Sonder Bikes
Kat Hill heads to a bothy in the bite of a Scottish winter. Her hike is a reminder of the beauty and adventure to be found all year round.
There's a particular quality to the light when you walk to a bothy in winter. The sun low in the sky rakes across the landscape, slanting in soft beams on icy pools or snow dusted hills. It's one of the things that makes bothying special in winter.
As we made our way to Guirdil on the Isle of Rùm, we felt the light fading. Nicholas and I could still see without head torches, but the sky was deepening to velvet blue, and the temperature had dropped. Coming over the hill, the bothy appeared, and we were grateful.
It was a cold night; I am not going to lie. Carrying lots of camera equipment meant little room for wood and comforts, and there's hardly any fuel to gather near the bothy. As the temperature dropped to well below freezing on a bitter January night, we huddled together for warmth in the attic. Cold, but our dreams were filled with the sight of the sea and sky under moonlight. The twisted alder trees arched towards the snowy top of Bloodstone Hill. The twisted rocks reached for the dark swell of the midnight tide. Above, Orion wheeled in the frozen heavens.
On the walk back the following morning as we reached the bealach, we could see the Skye Cuillin and the mainland ridges. Fresh snow had fallen, and the diffused sunlight gave the scene an otherworldly feel.
I'd always done the majority of my bothy trips in summer, but over the last few years I've delighted in snowy Cairngorm walks or treks across frozen peat bogs in Wester Ross, normally armed with more fuel than on the Guirdil visit. The challenges and joys are similar but different from bothying in kinder conditions, with only a few short hours of daylight and a keener awareness of the shelter these simple places bring from harsh weather.
Looking back through old visitor books from bothies, I always enjoyed winter stories of heroic adventures through driving snow and joyful sketches of "first footers' on New Year's Day.
I haven't yet spent the festive season in a bothy; but I can share that sense of deep satisfaction in front of a fire, whisky or wine in hand, whiling away the darkness before a deep sleep.
Winter bothying might be a little harder work, mean you have to carry a little more, and be more aware of the daylight, but with it come the rich rewards of the warmth of the fire and the cool, golden glow of Scottish winter sun illuminating the quiet majesty of frozen hills.
Kat's winter bothy tips
Plan your route carefully, taking account of winter conditions which can add time to a hike, and the length of the day.
Anything need charging? Make sure you have spare batteries or a power pack. It's easy to forget how quickly batteries drain in the cold.
Layer up. To keep warm in winter it's all about layers, so bring plenty. You'll warm up as you hike but bring extra for when you stop or the wind picks up.
Gloves. Double gloves are helpful, some thicker ones to keep you really warm when you don't need your hands and a lighter thermal pair which you can use with a phone or when folding a map.
Fuel. If you can, bring some fuel as there will be much less on the ground to collect and anything left in a bothy is likely to be in high demand.
Light. Bring a mini lantern or a couple of candles to light those long bothy nights.
Kat is author of Bothy: In Search of a Simple Shelter A tribute to the remote shelters of Scotland, celebrating solitude, adventure, and the spirit of wild places.