Book Review: Corrour Bothy by Ralph Storer

I didn’t expect a book on a bothy, even one as iconic as Corrour, to be so enjoyable that I’d read it in a rush but that was the case with this book. After it arrived, I started flipping through the pages, got hooked on various passages and then decided I’d better start at the beginning. Reading it straight through I was captivated, fascinated and excited. Corrour was one of the first bothies I ever visited, and I have stayed there many times, but I think this book will be enthralling for every lover of wild places whether they have been there or not. (And note that if it makes you want to visit, as is likely, Corrour is very popular – best take a tent).

The author tells the story of the bothy,  of how it was built as a deer watchers house in 1877 and then quickly used by walkers and climbers after the last watcher left in 1920. He describes its splendid setting in the Cairngorms and gives advice on approaches to it and walks from it. The first renovation in 1950 and subsequent ones are described and there are tales of the building of the first bridges over the  rivers and burns that have to be crossed to reach Corrour. Before these existed visitors suffered regular soakings and, sadly, one man drowned in 1950 on the final crossing of the Dee just below the bothy, an event that led to the first bridge being built. There are many interesting photographs of renovations and bridge building from 1948 right up to 2018 along with photographs of the bothy and its setting by the author from his many visits.

Whilst the story of Corrour is fascinating, even more so are the entries from the bothy books, which date all the way back to 1928. Ralph Storer deserves credit for his painstaking research into these. Reading through his selections from the books builds up a picture of an outdoor and mountaineering community that stretches back over ninety years, bringing to life the characters who wrote them. The pleasures and hardships are all there, from the beginning, and little has changed, apart from those bridges.

Some of the entries tug at the heart, others made me laugh out loud – especially some in the Bothy Cuisine chapter. One from 1939 gives a detailed recipe for a meal of corned beef, baked beans and oatmeal, then finishes “dig a hole at a safe distance from the bothy and bury the lot”.

Those who feel midges have got worse in recent years should note that there are comments on being bitten to death by them from 1939. The problem of litter isn’t new, either, with the first complaint coming from 1929. The weather, of course, is a major topic, as is pack weight. Some of the entries could make the non-hill goer astonished that anyone would put themselves through all this voluntarily. Just why is explained in an entry from PE Shand in 1930: “Magnificent scenery, enchanting mists – and soaking rain. What scenery, what weather! What pleasures can match those of the unorthodox insanities of the lovers of the high places, the magnificent madness of the mountaineer?” Hear, hear!, PE Shand, hear, hear!

I could quote endlessly from the bothy entries, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll recommend this wonderful book to anyone who likes bothies, hill culture, and the Scottish Highlands. It’s one of the best outdoor books I’ve read in a long while, a love letter to Corrour Bothy.

Corrour Bothy is published by Luath Press and costs £10.99

Thoughts on Bothies

Two recent pieces on bothies has set me thinking about these basic shelters and just how important they are in the story of hillgoing. Mountaineer and mountain rescue expert @HeavyWhalley has written an interesting piece here. He mentions that there's a row going on about bothies online. I've managed to avoid this completely, which is a relief! I gather it's about how much bothies should be promoted and how much information should be available. Whatever the rights and wrongs of various opinions it's too late to go back to the days when it was harder to find out about bothies (though never that hard, you just had to join the Mountain Bothies Association, which I did well over thirty years ago). Heavy Whalley also reminisces about bothy days and nights and posts many pictures.

This is the time of year when bothies can be welcome. Bothy afficiando John D.Burns' 10 Tips for a Winter Bothy Visit is useful and entertaining, especially Tip 11! Bothies feature in all his books, one of them being titled Bothy Tales.

A classic on bothies is Dave Brown and Ian R. Mitchell's Mountains Days and Bothy Nights. Published in 1987 and with tales going back to the 1960s this is a fascinating book, well worth reading.

Here's some bothy stories of my own, taken from a piece written several years ago for The Great Outdoors.

My first introduction to bothies was during a Pennine Way walk one April long ago. Coming off Cross Fell in dense wet mist I found little Greg’s Hut and spent a warm night there after drying out damp gear in front of a fire. Since then I have spent many nights in bothies and have grown to love the individual quirks and designs of the many different buildings that have been pressed into service as shelters for outdoors people. Bothies are particularly welcome on winter trips, especially when the weather is stormy, as spending long hours cooped up in a small tent can become wearisome. I was reminded of this one February when I hiked the Southern Upland Way, a 13-day trip on which the weather was mostly wet and windy. My second day was spent in wind, rain and low cloud and by the time I reached the little wooden Beehive bothy amongst the dripping trees in Galloway Forest Park I was very glad of its shelter as I had a damp tent from the night before and the wet mist meant that any camp would be very soggy indeed. 

 

The next day the weather was worse, starting out with drizzle and finishing with several hours of heavy rain. And throughout I was in thick damp mist. Rather than camp I decided to press on to the next bothy, White Laggan, which I reached long after dark, having been out for 11 hours during which I sloshed some 42 kilometres. The bothy had a good store of wood and a stove, so I was soon sitting in the warm cooking my late supper feeling amazingly relieved just to be there. The next morning I stuck my head outside just as the first light was creeping over the land. My journal entry tells the story – “mist blasting past the bothy in wet waves. Very windy. No visibility”. I was glad I hadn’t spent the night in my damp tent.

 

Bothies are also a place to meet other outdoors people and share experiences. I have had many interesting conversations with walkers and climbers over a hot brew and a bothy fire. Of course sometimes bothies can be crowded – after an experience many years ago when fifteen of us crammed into little Corrour bothy in the Cairngorms, which was really only big enough for half that number, I have always carried a tent or tarp and been prepared to camp out if a bothy is full. The only exception was when I planned a TGO Challenge Route using bothies plus a few B&Bs the whole way across, including one high level rickety wooden hut that was blown down by the wind a few years later. On this trip I found another disadvantage of not carrying a tent – you have to reach the bothy regardless of conditions. Overall it was a difficult crossing – the hardest of the 16 Challenges I have done. There was still deep snow on the hills and the weather was windy and frosty. An ice axe was essential, and our route was changed a few times to deal with the conditions (we were blown back from an attempt on Ben Nevis). On reaching the Cairngorms we stayed in Ruigh Aiteachain bothy in Glen Feshie before crossing the Moine Mhor to Corrour bothy. The going was hard work due to the deep soft snow and it was late when we arrived on the rim of Coire Odhar high above the bothy. However, the snow on the steep upper slopes of the corrie was hard and icy and, having no crampons, we had to cut steps with our ice axes, slowly zigzagging back and forth across the slope until we reached easier ground. All the time we could see tents outside the bothy so we had the added worry that it might be full. In fact, to our great relief it was empty. If we’d had tents we’d have camped on the tops or found an easier way down.

 

Another attraction of bothies is the bothy book where visitors can record their thoughts, feelings and experiences. Here you can learn about suggested routes in the area, weather conditions at different times of year, problems with river crossings and see how many people use the bothy and at what times of year. (There is one bothy in the Eastern Cairngorms – the Shielin’ of Mark – that has a sudden spike in visitors in the middle of May when TGO Challengers pass by and hardly any visitors at any other time.)

Bothies require maintenance if they are to remain safe and watertight of course. A wonderful volunteer organisation, the Mountain Bothies Association, does the work and deserves the support of everyone who ever uses a bothy. I joined it after my stay in Greg’s Hut and have been a member ever since. The MBA has an excellent website – http://www.mountainbothies.org.uk – where the Bothy Code – sensible guidelines for using bothies – can be found.

A Few Days On The Isle of Skye

Rainbows and Rain and Wind

Rain and a strong north wind greeted me as I set off at dusk on the Am Mam track to Camasunary, a lovely bay in the midst of the mountains on the south coast of Skye. I saw little in the darkness as I climbed to the broad pass then descended more steeply to the seashore. Just one set of bright lights – red, white and green – hung mysteriously in the air far away. Only when I reached the beach did I realise they must belong to a boat moored out in the bay. A few weaker lights marked tents pitched on the wind-rustled grasses just above the shore. A cluster of them surrounded Camasunary bothy and there were lights inside. I found a pitch away from the others and wrestled against the wind to erect my tent, glad I’d brought a strong and stable, if heavy, geodesic dome that I knew would make less noise and shake less than lighter tents. The wind was not unexpected.

Rain on nylon is just as noisy whatever tent you have though and heavy bursts woke me several times during the night. Dawn came grey and wet. The grasses bent and swayed outside the tent. The sky was dark and heavy, the clouds sweeping over the summit of Sgurr na Stri, a rocky little 494 metre hill that rises steeply above Camasunary. The higher hills were hidden. Out of the tent I felt the full force of the cold north wind, stronger now than the night before. I checked the anemometer.  Some gusts were over 30mph. That’s when it starts to have a noticeable effect on walking. Higher up the wind would be much stronger. No hills today unless the wind lessened. 

The new Camasunary bothy. The old one can be seen far left.

 

The old white-washed bothy at the west end of the bay is one I’d stayed in many times in the past, though not for many years. Today it was occupied by a party who’d come in by sea, their kayaks pulled up on the grass above the beach. Although the surrounding area is owned by the John Muir Trust Camasunary itself isn’t and the owner wants the bothy for his private use. He didn’t want to deprive visitors of shelter though so he agreed that there should be a new bothy as a replacement and this was built in 2014 on the eastern side of the bay, about a kilometre from the old one. The approach to the new bothy is very boggy and the ground is marred by the deep ruts of vehicles. The stone-built, slate-roofed bothy looks a bit barn-like from the back as there are no windows on that side. Although complete it’s locked at present. Looking through the windows, which face the bay and will give a good view, it looked rather bare inside though I could see wooden bunks against the far wall. Like the old one the bothy will be maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association. I expect it’ll take a while for it to develop a character of it’s own.

Sgurr na Stri and Loch Scavaig

I wandered further along the south shore of Loch Scavaig on the rough and sometimes steep path that leads to the village of Elgol, where I would be in two days’ time, though not by foot. Ravens called overhead and down on the rocky shore oystercatchers piped shrilly and gulls and hooded crows scavenged amongst the debris, too much of which is plastic rubbish washed in from the sea. 

Back at the tent I sheltered inside and had hot soup for lunch. Outside the wind and rain hammered on. Turning away from the sea I headed into the wind and up the glen to Loch Creitheach. Wind-driven waves crashed on the shore. High above patches of blue appeared as the clouds finally tore apart. Rainbows were appearing as I returned to camp again. The rain continued to lash down. Combined with the wind this made photography difficult. Holding the camera steady was almost impossible even when lying or kneeling and keeping rain off the lens for long was completely impossible. Pictures were grabbed hastily.

Loch na Creitheach

The wind and rain were still beating down when I fell asleep that night but morning came with quiet and just light drizzle. The latter died away as I was packing up and the midges appeared, clouds of them rising out of the grass and enveloping me. Where was that wind now? Quickly shoving everything into the pack I set off briskly back up the Am Mam track, soon leaving the midges behind.

The Cuillin from Elgol

That evening I was in a meeting in Broadford with people from the John Muir Trust, this being the annual Trustees visit to a Trust property to see what’s happening on the ground and meet staff. The following morning dawned bright and sunny and we were off to Elgol for a meeting in the village hall, with just time to go down to the harbour for the classic and spectacular view of the Cuillin beforehand. 

The view from Am Mam

In the afternoon we escaped the indoors and visited Strathaird, one of the three adjoining estates the Trust owns on Skye. After looking round the lower farmland we took the Am Mam path that I’d now walked twice in the rain up to the pass and a wonderful view down to Camasunary and across to the Cuillin. If only it had been like this the previous two days! Returning to the road we were stopped by a magnificent sight. High above a golden eagle was circling with two ravens mobbing it. Just how big these eagles are was shown by the ravens, which looked small by comparison. The eagle seemed undisturbed by the two black would-be persecutors and just glided round in circles ignoring them. Eventually the ravens decided they’d had enough and flew off, as did the eagle shortly afterwards, heading towards Camasunary. Another eagle appeared in the distance but soon vanished. Golden eagles. A fine way to end a day on Skye.

Camping under a rainbow

In Praise of Bothies

Culra Bothy & Ben Alder

Following the sad news that the excellent Culra Bothy in the Ben Alder region, where I have stayed several times, has been closed* here is a piece in praise of bothies that first appeared in The Great Outdoors a few years ago. 

*Due to asbestos sheeting in the construction. The bothy will probably be pulled down and may be replaced. See news report from the Mountain Bothies Association.

I love sleeping under the stars with nothing between me and the universe. A roof cuts you off from the world. However in the UK the weather too often makes sleeping out rather uncomfortable so a tarp or tent is usually a necessity. And on those trips where the rain beats down day after day and the wind thrashes your tent every night lying in a cramped and increasingly damp piece of nylon can eventually become unattractive too. That’s when bothies come in. These simple unlocked shelters have two big advantages over a tent in stormy weather. Firstly they don’t shake noisily in the wind and flick condensation at you. Secondly they have space in which you can stand and move around without having to don all your clothes and venture out into the wind and rain. Bothies only have basic facilities, sometimes being no more than one room with a wooden floor. Many have several rooms though plus wooden sleeping platforms, old chairs and tables and a fireplace or stove. There often isn’t any fallen wood nearby however so fuel may need to be carried in if you want a fire.

A welcome sight on a stormy day

My first introduction to bothies was during a Pennine Way walk one April long ago. Coming off Cross Fell in dense wet mist I found little Greg’s Hut and spent a warm night there after drying out damp gear in front of a fire. Since then I have spent many nights in bothies and have grown to love the individual quirks and designs of the many different buildings that have been pressed into service as shelters for outdoors people. Bothies are particularly welcome on winter trips, especially when the weather is stormy, as spending long hours cooped up in a small tent can become wearisome. I was reminded of this one February when I hiked the Southern Upland Way, a 13 day trip on which the weather was mostly wet and windy. My second day was spent in wind, rain and low cloud and by the time I reached the little wooden Beehive bothy amongst the dripping trees in Galloway Forest Park I was very glad of its shelter as I had a damp tent from the night before and the wet mist meant that any camp would be very soggy indeed. The next day the weather was worse, starting out with drizzle and finishing with several hours of heavy rain. And throughout I was in thick damp mist. Rather than camp I decided to press on to the next bothy, White Laggan, which I reached long after dark, having been out for 11 hours during which I sloshed some 42 kilometres. The bothy had a good store of wood and a stove so I was soon sitting in the warm cooking my late supper feeling amazingly relieved just to be there. The next morning I stuck my head outside just as the first light was creeping over the land. My journal entry tells the story – “mist blasting past the bothy in wet waves. Very windy. No visibility”. I was glad I hadn’t spent the night in my damp tent.

Warming up in the Beehive bothy on the Southern Upland Way

 

Bothies are also a place to meet other outdoors people and share experiences. I have had many interesting conversations with walkers and climbers over a hot brew and a bothy fire. Of course sometimes bothies can be crowded – after an experience many years ago when fifteen of us crammed into little Corrour bothy in the Cairngorms, which was really only big enough for half that number, I have always carried a tent or tarp and been prepared to camp out if a bothy is full. The only exception was when I planned a TGO Challenge Route using bothies plus a few B&Bs the whole way across, including one high level rickety wooden hut that was blown down by the wind a few years later. On this trip I found another disadvantage of not carrying a tent – you have to reach the bothy regardless of conditions. Overall it was a difficult crossing – the hardest of the 14 Challenges I have done. There was still deep snow on the hills and the weather was windy and frosty. An ice axe was essential and our route was changed a few times to deal with the conditions (we were blown back from an attempt on Ben Nevis). On reaching the Cairngorms we stayed in Ruigh Aiteachain bothy in Glen Feshie before crossing the Moine Mhor to Corrour bothy. The going was hard work due to the deep soft snow and it was late when we arrived on the rim of Coire Odhar high above the bothy. However the snow on the steep upper slopes of the corrie was hard and icy and, having no crampons, we had to cut steps with our ice axes, slowly zigzagging back and forth across the slope until we reached easier ground. All the time we could see tents outside the bothy so we had the added worry that it might be full. In fact to our great relief it was empty. If we’d had tents we’d have camped on the tops or found an easier way down.

Another attraction of bothies is the bothy book where visitors can record their thoughts, feelings and experiences. Here you can learn about suggested routes in the area, weather conditions at different times of year, problems with river crossings and see how many people use the bothy and at what times of year. (There is one bothy in the Eastern Cairngorms – the Shielin’ of Mark – that has a sudden spike in visitors in the middle of May when TGO Challengers pass by and hardly any visitors at any other time.)

Bothies require maintenance if they are to remain safe and watertight of course. A wonderful volunteer organisation, the Mountain Bothies Association, does the work and deserves the support of everyone who ever uses a bothy. I joined it after my stay in Greg’s Hut and have been a member ever since. The MBA has an excellent website where the Bothy Code – sensible guidelines for using bothies – can be found.

Bothy Talk on BBC Landward

Not the bothy in the programme!

A few weeks ago I spent a night in a bothy for the Landward programme on BBC2. I chatted to Dougie Vipond about various bothy experiences and was filmed sitting by the fire and being asleep in my sleeping bag! The programe itself goes out this Friday at 7.00p.m. on BBC2 Scotland, after which it will be available on BBC iPlayer for the next week. I'll be interested to see which of my stories are broadcast!