Sanny waxes lyrical about the joys of bothy life while accepting that not everything is sweetness and light.

WORDS & PHOTOGRAPHY SANNY

I still vividly remember my first time. It was the middle of winter and the three of us had just forded a pants-shrinkingly cold River Nevis and as we made our sodden wet way to the less-than-inviting, unlit building that was to be our home for the night, tales of roaring flares and ripping yarns were all that kept me from hightailing it back to civilisation and a warm cup of cocoa beside my own replace. Opening the door, a strong smell of damp mustiness called our nasal passages. No matter, the flare would soon be going… or not. A frustrating search for decayed bog wood in the encroaching gloaming yielded precious little in the way of combustible material and soon had me contemplating which of the contents of my pack I could happily torch in the vain hope of warmth, no matter how temporary. this was briefly followed by thoughts of which of my companions’ kit could be committed to the there in the name of team spirit.

While my stove-cooked meal was reassuringly a success and added a bit of lightness to my mood, the scuttle of a four-legged rodent in the dank and miserable far reaches of this fridge-in-building-form did not make for a good night’s sleep. the romance of the bothy? Aye, right. It was, shall we say, a less than auspicious beginning. But then, slowly, a new day dawned and with it a strange sense of calm contentment. It wasn’t that bad, was it? As I ate my porridge, either I had succumbed to the peculiar charms of bothy life or was suffering from some as yet undocumented variant of Stockholm syndrome. All these years later I’m still not sure which it was, but my first experience hasn’t stopped me going back for more.

Just what the hell is a bothy?

We’ve seen more inviting mineshafts.

Let me explain. A bothy is a small, usually single floor dwelling, that often started of with an entirely different purpose. Whether a remote croft, farmstead, hunting lodge or even old school house, bothies have grown out of long since abandoned buildings to become free to access shelters for the passing traveller, whether to take brief shelter or to stay for a day or two. Open to all, the modern bothy movement grew out of the kernel of an idea planted by a comment written by Alan Murdoch in the Backhill of Bush bothy visitor book in Dumfries and Galloway. He wrote of setting up a club to maintain old deserted buildings and save them from falling into ruin. Inspired by this, the travelling touring cyclist (for younger readers, think ‘bikepacker’ but with panniers and without the hipster cycle cap and beard) Bernard Heath did that very thing and set up the Mountain Bothy Association in 1965. Consisting entirely of volunteers, the MBA continues to this day, regularly sending in work parties to maintain and improve the bothies it is responsible for. However, the vast majority of bothies aren’t owned by the MBA, but maintained by them with the permission of the landowner. It is a model that has proven effective in providing free to use, unlocked shelters for outdoor enthusiasts in remote places while ensuring each bothy is maintained by an assigned Maintenance Officer or two who keep a regular eye on it.