I remember a Tuesday in the Cairngorms, about six years ago, standing in a horizontal downpour that felt more like being hit by a pressure …
I spent most of my twenties watching people make the same mistake: they’d walk into an outdoor shop and walk out with five hundred pounds …
I once spent four hours in a bivvy bag on a ridge in the Cairngorms, listening to a group of “prepared” hikers argue about whether …
I remember a Tuesday in late October, standing on a rain-lashed ridge in the Cairngorms, watching a young hiker freeze mid-stride because a golden eagle …
I’ve spent twenty-two years watching people walk into the treeline with a thousand pounds of shiny, high-tech kit they clearly read about in a glossy …
I’ve spent more nights than I can count sitting by a dying ember, staring at a charred, unidentifiable mass that was supposed to be dinner. …
I remember a night in the Cairngorms, about twelve years ago, sitting in a damp bivvy bag while a heavy mist rolled in through the …
I remember a Tuesday in late October on the Cairngorms plateau, standing in a gale that felt less like wind and more like a physical …
I was standing on a granite ridge in the Cairngorms three years ago, watching a guy try to navigate a sudden mist bank using nothing …
I remember a Tuesday in late October, mid-way up a ridge in the Lake District, when a group I was leading decided that a cluster …