An article about this trip has been published in “Op Weg”
To the Glass-Alt-Shiel Bothy
It is always straight ahead to my first bothy via a flat country road along the river Muick. What strikes me is the fresh smell and air of Scotland, how much snow is still here and how wild nature is. And how smoothly my hiking cart rolls behind me. The bothy is hidden between tall trees. I immediately feel at home, the wooden interior has something cosy. There is a table and some chairs and wooden bunk beds. In the logbook someone has drawn the layout beautifully. In accordance with the Bothy Etiquette, people have left things for me: a lighter, a can of food without a wrapper, some candles, … The wood stove is not yet cold, which I knew because I crossed the previous occupants on the way and they told me they took good care of it. I immediately start sawing the wood that is present in sufficient quantities. The wood stove is a bit grumpy. It’s getting dark, you can only make light with candles, no internet, it’s time to sleep, I’m all alone here.
I had planned to go to the next bothy via the mountain road nearby, but the next morning it looks too steep, too narrow and too bumpy at first sight. I explore the first part without my cart. The Bothy Etiquette states that you should not touch other people’s belongings that you find, so I am reasonably confident that when I return, I will find my stroller intact. I come across a beautiful waterfall, which I admire for at least half an hour. I continue to climb the hill and soon walk through the snow, I already see Lochnagar. What a beautiful morning. By noon I’m back at the bothy where a father and son are having their lunch. They offer me some of their wraps and improvise an afternoon program.
I now walk back through beautiful nature with impressive cliffs along the Dubh Loch until the path along the lake dissolves into a puzzle of rocks, rivers and snow patches. Not long after I get back to the bothy in the evening Mark arrives, about my age, a real adventurer. His wife has the night at work and then he spends his time in a bothy. He tells me about how he makes snow huts in the Scottish winter. I get a portion of his freshly made custard with banana. When it is dark again, four young mountain bikers arrive, overtired and soaking wet. We heat up the stove so that their clothes can dry hanging from the wooden construction on the ceiling. We all come to the conclusion that with my hiking cart I will only be able to hike along “double tracks” as marked on my Landranger maps. I completely adjust my travel plan.
To the Gelder Shiel Bothy
The next morning Mark and I leave together, the mountain bikers have a hard time getting out of their nest. Mark reminds the youngsters that Bothy Etiquette requires to give the bothy a good wipe. I have only just left when I notice a male deer standing on the hill barely 10 meters from me, I have never seen such an animal so close. When I pass he remains motionless, only his head follows me until I’m out of sight. I may be walking on a “double track” but it is deadly steep uphill, very uneven and I am walking at the limits of my abilities at a very slow pace.
Every bothy has its mouse
Here comes my first “river crossing”. I snuck up my pants, replace my walking shoes with water shoes and take a route that goes through shallow water. I encounter many walkers and cyclists today. They want to know more about the cart and find it fascinating to travel around that way.
In the afternoon I sit down on a boulder to rest while a screeching red grouse flies away nearby. It is the breeding season of the ground birds. You hear them everywhere, and you only see them when you get too close. I prepare a freeze-dried meal for the first time. It is simple and delicious: boil water from a river, pour over the meal and stir, let it rest for a while in the closed packaging and you can enjoy. In the afternoon it is flatter and I reach the bothy. I have been on the road for 6 hours for 10 km. The bothy is comparable to the previous one in terms of decor and cosiness, but smaller. The stove is even grumpier. Every bothy has its mouse, they say here, I soon discover the beautifully sculpted animal glued to the wall along the window.
Two days at the Callater Lodge
I wake up the next morning with a fierce sudden wind that rages through the valley. The sun begins to shine on the snowy peaks, the wind dies down as quickly as it came. My journey soon goes through forests. I’m trying to find the bridge that the late Queen Elizabeth had built here somewhere to get a better view of the Falls of Garbh Allt. I see a river, so there must be a waterfall somewhere. I follow the path upstream and meet a couple who show me the way to the green metal bridge.
Not much later I meet again an imposing male deer from very close. Then I walk along the busy and somewhat dangerous A93 to Braemar. I don’t forget to walk on the right side of the road ! I take my lunch in the cafe aptly named “The Bothy”. It is exactly as delicious as described in the Bothy book. In the afternoon I walk to my new bothy. It’s uninviting and there’s no stove, but there’s a window looking out on a sublime landscape with Loch Callater in the foreground, fringed by barely visible peaks over which the mist creeps down. There is a larger inaccessible building. I read that King Charles III, when he was still a prince, spent several weeks here to mourn the loss of his grandmother. And I can understand. This environment inspires me a lot.
That night I wake up from the cold and from the party the mice are having in the attic. The next morning I open the door and a young deer flees nearby via the hill. It’s so quiet here. The fog still creeps over the mountain tops. I walk without a cart to the Carn an Sagairt Mör. The path quickly becomes steeper and is sometimes difficult to follow, large metal poles have been hammered into the ground as landmarks. The fog thickens and the visibility worsens, it becomes too dangerous and I turn back.
When I am preparing my food in the evening, a lady comes into the bothy and asks me if I have seen her fellow walkers. I deny and she writes down her name in the logbook with “5 munroes” behind it. She is apparently “munro baggers”, which are people who have a hobby of trying to get to the top of all Munroes in their lives. That is a list of 282 peaks in Scotland higher than 3000 feet drawn up at the end of the 19th century by a certain Sir Hugh Monroe.
I don't remember what day we are and what time it is. I could stay here forever.
At night the mice have all the fun again and the next morning the weather is fantastic, not a cloud in the sky. Today I am greeted by a white hare, but he is already out of sight before I can say hello back. I decide to resume the ascent of yesterday morning. It gets even steeper than yesterday, and then I’m on a plateau, on a mountain road that goes all the way around the top and on the other side I see in the depths Dubh Loch where I was the day before yesterday. There is more and more snow on the mountain road, I try to avoid it as much as possible, especially where the slope goes down steeply. I have lost my way, but I see hikers in front of me who are also following this path and I orientate myself to them. On the return I lost my way again, it’s crazy how quickly you can get disoriented in the mountains.
To Bob Scott's Bothy and Hutchinson Memorial Hut
After a rest day at a campsite in Braemar I walk north of the A93 in the Cairngorms. It is even wilder and more remote here, with fewer walkers and also less large game and birds. In the Bob Scott’s bothy, someone has already taken over the nicest sleeping place inside. It’s Neil and Lana, they just arrived by bike, live in the area, and now regularly do bothy weekends. Neil immediately looks for logs for the stove. It’s getting hot in the bothy. Neil prepares a full menu, with steaks, fresh vegetables and pasta, all cooked on the hot stove. I get a real show cooking evening here and I get to taste. And Neil tells about how important he thinks the independence of Scotland is, about a vagrant who has lived illegally in this bothy for years, and about his theory of world order. I am also learning to use the Scottish dialect word “wee”, which I have read so much in logbooks, it means “little”.
Bad weather doesn’t exist, only bad clothing
Neil & Lana
The next day I leave my cart behind again. I walk very slowly and mindfully on the mountain path that meanders slowly ascending through the valley. I feel like time moves slower here. In the early afternoon I see the Hutchinson Memorial Hut, exactly a matchbox at the foot of the imposing Creagan a Choire Etchachan. What a prime location. The cabin is barely 9 m² in size. The original shelter was built by the geologist Hutchinson who came here to de-stress as we would say now.
I am very tired, I hear a nearby waterfall but do not have the courage to go to it. I inflate my air mattress and fall asleep, only to be awakened a few hours later by the rattling of the outside door in the wind. I eat a can of sardines that others left behind, and make a soup with rice that was also left here. I fall back asleep and that night I wake up with an incredible sense of connection and gratitude to be able to experience it. Through the window I see many stars. I don’t remember what day we are and what time it is. Loose puzzle ends in my head are starting to fit together. It makes me emotional, I could stay here forever. Hiking with a hiking cart, what a freedom.
An article about this trip has been published in “Op Weg”
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