Tag: wild camping

Goalless Walking

My time in the wilderness has taught me that the goal of not having a goal can be the best goal to have.

I mentioned previously that my long walk in Sweden had given me a new mindset on walking. So, what would that be then?

In the past I’ve always seen a walk as a kind of challenge: a list of places to be ticked off; a certain time to get somewhere; a set-in-stone quota of miles to be covered. This hasn’t been something I’ve done consciously as my main reason for walking has always been that it’s something I enjoy. But because I do enjoy my walks, I’ve always found it easy to get distracted. I’ll sit and gaze at an idyllic view for twenty minutes, then spend another ten minutes trying to take a perfect photograph of a leaf. Add in distractions like tea-rooms, old churches or obscure little museums and my walk can easily take twice as long as it’s ‘supposed’ to. Although I finish my walk happy, I’ll have a little niggle at the back of my mind telling me that I haven’t done well enough. On the other hand, when I have to rush to finish the walk to make sure I’m in time for the last bus or that the gates on the car park aren’t locked, then I don’t feel so happy. I feel like I’ve missed out.

It should be obvious really shouldn’t it? That I should walk with the intention of doing what I want, when I want and enjoying myself rather than trying to achieve some self-imposed target. However, it took a long walk in the Arctic with plenty of thinking time for me to figure this out. 

At first I was concerned that I wasn’t putting enough miles in each day; that I was starting too late in the morning; that I was taking too many gorgeous-view breaks. I justified it by telling myself I’d never be here again. If I don’t absorb the view fully, or camp at that amazing spot by the waterfall and enjoy pottering around in the sun the next morning, I’ll never get another chance. In the Peak District, I can always nip back for another look. In Swedish Lapland? Not so easy. Not when I have to take a plane, then a very long train journey, then a bus ride of several hours to the end of the nearest road, and then walk for a few days to get there. It’s easier to come back and walk a part of the trail I haven’t touched on, than it is to go back to the sections I’ve already walked just to see a bit here and a bit there because I rushed it first time round.

Once these thoughts started to sink in I began to relax and enjoy myself a lot more. I was learning to stop feeling guilty about something that there was no reason to feel guilty about anyway. I met lots of Swedish people, including some quite young ones. Although some were rushing along with only a few days to complete a long section of the trail, others were enjoying moving slowly and making the most of their time spent in the wilderness. Rather than rushing from target to target, their goal was to find a nice campsite, cook some good food and chill.

Swedes seem to have a different attitude to the great outdoors. From an early age, it’s quite normal to spend time walking, carrying a pack, wild camping and jumping in rivers for a wash. Have you ever tried walking with a five-year-old? If so, you’ll know how long it can take to even get a few hundred metres down the road. Everything is fascinating to them. They have to turn every stone, pick up every stick and sometimes sample every worm. Give them a backpack to carry and the chance of finding bits of reindeer antler in the stream beds and you’ve no chance of getting very far. This is fine. The point of the trip isn’t to walk a long way, but to enjoy being in the wilderness.

Once they hit their teens they’re chomping at the bit to get out there with their mates. No grown-ups allowed. And you know what? The grown-ups are fine with this. They walk a bit further than when they were younger, but still seem to get far more out of ‘just being there’ than they do for breaking records of distance or speed walked.

As adults, the annual trip to the wilderness is a time to de-stress away from busy lives in Stockholm or other cities. It’s quality time with family and friends, or time to be perfectly alone with no-one else to worry about. Yes they have targets; goals they want to achieve, but the targets are not the main reason for being there. 

So why do I always have this feeling of needing to achieve a goal? Is it a general British attitude to walking? There’s no point doing it unless you’re going to achieve something? I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this. Is it because we don’t have any ‘real’ wilderness to spend days alone in? Even the remotest parts of Scotland are not that far from civilisation. I could have driven to the Highlands three times in the time it took just for the train journey from Stockholm to Lapland. Does this mean we never really shed our city feelings of targets, goals and everything at a specific time? Is it because walking is an ‘adult’ pastime and so we never have the opportunity to learn lessons from five-year-olds about the joy of going slowly? I know some Brits will take their children on short walks, but I don’t know any who wouldn’t shudder at the thought of taking them into the wilderness for two weeks at a time.

My time in the wilderness has taught me that the goal of not having a goal can be the best goal to have. Of course sometimes it’s good to challenge yourself; to keep yourself on your toes rather than sat on your bum taking yet another gorgeous-view break. And sometimes there is no choice in the matter. Why do so many last buses depart at 5pm even in the long, light summer evenings?

So how am I going to apply these lessons now I’m home? I’ll still walk according to other people’s criteria, whether that’s people I meet (it only took us three hours) or what the guide-book says. Or, more importantly, what the bus timetable says. But I also want to walk without a plan or goal. To just wander wherever I think looks interesting. To stop when I want and where I want for however long I want. Will I achieve this goal? Or am I just setting myself another target that I’ll feel guilty about not achieving? Is it even possible to have a target of not having a target? Watch this space …

When your campsite looks like this, why would you be in a hurry to leave?

Toilets and showers in the Outer Hebrides

A list of toilets and shower facilities in the Outer Hebrides.

I thought the following might be useful for anyone planning a trip round the Outer Hebrides this summer in which they’re intending to wild camp most of the time. If you are staying in official accommodation your showering and toileting needs will be sorted for you, but if not then make a note of the info below. And if anyone has any more to add, please leave a note in the comments. The prices are from the summer of 2012 and are correct to the best of my memory.

Barra – toilets at the village hall in Castlebay (not open until about 9am and closed early evening) and also at the ferry terminal in Castlebay (but only open when the waiting room is open around the time of ferries). Showers in the sports centre in Castlebay (£1.05)

Vatersay – toilets in the village hall. Walk round the outside of the building to the left.

Eriskay – toilets and showers at the ferry port (24 hours, showers are £1)

South Uist – toilets and showers near the tourist office in Lochboisdale (showers £1)

Benbecula – toilets and showers in the sports centre (showers are £1.05. The centre is closed on Tuesdays)

North Uist – toilets by the harbour and also in the museum in Lochmaddy. Showers at the Lochmaddy Hotel but I don’t know the price.

Baleshare – no facilities

Berneray – toilets are at the ferry port (24hrs). Showers and toilets by the harbour about a mile from the ferry port (closed at 9pm, showers £1)

Harris – toilets at the ferry port in Leverburgh (24 hrs). Toilets and showers in the bus station in Tarbert, not sure of the opening hours. (Showers 50p)

Lewis – toilets and shower at the Kinloch Historical Centre in Laxay near Stornoway (24hrs, showers 50p), also at the sports centre in Stornoway (£1.05). There are also public toilets by the yacht harbour and car park but there is a charge and they are not open 24hrs. There are toilets in the ferry port where the ferries leave for Ullapool.

St Kilda – toilets at the back of the shop

Also the ferry from Oban to Barra has showers, but the Stornoway to Ullapool ferry doesn’t.

Sleeping in my van

Exploring Barra and finding a great spot to sleep in my van.

Castlebay
Sailing into Castlebay

I’ve camped in my van for the last three nights and I’m loving the freedom of it. I left home much later than planned on Thursday and arrived in Oban just after midnight. I found a free car park, rolled out my bed in the back and went to sleep. I had a really good night’s sleep and felt comfortable and safe. It would have been much more difficult to find somewhere to pitch my tent. It was dark when I was driving so I couldn’t spot any good camping spots from the road.

Barra and Vatersay

On Friday I caught the ferry over to Castlebay on the island of Barra at the bottom of the Outer Hebrides. It’s a five hour sail and was calm, clear and sunny all the way. We arrived in the early evening to more sunshine. Knowing the good weather wouldn’t last and wanting to explore I drove a full circuit round the island’s ring road stopping to take photos of the white sandy beaches and looking for a camping spot for the evening.

Barra and Vatersay

I drove over the causeway to Vatersay and followed the road finding more white beaches and a lone seal. I also discovered the remains of a second world war plane crash. This reminded me of walks I’ve done in the Peak District to see similar remains (a more macabre version of being a plane spotter).

plane wreck

Although I saw lots of nice places I would have had to park a little bit back from the sea and not have had the best view. With this is mind I drove back to one of the laybys I’d passed earlier on the west side of Barra and stopped there. Although it was on the main road there were very few vehicles passing. I had the beach and sand dunes in front of me and a rocky grassed over hill rising up behind me on the opposite side of the road.

Barra and Vatersay

I wouldn’t have been able to pitch my tent here as the layby itself was covered with loose stones, the hill behind was too steep (and I probably wouldn’t have got my pegs into the rock anyway), and the sand on the beach was too soft and the tide was coming in. So having my van meant I was able to camp in an amazing spot and have it all to myself. I kept the door open until quite late and opened it early the next morning, sitting in the doorway to eat my breakfast. Last night I camped here again. Another campervan was parked at the far end of the layby, but it was far enough away for us both to have privacy.

Barra and Vatersay

I’ve put a roll-up bed that I’ve had for years in the back of the van. It’s actually meant for a child and is made up of three foam cushions attached together – two larger ones and one smaller one. When it’s folded up it makes a chair, the smaller cushion being the back of the chair; when it’s unrolled it makes a bed with the smaller cushion being slightly raised at the head. It fits really well in the van and is where I’m planning to build my bed when I convert the van. Down the other side from my bed I have everything stored and although it looks very packed, it’s much more organised than I was in my car.

Barra and Vatersay

The more I use my van, the more I’m getting the feel for how I want to convert it. I’m glad I didn’t rush into anything. Although most of my original ideas still hold, there are a few things I will do differently and other modifications I’ve realised would be nice to have.

Barra and Vatersay

This doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my tents though. When I want to get off the beaten track to places I can’t access with a car and when I’m walking and carrying all my gear, a tent will be needed. Also, when I’m staying in one place for a while it’s better to have everything set up in one place so I don’t have to pack things away in the daytime. I’d also have more room in the back of the van during the day.

seagulls

Back home

I’m back home after just over a month away in which I completed two of my challenges. I’ve wild camped in the UK and walked a long distance path in one go.

My wild camping was quite soft really as in Shetland it’s so easy and most of the time I camped near piers where there are toilets and showers. But I did do nine straight nights. I also officially wild camped for a couple of nights on the Great Glen Way as I slept at locks where there are designated wild camping sites (can it be wild camping when it’s a designated site?) and I was able to buy a key enabling me to use the toilets and showers at the locks. I’ve done much wilder wild camping in other parts of the world (particularly Africa) so I know I’m capable of it, I just wanted to break my habit of always relying on campsites when I’m in this country.

As for my long distance walk, I walked the Great Glen Way over 6 days. Technically I finished on the 7th day as I stopped at the campsite in Inverness at the end of day 6. This is right on the route and there seemed no point walking into Inverness just to walk back out again, only to walk back in again the next day to get the train. The walk should have been 73 miles but I did just over 80 as one day there was a 2 mile diversion and I also walked out to both sea locks which aren’t included in the official trail. I carried all my gear for the first 4 days, but set up camp in Inverness and bussed back to the walk for the last couple of days when it was long and hilly. I could have done it with all my gear but would have needed more time. As with the wild camping, I have done longer walks than this and carried more gear in other countries, but wanted to do it here just to prove to myself that I’m still up to it.

So right now, I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Foula 2

Wandering through the mist on Foula and chatting with the locals.

I woke up, after my first night on Foula, a short while before before the first plane was due. I was wondering if I’d have to move my tent, but was surprised by how quiet it was. I know it’s a tiny airport, but surely there should be some noise? A quick look outside my tent soon confirmed that the mist was back down as heavy and thick as it had been yesterday. No flights then.

Gaada Stack
I stayed in my tent, reading, writing my diary and enjoying some thinking time until the afternoon. Then as the mist started to lift a bit I went for a walk to the north end of the island. I stuck to the road, but as I got towards the north the mist cleared enough that I could see the outline of the tops of the hills (hills I should’ve been walking in) and I did get to see Gaada Stack which is a spectacular looking arch standing on its own in the sea. It looked particularly good with the mist behind it.
The primary school
Peat drying
On the way down I’d passed the primary school so I had a peer in through the windows. It was a modern building and looked like it had great facilities. There was a big kitchen too, which I couldn’t see the point of. Later I was told that the school also contains the community hall and the kitchen is for community events. There are seven children in the school.
Keeping the ferry safe from storms

I walked back down to the pier and saw more seals and took pictures of the boat hanging up. It has to be winched up when not in use to protect it from storms. I passed a couple of the crew members tending their crofts and had a chat with them. As I walked back towards the airport a 3rd crew member pulled up beside me in his car. We had a chat and he checked that I was going out on the ferry next morning. He offered me a lift, which I accepted as I thought it would be nice to chat. He was going to the lighthouse at the south end of the island as one of his jobs is that of lighthouse keeper. The lighthouse is automated and so he just goes once or twice a week to check it. He’s about 70 and should be retired, but said that people on the island just tend to keep on working. The oldest islander is a lady of 92. He told me that when people get too old to really manage on their own the other islanders all muck in and help.

We did some off-roading to get to the lighthouse and briefly got stuck. He was only going to pick up a toolbox that the maintenance men had left there. They come once a year and are going to Fair Isle next. They’re probably the same ones I saw on Fair Isle last year. I was able to go into the lighthouse with him, though there was nothing exciting to see. Going in sets off an alarm in Edinburgh so he had to phone to say it was him. Otherwise they’d be phoning his house to tell him to go and check it out.

Things Brian told me before dropping me back at my tent are:

  • He’s lived in Foula for 35 years, which is half his life.
  • He was captain of the ferry but has now given that up and is an ordinary crew member. He still gets captain’s pay but with none of the responsibility.
  • The current captain (Kevin?) worked with him for 24 years before getting the captaincy.
  • Kevin (?) and some other islanders are the great grandchildren of the former laird Ian B. Stoughton Holbourn, whose book I’m reading at the moment. How horrified he would have been to find his descendands being ordinary crofters and ferrymen.
  • The current primary teacher is leaving after 5 years in the job.
  • The new teacher is a woman in her 50s and has a grown up family. She was previously working in Dubai.
  • Brian is a school governor.
  • The nurse is also giving up her job. Although it comes with a salary of £45k and she rarely has to do anything, she’s finding it boring as she was used to working in a busy A&E ward before. She and her husband are staying on Foula and have a croft.
  • People on Foula are pretty healthy and don’t tend to get ill. Instead they have rather dramatic accidents like rolling their vehicles over up on the tops.
  • Brian has rolled his 4WD twice. The passenger door had a big gap at the top where it had been bent. It had been his wife’s car, but she’s made him swap and give her his, after he damaged hers.
  • Rent for the croft (and I think for the house) is £8 a year. The landlords tried to put it up recently, but didn’t succeed.
  • You can buy your croft and house for ten times the annual rent, but if you buy you’re not eligible for grants. So people tend to get all the grants, do their place up and then buy it.
  • Brian hasn’t bought his yet, but is now thinking about it as his son has decided to stay on Foula.

He probably told me more, but that’s all I remember.

Once back at my tent I cooked and then spent the rest of the evening reading. Later in the evening a man drew up in his van outside my tent and asked if I wanted any fresh fish. I politely declined. The mist had really drawn in again by this time.

wild camp

During my walk I took photos of some of the many abandoned cars. As there’s no way of scrapping them, when they finally die they are just left to rot. Some of them are used for storage and are filled with bags of animal feed and tins of paint. Most people don’t bother with things like MOTs, road tax or insurance.

old crane abandoned car

Foula

A journey to an island shrouded in mist.

I seem to be getting to more and more remote British islands, but my ultimate goal is St Kilda. This is a small collection of islands (how many does it need to be to count as an archipelago?) way off the west coast of Scotland. It was abandoned by its remaining inhabitants back in the 1930s as they could no longer sustain their way of life there. It’s now owned by the National Trust for Scotland and is extremely tricky and expensive to get to.

The nearest I’ve managed to get so far is Foula, another remote island off the west coast of Scotland. This has come close to being abandoned in the past, but currently has a population of about 30 and seems to be surviving quite well. Foula is the island used to represent St Kilda in old films about the last days on the island.

The journey to Foula is either by a small mailboat or a tiny plane. The island is known for its fog and so the plane is often cancelled. The boat can also be cancelled due to bad weather and so although I was only intending going to Foula for 2 nights, it could have turned out to be longer. The man in the shop in Walls, where I departed from, warned me about this and so I packed a few extra days’ food supplies.

I left my car and walked round to the ferry terminal in plenty of time for the 1.30pm departure. However, we didn’t leave until about an hour later as the captain had got stuck in fog on his way from Brae. The journey was expected to take about 2.5 hrs which was fairly accurate. There were a few other passengers on the boat as well as a crew of four. The other passengers consisted of a family of four who were on their way to visit the man’s sister who’d moved to Foula a year or two before. They’d been booked to fly, but the plane had been cancelled because of the fog.

Foula appearing in the mist

The journey was good, the sea was so calm, no waves at all, though there was quite a big swell. I stood out on deck the whole time hoping to see whales but wasn’t lucky. As we got nearer to Foula it started to rain a bit and the weather really closed in. When we first came in sight of Foula it was as a vague shadow in the mist and it was only when we were almost there that I was sure that it was land I was seeing and not just a trick of the light.

We docked and had to climb up a ladder on the side of the pier. Luggage, post and shopping deliveries were piled into a crate and lifted out with a crane. Whilst waiting I watched a couple of seals playing about in the harbour. Then I walked about a mile along the road to the airport where I’d decided to camp. The fog was so dense that although it wasn’t far and the airport is in plain sight of the road I still had to get my map and compass out and navigate my way to it. I couldn’t see it until I was actually there.

My tent is to the left. Abandoned cars to the right.

There was one fire station building and a tiny waiting room with a toilet and wash basin with cold water. A few abandoned cars were parked in the car park alongside the runway. I wandered around for a while over the boggy ground trying to find a slightly less boggy bit on which to pitch my tent. There only seemed to be one bit and that was quite close to the runway. I was no closer than the cars though, and it wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world if I had to move my tent next morning before the first plane arrived.

Lots of curious sheep watched me pitching my tent. They were all over the runway – I don’t know what happens when a plane is due? – does someone have to chase them away? Once my tent was pitched I sat on stone seat and finished my flask of coffee. It was a mild evening and was lovely to be sitting there so alone in the mist, staring at the sheep who were staring right back at me. Apart from the odd ‘baa’ it was completely silent.  

After a while the mist seemed to be lifting a little so I walked to the far end of the road and back. It was really eerie walking along and seeing shapes looming in the mist. Not knowing if they were houses, sheep or abandoned cars until I was quite close. I could hear a few sounds of life, but saw no-one. On the way back to my tent the mist lifted even more and it started to rain. I gave up my walk as it was getting a bit late anyway, and hibernated in my tent for the rest of the evening.

A Quote

An apt quote for wild campers

Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof, but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dew and perfumes … What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps in a field. All night long he can hear nature breathing deeply and freely.

Robert Louis Stevenson

To bivvy or not

The pros and cons of bivvying on the Great Glen Way.

I’m thinking about bivvies. I’d love to try sleeping in one, but as I don’t know anyone with one that I can borrow, I’ll have to buy my own before I can try it. I briefly toyed with the idea of getting one to sleep in for when I walk the Great Glen Way as it would be a lot smaller and lighter to carry than my tent. But as it’ll probably rain and could well be cold and there’s sure to be zillions of midges at some point (it is Scotland after all) I think a week in one might be too much. No matter how much I resent carrying my tent during the day, I’ll be really glad of it at night. I’ll have room to spread out and cook and sit up and read and feel protected from the weather and the midges. I’ve used it in really strong Icelandic and Shetland storms and it’s had no trouble surviving and I’ve always been warm and snug inside no matter what the weather’s doing outside. So the tent it is. 

I’d still like to get a bivvy though. A year or so ago, I read Ronald Turnbull’s The Book of the Bivvy and found it an informative and interesting read. More recently Alastair Humphreys has had a bit of debate on his website about which are the best bivvies to get. 


Once I get one, then I’ll have to think about where to take it to get the full bivvying overnight experience. 

Great Glen Way

I’m planning to walk the Great Glen Way and wild camp along the way.

For my long distance walk I’ve decided to walk the Great Glen Way. For it to count as the challenge on my list I have to complete it in one go and not just as a series of individual day walks. I also want to do it whilst carrying all my own gear. As I’ll be camping each night I’ll need to carry a tent, Thermarest, sleeping bag, stove, pans, etc as well as few toiletries and a couple of changes of clothes.

My walking in Exmoor last week was the start of my training towards this. I’ve been worried about my knees and whether or not they’ll hold up to walking consecutively over a week. I’m also not sure if I’m fit enough and strong enough to carry all my gear. I tried to carry a fairly heavy bag each day I walked in Exmoor and after a while I did ‘forget’ I was wearing it. My bag on the GGW will be a lot heavier though and more bulky, so I’ll have to do some training with this too.

My knees are going to be the biggest problem. I had to take two rest days in Exmoor. Each time was after a 15 mile walk with a lot of descent. I’m not too bad on the uphills – I can take short breather breaks if I need them – but the downhills are real killers. I walked slowly and used two poles but still had a lot of pain and swelling and later on stiffness in my knee joints.

One of the reasons I’ve chosen the GGW is because it’s only 73 miles so I should be able to keep most of my walks along it to a 10 mile maximum. Also, the first few days walking will be fairly flat. By the time I hit the descents I should have a lighter pack (I will have eaten away at the weight) and be more than half way there. I’ll take my poles and a stash of ibuprofen and will hopefully be able to complete it.

I’d like to combine my wild camping task with the long distance walking task. There are actual ‘official’ wild camps at some places along the route. Do they still count if they’re official? On some nights I will have to find my own wild camp though, so whether or not the official ones count, I’ll still be completing this task.

I’ve been googling the GGW to try to get as much information on it as possible. I’ve found a detailed blog from a few years ago, some general information sites and a very good photo diary on flikr. The photo diary in particular is good because it means I can see what the various bits of the route look like and how feasible it will be to camp along the way.

Now I just have to do more training, get a map and a guidebook, sort out train tickets and arrange to leave my car with a friend in Glasgow.

Wild Camping

Considering the possibilities of wild camping on the South West Coast Path.

As I walked along the Exmoor stretch of the South West Coastal Path I thought about how I would do the walk if I was doing it in one go rather than as a series of day walks. Most camp sites are a bit of the way off the path so would add a few miles walking to each day. Not something I’d particularly want to do. There was actually one campsite that the path went through and it had signs up saying hikers could camp for one night only on their way through for £4. Usual price being a mind-boggling £13 a night! It did say that this was for 2 people, but as there was nothing about prices for individuals it sounded like if I’d stayed here instead of Porlock I’d have had to pay for a non-existent second person as well as myself.

But, to get back to the main point, if I was walking this section in one go I would have had to wild camp on some of the nights. Much of the walking was through wooded areas that sloped upwards and downwards either side of the path, so there was really nowhere to fit a tent. This was particularly true on the first day’s walk when the only flat, clear bit seemed to be at the section where the path crossed the path leading to County Gate. This was a bit of busy area and so not ideal.

Between Minehead and Porlock it would have been possible to camp on the moorland, but this would have meant a very short day’s walking. The other stretches of the walk were similar in not having many appropriately placed areas to wild camp in.

I’m planning to wild camp on the Great Glen Way in the summer, so I hope it’s easier to find places than this!