Ye will sink! Bothy camping in the Scottish Highlands
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Don’t call it hiking. That was the first thing I learned about hiking in the Scottish Highlands. It’s hill walking. Don’t forget it.
“Hill walking! It makes more sense, love. It’s just walking in hills. Why do you Americans need another word for it?” a coffee barista in Edinburgh corrected me when I told her I planned to begin hiking the next day.
I’m not sure why my friend Glynnis agreed to come along when I told her my plans to hike through the Scottish Highlands a week shy of my 36th birthday. Hill walking in one of the least sparsely populated regions of Europe seemed to offer just the right amount of adventure for two girls looking to escape the busyness of work and city life for a little while. I’d just finished writing a book and had given it over to my editor. Glynnis was just starting one. We desperately needed to be somewhere without our computers, even for a few days.
“It will be like Little House on the Prairie meets Brigadoon,” I’d offered as a way of making it seem more appealing to my friend.
“Both of those stories eventually had a happy ending!” Glynnis replied cautiously. “Kind of.”