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 …
I remember standing on a peat bog in the Lake District three years ago, waist-deep in freezing sludge, trying to secure a dead hedge while …
I’ve spent more hours than I can count watching people spend five hundred pounds on a top-tier hardshell, only to ruin it three months later …
I was standing on a scree slope in the Cairngorms last Tuesday, nursing a thermos and checking my raptor log, when I realized the silence …