Cameron McNeish's Blog, page 2

The Television Collection

TO help celebrate the Scottish Award for Excellence in Mountain Culture which I was given at the recent Fort William Mountain Festival my good friends and colleagues at Mountain Media decided to raid their archives to release the Cameron McNeish Television Collection.Featuring over a decade of BBC TV appearances, this collection includes 15 feature length hour long programmes, alongside 24 bite-sized Wild Walks, for streaming or download. Normally available for $99 (approx £70), for a limited time only get 33% off with the discount code Mountain2018. That’s over 17 hours of content for under £50.You can get it here:https://www.reelhouse.org/mountainmedia/roads-less-travelled-west-highlands-1/purchase/bundle/5a9409e685414f0013285e4d

Wow - The TV Collection!

To celebrate my winning of the Scottish Award for Excellence in Mountain Culture, The Adventure Show Productions have raided their archives to release the 'Cameron McNeish TV collection' Doesn't that sound posh?.Featuring over a decade of BBC TV appearances, this collection includes 15 feature length hour long programmes, alongside 24 bite-sized Wild Walks, for streaming or download. Normally available for $99 (approx £70), for a limited time only get 33% off with the discount code Mountain2018. That’s over 17 hours of content for under £50. I you are interested you can get it here:https://www.reelhouse.org/mountainmedia/roads-less-travelled-west-highlands-1/purchase/bundle/5a9409e685414f0013285e4d

There's Always the Hills: Talks & Book Signings

I'LL be giving an audio-visual presentation based on my new book, There's Always the Hills. Here are the various dates I have so far. A couple of the events are book signings only but the links will give fuller details of the events.From the cover blurb: "There's Always The Hills is the story of one man's love affair with the world's wild places, but especially Scotland's. In it, Cameron candidly recalls the ups-and-downs of a full life, much of it in the public eye, much of it until now unseen."Hope to get a blether with some of you at one of the events in the months to come.Friday 9th February:Scottish Caravan & Motorhome Show, SECC, Glasgow Stand 3011. Book signingThursday 15th February: Waterstones, Edinburgh. Book Launch and signing.Friday 16th February: Pitlochry Winter Words Festival, Pitlochry Festival Theatre. Audio-visual presentation and book signing. 8pm. https://pitlochryfestivaltheatre.com/production/30421/cameron-mcneish/Saturday 24th February: Fort William Mountain Festival. Ellis Brighams, Fort William. Audio-visual presentation and book signing. 11am. www.mountainfestival.co.uk/arts-programme.htmlFriday 9th March:Killarney Mountain Festival, Killarney, Co Kerry, Eire. Audio-visual presentation and book signing. https://killarneymountainfestival.com/Sunday 25th March: Aye Write Festival, Mitchell Library, Glasgow. 6.30pm Audio-visual presentation and book signing.www.ayewrite.comSunday 20th May: Ballater Walking Festival, Ballater, Grampian. Audio-visual presentation and book signing. www.walkballater.comFriday 28th September:Tidelines Book Festival, Irvine, Ayrshire. 8pm Audio-visual presentation and book signing. www.tidelinesbookfest.comTuesday 16th October: Keswick Lecture Society, Keswick, Cumbria. Audio-visual presentation and book signing. www.keswicklecturesociety.co.uk

Return to Crianlarich

Ben More and Stob Binnein from Cruach ArdrainI had joined my wife and some friends for a few days on the West Highland Way and as we stopped on the trail between Crianlarich and Tyndrum I was captivated by the view that had opened up behind us.Cruach Adrain rose proudly from its skirts of conifers, a lovely peak with its ‘Y’-shaped gully imprinted on its face but that morning it was its higher neighbours that dominated the view – Ben More and Stob Binnein, the Castor and Pollux of the Scottish Highlands, and two hills of my youth.As Glasgwegian teenagers our mountaineering vision rarely went further than these Crianlarich hills. At that time even Glen Coe seemed on the very edge of the known world, so for a few years the Crianlarich and Tyndrum hills were very much the periphery of our hill explorations. I’m not sure if it was a touch of nostalgia or just one of those memorable bouts of insight that the hills are so capable of offering, but I had a sudden longing to renew acquaintance with them.Despite the fact that Ben More and Stobinian are generally recognised as an item – the two are inextricably joined at the hip by the wonderfully-named Bealach-eader-dha-Beinn – I had only once before climbed them both together.They’re big mountains, 1174 metres and 1165 metres respectively, indeed they’re the highest peaks in Scotland south of the Tay and while Ben More is a rather big and bulky mountain, rising to a blunt pyramid, Stob Binnein is considerably more shapely, its southern slopes rising rather delicately from a long, sweeping ridge to a truncated, tabled summit.While Stob Binnein portrays elegance itself, Ben More is different. It’s brutish, a big, brash mountain whose northern slopes sweep down virtually in one fell swoop from its summit all the way to Glen Dochart. Any ascent is relentless, a long pull on tough terrain from glen to summit.This is a walk that will test your fitness so following a few weeks of gentler walks I decided to assess my own fitness levels, and there are few better places to do that than Ben More’s north-west shoulder. Uncompromising steep slopes rise for over 1000 metres from Glen Dochart to the craggy summit and on a sunny, Sunday morning it was just a question of getting the head down and going for it.I was rather pleased to reach the summit in well less than two hours, despite some very slippery conditions on the upper parts of the hill where you have to climb through some rocky outcrops. From there easier slopes lead to the summit cairn and trig point. Late in the season hoar frost covered everything, and the ground was frozen as hard as concrete. I almost wished I had an ice axe with me, even though there wasn’t a drop of snow in sight.With the hard work over I could now look forward to the rest of the day. A beautifully uniform slope drops south to the level Bealach-eadar-dha-Beinn (the disappointingly prosaic name means ‘the pass between the mountains’) from where Stob Binnein’s north ridges rises steeply to its table-top summit.Other than some cloudy conditions on both summits, the views were exceptional – south, towards the other Glen Falloch hills and the lower, brackish hills of the Trossachs, and north, to a massive jumble of high hills, the mountains of Mamlorn leading the eye all the way to the huge hump-back of Ben Nevis itself.While the normal route of ascent follows Ben More’s north-west ridge virtually all the way from Benmore Farm to the summit another route follows the Benmore Burn south into the Benmore Glen.The main advantage of this route is that it avoids the long and tedious climb up the north-west ridge and adds a little variety, the main disadvantage is that the headwaters of the Benmore Burn takes you into very wet and boggy terrain, but not for long.The spur of Creagan Liatha falls down from Stob Binnein directly to the high point of the Benmore Glen and provides an opportunity to get off the soggy ground and gain some height, and drier ground, before gaining the SSE ridge of Stob Binnein, which then climbs steadily to the summit cairn. It’s a much more challenging route, especially in winter, but does avoid the wet and boggy slopes west of the Bealach-eadar-dha-Beinn.Encouraged by such a good day I decided to hang fire overnight in my campervan and tackle another of these Breadalbane hills the next day. Rising from a magnificently wooded lower glen to an increasingly wilder landscape that’s characterised by wind blown Scots pines, Glen Falloch forms the north-east boundary of a marvellous mountain range that’s dominated by no less than seven Munros and fourteen tops, the highest group of hills in Britain south of Tayside, so I had plenty of peaks to choose from.The Crianlarich hills from Ben ChallumI think these hills are seen to best advantage from Tyndrum. Choose a late afternoon in winter and watch Cruach Ardrain reflecting the setting sun from the snow filled Y-Gully of its northern corrie. Its ridges and double summits form an attractive mountain shape that rises from skirts of sitka spruce to stand proudly alongside the indomitable due of Ben More and Stob Binnein.These Crialarich hills can be broken into several day expeditions, although it is possible to climb Ben More and Stob Binnein in one day and the rest of the Munros – Beinn Chabhair, An Caisteal, Beinn a’ Chroin, Beinn Tulaichean and Cruach Ardrain – in another. That second expedition, with 13 miles or so of rough walking and over 7000ft of ascent, isa long and tough one, and I’d recommend climbing Cruach Ardrain, 3432ft and Beinn Tulaichean, 3104ft together, leaving the rest for another day, and that’s exactly what I did.The ascent of Cruach Ardrain, 3432ft and its southern neighbour, Beinn Tulaichean, 3104ft makes a great day out at any time of the year but is particularly good if you get snowy winter conditions, especially if you get the conditions I enjoyed while making a Wild Walk for the BBC’s Adventure Show two or three years ago – blue skies, sunshine and snow covered tops were the order of the day and the ascent of the two hills was a wintry delight.Incidentally, these two Munros can be climbed from the south, from Inverlochlarig Farm where Rob Roy Macgregor spent his last years, dying there on 27th December 1734. Other than paying your last respects to the Macgregor, there isn't really a lot to recommend an ascent from this side. From the farm long grassy slopes are climbed in a north-west direction to reach the ridge just south of the Beinn Tulaichean’s summit. From here it's a straightforward walk along a broad ridge to Cruach Ardrain.The ascent of the hills from Glen Falloch starts just south of Crianlarich in a car park opposite Keilator farm. I parked the camper in a laybye and crossed a rather boggy field to where a land rover track runs under the railway and climbs up the length of Coire Earb beside the infant River Falloch.Years ago I used to access these hills from a path that ran through the forest, climbing up to the tree-line on the slopes of Grey Height, a northern outlier of Cruach Ardrain. The Coire Earb route gives a rather more relaxing start to your day, by following the land rover track for about a mile until you’re opposite the corner of the forestry plantation. Just below you a footbridge crosses the river and easy slopes lead to the crumpled summit of Grey Height.An early Scottish Mountaineering Club journal records an expedition to Cruach Ardrain arranged by Sir Hugh Munro himself and serves as a warning to those who think the ascent of these two Munros lacks challenge. With three companions he left the Crianlarich road at 11.15 am and suggests the climb to Grey Heights was “uninteresting”, but things were about to change.Munro’s notes say that as the morning drew on the clouds began to drop and soon the group were walking in clouds, “which were neither very wetting or cold.” Calculating that a rough southerly course would take them to the summit, “the very simplicity made us careless and no-one took the trouble to lead.” After half an hour the men disovered their own footprints in the snow. They had walked in a circle.They decided to continue on their southerly course “wherever it might lead us” and soon found themselves climbing a steeper slope. Indeed they were in a snow gully which required some step-cutting and which, “if it had been longer, the rope might have been serviceable.” Munro records that it was not unlike the north-east face of Ben Laoigh, though not quite as steep, not nearly as long.”Apparently they had eased their way onto the ENE face of Cruach Ardrain, the Creagan Dubha face, and within minutes reached the summit cairn. How they managed to get across to that side of the peak I have no idea but I am well aware from my own experiences that when the cloud is down and you are not carefully navigating you can end up virtually anywhere. And remember, these mountaineering pioneers didn’t have the benefit of modern maps, accurate compasses and GPS.From the high point known as Grey Heights, a path climbs over the bumps and knolls of the ridge that leads to Meall Dhamh where, following a short descent, the slopes of Cruach Ardrain begin to steepen appreciably towards its north-west summit, a subsidiary top that’s adorned with two small cairns. The true summit lies just across a shallow col.Beinn TulaicheanBeinn Tulaichean is easily reached from here. I passed the twin cairns and dropped down in a southerly direction to a grassy ridge from where it was an easy amble to the 946 metre summit of the second hill, a Munro that is in all honesty more like another subsidiary top of Cruach Ardrain than a separate mountain!For a slightly different descent route I was tempted by what looked like an easier line. I left the Tulaichean/Cruach Ardrain ridge slightly early to skirt the southern slopes of Cruach Ardrain towards the bealach between the Munro and another of its outliers, Stob Glas. From the bealach the long and gentle slopes of upper Coire Earb drop down to the river where, after a short distance, I picked up the land rover track that carried me all the way back to my starting point, well aware that the hills of my youth are a little more taxing these days, but still pretty wonderful.

There's Always the Hills

WRITING an autobiography is a curious thing. As you write there is a continual thought running through your mind - why should anyone be interested in the story of my life?It is, in many way, a very vane thing to do, making the assumption that not only will people be interested in your story, but will be willing to pay £20 for the benefit of reading it. However, I kept telling myself, the same thought processes went through my mind while writing each of my 19 previous books. Will anyone buy these? Will anyone be interested? Thankfully they did and they were...As in previous aspects of my life I've followed the advice of my old friend and mentor, Tom Weir. Tommy must have suffered the same doubts because he described his autobiography, Weir's World, as an autobiography-of-sorts, so that's what I'll describe mine as - a kind-of-an-autobiography!The book, There's Always The Hills, is essentially the rags-to-riches story of a wee boy from Govan. For those of you who don't know where Govan is I'll tell you. It lies on the south bank of the River Clyde in Glasgow and is, to put it kindly, a working-class area of the city. When I was born there in 1950 it was described as a slum, which I always think of as rather unfair because I have happy memories of the tenement buildings, the dirty backyards and the busy streets. There was a community spirit in those tenement areas, a spirit that was largely lost when folk were moved out to the big housing schemes in the outskirts of the city, places like Castlemilk, Drumchapel and Easterhouse, places that the great Billy Connolly described as "deserts wi' windaes."When I was young my family moved a couple of miles up the road to leafy Cardonald. It was still a working class area but this time it was a working class area with trees, where the houses had front doors and wee gardens. It was a world removed from Uist Street where I was born.And it was here that I roamed free as a youngster, and that is the first beefy subject I tackle in my book. The freedom I had compared with the lack of freedom youngsters have today. My play radius as a 10-year old was probably in the region of several miles, more when we were old enough to get bikes (which we rode without helmets). Youngsters of that age today, in a city like Glasgow, will be lucky to be allowed out of their parents' sight.And because we had that freedom we learned how to take risks, and more importantly, how to recognise risk and manage it. Those were vital lessons for someone like me with a lifetime in the great outdoors ahead.We also learned to dream, and to grasp those dreams to make them a reality. I was still fairly young when I first experienced the pull of the hills and I was in my early teems when I surrendered to that pull and went to the hills. Telling my parents I was going to an official Scout camp I would catch the bus from Glasgow to Blanefield and my pals and I would wander the Campsie Fells all weekend, learning the basic skills of hillcraft and campcraft as we went along.Sure, we got lost in the mist, we burned our fingers trying to cook on an open fire, we fell off trees and crags and got soaked attempting to cross rivers but we never gave up. These were some of the most memorable and adventurous days of my life.From the summit of Earl's Seat, the highest of the Campsies, we would look north to Ben Lomond and tell ourselves when we were good enough to would climb it. When we thought we were, we would then gaze north towards the jumble of hills that rose around the north of Loch Lomond and Crianlarich and promise ourselves when we were experienced enough, we would climb them too.And so we made a natural progression through the seasons to higher and bigger and more remote hills, building our bank of experience as we went along.And as we became more experienced we cemented a deep love and appreciation for these landscapes, a connection with wildness and wild places that has influenced so many aspects of my later life.I don't reckon I could have achieved that level of connection if I had learned to climb in an indoor climbing wall.Another point I try to make in the book is the vital importance hills, mountains and wild places have played in my life, a point that gave birth to the title of the book.There's Always the Hills is a direct quote from my old friend, the late Chris Brasher, which I explain in the book, a quote that had influenced me in times of disappointment, depression, when I feel let-down by people or events or on those days when the world appears a darker place than it was previously. For example when Donald Trump became President of the US, or when the Tories win a General Election.I now know, from experience, that in these times there are always the hills, places where I can go where the insignificance of man, against the lasting reality of big skies, mountains, rushing rivers and birdsong, makes me realise that even the President of the world's most powerful nation is, in fact, pretty insignificant and transient.It's then that the hills become a place of redemption, a place of healing, where I can be renewed and revitalised, and over the years I've realised that I don't even have to stand on a summit to benefit from the worth of the mountain.The important point, the vital point, is simply in the "being there."I mentioned earlier that this is a rags-to-riches story but that is not strictly accurate. My parents were hard-working and we were never dressed in rags and the riches I earned in later times were not monetary riches but those treasured aspects of life that come from good friends, family and in my case travel.I've lost count of how many different countries I've walked, climbed and skied in but I'll finish this little essay with a quote about travel from Mark Twain. "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts."I'm happy to say 'Amen' to that...There's Always The Hills, published by Sandstone Press, will be published on 15th February. A pre-order discount of £5 is available to those ordering the book before the 31st January if you quote EARLYBIRDFEB at https://goo.gl/Xpi57o

Demon Voices and the Demon Drink

GREYLAG geese grazed in the fields which rolled down to the River Spey and snowdrops and crocuses brightened the road verges. The pale green tint on the birches emphasised the promise of spring but less than a thousand feet above the snow was still deep and the wind had a razor edge to it.The breezes that blow off Ben Rinnes, the north-eastern terminal point of the Grampians, are legendary.Nearby Ballindalloch Castle dates from the mid-sixteenth century but a local tale suggests the stone masons and builders had a hard time during its construction. No sooner had the walls reached a certain height than they were knocked down by some unknown force. This happened so many times that the Laird set up a special night-watch to discover who was responsible for the vandalism.Early in the morning, the story goes, a great wind swirled down from Ben Rinnes and not only blew the newly built walls down but pitched the Laird and his cronies into a holly bush. Three times a demoniacal voice was heard above the rushing of the wind, saying, “Build on the cow haugh”. The Laird, well aware of what might happen if he ignored the warning, built his new castle on the lower, less attractive site instead.It could have been the same demoniacal voice that was trying to convince me to stay in the warmth of the car rather than expose myself to the raw coarseness of the northern wind. The mischevious breeze was already drifting powder snow across the narrow Glack Harness road between Ben Rinnes and Meikle Conval, but tantalising glimpses of blue skies between the snow flurries were enough to cast out the demon voice and turn my thoughts to the demon drink instead.Lying just a few miles south west of Dufftown, Ben Rinnes lies at the epicentre of Speyside whisky country. Someone once wrote that while Rome may have been built on seven hills, Dufftown was built on seven stills, and from the 840m summit of Rinnes you can look down on over a dozen distillery towns and villages - Aberlour, Keith, Cromdale, Dufftown, Rothes, Knockando, Ballindalloch, Craigellachie, Carron, Glenlivet, Tomnavoulin and Advie, all associated with the names that stir the blood of any whisky enthusiast - Balvenie, Glenfarclas, Glenlivet, the Mortlach, Cragganmore, Tamdhu, Glenrothes, Glenfiddich, Carndow, Tamnavullin - the epithets of the waters of life and the lifeblood of this entire regions of Moray, Nairn and Banff.Indeed, this major whisky producing area extends about fifty miles to the west and about twenty-five miles south of the Moray Firth and the waters of both the Monadh Liath and Grampians mountain ranges contribute to the northern reaches of Strathspey. Not content with this distinction, Speyside whiskies are also distinct from other malts tending to be lighter in ‘weight’ while still carrying their own character on the palate. Not as peaty and heavy as, say, Islay malts, the whiskies of Speyside are still full flavoured, but in a more subtle, delicate way – water of life indeed.As I tramped upwards through the snow drifts it didn’t seem too fanciful to imagine the basic elements of this uisge bheatha as the provision of the mountain - the melting spring snows, the roaring burns, crystal clear and cold, the rolling slopes of peat that was once used to fire the distilleries and the patchwork fields of barley below me in Glen Rinnes.Rising boldly above the Laich of Moray, Ben Rinnes climbs to a height of 840m and offers a magnificent viewpoint across the Moray Firth to the mountains of Ross, Sutherland and Caithness. On a clear day you can see Ben Nevis in the west and Buchan Ness in the east and beyond Corryhabbie Hill on the opposite side of Glen Rinnes Lochnagar and the arc of the Cairngorms form the distant horizon.From Glack Harness a track, then a narrower footpath runs all the way to the quaintly named summit, the Scurran of Lochterlandoch and offers a glorious afternoon’s walk the comparative ease of which is out of all proportion to the mountain’s height.The name of the hill comes from the Gaelic Beinn Rinneis, which possibly means ‘headland hill’ but the word ‘rinn’ in Gaelic means a sharp point and while this north eastern hill couldn’t really be described as pointed it does boast distinctive granite tors on its summit which gives it a spiky appearance. It’s a well formed hill nevertheless, its slopes easing themselves gradually down to the waters of the River Spey on its north side and considerably more steeply on its southern Glen Rinnes side.I only recently discovered that Ben Rinnes was once known locally as Babbie’s Moss. ‘Babbie’ was a local lass, one Barbara McIntosh who, in the 1750’s lived nearby at Rhinachat Farm, a couple of miles from Aberlour. Sadly, Barbara took her own life after her husband left her. She apparently hanged herself on a tree close to Ben Rinnes. As a suicide Barbara couldn’t be buried in consecrated ground. The summit of Ben Rinnes was chosen as her final resting place and her grave was dug at a spot known then as the Three Lairds Boundaries. Apparently the weather was horrendous as the burial party struggled up the hill but Barbara was buried in a shallow grave. A cairn was built over the grave and she lay in peace until the middle of the following century.Tradition tells us that a number of Aberlour loons had doubts about the weird story surrounding theMoss of Babie and decided to see for themselves the so-called grave of Barbara McIntosh. It wasSeptember 1855 when the lads clambered up the hill with their picks and spades and high hopes ofputting an end to all the granny tales of yesteryear. They delved into the mossy soil till they cameupon a coffin. That first ring of steel on wood sent a shudder up their spines; was Granny right afterall? There was only one way to find out.Wielding their spades in a frenzy they cleared the battered coffin & prised it open to find the corpseof a woman, still remarkably fresh, with most of the features & hair intact. Had it not been for aspade piercing the coffin the face of Barbara would have been remarkably distinct. Her pettycoats &shawl were in pefect condition & the colours of the tartan plaid they had wrapped her body in allthose years ago was as bright as they day it fell off the loom.The body was re-buried in its lonely grave until another generation with the same doubts disturbedthe soil twenty years later. Nothing had changed but the ghoulish deed didn't go unnoticed by thelocal constabulary this time & the 19th century vandals were severly reprimanded.After consultations between the ‘Captain’ of the Banffshire Police and local Authorities a Christianburial was arranged for Barbara in the old graveyard at Aberlour.Despite my earlier reluctance to face the wintry conditions it was curiously exhilarating to battle through the snow drifts and clouds and arrive by the summit tor just as the clouds broke. I could empathise with the Rev James Hall of Edinburgh who, in 1803 climbed Ben Rinnes on a cold and cloudy day. His written account tells of becoming lost and frightened but when the mists cleared he proclaims the experience as “a secret enjoyment, a calm satisfaction and a religious fervour which no language can express”. Such quasi-spiritual encounters are not unusual in the mountains and I’ve often found it curious that even non-religious people often revert to such pious language when describing such encounters.If you can arrange transport, a complete traverse of Ben Rinnes is well worthwhile, continuing west from the summit down the length of the Lynderiach Burn to Bridge of Avon. Alternatively, descend as I did, in a south west direction to the Hill of Knockashalg before dropping down south eastwards to Wester Clashmarloch in Glen Rinnes and a quiet road walk back to Glack Harness. I think it’s also highly appropriate, after climbing such a worthy hill as Beinn Rhinnes, to toast yourself from a hipflask with a little dram of uisge bheatha, the water of life that flows from the very flanks of this north-eastern hill. As Robert Burns once wrote:“Freedom and whisky gang thegither,Tak aff your dram.”I guess I’m fortunate that my own long love affair with the uisge beatha, the water of life, has remained just that, a gentle flirtation that has never quite led me completely astray.A close friend of mine, a recovering alcoholic, once suggested to me that some people have a natural tolerance to alcohol, while others don’t and can become easily addicted. I make the point because I’m sure there will be those who passionately believe that a celebration of the amber gold has no place in a feature about the Scottish outdoors.And I fully agree. I also accept that drinking whisky in the wild outdoors can be completely irresponsible and can dull your senses, increase the effects of altitude and make you significantly more prone to dehydration and even hypothermia. I accept all these points but having never completely conformed to the majority view in over forty years of writing about outdoor topics I don’t intend to start now. I like nothing better than a wee dram of whisky in my tent at the end of a backpacking day, and I don’t really care who knows it!Moderation is the key, and the aim. A measure of whisky, or maybe a couple just to be sociable, can create a very satisfying ritual at the end of a wild camp meal, when the bones are weary and sleep is calling. It’s then that whisky helps the ‘connection with nature’ process that I, and many other backpackers, seek. Unlike tea or coffee whisky is a product of the land that I love, the land I’ve hiked over and camped upon for years; for me drinking whisky in the wilds is as integral to the outdoor experience as washing your face in the dew or hugging a tree.You see, whisky is a genuine tour de force of nature; of the water that percolates up through layers of peat, peat that has been formed over centuries in wet and damp conditions, where flooding obstructs flows of oxygen from the atmosphere, slowing the rate of decomposition of the vegetation it is created from.That water is then mixed with barley, one of the world’s healthiest foods, and one that is particularly suited to the Scottish climate. What happens then is a source of considerable mystique, almost magic. It’s said that the first distillation of alcohol was discovered in the middle-east when Arabic alchemists were making cosmetics and perfume by distilling flowers. It’s where the word comes from – Al kuhul, or eye makeup!The Moors then brought the process to Europe, where it eventually spread to Ireland and Scotland where monks created the first ‘aqua vitae’ – an alcoholic beverage made from fermented barley. Hence the spiritual connection – were these Celtic holy men encouraged in their experiments by some celestial hand?I’ve never really wanted to learn how whisky is made – I’m happy to let that be a mystery to me, and that mystique adds to the notion that what I’m sipping is something rather special, something enigmatic and otherworldly – almost divine.And I believe that is why a glass of whisky is so much more satisfying when I’m lying on a highland hillside, gazing across a view of corrie and mountain and crag, listening to the primeval roar of rutting stags or the orchestrations of a tumbling burn. It’s here, on the hill, that I can add a dash of ice cold water, straight from a highland spring, just to release the flavour and complexities of the whisky itself.As far as I’m concerned there are only three ways to drink whisky – neat, with a dash of water or with a lump of ice, (although this decreases the temperature of the whisky and inhibits some of the characteristics). I suspect those who drink whisky with lemonade or Coca Cola are simply trying to hide the taste of the whisky, and might be better trying something else, like vodka or gin.I very rarely drink whisky during the day – for me it’s a ritual that heralds the end of the day, a bedtime luxury that is as soothing and relaxing as anything I know, and as I slowly sip that golden liquid as day turns to night, as the shadows lengthen across the hillside, I become aware that God is in his heaven and all is well on the land, just like the Celtic monks of old.First published in the Scots Magazine

Britstops – an authentic taste of Britain

WINTER certainly has its drawback for the campervan owner, especially those who would rather use the facilities of an official campsite rather than spend an overnight overtly tucked away in a stealth camp.Very few official campsites in Scotland remain open during the winter months and that drastically reduces the options of those who don’t have the confidence to park up for the night in some remote layby.Even in the height of summer you may well find yourself in a part of Scotland where campsites are few and far between. As more and more campsites sacrifice touring spaces for the more economically lucrative static caravans or ‘glamping’ huts campervans and motorhome users are often forced to camp wild.The truth of the matter is simple. Here in the UK we lack the infrastructure that exists just across the channel.With a growing number of campervan and motorhome users visiting Scotland each year there is a massive opportunity, some might say an urgent need, for local councils to develop an ‘aire de camping car’ system as found on the European continent, but despite the burgeoning need for such facilities that is unlikely to happen in the near future, particularly with the economic pressures created by the Westminster Government’s austerity measures.However, there is a very fine system already in place that allows campervans and motorhomes to park for the night in hundreds of spots throughout the UK. It’s legal, it’s becoming increasingly popular and it’s largely free.A number of years ago a couple of motorhome enthusiasts called Steve and Mandy Clark decided to start a clever, but simple scheme they called Britstops. As the name suggests, Britstops is a network of "pit stops" around Britain where motorhome tourists can park for the night and travel on the next morning having bought and enjoyed some local produce. The idea was based on the hugely successful France Passion scheme.The idea wasn’t merely about finding free parking spots – the Clark’s vision was infinitely greater than that - and they came up with a arrangement that has four very distinct strands to it.The couple wanted to promote direct contact and a positive relationship between motorhome owners and local producers who provide or process regional products or provide services to the community.The Britstops scheme promotes the diversity and richness of different British regions to a broader public.Similarly, Britstops improves recognition and understanding of our regional products and culinary traditions, both at home and abroad and so the Clarks wanted to encourage sustainable tourism through links with local communities.So how does the system operate?It’s brilliantly simple. Britstops is a membership scheme that provides a directory of free motorhome stopovers in the UK and Ireland to its members. The directory is now in its eighth year and is almost 500 pages in length with over 750 ‘host’ locations.These locations range from country pubs, farm shops and craft shops to breweries and garden centres and one memorable stopover I’ve personally used – the car park of the Tomintoul bowling club. There are currently over 50 hosts in Scotland.These various hosts allow you to stay overnight in their car park in the hope that you will patronise their business, ie you might buy a pint or two and a bar meal in the pub, a cuppa and a cake in their tea-room or whatever. Who can resist an hour or so browsing a farm shop or enjoying a beer in a nice country pub?The foundation of the Britstops scheme is the directory. This is not only your guide to all the stopovers but is also your membership card. The book costs £27.50 and is republished, and updated annually.In addition, every member gets a regular update via e-mail throughout the year listing new entries and any changes to hosts’ details and information. For example, the authors Steve and Mandy are constantly finding new hosts and stopovers and from time to time hosts may leave the scheme, usually because of retirement or the business is closing down.All you have to do is turn up with your directory-cum-membership card, and ask if you can park for the night. Some hosts like you to telephone in advance but that is generally to ensure that they have space. Some places only have space for a couple of vehicles, while others can accommodate a dozen or so.The directory itself is a mine of information, listing all the current hosts, how much space is available, what other facilities there are, maps, whether dogs are allowed or not, WiFi information and relevant phone numbers and contact details.Each stopover is also described in a little write-up from the owner describing their business This really helps us to decide if we are going to cook dinner in the camper or dine out, or spend the evening in a cosy country pub. I’ve literally spent hours browsing the directory, working out potential exploratory trips to all parts of the UK.Members undertake to abide by a common-sense code of conduct, such as checking with the hosts when you arrive and not dumping grey water etc and although you are not obliged to buy anything from your host there is an agreed understanding of mutual benefit, that we are all there to help each other.As I suggested earlier it’s wonderfully, simple, pragmatic and beneficial to hosts and members alike.Last spring my wife Gina and I toured South-West Ireland and we used Britstops a lot. We stayed in a hotel car park in the ferry port of Holyhead on Anglesey and enjoyed an excellent meal in the restaurant, and what could be better than spending the night in the car park of an Irish pub? And in a tiny little village in County Kerry with the wonderful name of Sneem we spent an idyllic night parked close to a river in delightfully rural surroundings.Our very first Britstop experience was at Peel Farm, near Kirriemuir in Angus. This is a wonderful spot in the Angus Glens and is a farm shop with an excellent tea-room with about 30 different vendors offering antiques, quality gifts and crafts and even a children’s nature trail. We were allowed to use the toilets and the host even showed us to a tap where we could fill-up with fresh water.After a coffee and a lovely fruit scone we thought we would explore the area and ‘discovered’ the wonderful Reekie Linn, an astonishing series of gorges and waterfalls only minutes from the farm shop. I was so impressed by the spectacle I came back later in the year with a BBC film crew and recorded a sequence for one of my campervan shows on BBC Scotland, Roads Less Travelled.I can’t wait to get my 2018 Britstops directory: just to see what fantastic new locations the Clarks have managed to find for this year.For more information visit www.britstops.com

The Best of Beinn Deargs

SCOTLAND has a stack of Beinn Deargs and two of them are Munros. The ‘red hill’ is a common enough description, especially for any north-west facing hill that catches the last light of the dying sun, but Beinn Dearg above Inverlael Forest, just north of the Dirrie More, is a wee bit special.This is the Beinn Dearg that looks to the sea, as Hamish Brown so wonderfully described it. The other Munro is in Atholl, as far from the sea as you can get, and lacks the special qualities of its northern namesake – crags, corries, high level lochans and mind-blowing views.You’ll see the rocky bulk of Beinn Dearg as you drive over the A835 Ullapool road from Garve. It rears a lofty head beyond the head of Loch Glascarnoch and all but dwarfs its finely shaped neighbour Cona’ Mheall, well named the enchanted hill.You can climb these two hills from this end of Loch Glascarnoch - there’s a parking area beside Loch Droma, and if time and energy allows, you could add Am Faochagach, another Munro, to your tally, but beware. If you do walk in from this direction choose a day of hard frost - hard enough to freeze the ground solid.The bogs and the peat hereabouts would make a grown man cry with frustration.A better route, and certainly an easier route, is from further down the A835 road in Strath More near the head of Loch Broom a hundred metres north of Inverlael House. On the east side of the road a forestry track runs up through the Lael Forest to the ruins of Glensquaib and then into the lower part of Gleann na Squaib.A mountain bike can be put to good use on this initial section of forest track. It takes about half an hour to cycle up to the edge of the forest, and ten glorious minutes to freewheel back down at the end of the day.An Teallach from Gleann na SquaibGleann na Squaib certainly offers a more comfortable approach than the Glascarnoch bogtrot, a gentler and more gradual climb up a good stalking path all the way to the high bealach that is shared by three Munros, often referred to as the Deargs.  It’s a wee bit of a haul but Gleann na Squaib is pleasant enough, with some spectacular waterfalls and good pools for bathing in the River Lael when the weather is warm.Higher up the glen, the stalkers’ path begins to switchback up the steeper inclines, a superbly engineered path that carries you over grassy terraces ever closer to the mighty crags that are formed by the long north-west ridge of Beinn Dearg, the Diollaid a’ Mhill Bhric. These crags are split by half a dozen steep gullies, most of them good winter climbs.The cliff-line eventually terminates in an imposing corner line, a magnificently steep fortification that boasts a classic rock climb called the Tower of Babel, first climbed by the late Dr Tom Patey, Ullapool’s mountaineering GP, back in 1962.Just over twenty years we brought two climbers here, the late Paul Nunn and Clive Rowland, to climb a winter route for a series we were making for the BBC, The Edge: 100 Years of Scottish Mountaineering. It was possibly the coldest, the longest and the hardest day’s filming any of us had experienced. The weather was foul but the climbers finished their route, Emerald Gully, and Paul Nunn even appeared to enjoy the awful conditions: “I do not think you would get far with Scottish climbing unless you were opportunistic,” he told me. “You would just go home, fed up with sitting around in cafes or pubs looking out at the terrible weather.Beinn DeargI think that is what many people do not understand about Scottish climbing, and that is the importance of getting out there and putting your nose in front of the problem. You can miss superb opportunities by being pessimistic.”The following year Paul and his companion Geoff Tier were descending from the summit of Haromosh II (6,666 metres), in the Karakoram Himalaya, when they were overwhelmed by a massive ice-fall collapse and buried.From the foot of the Tower of Babel the path carries you onto a high and broad bealach, an atmospheric and stony place scattered with shallow lochans. There’s an element of ‘northness’ magic here with an Arctic feel to it, especially when snow drifts break off into the icy waters and float, greenish-blue, like mini icebergs. It doesn’t take much imagination to see enormous glaciers grinding out the steeply cut Choire GhrandaCona' MheallThree Munros impinge on this high lochan-splattered bealach. In front of you, beyond a short rise, lies Cona’ Mheall, a stone covered dumpy mound that teases out to become a magnificent crenelated ridgeline. To your left a long and steady ramp carries you up to the summit of Meall nam Ceapraichean and to your right likes the daddy of them all, Beinn Dearg.To climb Beinn Dearg all you have to do is follow the line of a drystone wall that runs up the hill’s north-east shoulder almost all the way to the summit. However, that is easier said that done, especially when deep drifts cover the path and I frequently found myself up to the thighs in rotten snow. I eventually found it easier to move further to the right, away from the wall, and tackle some of the bigger slabs and boulders as mild scrambles.Like the Destitution Road that runs down into the Dundonnell Forest it’s thought this wall was built in the 1840’s to provide work for those who were suffering from the potato blights of the time. Two to four feet in height it doesn’t appear to serve any particular function, although it may have been built to prevent livestock from roaming too close to the big cliffs above Gleann na Squaib, or it may just have been an exercise in altruism. The workers were apparently paid in oatmeal.Near the top, where the dyke bears right, there is a gap in the wall so I popped through it and followed a south-south-west bearing for about 300 metres across the wind-clipped vegetation of the summit slopes to the 3556ft summit itself, a place where mournful golden plover sing their sad song, a mountain top that’s more Cairngorm than Wester Ross.I had been aware of someone climbing the hill behind me and as I sat by the massive summit cairn with my flask and piece I saw a figure appear. Curiously he was fully dressed for winter with complete waterproofs and a thick balaclava helmet. I gave him a wave but he didn’t respond and instead went to sit amongst some rocks fifty feet away. Perhaps he was an incarnation of Alfred Wainwright who famously used to try and hide rather than have to speak to people on the fells.Meall nan CeapraicheanBack at the stony bealach a choice of route awaits you. You can either continue east to climb Cona’ Mheall, 3210ft, by its stony but easy-angled western ridge, or head north for two more Munros, Meall nan Ceapraichean, 3205ft and Eididh nan Clach Geala, 3043ft The circuit of all four tops makes a long and magnificent day’s hill walking.These northern mountains have a special wilderness quality about them. Although relatively close to the Ullapool road they nonetheless possess an air of remoteness, a sense of isolation created by the knowledge that to the north and north east lie huge areas of wild country, roadless and without habitation, a vast tract of corrie-bitten hills and wind-scoured summits that make up the Freevater, Glen Calvie and Strath Vaich deer forests.Another Munro, Seana Bhraigh, lies in isolated splendour in the midst of this wilderness. One of the remotest of the Munros its ascent from the south demands a comparatively long expedition. It’s probably easier climbed from Oykel Bridge  in the north-east.If the round of four Munros seems a bit too harsh then Eididh nan Clach Geala can be climbed on its own on a relatively short and easy day, or it can be combined with Seana Bhraigh, a hill some folk consider to be the most remote of our Munros. Two miles up Gleann na Squaib an old stalkers’ path leaves the main route and weaves its way up the hillside towards the great rocky hollow that holds the waters of the rather secretive Loch a’ Chnapaich. Above the loch, beyond the cliffs, lies the summit of Edidh nan Clach Geala, 3041ft/927m.I tackled these two Munros at the fag end of last summer, a dour and grey day in which all col,our appeared to have been drained from the landscape. Rain clouds were gathering on Beinn Dearg’s rocky dome as I climbed up towards the loch and by the time I reached the crest of Eididh nan Clach Geala’s west ridge black storm clouds were piling up over the hills of the north-west – Ben More Coigach, Stac Pollaidh, Cul Beag and Mor, Suilven and Canisp – making them look even more dramatic than they already are. I can’t think of a finer looking array of mountains anywhere.Seana BraighI wanted to push across the high lochan splattered tableland to Seana Braigh, which lies in isolated splendour in the midst of this high wilderness, and I wondered if I could manage it before the weather broke, so recalling Paul Nunn’s words about putting my nose in front of the problem, I went for it.An old guidebook describes Seana Bhraigh as a “noble mountain”, lording it over the vast empty quarter between Inverlael and Strath Mulzie, and in that sense it is dramatic and imposing, but it’s also rather dignified, as befits its name, “the old brae”. From the south the mountain is no more than a crest of a wave in an ocean of heather and peat, but from the north the prospect is in complete contrast.The wave suddenly crashes down in an almost vertical 1300 foot precipice into the depths of the Luchd Coire which lies below the imposing peak of An Sgurr, the steep pinnacle which forms the climax to the narrow and rocky Creag an Duine ridge. The main summit, at 3041 feet above sea level, may in itself be less impressive than its subsidiary tops, but it does offer the best views of the rest of the mountain.With the bad weather approaching fast I managed to stride out to the impressive summit cairn before dropping down into Coire an Lochain Sgeirich with its long rosary of linked lochans, shining levels that reflect the blackness of the crags that tower above them.From the corrie a good path runs west, down empty slopes to the Allt Gleann a’ Mhadaidh then on to the Druim na Saobhaidhe, the ridge that forms the north wall of Gleann na Squaib. From here it was an easy descent back into the forest and the little clearing where I had left my mountain bike.Getting onto the saddle of a mountain bike at the end of a long hill day is sheer bliss, especially when all you have to do is turn the pedals several times then enjoy the luxury of a long freewheel all the way back to Inverlael and the campervan.  – and a hot brew. I just got my boots off when the first big drops of rain began to splatter the windscreen.On a day like this, timing is everything.First published in the Scots Magazine, 2017

My Hyundai for the Hills

WHILE I hugely enjoy revisiting mountains I’ve climbed in the past I do so in the painful knowledge that I can no longer treat these hills in the same cavalier fashion I did when I was younger and fitter.Take the challenging Mamores Ridge near Fort William for example. This nine-mile long mountain crest has long been considered one of the great hillwalking outings of Scotland, with Glen Nevis separating it from the Grey Corries in the north and long slopes running down to Kinlochleven in the south, all well served by a magnificent network of stalkers’ paths.The ridge itself is narrow, serpentine and sustained, Alpine-like in snowy winter and spring conditions. The full traverse, well over 20 miles for the round trip, is a big, energetic day out for the fit, and one I breezed as a young, lithe and fit twenty-something-year old. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do it now, at least not without a NHS ambulance and resuscitation unit waiting for me at the end.In many ways that doesn’t matter, I’m just thankful that at the age of 67 I can still get onto the top of hills and mountains, and here’s another thing: as I’ve become older I’ve learned the value of compromise. The concession in this case is breaking the long Mamores Ridge down into bite-sized chunks, a series of shorter days that can be enjoyed at a more leisurely pace.The most challenging of these concessions takes in the dramatically named Devil’s Ridge along with four of the Mamores’ Munros, the Scottish mountains of over 3000 feet/914 metres. The fearsomely titled Devil's Ridge lies between two of those Munros, Sgurr an Iubhair and Sgurr a’ Mhaim, and despite its name and narrow crest it is far from evil, although in winter conditions it can give several heart-stopping moments.Another lesson in compromise I’ve learned is a safety issue - I shouldn’t take on big mountain expeditions and then expect to spend several hours driving home at the end of the day when I’m physically tired. My campervan is the solution to that problem. With a comfortable camper waiting in the car park my usual routine is to drag myself off the hill, remove my boots and peel my socks off, put on a brew, have a nap, and then cook a meal. I can then tackle the long drive home in the morning, refreshed, renewed and invigorated by my little expedition to the mountains.For the past forty years I’ve climbed mountains for a living, starting out as an outdoor instructor before becoming a full-time writer, editor and television presenter. Over the years I've owned a succession of campervans to help me in my work, including a number of classic VW models. My first model was a Toyota Hiace, which I bought away back in the early eighties when my sons were both fairly young.With my wife Gina, another keen hillwalker, we had all kinds of adventures in that vehicle and when rusting panels became a headache we changed it for a VW T3 Westfalia with a pop-up roof. Despite its problems, and it had many including a heater that refused to work, we loved the iconic style of that vehicle and we phut-phutted over to the Alps on several occasions. At one point we put a new engine in it and eventually swopped it for a slightly bigger V-Dub.Several VW models later, when our sons had grown up and fled the nest, we thought our campervan days were over, but a few years on the bug began to itch again and we fell for a very cheap, home-converted Renault Traffic van which went by the tantalising name of The Purple Haze. I should clarify that the name came from the colour of the vehicle and not from any illicit activities we may have enjoyed on our road trips but we loved it, and the fun we had with it convinced us we should spend a bit of money, a lot of money as it happened, (my wife’s pension lump sum) on a new vehicle.We went off to the Camping and Caravan show at the NEC in Birmingham and bought a Romahome R40, bigger than our usual campervans but not so big it would be a problem on highland roads. Sadly it was a problem in every other way.No sooner had the warranty run out than things went wrong. We had to have it completely rewired, the shock absorbers on the base vehicle were too light for the weight of the camper and the Webasto heater cost us over a grand in repairs because it had been fitted badly. It reached the stage when we were nervous every time we went off for a weekend wondering what was going to go wrong next. I was more than happy to eventually see the back of it, after we had spent a small fortune in repairs.Foolishly we then bought a bigger motorhome, an Elddis Autocirrus. That was a big mistake. It didn't take us long to realise we were not motorhome people, much preferring the compact nature and car-size of a campervan. For the kind of work I do, essentially climbing mountains and writing about it, driving predominantly on narrow, often single-track, highland roads, a campervan is the perfect vehicle, tea-house and bunkhouse combined.We traded-in the Elddis for our first Hyundai iCamper. That was a two-year old 2.5 litre Turbo Diesel, automatic base vehicle with a brand new Wellhouse conversion. We loved it and used it pretty extensively over a couple of years, running up a considerable mileage with long trips to Slovenia and a month spent in the Picos de Europa mountain range in northern Spain. In between we visited Shetland, toured Ireland, enjoyed regular trips to the Western Isles, where campervanners are made very welcome, and had many a weekend sortie to the hills and mountains of Scotland and the Lake District. Last year, convinced of the practicality and reliability of the Hyundai i800 and delighted with the workmanship of Wellhouse Leisure we changed our beloved i800 camper for a brand new model, a Rosso Special Edition.Like its predecessor the new, 2016 Hyundai i-Camper from Wellhouse is based on the Hyundai i800 luxury people carrier and is fitted with the latest 2.5-litre, Euro 6, turbodiesel engine. It features a high standard specification, including a special edition colour scheme, and on the road prices starting from £45,500, expensive but considerably cheaper than an equivalently specced VW California.I had fallen in love with the Wellhouse Hyundai i-Camper because of key features such as its car-like driving position, being under two metres high (with roof down), rear wheel-drive and the option of automatic transmission. It also has five travel seats and five-year Hyundai and Wellhouse warranties, plus a superb specification from Wellhouse including a SMEV mini-grill/oven, (I like my hot buttered toast and hot pies) hot water, blown-air heating, 95W solar panel, 47-litre Vitrifrigo compressor fridge, 42-litre on-board fresh and waste water tanks, plus an outside shower (brilliant for cleaning dirty hiking boots and occasionally dirty hikers) and 18 inch alloy wheels.Our new 2016 Rosso features the classic campervan layout of a side kitchen, all in a glorious shade of shiny flaming red, a sink with a two-burner gas hob and oven/grill underneath, a compression fridge, plenty of storage, including a dedicated space for the standard portable toilet, plus a wardrobe unit and a locker for the gas bottle. Unlike our previous i800 the new wardrobe is fitted with two folding shelves, a new addition that delighted us. Being active outdoors folk we never carry any clothing that requires to be hung in a wardrobe, but a cupboard with two shelves is our idea of heaven-in-a-camper! That wardrobe is now home to our sleeping bags, utensils, crockery and lots of tins of this and that. And the little rail that was originally used for hanging coat hangers is now, thanks to the addition of two or three wire hooks, where our tea and coffee mugs hang out.The front passenger seat swivels round to make a comfortable armchair and the Hyundai i800 has the distinction of having two tables – an easy assemble occasional table, that can be used outside as well as inside, and a neat little passenger seat table.The seating and sleeping arrangements are almost identical to our previous camper. The Variotech rear bench seat has seat belts for three people and folds down to make a comfortable double bed. Unusually, the i-Camper has twin sliding side doors to maximise ventilation and also provide easier access for servicing the kitchen appliances or to remove the toilet.Our Rosso Special Edition model has body-coloured bumpers, side-mouldings and roof and features full colour-coded exterior fittings and internal furniture, plus larger alloy wheels and two-tone (red and grey) leather upholstery with armrests for the front seats.The base vehicle began life as an 8-seater MPV with a beast of a CRDI 2.5 litre engine with 168bhp. It offered roughly 30 mpg, but the new i800 campervan is fitted with a 6-speed manual gear-box, a 2.5 turbo diesel engine that offers a respectable 134bhp. I’m getting about 35 mpg with the help of the Euro 6 compliant engine and the fully loaded campervan easily copes with the long and often steep hills of the highlands. There is an automatic option, which returns to the original 168bhp engine.I use the Hyundai for work and pleasure, although the margins between the two often become blurred. The Hyundai gives me a comfortable mobile base to work from and has carried me to some of the most fantastic locations imaginable, like the shores of Lake Maggiore in Italy, Venice, the Julian Alps of Slovenia, the Bernese Alps, the Mont Blanc Alps and the beautiful Covandonga Lakes of the Picos de Europa in Spain. I’ve sat in the van and admired blood-red sunsets in Shetland, across the magical Luskentyre Beach of Harris and over the Atlantic from Connemara in Eire.More recently I’ve made television programmes for BBC Scotland that have featured my campervan. I initially travelled between Oban and Ullapool and made two hour-long programmes called Roads Less Travelled, with a nod to Robert Frost’s poem:‘Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –I took the one less travelled by,And that has made all the difference.’We followed some of the quieter byways of the Western Highlands and climbed some hills, did some mountain biking and made use of my packraft to visit the Arising Skerries and a holy island on Loch Maree in Wester Ross. Viewers seemed to like the idea of a campervan journey so we did a similar trip last year between Dornoch in the North East of Scotland and Orkney.We travelled through some of the delightful little towns of Sutherland, the cathedral town of Dornoch, Brora, Golspie, Embo and Helmsdale before heading for the very heart of the Flow Country peatlands. I had enjoyed the wide-open spaces and the domed skies of Caithness before heading across the Pentland Firth to Orkney and visits to South Ronaldsay, Burray, Mainland, Rousay, Sanday and North Ronaldsay.All went well until we queued up for the ferry to North Ronaldsay. The ferryman on the pier at Kirkwall on Mainland Orkney had a sense of humour, or so I thought. He took a long look at my campervan, my pride and joy, checked his notes and asked if I really intended taking it on the ferry to North Ronaldsay, the most northern of the islands in the Orkney archipelago.‘You do realise there’s no slipway at the pier on North Ronaldsay,’ he said, eyebrows furrowed. ‘They’ll lift the van oot o’ the ferry on some auld fishin’ nets.’I was convinced he was joking, but he wasn’t. Three hours later I stood trembling on the North Ronaldsay pier as my beloved campervan was lifted by crane and dumped unceremoniously on the pier. It was hardly an auspicious introduction to Orkney’s most northerly island, but my producer assured me it would make good television.Hyundai i800 Rosso Edition from Wellhouse LeisureOwned since October 2016Drive: Rear-wheel driveEngine: Euro 6 2.5 turbo dieselPower: 134bhp (also available in 168bhp automatic version)Economy: About 35 -38mpg (estimated)Gearbox: 6-speed manualTravel seats: 5Berths: 4Leisure Battery: 115 A/hLength x width x height 5.1m x 1.9m x 1.98/2.6m raised roofInsurance: £300Equipment: Passenger swivel seat, all seats with 3-point seatbelts, Reimo 333 Variotech bed, additional 2-berth bed with elevating roof, SMEV combination 2 ring hob with Piezo ignition, SMEV over/grill with light & electric ignition, Vitrifrigeo 47L compressor fridge, Eberspacher blown air heating and hot water system, external shower unit, 240v & 12v power outlets, 12A intelligent battery charger, split charging system from engine battery, 25m mains hook up lead, gas locker for 6kg propane cylinder, 42L fresh & waste water tanks, Whale pressure water pump, LED lighting all round, two adjustable roof  reading lamps, Dometic 972 porta-loo, easy assemble portable table, easy assemble passenger table, lined curtains, 18inch alloy wheels, leather two-tone upholstery, heated driver seat, high-gloss furniture, driver and passenger armrests, 100w solar panel and colour coded body mouldingsThe above feature was foirst published in Campervan Magazine in 2017

Skills for the Hill 2017

AN ever-growing number of Scots are escaping to the hills to enjoy a variety of mountain adventures each year. With spring just around the corner, over thirty of Scotland’s leading outdoor organisations will be joining forces this March for the biggest event of its kind, aiming to equip all those who love the Scottish outdoors with the skills they need to venture out safely.Held at the Royal Concert Halls, Glasgow, on Saturday 25 March, Skills for the Hills is organised by the Scottish charity, Mountain Aid, in conjunction with Mountaineering Scotland. It is set to inspire, educate and entertain the many who head onto our hills, be they summer hill walkers, all-weather climbers or mountain bikers. It also seeks to encourage the many more who don’t know what they are missing, and signpost some of the ways they can get started.The event will be officially opened by outdoor broadcaster and journalist Cameron McNeish, who has been a patron of Mountain Aid since 2010, and will deliver a keynote lecture on the day. He is passionate about encouraging people of all ages to enjoy the unique mountain landscapes on their doorstep, but to do so with a healthy respect for the risks and skills involved; “for me, climbing hills and mountains is the most wonderful activity imaginable, but it’s not without risks. Like everything else in life, you learn to recognise the risks and you equip yourself with the skills to try and manage them. That is what Skills for the Hills is all about.”A varied programme of talks will also give practical advice from expert speakers including Heather Morning, Mountain Safety Advisor with Mountaineering Scotland, a representative from SARDA, the Search and Rescue Dogs Association, and survival skills personality from Backwoods Survival School, Patrick McGlinchey.There will be interactive skills work stations covering mountain weather services, navigation, first aid for the hills, avalanche awareness, and forecasting.Highlighting those who give up their time voluntarily to rescue hill goers when things go wrong, several local mountain rescue teams will attend, as will the Search and Rescue Dog Association (SARDA), with both two and four-legged members.Leading outdoor retailers Cotswold Outdoor, Craigdon Mountain Sports, Nevisport and Tiso will be on hand to offer their expertise, advising about walking boots and other essential kit, the benefits of walking poles in summer and the necessity of ice axes and crampons in winter. They’ll also have a comprehensive range of equipment on display, including clothing, rucksacks, sleeping bags, stoves, tents and survival gear.With Scotland’s growing reputation for world-class mountain biking, Skills for the Hills will be welcoming members of the Developing Biking in Scotland team from the Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome. There will also be a wide range of mountain bikes on display, along with experts to answer your questions.Other organisations represented in the exhibition hall will include Glenmore Lodge – the National Centre for the Outdoors, the John Muir Trust, the Mountain Bothies Association, the Scottish Youth Hostel Association, the Duke of Edinburgh Awards Scheme, and Ramblers Scotland. Mountaineering Scotland, the organisation which already represents over 13000 Scottish hill walkers, climbers and mountaineers will be there, alongside local mountain activity clubs. There will also be a taste of mountaineering history from the Scottish Mountain Heritage Collection, collated by mountain guide and mountain rescue veteran, Mick Tighe. Scotland’s biggest gathering of outdoor organisations and mountain enthusiasts will take place on Saturday 25 March, 10am to 4.30pm. An entrance fee of £2 per adult and £1 per child will allow access to all the stands, workstations, talks and lectures, plus the chance to win a variety of exclusive prizes.Full details of the event programme can be found on the Mountain Aid website at www.mountainaid.org.uk.