insensitively sited wind farm will damage large areas of peat bog (a carbon store if left undisturbed), but wider than the physical footprint is its visual impact, a long-range intrusion that can reach far into otherwise unspoilt mountains. The value of wild land decreases in inverse proportion to the spread of industry, and wind farms now feature in the views from many of our most iconic peaks. In each case a little something has been lost. It seems likely that the current extent of development represents only a fraction of what’s to come.
Under a more responsible planning regime renewable energy and conservation of our best landscapes could coexist, but at present Scotland’s statutory landscape protection is a patchwork of inadequate designations, with only two national parks in the entire country (compare that to England’s ten). Strategy is needed at the national level for zoning industrial development, the presumption being to minimise its impact on core hill areas. No amount of ‘green’ energy will compensate for their continued degradation.
Industrialisation is just one conservation issue among many; another is vehicle tracks. Track construction with heavy machinery leaves scars miles long, damages peat, affects hydrology and compromises long term the wild quality of entire ranges. The spread of new tracks is effectively unchecked thanks to a planning loophole. Outside protected sites tracks can currently be built without planning consent or notification to the local authority if they are claimed to be for agricultural or forestry purposes. However, in many cases sporting estates seem to have other uses in mind, namely vehicle access for deer stalking and grouse shooting. It may be difficult for councils to distinguish between stated and actual purpose, and many tracks are so remote that the temptation may exist to ignore the issue. Left largely unchallenged, estates, self-styled custodians of the land, currently remain free to damage swathes of countryside that ought to be protected for the nation.
Only a minority of Scotland’s wild landscape is protected – the Cairngorms National Park is one of just two in the entire country; Carn Etchachan and Beinn Meadhoin from Coire an t-Sneachda (Walk 40)
A still more serious charge is often levelled against Scotland’s sporting estates – that they obstruct the regeneration of natural woodland. The reasoning is straightforward. Most estates are managed to maximise return from commercial stalking, and this requires plenty of deer. Dense deer populations mean overgrazing, the result being the traditional denuded Highland habitat or ‘green desert’. In contrast, public opinion increasingly favours the restoration of thriving natural habitats. Where deer are tightly controlled or excluded, native trees soon return – and with them biodiversity. Case closed?
Personal environmental impact
It would be hypocritical to rail about big issues without also examining the personal.
How should we travel to the hills, for instance, for minimum impact? Although little use for many hill areas, public transport remains a viable way to access some, and it’s worth considering by anyone serious about reducing their personal tyre print. Some walks in this book have been tailored with public transport in mind; see Getting Around, above, for more ideas.
Obligations don’t come to an end once we set foot on the hill; every walker has a small but significant impact on their treasured environment. Soil erosion is an ongoing problem in many areas, particularly on the popular Munros, where thousands of footfalls are concentrated on a few key paths. As overused path surfaces are reduced over time to rubble or deep mud the natural inclination is for walkers to follow firmer ground along the edges, trampling delicate upland vegetation that binds the soil. Where everyone does this, busy paths can spread into broad scars that become channels for surface runoff, further compounding the damage.
Seana Bhraigh from the Creag an Duine ridge (Walk 6)
Hallival and the Skye Cuillin (Walk 47) from Askival (Walk 46)
The most eroded paths are a chore to walk on and visible from afar. Short of restricting access, the long-term solution is to engineer a new path surface, an expensive and labour-intensive process favoured only by conservation-minded landowners. If the work is done intrusively, there can be something over-manicured and park-like about these snaking trails of gravel or flagstone steps; but sensitive methods do exist, and on the crowded hills these may be the least bad option. Where paths are still in a more ‘natural’ (messy) state, damage can be minimised by sticking to the middle of the trail and avoiding cutting corners at zigzags.
It seems barely credible that litter on remote mountains is an issue worth mentioning, but sadly even the hillwalking community has its idiots. Large visitor numbers inevitably mean more rubbish, with pride of place going to Ben Nevis, the highest dustbin in Scotland. But discarded beer cans, cigarette butts and food packaging can be found almost anywhere in the hills. The responsible course is to pack out everything that you’ve carried in, including fruit peel that does not readily biodegrade in the hilltop environment; bonus ‘greenie’ points for anyone willing to pick up other people’s rubbish (I draw the line at bog roll).
Toilet waste is another problematic environmental issue. No one wants to encounter human leftovers halfway up their scramble or next to the summit cairn at which they’ve sat for lunch (this really happens). The most responsible course is to carry out everything you produce in a biodegradable flushable bag enclosed in an airtight, waterproof canister; in some wilderness areas in the United States this is now compulsory. Next best is to bury solid waste at least 15cm deep, for which a trowel comes in handy. This can be hard to achieve in snowy conditions, but simply hiding the evidence in the snow to be revealed at the next thaw is a loathsome ruse. Never defecate close to burns and lochs – an exclusion zone of 30m is a bare minimum – and ensure you are downstream of anywhere people are likely to collect drinking water, close to bothies for instance. Used toilet paper should be packed out or carefully burned, although note that the environmental benefit of doing the latter is cancelled out if you inadvertently start a forest fire. Female sanitary products are not biodegradable and should always be carried home.
North Goatfell from a camp on The Saddle (Walk 45)
Using this guide
All the walks in this book require a degree of fitness and the endurance to maintain a steady – if not necessarily athletic – pace from dawn to dusk (or beyond). The walk times are loose suggestions only, indicating roughly how long an experienced hillwalker of normal ability might expect to take in favourable weather. Committed fell runners could conceivably halve the time estimates, although they are not primarily intended as performance targets to foster competitive or inadequate feelings (delete as applicable). Timings do not allow for mid-route siestas or the progress-slowing properties of heavy loads, high wind, poor visibility or deep snow. If a given walk is quoted as 16hrs, that means 16hrs of solid walking; whether to do the lot in a single rigorous day or spread it over a more leisurely two is up to you. Obvious places to break for the night are mentioned in every walk description.
Overall ascent and distance figures are provided in the information box at the start of each walk. These have been measured from OS maps, so it is worth remembering that they may not fully reflect the intricate ins and outs walked on rough ground, nor those little zigzags on steep slopes, nor the cumulative height gain of the many ups and downs too slight to be represented by contour lines at 10m intervals. In the walk description distance is further subdivided to give figures for the approach, on the hill and the return (where such a division
