
There is something genuinely magical about waking beside a mountain tarn, with mist sitting on the water and nobody else for miles. It is one of the finest rewards our hills offer. But water changes the rules, and a pitch that looks idyllic in the golden hour can turn miserable — or unsafe — by two in the morning.
Cold air drains downhill and settles in the basin around a lake, so the flat ground near the shore is often the coldest, dampest spot on the hill. Valley bottoms also funnel wind, and the sheltered-looking hollow that tempted you at dusk may be catching a gust that has accelerated down a gully for half a mile. Add the fact that water levels can rise quickly after heavy rain on the tops, and you can see why experienced campers treat the shoreline with respect rather than romance.
Find your spot in daylight if you possibly can, and give yourself time to look properly rather than pitching wherever your legs happen to stop.
Never assume upland water is clean. Even high, clear-looking tarns can carry agricultural runoff, and many are visited by grazing sheep and deer. Filter, boil or chemically treat anything you drink, and be careful where you wash — biodegradeable soap still pollutes a lake, so do your washing well away from the shore and pour the water onto ground, not into the water.
Watch the sky as well as the ground. A thundery afternoon can put a lot of water into a catchment in a very short time, and a stream you stepped over at supper can be a noisy torrent by dawn. Keep your route out in mind, and be ready to move if the weather turns genuinely wild. If you are camping in a basin, remember that cold air pooling can bring a hard frost even in summer, so take a warmer sleeping bag than the season suggests.
Animals in our uplands are quick learners, and an unattended food bag is an open invitation.
Check yourself for ticks in the morning, particularly if you have been sitting or lying in long grass. They are small, easily missed, and worth removing promptly with fine tweezers.
In England and Wales, camping without the landowner's permission is generally not a legal right, and the situation in Scotland — while far more permissive on most unenclosed land — is complicated by local byelaws that restrict overnight stays in some popular areas, especially beside lochs during the summer months.
So read the signs, and take them literally. If an area is marked as no overnight camping, that is the end of the discussion, however quiet it looks. Where camping is permitted, arrive late, leave early, keep groups small, dig a proper cat hole at least thirty metres from water and paths for any human waste, and carry out everything you brought in. Leave the place looking as though you were never there.
Once you are pitched, put your headtorch somewhere you can find it in the dark, keep your boots inside the porch, and layer up before you get cold rather than after. Tell someone at home where you are going and when you expect to be back, and be honest about whether you have a reliable phone signal — many upland basins have none at all.
Do those few things well and the reward is enormous: a still dawn, a brew in your hands, and a whole lake to yourself. That is what hillwalking is for.
Hi, my name is Anthony kuber. I am artist and fashion designer.
I love to travel and writing blogging.
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