The beauty of the bothy

Author of The Book of the Bothy Phoebe Smith pens a love letter to the stone tent.

A love letter to the stone tent

Rain trickles down my face and drips off my chin into the gathering pool of water at my feet. Walking in the highlands of Scotland, in a remote area known as the Fisherfield Forest – one of the last great wildernesses left in this country – I’m heading for a mountain hut, known as a bothy, surveying the scene to try to decipher its metal roof.

Maintained by volunteers and looked after by a charity called the Mountain Bothies Association ( MBA), bothies are found in some of the wildest places in the UK, from South Wales to the Lake District, among the Pennines and across Scotland. And, in a rather uniquely British way, are all left open for walkers and outdoor lovers to spend the night in, without having to pay a penny.

Started by a man called Bernard Heath in 1965 after he found a note from another like-minded soul who suggested someone form an organisation to look after dilapidated buildings that were no longer used by farmers and workers, the charity that now counts over 100 bothies in its network.

You can't book a bothy, instead you have to take a chance and turn up. The whole idea being one of serendipity and embracing the unknown. But I think that’s perhaps why I love it most. No matter who greets me when I arrive, I know– provided the bothy isn't full, which is always a possibility – I will have shelter from the wind, the rain and the midges. I will be able to light my camping stove in comfort away from the gales that seek to blow it out. And when night falls I can watch the stars from the window and snuggle into my sleeping bag warm and cosy in my unique shelter.

And so as the rain falls I thank Bernard Heath and the MBA for forming the network that cares for these little buildings. For between their stone walls they set the scene for the most spontaneous of all outdoor adventures.