group. It helped that the table behind us was a load of Glaswegians on a stag-do who were already quite a long way into their day. This meant the whole place was a lot louder and we could just join in as we pleased. They also have a full range of typical Brazilian foods which I had not come across before such as mariscos (fresh mussels and clams in a white wine sauce) and macaxeira (fried cassava). These are all around the £7 – £9 mark which is about how much a cocktail will cost you too. The food and the music gave the whole place a unique ambience: popular with people just back from a GAP year spent travelling around Latin America or those planning such a trip. Its popularity with the city’s homesick Brazilian and Portuguese residents (how do they deal with the cold?) is a given.  The injection of uniquely Glaswegian bonhomie into the bouncy, sensual Luso-Brazilian atmosphere just added to the experience and, frankly, stuffy Edinburgh needs this kind of place to help it shake off its occasional overly formal bearning.

Another international option is Greek Artisan Pastries. This small cafe has a few chairs outside the front and serves specialty Greek food and drinks. I had a delicious spanakopita and a slice of baklava which was not far from being liquid. All of these treats were delicious and handmade each day. Their ready-to-go snacks are around the £5 mark and extremely filling so they represent a very good deal. Within the shop they also sell a range of Greek deli items which can be tucked into a backpack for a snack later in the day. If you are visiting Edinburgh in spring then you have to walk off all these tasty treats by heading to The Meadows and admiring the rows and rows of beautiful cherry trees in full blossom. It is a very welcoming space and something you rarely find in a capital city. It is something which many cities are losing but these green spaces are so integrated and well cared for that I can’t imagine the city existing without them. It is encouraging to see them entirely free of rubbish and open to all comers. The cherry blossom is truly beautiful and I couldn’t recommend it highly enough if you are lucky to visit when it is in full bloom around early May.

Edinburgh, like all cities in the UK, is enriched by multiculturalism and the restaurant options speak to the diversity of cultures which call this city home. Of course, if you want Scottish food then you have to try Haggis, Neeps and Tatties. This was available in most of the pubs I have previously mentioned and can be found in most restaurants. Personally it is not my favourite but this combination of mashed potato, haggis and mashed swede (the swede is the ‘neeps’) is a mainstay in Scottish food. It is not a true Scottish experience without at least trying haggis once. I had already had my head turned by the arrays of other delicious foods that I have mentioned by this stage so I had no room for an extra meal!

If you have any extra time, a short train journey away is the lovely seaside town of North Berwick. On a sunny day this town is bustling and the lovely sandy beaches are a great place to enjoy some sunshine out of the city. On a hot day Alandas Gelato is the perfect stop for a tasty ice cream in the Italian style. After a day on the beach the pretty Ship Inncan provide refreshments. Again this is a classic British pub menu with Fish and Chips and Steak and Ale pie. They also have more seafood options such as smoked Mackerel and a Fisherman’s pie. These range from £10.45 – £14.95 so there is something for everyone. We had a refreshing pint of lager but after already eating a pistachio ice cream from Alandas I was not particularly hungry. As North Berwick is predominantly a tourist town the pub was mostly full of families which created a welcoming atmosphere. It is relatively sparsely decorated but the staff were very friendly. Owing to the opulent surroundings the drinks were at the more expensive end of the scale with pints costing around £6. I would certainly recommend North Berwick, however, as a little extra destination if you have already enjoyed your days walking around the many sites in the city centre.

Blisters notwithstanding, our hiatus in Edinburgh turned out to be a revelatory and pleasantly surprising mini-food (and drink) odyssey. In hindsight, I should thank the blisters for making an appearance because, had they not, we wouldn’t have experienced Edinburgh’s culinary offerings.