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.