Ailsa Sheldon finds trekking through the mountains of the Cairngorms in the footsteps of Nan Shepherd and under the expert guidance of Wild Roots to be an unforgettable and truly immersive experience
There are many skilled guides who will take you up mountains, help you safely bag Munros or learn compass skills. There’s huge value in this, of course, but what if you want to go in to the mountains, to stop, to experience, to listen, while also being safe and learning plenty about your surroundings? Perhaps, like I was, you’re looking for Wild Roots guiding.
Growing up in Lochaber I used to find the hard granite of the Cairngorms far less beautiful than the wet and wild west coast. The Cairngorms mountain range to me is like an old molar tooth, cracked and creviced, and best approached as one lofty landmass. I hoped my trip with Wild Roots guiding would help me know it better.
The trip begins over coffee in Aviemore, giving our group of six and two guides a chance to meet before we start walking, and allowing time for any last-minute snack purchases.
Wild Roots guiding provides all the mountaineering kit required for the trip, as part of a commitment to reducing the barriers to participation. We’re lent rucksacks, tents and sleeping bags, as well as a headtorch, travel towel, bowl and cup. Comfort is carefully considered, too, with a blow-up mattress to keep warm at night, and a midge-net in case of tiny invaders. The gear is all top of the range and, crucially, very light: a vast improvement on the heavy kit I carried on school Duke of Edinburgh trips a few decades ago.
Trips start in Aviemore or Fort William, both well served by public transport. Also in our kit for the trip is a little notebook and a box of oil pastels (more on that later). We start our walk at the Cairngorm ski centre and soon leave the busier trails behind, crossing the shoulder below Cairngorm and heading towards Loch Avon. After a quick talk on camp craft, we work together to pitch our tents on the lochside. I find myself exhaling deeply as the noise and clamour of everyday life subsides.
Our Wild Roots guides are Anna Danby and Shona Macpherson. Before training as a mountain guide, Anna had a career in science and geology communications. Throughout the trip she skilfully weaves learning into the days, without it ever feeling like a lecture: from navigation to the outdoor access code, how to safely move over rugged terrain, cross a river, and then the unique history, geology, flora and fauna of the landscape. Shona is a counsellor and psychotherapist who specialises in outdoor connective experiences. She also has a deep knowledge of these hills and takes joy in sharing them. Throughout the trip she offers ‘invitations’, through writing prompts in the little notebooks, and artistic and physical responses to our environment. Through Shona we had a third guide on this trip: a sparklingly clear voice speaking through the glens from 80 years ago, the incomparable Nan Shepherd. I slipped my copy of The Living Mountain into my rucksack, always enjoying something to read in my tent and was delighted to see Shona had a copy, too, hers far more well-travelled than mine.
Throughout our time together Shona read a brilliant variety of poetry to the group, but it was Nan Shepherd we returned to most regularly. Reading the words of Shepherd, who spent a lifetime walking in the Cairngorms and observing every detail so attentively and lovingly in situ was a wonderful experience. While so much has changed in the years since the book was written, there’s a constancy to this mountain range that is deeply comforting. On the Friday evening persistent bouts of rain had us all cooried in our tents. Responding to writing prompts provided by Shona proved a brilliant way to reflect on the day and think about the days to come. Each reflective opportunity is ‘an invitation’, never compulsory.
Saturday morning began a little overcast and midgey, but not enough to stop me going straight from my cozy tent to a chilly dip in shimmering Loch Avon. The water was beautifully clear and deep. For breakfast Anna and Shona cooked porridge and granola, and pot after pot of excellent Glen Lyon coffee. Lunches and home baking were provided by Stronaba Kitchen in Spean Bridge, using top local produce. All the tinfoil-wrapped delights survived remarkably well despite being squished and rolled around a rucksack. Dark chocolate brownies with a peanut butter centre proved a perfect post-swim refuel. Somehow, I came home from the trip with snacks still in my bag, a first, and testament to how well we were fed.
Our walk that day took us the length of Loch Avon before gaining height, and then a chance for another quick dip in Loch Etchachan. The entrance to the water was rocky but worth it for the refreshing rinse after a sticky climb. On the second night we camped high on the Cairngorm plateau and after dinner with our tents safely pitched, took an evening stroll to the summit of Ben Macdui. One of Scotland’s most popular hillwalks, it’s often pretty busy at the top. We had it all to ourselves. Standing on Scotland’s second highest peak, with a gaggle of new friends, looking at layer upon layer of distant hills and Ben Nevis clear on the skyline, was a truly unforgettable experience.
We woke on the Cairngorm plateau on Sunday to a windy white-out, ptarmigan croaking in the mist, and instructions to, “stay cosy, we’re bringing everyone breakfast in bed”. What a treat. Our return journey took us by the northern corries, with time for one final swim in turquoise Coire an Lochain (the highest named body of water in the UK). Two long burns flow into the deep green lochan from the snow melt high on the ridge and Braeriach above. When I dived below the surface the bottom of the loch was sparkling with pink granite.
After a weekend in these hills, I see them differently. The Cairngorms have an austere beauty and the warmth in the rock reflected in the golden hour light is incredible. Shona’s invitations to really look, listen and smell opened up new ways of experiencing the hills: noticing the pink flush of creeping azalea, the evening light edging the loch with silver, the sound of the water gently lapping outside my tent. To quote Nan Shepherd: “I knew when I had looked for a long time that I had hardly begun to see.”
We experienced sideways rain, sunshine and waking up in a cloud. It was all magical, even the midges. To be disconnected from the internet, bar the occasional text message ping on high ground, added to the peace. I expected to return from a weekend hillwalking tired. Instead, I returned relaxed, surprisingly well-slept, with the deep peace of the Cairngorm plateau between my ears. The trip taught me many new skills and I gained a lot of mountain confidence.
“Our goal is to make ourselves redundant,” joked Anna. Both Anna and Shona proved to be empowering and inspiring guides I’d love to travel with again. Wild Roots guiding also offers trips with indoor accommodation, navigation courses and yoga retreats, for a variety of skill and confidence levels.
Why are you making commenting on The National only available to subscribers?
We know there are thousands of National readers who want to debate, argue and go back and forth in the comments section of our stories. We’ve got the most informed readers in Scotland, asking each other the big questions about the future of our country.
Unfortunately, though, these important debates are being spoiled by a vocal minority of trolls who aren’t really interested in the issues, try to derail the conversations, register under fake names, and post vile abuse.
So that’s why we’ve decided to make the ability to comment only available to our paying subscribers. That way, all the trolls who post abuse on our website will have to pay if they want to join the debate – and risk a permanent ban from the account that they subscribe with.
The conversation will go back to what it should be about – people who care passionately about the issues, but disagree constructively on what we should do about them. Let’s get that debate started!
Callum Baird, Editor of The National
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules here