Musings about Scottish Bothies

During these days of lockdown and lounging in the sunny garden, my mind has been wandering back to some of my adventures in Scottish Bothies, and the challenges they are now facing.

 A bothy is a simple shelter in the wilderness. They have different histories, but many are old shepherd's cottages or other ruins which have been renovated. Some are managed by the Mountain Bothy Association, but not all. Traditionally, when one happens across a bothy, it is neatly swept out by the previous occupants, possibly with some firewood, coal or candles left behind, with some form of seating or benches for sleeping. They are dusty, damp, have no toilet facilities... and they are full of charm. Most have a lovely book to write in about your stay, and to read about the adventures of previous occupants. They are free, but donations are encouraged to help with the maintenance of the buildings.

The other day I couldn't stop myself from commenting on an Instagram post about the release of a new book called Scottish Bothy Walks. This, and the recent announcement of the closure of one of my favourite bothies, has tangled my brain. Is this new published material going to increase the flow of people to these wild and fragile environments? Is it going to lead to more bothy closures? How do we protect these places? 

I go through these questions in my head, and then think from the other perspective. Why shouldn't people go to bothies? If I can, why can't others? I think the issue is publicising these places. Maybe I shouldn't write a blog about this. Hhm.

I received a reply from the company promoting Scottish Bothy Walks. They are called Gather Outdoors and I love what they do. They offer a book subscription service, so each month a new book or journal is sent out in the post (what is being sent is a surprise until it arrives) and they generally have a nature or adventure theme. Gather Outdoors said the issue is misuse, not overuse. I agree that any place which is open and free to the public will probably be misused by a small minority. However, the recent closure of Peanmeanach bothy is due to "problems the estate sees as arising from an increased number of visitors." So excess use seems the bigger issue here.

Gather Outdoors also said the books, such as Scottish Bothy Walks and The Bothy Bible, are being "scapegoated", as they have seen less criticism of the facebook groups "with tens of millions of members." I'm not a member of any facebook groups, but I have had a search and there are a few. However, people still have to hear about these bothies somehow. Traditionally, people spread the word of bothies through word of mouth and maybe the purchase of the little Mountain Bothy Association book. Could published books allow a much wider audience to find out about these simple wild shelters? I had wondered whether any donations from the sale of these books was given to the MBA - not that I can see, but interestingly, the author of both of these books is a maintenance officer for one of the MBA's bothies on Rum. 

I do not wish to get up on my high horse about this - after all, I am an owner of the Scottish Bothy Bible. I once used it, lacking a map, to find a beautiful shelter in Applecross. As twilight merged into darkness, and we still couldn't find the bothy, I cursed my idiocy for not having purchased a map (it was a very last minute trip...). We were starting to consider whether we would be warm enough sleeping outside for the night. However, we found the shelter in the nick of time. I wonder how many other people have made the mistake of using the Bothy Bible instead of a grid reference on an OS map.

Photo by Ben McKeown

I have a number of really happy bothy memories, and I've been deeply saddened by the closure of Peanmeanach. It is probably my favourite of the bothies I have been to, and finding it in the dark was also a bit of an adventure. Part of the fun of arriving at a bothy in the dark is waking up the next morning and seeing what incredible landscape surrounds you. I remember waking up to a beautiful crisp, sunny day at Peanmeanach, and watching my friends swim in the freezing sea. Once, at another bothy, we woke up to a completely white landscape, having arrived at a brown upland landscape. Another time we bike-packed to a bothy near Corrour, and my friend had so much food in his bag that he sank when he cycled through a slightly boggy area. I laughed so hard, but the next morning when he was frying up bacon, eggs and sausages and all I had was my instant porridge pot, I wasn't so smug. Another time we walked to a lesser known bothy on the west coast, in a storm, and spent the evening tucked up playing jelly bean roulette, where you could have a nice popcorn bean, or be biting into one tasting of rotten eggs. Often we shared not just the shelters with others, but our alcohol too, which tended to result in some form of mischief (stories I won't share here) and some very sore heads the next day. Meeting interesting people is all part of the fun.

So many memories, and I hope many more to come, assuming people respect the Outdoor Access Code and look after these places. Since moving to Snowdonia I have only visited one bothy, which resulted in us hauling two bin bags full of rubbish back down through the woods. We live on a small island with a big population, and it all goes back to the same question: how do you get people to care? Unless more people do show care, I fear more bothies will be locked and lost to ruin.