“So……what’s your favourite walk in all of Scotland?”
The question came from nowhere and I instantly felt like a rabbit in the headlights.
“Erm…..” I replied.
In theory it was easy to answer but I was flummoxed, so I stared into the distance, thinking.
The low-slung hills undulated along the horizon and the long grass caught the low sun, blazing gold as far as the eye could see. Wow, the light was beautiful! Yep, my brain was doing a fine job of distracting itself from the question at hand.
“Erm…..” I continued.
“Mine is Loch Muick”, she said.
Ah, Loch Muick’s alright, I thought. Pretty much anywhere on Deeside is nice actually so I wondered whether Creag Bhalg, rising above Mar Lodge might be my favourite walk. During the summer I’d fallen under its spell and now regarded it as the finest wee hill in the Cairngorms because of its view up Glen Quoich. But I stopped short of saying it, as it had clearly only popped into my head because it was fresh in my mind. Surely there was somewhere else?
Nope, apparently not. I apologised, said I honestly couldn’t think of a favourite, and the conversation moved on. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t think of anything, but I hoped it had less to do with my memory and more to do with having walked so many walks over the past 15 years. Driving home after the Ramblers walk, I pondered the question again.
I first considered whether repeat visits speak for themselves, because during my seven years in Edinburgh I climbed Arthur’s Seat three or four times a week, all year round. I easily did more than 1000 ascents, and after eight years in Fife I’ve also climbed East Lomond a similar number of times. If doing a walk 1,000 times doesn’t qualify as a favourite, what on earth does?
But Arthur was, and East Lomond is, my outdoor gym – convenient hills on my doorstep where I could keep my hill fitness ticking over. East Lomond isn’t even my favourite walk in all of Fife. That honour goes to a stretch of rugged coastline overlooking the Tay. It’s quiet and moody, but would I choose that mud-hopping walk as my favourite in all of Scotland? Well, I tend to go there when I’m feeling contemplative or I have writer’s block, and it nearly always helps in some way. So if you asked me when I was actually there then I’d likely say yes. On any other day, probably not.
I then wondered if my favourite might be one where something memorable happened. Something that forever imbued the walk with emotion or significance. Perhaps the walk when, after months of chatting online, I met my better-half face to face for the very first time for a camping trip to a remote coire overlooking Rannoch Moor. Separate tents, mind! Friends and family thought we were both mad of course, but we’re still together ten years later. Or how about Beinn a’ Bheithir, where we camped on the summit for Hogmanay, accompanied by champagne, stars and a moonlit cloud inversion?
Then there’s the three-munro traverse of Beinn a’ Ghlo, the first big walk I did after moving up from Birmingham. It made such an impression on me and was such a vindication of the move north, that I commemorated it by doing the same walk on the same weekend every year thereafter. I’ve since fallen out of the habit but I kept it going for 13 years. That walk means a lot to me but they’re not even my favourite munros. That honour probably goes to Ben Cruachan or to one of the Torridon giants, but as fine as those hills are I can still think of other places I’d rather walk. Coigach perhaps, or Skye’s Quiraing, or any of the solitary lumps that rise from the flat blanket bogs of Sutherland and Caithness.
However, on a soaking wet November day I wouldn’t want to be in any of those places. I’d sooner be somewhere soaked with atmosphere and waterfalls, a lush green woodland where moss and ferns hang from every outcrop and time stands still. Burn o’ Vat near Dinnet, for example. Or Puck’s Glen in Cowal. On a blazing hot day I’d choose Berneray’s massive 5km long West Beach, with a breeze on my face, or I’d walk up a Cairngorm burn in search of a swimming pool. And on a stormy day I’d walk the high cliffs of Assynt, watching the Atlantic rollers come crashing in.
As you can see, I have plenty of contenders but hopefully by now the main obstacle to giving a nicely rounded answer is obvious. Yep, it’s Scotland, damn it. Beautiful, diverse, Scotland! There are of course places that I gravitate towards more than others, for all kinds of reasons, but in a country where we have walks for everyone, in every type of weather and in every state of mind, surely it’s nigh on impossible to pick a favourite?
