Every Scottish storm cloud has a silver lining

Sam Carpenter,

This week’s winner, took on the weather on a wild camping trip in the Highlands

Iknew I shouldn’t have looked. A glance at my phone confirmed it: 82F (28C) and sun back home. An expletive passed my lips. I shouldn’t have looked.

My attention turned to the task at hand. I was being buffeted by cold winds and swirling rain while trying desperately to light a small grill. Lured by idyllic Instagram posts and romantic ideas of sunsets and wood fires, I had managed to persuade a couple of my more impressionable friends to come wild camping in the Scottish Highlands. The nooks of Scotland have their own weather systems, and make no concession to the uninitiated.

We had pitched camp on the banks of Loch Assynt by Ardvreck Castle, the remains of which stand proudly on a small bank of land that juts defiantly into the loch, wind attacking the point from both directions. Enticed by the beauty of our surroundings, we had convinced ourselves there was adequate shelter between two small mounds and made camp. The tourists had long since gone and the castle had disappeared into the gloom.

The winds had arrived at dusk, bringing with them rain and an eerie mist that

rolled across the valley. It quickly became clear that the mounds, far from offering shelter, in fact created a wind tunnel. An attempt to put up the awning was soon forgotten, as the wind ripped out the guide ropes. Too late to change camp, we focused on some much-needed warm food.

The previous night we had been defeated so overwhelmingly that we resorted to cold cheese sandwiches. We couldn’t allow that to happen again; not least because we were out of cheese. We were

I was lured by Instagram posts of sunsets and wood fires

without shelter and the rain was quashing our attempts at lighting the barbecue.

Our quickening tempers betrayed increasingly non-responsive hands and impatient stomachs.

The Highlands, it must be said, are spectacular. Twisting tracks lead through endless countryside, stretching to the horizon in all directions; tall imposing crags lurch out of the ground. The pace of our journey was slow. Our days had been filled with impromptu stops at isolated beaches and cosy cafés and we had quickly abandoned any thought of completing the full North Coast itinerary we had planned.

A single headlight, the only torch we had remembered to bring, illuminated our quandary. Sodden firelighters were thrown to one side, a fresh batch prepared. Using our bodies as windbreaks, we surrounded the barbecue and gradually the firelighters began to take. Soon, four precious burgers made a satisfying hiss as they were put down on the grill. We grinned to ourselves. This was living.