James MacKenzie
Why solo walks are worth the extra planning
Walking alone in the Highlands is one of the great quiet pleasures. You set your own pace, stop when a cloud shadow crosses a corrie, and spend an hour watching a golden eagle if you fancy it. Nobody sighs when you take the twentieth photograph of the same ridge.
The trade-off is simple: there is no one else to notice a turned ankle, a wrong bearing or a decision that stops being sensible as the weather closes in. Solo walking is not reckless, but it does ask you to be your own second opinion. That means doing a bit of desk work before you pull on your boots, and it means making sure somebody else knows exactly where you have gone.
Match the route to the day, not to your ambition
A Munro you have wanted for years will still be there next month. Be honest about the conditions and about your own energy levels, because everything takes longer alone — photographs, navigation stops, food breaks, and the mental effort of staying switched on all day.
When you are choosing a route, think about:
- Ascent and distance together. A short walk with 900 metres of climbing on rough ground can be harder than a longer glen walk on a decent track.
- Terrain underfoot. Steep heather, loose scree on descent, and boggy moorland all slow you down far more than the map suggests.
- Navigation difficulty. Pathless plateau, featureless shoulders and corrie rims in mist demand confident compass work. If that is not your strong point today, pick something with clear linear features.
- Escape routes. On a big hill, know at least one way off that is not simply retracing the ascent.
- Daylight. Plan to be down with a good hour of light spare, especially in winter when the sun can set before four.
Start smaller than you think you need to for your first few solo outings. Confidence grows quickly when you come back with something in reserve.
Share your route before you leave the car park
This is the single most important thing you will do all day. Send a friend or family member a short message with the essentials, and make it specific enough to be useful to a rescue team.
- Where you are going. The hill or route name, plus the start point and the finish point if they differ.
- Your intended line. Not just "Beinn whatever" — mention the route, such as via a particular corrie, ridge or glen.
- Timings. When you set off, when you expect to be back, and the latest time you would want them to raise the alarm.
- Your vehicle. Make, colour and registration, plus where it is parked.
- What you are wearing and carrying. Jacket colour, rucksack colour, tent or bivvy if you are overnighting.
- Your contact number and network. Which mobile network you are on matters, as coverage varies wildly across the Highlands.
If your plans change on the day — a different hill, a shorter route — send an update. A route card that is out of date is worse than no route card at all.
Phones, paper and power
Your phone is a brilliant tool and a terrible single point of failure. Charge it fully before you leave, put it in aeroplane mode in weak signal areas, and carry a power bank and cable. Download offline maps for the area in advance, because a map that needs to load is a map you do not have.
Then carry the paper version anyway. A 1:50,000 map in a clear case, folded to your route, plus a compass you can actually use, is what keeps you safe when the screen dies or the rain gets in. Add a whistle (six blasts, repeated, is the international distress signal), a headtorch with spare batteries, a small first aid kit, an emergency shelter or foil bag, and enough food and water for several hours beyond your plan. In the Highlands, that often means an extra layer and gloves in summer too.
Set a check-in time and honour it
Agree a check-in time before you go. If you will be out of signal, agree that you will text the moment you are back in range, and that a missed check-in is not automatically an emergency — it might just be a late descent. Give it a sensible window, perhaps an hour, before your contact acts.
If that window passes with no word, your contact should call you, then call 999 and ask for the police, quoting the route card. Mountain rescue teams would far rather turn out for a walker who is simply late than search a hillside in the dark with no idea where to start. Never feel foolish for raising the alarm.
Wildlife, photography and the pace of the day
The Highlands reward patience. Red deer stags rut in the autumn and are best watched from a distance with binoculars. Ptarmigan in their white winter plumage blend into snow so completely that you often hear them before you see them. Pine martens, red squirrels and crested tits are glen woodland specialities, and early morning along a quiet river is as good a place as any to photograph herons, dippers and the occasional otter.
Photography has a habit of stretching a walk, so build that time into your plan. Keep your camera accessible rather than buried, protect it from horizontal rain, and carry a spare battery somewhere warm. Give wildlife room, never chase a subject for a shot, and keep drones away from nesting and rutting areas. Move quietly, stop often, and let the day be longer than you planned — just make sure your check-in time knows about it.
