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Old 16-03-2016, 02:33 PM   #61
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I've struggled a bit to write the second part of my bothy story, as although what happened to me was funny/scary, my tale mentions a tragic event that took place at the same location.
So I'll try to get on with it without being disrespectful in any way whatsoever.


A Haunted Bothy
Part Two: A dark and stormy night

There are two doors into Kearvaig bothy. One door opens into two large ground floor rooms with a smaller box room next to one of them. There are also two small rooms upstairs. The large room with a sleeping platform next to the box room was to be my quarters for the night.
The other external door opened into a room on it's own with a sleeping platform and fireplace. This is where Mariusz had made himself at home.
I sat with him and drank a nice big mug of black tea he had made. If you are staying in a bothy it is good form to offer a new arrival a brew or a beer.
Hanging up around the room were spicy smelling big pieces of meat. It looked a bit like a scene from predator really, but the tea was welcome and Mariusz seemed like a good bloke. As the weather had abated I went for a stroll on the beach before darkness descended.




I had arranged to go back in and have another brew with Mariusz. I got back into my bit of the bothy and hung up my jacket on a hook in the box room. Lying on the floor was a single mussel. I didn't think much of it and went back next door.
I chatted away with Mariusz for a good while as the weather worsened outside. He was a kind of survivalist who liked to get up to Scotland from his home in London whenever he could.
He told me he had tried to survive on things he could source by the bothy, mainly mussels he found when the tide was out. But one day he had got into difficulties in the bay and he had abandoned the idea.
He said he was moved "by the tragic story of Margaret Davies who had stayed at this bothy". The single mussel flashed through my mind again.
I didn't enquire as to what had happened but his words stuck in my mind. Something had gone very wrong in this beautifully secluded little cove.
Eventually I bid goodnight to my new friend and retired to my side of the bothy.
The storm was getting wild now. Exhausted I climbed into my sleeping bag and switched off my torch.

I don't when it happened, or if I had slept at all, but at one point I became aware of a noise. The wind was fairly howling outside and rain was tapping at the window but it wasn't that. There was a strange scraping noise.
It sounded like Mariusz might be walking about outside on the gravel outside the bothy but I somehow knew he wasn't.
The noise continued and I tried to puzzle it out. Suddenly I knew what it was.
The mussel was cracking open!
I was staying in a bothy with a haunted mollusc and I was going to die!
I don't know how long it went on, but lying there I thought I was going to die of a heart attack and no one would know what had really happened.
I finally picked up the courage to say in a loud voice, " Excuse me I am sleeping!"
The noise stopped instantly. This made me more fearful. Whatever it was understood English so it had to be a person or ghost. I was really shitting myself now.
Finally as I lay there, I thought well if this is it i'm going to go fighting (kind of like the "Come at me Gmork!" scene in Neverending story).
I pulled my headtorch on and lighting it I jumped out of bed with a roar and came face to face with my tomrentor.........






A mouse was eating my supernoodles I had left on the table next to me.


After I hung up all my food, the rest of the night was largely peacful, except for the bit when the mouse came back and ran across my hand.
I stayed at the bothy for another night. Hanging up all my food I was sure I had defeated my furry adversary as I went in to see Mariusz in the evening. He told me he had stayed in my side of the bothy only once and had been treated to "A procession of mice." Thanks for the heads up man!
I went back to settle down for the night and as I walked in the door something shot away from my rucksack. I had left a snickers bar in it and the mouse had chewed through the rucksack to get it! Grrr!
In the morning I bid farewell to Kearvaig and made my way down the single track road to the ferry point three hours or so away.





Epilogue
When I got home I googled Margaret Davies Kearvaig and learned her sad story. I could sum it up here but it's worth reading one of the articles on it, the Guardian one is pretty good.
Again I mean no disrespect to her, I just wanted to tell the tale of my own night at the bothy. I'm so glad it was there for it really was a dark and stormy night.
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Old 16-05-2016, 11:11 AM   #62
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Greetings Old Stag. Got to love rogue mice. I'll never forget the sound of one's tiny nails scurrying across a nylon shell bag of mine one night. And being too tired to care.

I'd love to meet you. We could swap some hilarious stories.

Going to check into Martha Davies. Haven't heard her story.

Not quit 1 week ago a 64 yr old female hiker was found tied to a tree on a section of the AT near Ashville NC, barely alive. Unfortunately nothing paranormal about it.

Mankind truly is his own worse enemy.

Looking forward to more of your storytelling.
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Old 16-05-2016, 01:27 PM   #63
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*Margaret

Sad story. It very much echos the Chris McCandless story.

That being said, I totally get why someone would go to these extremes to escape society

From one hillwalker to another...RIP Margaret Davies.
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Old 02-09-2016, 07:14 PM   #64
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image hosting websites

Grab a seat and tell us where your headed or what you've been up to .
Smokeless campfire
https://youtu.be/mMJov2vbQqg?t=4m14s

Self Feeding Fire - 14+ Hour Fire

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Old 02-09-2016, 08:37 PM   #65
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must try this 'self feeding' fire... looks so simple... cheers elshaper!!
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Old 02-09-2016, 08:42 PM   #66
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must try this 'self feeding' fire... looks so simple... cheers elshaper!!
It saves from having to wake up in the middle of the night to play with fire.
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Old 12-09-2016, 06:54 PM   #67
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Some great pictures and a great story as well.

Hope you keep it going, it's inspired me to go camping again next summer.
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Old 15-12-2016, 01:13 PM   #68
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Alone In a Beehive. Part One - Purgatory

In September this year I set out to walk a 212 mile trail across the hills of Southern Scotland. This small tale is from part of that walk.
I had done 20 miles on my first day. I arrived at a tiny village my body tired but my brain even more so. The local pub let me camp in their beer garden. Good folks and they had good beer too. I had been in the area before and experienced kindness there, in the village of New Luce.
On the second morning I set off around 9 am. I went round to the village shop-post office and the door was locked and it said "press buzzer for service". I pressed the buzzer and a gentleman came out of the house across the street to open up and serve me !
My target for the day was known as the Beehive Bothy, and was only four and a half hours away so a half day really for a September hike.
I left the village and took road back south to where I had left the trail, the Southern Upland Way and was soon on an open moorland that was used for sheep-grazing.

I wandered across the moorland, tried and failed to find an old chambered cairn grave site and I was almost half way there when the rain came on.
It tipped down really from about mid-day and never stopped until the next day.
Soon I came to the edge of the moorland and entered the forest. It was here I crossed the Purgatory Burn ( a burn is a common name for stream here).
It's a strange name, but when I looked into its origins, I was taken back to another time. Centuries ago, when leprosy was rife, there was a leper colony near the trail called Liberland. The lepers would be given a funeral service at Glen Luce abbey, then start the journey over the moors and through the woods to Liberland.
On the day I passed over the Purgatory Burn it was in full spate. I stopped for a while on the bridge to think of the poor people who had come here. Once they were over the bridge that was it; they were never allowed to go back. They would wash themselves in the burn and carry on to Liberland.
As I journeyed through the woods I realised I was in the middle of the biggest toadstool forest I had ever seen. Apologies for the picture quality - the rain was torrential by now.

Sadly I have to mention the windfarm now but I'll keep it brief. The whole area is being carved up to host over 90 wind turbines. The leper colony, the bothy, a martyr's grave, chambered cairns, healing wells, ruined churches, standing stones, all in a small remote area but bludgeoned by progress.
After crossing a couple of new 'roads' in the area I made it to the Beehive Bothy, in a lovely little clearing next to a stream.

I got there around 2.30pm, sadly without any beers but I boiled up some green tea using local stream water and gazed out at the rain.
I did this for some hours, meditating on the lives on the lepers and wishing them well. I kept looking out the tiny door of the bothy to see if any other hikers were coming. The bothy itself is a single room, and it was a Friday night so I was hoping to avoid drunkards coming in. I had it to myself in the end.

I hung up all my clothes to dry and chilled out.
Around 3.30pm a mouse suddenly darted out of a corner and then stopped. We both said "Oh no not again!" then it ran away. I skillfully blocked up his or her access point using the bothy shovel and brush and this time was not bothered again, thankfully! But I was still lying there in the dark wondering if a furry thing would pass across my hand in the wee hours.
With no hikers coming in to the bothy, the day slipped away and I passed the night without incident, save for hearing the drone of a propeller driven plane and the lonesome bark of a single deer.
In the morning I would set off for the nearby standing stones and then visit the grave of a local martyr.
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Old 15-12-2016, 02:16 PM   #69
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Nice post and pics old stag
It brings back memories of landscapes freash air freedom, then comes the rain.

Do you go on these walks often and do you ever get lonley or go with someone eles?
The picture with the toadstools looks like a magical place I keep expecting to see a fairy or pixie to pop out

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Old 15-12-2016, 02:31 PM   #70
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Nice post and pics old stag
It brings back memories of landscapes freash air freedom, then comes the rain.

Do you go on these walks often and do you ever get lonley or go with someone eles?
The picture with the toadstools looks like a magical place I keep expecting to see a fairy or pixie to pop out
Thanks babs! I go when I can, and dream of it when I am stuck at home. The dreaming part and the planning can be the best bit sometimes!
Now and again I go with a friend, but it can be like a prolonged night out in the city talking about the same old stuff, football etc which bores me very quickly so I like to go alone. I meet people more easily that way, which is strange, and locals tend to get on with me, once they realise what I am about. I've still just scratched the surface of what i'm doing. I could really get into the deep meditation and shamanism side of being in the wild, I think that may be the way forward for me. I do like a beer in a country tavern though!
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Old 16-02-2017, 05:53 AM   #71
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Alone In A Beehive - Part Two, The Mice Strike Back

The next morning the sun was shining and I said goodbye to the Beehive Bothy and made the short trip through the woods to the standing stones of Laggangairn. Like the bothy, they were in a small clearing of their own. Now just a pair they are thought to be originally part of a stone circle erected thousands of years ago. They have markings on them from the Dark Ages when they were used as a waymark by early Christian pilgrims on their way to Whithorn.

Surrounding the stones in the long grass were dozens of beautiful spiders' webs with big crackers of spiders in the middle of them. You can just make out some of the webs in the above picture.
I pushed on up the trail, I had about 15 miles to do, but I knew there was a campsite and a pub at the end of it, so morale was high despite a heavy pack.
After a while I came to the turn off for the 'Martyr's Tomb'. This is the grave of a shepherd named Alexander Linn. One Spring day in 1685, Linn was ambushed and killed by a column of government troops. His crime? They found him reading a bible. Back in those times, if you weren't worshipping your God exactly as the state wanted you to, you were an enemy. Alexander was shot and his body was later found by his family who put him in a simple grave. Years later a stonemason who had heard the story came and erected a tomb for Linn around the grave site.
I made the mile long uphill diversion from the trail to visit the tomb. The only sounds up there were the sighing of the wind and a single lark trilling high above me.

The rest of the day was a slog through farmland, up and down hills, (mostly up) but I got the tent up at Glentrool campsite eventually and had a few beers in the local pub. The campsite was small, clean and the staff friendly so I'll be back there sometime.
In the communal eating area the next morning, I met a young Dutch lady who was also hiking the trail. The Southern Upland Way is not a popular route so it was good to meet someone else doing it. She asked if I wanted to hike with her for a while but I had to say no, as I was going really slowly and didn't want to slow people down. I mention meeting her as the next day I met four other people doing the trail and they were the opposite of the Dutch hiker. Cold, unresponsive and uncaring. It's funny how different folks are. A long distance hike is a bit like a journey through life. You meet a lot of good folks. And some bawbags too.
Anyway here's a picture of Loch Trool from the path. In September the Rowan trees are in full bloom.


From Glentrool Campsite it was about 25 miles or so to the next village , St.John's Town of Dalry. I wasn't going to make that in a day so I could stay at a bothy by Loch Dee around 12 miles in or wild camp at the amazingly named Clatteringshaws Loch at about 16 miles. The forecast for the next few days was horrendous and when I got to the bothy at around half three in the afternoon I really did think about staying. But I wanted to push on so that I didn't get caught in the bad weather for too long the next morning. I did have a sort of wistful feeling on leaving the bothy. I should have stayed there , it was to be the biggest mistake of my trip. I took in the view of Loch Dee and pushed on for Clatteringshaws Loch.


I had read a blog on the Southern Upland Way by two guys who said they had a really great wild camp spot by Clatteringshaws Loch. I guess I missed their spot as mine was in sight of the logging road, and exposed to the strengthening south wind which was really whipping across the loch. There was also a lot of rubbish about 15 feet away from my tent, empty beer cans and things thrown under a rock. It was about 7pm by the time I got the tent up and I was exhausted. I really need to pitch earlier in the day and not let myself get so tired. I cooked some sort of rice frozen meal and it was pretty awful. As I ate it I dropped some on the floor of the tent. Being too tired to tidy up properly I scooped it up and put it in the small pocket on the side of the tent. I got my head down and dropped off to sleep.

I woke up the next morning and the wind was howling and it was now raining outside too, but I reckoned I could be in the village in four hours or so.
Sitting up I realised my feet were wet. I looked at the bottom of the tent and there was a puddle there. Mopping up I looked for a leak but couldn't find one. Condensation maybe?
I remembered the rice in the side pocket and went to put it in my little rubbish bag I keep on the outside of my rucksack. The rice was gone. Part of the inner of the tent was also gone......
"You wee bastards! You dirty wee bastards!" was the cry. Someone had eaten through the inner of the tent to get to the rice. So not only was my tent soaking at the foot but also had a mouse-sized hole at the head. I guess with people dumping rubbish around, the rodents had made a point of patrolling the area.
I had to make do with water for breakfast as I had run out of chocolate bars for the first time ever during a hike and couldn't be bothered cooking, which was another basic error. You need to fuel up when you are lugging a rucksack and tent across hills.
I struck camp as quickly as I could and made off for the village in a downpour. It was a long grind of a walk, exposed for the main part and I was getting sick of the trail and wanting to quit. This happens sometimes, but it usually wears off by the time I get to my stop for the night. I had a tent repair kit so I could patch up the hole if I wanted.
I was about an hour away from the village when another disaster happened. I passed through a quagmire of a field and the only path through was next to a barbed wire fence. I tried to keep my rucksack from snagging on it but soon enough there was a riiiiipp and my raincover was destroyed in an instant. That was the game-over moment. I was five days or so away from the only hiking supply shop on the trail and I needed a rain cover for the forecast bad weather. I cursed my luck and this boggy part of the trail.
I stopped feeling sorry for myself within a couple of minutes though. I met a guy who must have been pushing 70, walked with two sticks and seemed to have a problem with his sight. He stopped for a chat and said the boggy field was terrible, he came out this way for a walk every day and had to hang onto the barbed wire to get through it.
So this gentleman could do it every day and here I was struggling and moaning about it. That kind of put me in my place.
So I decided to quit. Gear failure was the main reason and a sprinkling of bad luck. I got to the Clachan Inn in the village by lunchtime and they got a room ready for me. I had good food and some real ale and had a great sleep in a real inn, which is a rare thing in Scotland sadly.

Handily, St.John's Town of Dalry has a bus stop, so two buses and a train later I was back in the big city, and I put the rest of my holiday to good use, walking the West Highland Way, which is an easier and much more popular trail.
I'll be back on the Southern Upland Way in 2017 though. I've failed on it twice, but here's to third time lucky. Bring on the mice!
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Old 17-04-2017, 07:29 PM   #72
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The view from my first wild camp of the year. Loch Katrine looking south east towards the Trossachs. Just a few miles outside the restricted camping zone.
It's a beautiful place, quiet and peaceful and the moon came out and shone high above Ben Venue.
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Old 25-04-2017, 07:10 PM   #73
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Guys, you will need one of these matches to light your campfire.

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Old 16-05-2017, 11:51 AM   #74
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At the end of April I hiked down a quiet peninsula in Argyll that jutted out between two sea lochs. At the end of it is a small stony hill with a small lochan (tarn) under its crags. I took shelter here and had a quiet evening with two pairs of barnacle geese and a pair of blackthroated divers as my only company.
I fell asleep straight after I had heard the first owl hoot that heralded the hours of darkness.

I wanted to pitch right by the lochan but it was too breezy, but there were lovely views to be had. A lone corvid croaked its way quietly about the crags above.


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Old 18-05-2017, 07:27 PM   #75
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Old 19-05-2017, 08:31 AM   #76
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An early May trip, looking out over the newly restricted no-camping zone in the glorious Trossachs area. I was pitched in a grassy clearing in a hilly area. Some red deer were making a right racket just as I pitched, but they took their argument elsewhere and let me have a good night's sleep.
I watched the full moon come up over the hills, it's good to be alive on nights like that.


The next morning I wandered down through some old native forest. The bluebells a riot of springtime colour.
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Old 19-05-2017, 08:48 AM   #77
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I remembered the rice in the side pocket and went to put it in my little rubbish bag I keep on the outside of my rucksack. The rice was gone. Part of the inner of the tent was also gone......
"You wee bastards! You dirty wee bastards!" was the cry. Someone had eaten through the inner of the tent to get to the rice. So not only was my tent soaking at the foot but also had a mouse-sized hole at the head. I guess with people dumping rubbish around, the rodents had made a point of patrolling the area.
Those wee devils! It's amazing how they can sniff out food

I once left some chocolate in the dashboard of a van and a mouse climbed up through the dash and into the tray to eat it overnight

I'm pretty sure it smelt it from outside the van...i know how improbable that sounds
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Old 08-06-2017, 09:52 PM   #78
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A wildcamp during a four day hike across my beloved Argyll.
The midges are out now.
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Old 01-07-2017, 05:58 PM   #79
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Old Stag, you don't happen to be Stag Bushcraft on Instagram?
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Old 03-07-2017, 07:22 PM   #80
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Old Stag, you don't happen to be Stag Bushcraft on Instagram?
Not that's not me. As the world's clumsiest man real bushcraft can be a bit beyond me. I just muddle by.
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