Jock's Road: A Training Expedition

I had the very best intentions to write a post on How To Train For A Multi-Day Hike, but I ran into some problems. Firstly, we haven't done my multi-day hike yet (more on that later), and secondly, this training session was actually a whole experience in itself, on so many levels. So it’s with a huge amount of pride I bring you the Tale Of Jock’s Road: A Training Expedition. 

Walking Scotland’s Wild Lands 

Turns out that roaming, here in Scotland, has a fairly colourful history. 

Growing up here, I was always proud of the law that enshrined the right to roam. Globally, it’s not unique, but it is unusual - cross the border into England and you’ll encounter far more PRIVATE PROPERTY KEEP OFF signs. In Scotland, this would be the exception, not the rule. 

But where did this right to roam come from? And what does it really entail? 

I hadn’t really thought about it, more just took it for granted, until we ventured back up to the Cairngorms in early May this year. Lockdown (kind of) over, it was time to explore further afield. That meant a dash back up north to the Cairngorms National Park. 

After a night at our favourite camping spot in Glenshee (where we heard owls through the night and even saw ring ouzel), we continued on over the Glenshee pass - the highest road in the UK! - and on to Auchallater where we needed to park the van. I had been eying up a route that would take in Loch Callater, a place that has long been on my outdoor swimming bucket list, and on to Jocks Road. It appealed because, on the map at least, it looked like the kind of distance we needed for our practice route. 

Side note on what we were practicing for: The Cataran Trail. This is a 103 kilometre long distance route in Perthshire and I had calculated that 5 days of walking with 4 nights camping should do it. We could book hotels, but when I was examining this during lockdown, the hotels were closed. So we figured we would camp it. Long after hotels reopened, we had not adjusted the plan, so camping it would be. The first test would be to do 2 days of walking and one camp to see how we coped with carrying the bags. And that’s how we got to Jocks Road, one sunny morning in May.

Ready to set off, I picked up my rucksack from the bag of the van, and I swear I started hallucinating from the first step. The sheer weight was phenomenal, and I realised I had made a massive mistake in just practising 20-25km hikes with nothing in my daypack but my phone and a bottle of water (and a lot of snacks). 

So picking up a full on rucksack was a rude awakening. 

Almost immediately after we began walking, we had to take a break - and not just because of the weight of our bags. No - we needed to pause at the signs, as usual, because I like to read all information available on any subject (particularly local planning notices, but that is a whole ‘nother story). 

And this is how I found out about the legacy of Jock and his road. You see, this route, marked on OS maps but on the ground simply signposted as ‘route to Glen Clova,’ is of huge historical and legal significance, especially if you’re into bureaucracy, history, rule of law and so on. The geek that I am - Jock’s Story fascinated me. 

In a nutshell, the route follows a historic drovers route which connects, give or take, Braemar in the Cairngorms, with Glen Doll in Angus. This path had been in use for centuries for moving sheep and cattle. But in the 1880s, a wealthy Scot returned back from Australia and purchased the Glen Doll Estate with proceeds from his lucrative sheep farming. Almost immediately, this rogue Mr MacPherson attempted to block access to the estate, which included putting up fences and patrolling the estate. Our local hero John (Jock) Winter, along with the Scottish Rights of Way Society, took umbrage with this, and long story short, a legal battle ensued. It went all the way to the House of Lords, which eventually found in favour of Jock and the Scottish Rights of Way Society, but the entire process left all parties famously bankrupt.

I say famous, but that’s maybe just among us law geeks. We love a story of a rogue, especially a bankrupt one. Anyway, the important thing is that this decision essentially paved the way for the Scottish Rights of Way Act, which led to the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003 and also the Scottish Outdoor Access Code - the latter I highly recommend getting familiar with. 

So it’s all due to Jock that we are able to (within reason) roam the bonnie lands of Scotland. 

Thanks Jock. 

But I won’t sugar coat this - after we passed by beautiful Loch Callater, we definitely cursed Jock a good few times. 

There was a river crossing at one point, making me glad I brought my trusty bath mat. Earlier in the day, possibly when I was still delirious from the weight of my pack, Espen had laughed uncontrollably when I said I had kept my bath mat in my rucksack. Essential swimming gear, I argued. But Espen disagreed. Essential is essential. Food, and warmth. But it was I who was laughing when I was able to step out of the icy, freeze-your-bollocks-off water and warm and dry my feet on the comfort of a bath mat before putting my boots back on. As it turned out, taking a bath mat with me would pay dividends. 

The whole route is extremely varied, and - because we were not paying super close attention to the map details - also takes in a summit of over 3000 feet. Not a munro, but a top. And a pretty bloody big one, when you’re carrying your own weight on your back. 

Still, we continued on, determined to see this training expedition through. Both of us love walking, but I guess we completely underestimated the effort involved in lugging ourselves and our bags up the HILL. It was lashing with rainm and by the time we reached the summit of the plateau, we were soaked through, freezing, and pretty demoralised. But by this point, we had passed the point of no return. To get back to the van before dark would be impossible, and we would rob ourselves of the opportunity to test our gear.

Speaking of which. 

The test. 

The moment we stood up there on the plateau discussing our options was tense. We had chosen to bring our hammocks to test because they were our Cataran Trail camping method of choice. But we had only used them once before, last July, also in the Cairngorms. It had been cold. But this time we had Bivvy bags. And a Tarp. But we were no way near our goal distance of 25km - we were exhausted and we had done a mere 9km. And there was no tree in sight. 

That meant we were forced to continue walking until we could find woods to be able to get the hammocks up , OR we would need to ACTUALLY bivvy. On the ground. The wet, cold ground. Neither of us had done this before, and we knew this was our back up, but I don't think we were actually prepared to see it through. 

We marched onwards. It felt like hell. 

At some point we started to descend into Glen Doll, and, just in time, before I gave up all hope of ever getting any kind of night's sleep, we stumbled upon the Emergency Shelter - Davy’s Bourach.

This shelter has a very sad story: it was built in memory of 5 skilled mountaineers who lost their lives in 1959 in a winter's storm that was so bad that the pass was inaccessible. The bodies could not be recovered for several months.

In the moments that we stopped to rest there, we talked about staying in the shelter for the night, but we could spy woodland further down the valley. We pressed on. 

Oh, the woods were glorious. 

When we found a suitable selection of trees, I got out my bathmat to kneel on while I sorted out my bag and my things. We got the hammocks up, we lit the stove, and we had our hot meals. So far so good. 

Here’s where it got sketchy: 12am - when I woke up freezing cold and panicking. I was already wearing all my warmest clothes, and I knew it would get colder still before dawn. I was freaking out. Espen had not slept a wink, because of the cold, and from the sheer discomfort of the hammocks. 

I forced myself to get up and out of the hammock at 1.30 for a pee in the pitch black forest. It was not appealing to climb out of my sleeping bag and tarp, but luckily I had my trusty bath mat to place under my hammock so when I swung my feet out, I had something comfortable to stand on. Thank Fuck I brought that mat! 

The next few hours were pretty much the same. At 4am we couldn't take much more and we got up, packed up our camp spot and, leaving no trace, we left. We marched back up the hill, stopped to replenish our water supplies from a fast flowing burn, and had coffee back at the top of the hill as the sun came up. 

The whole rest of the walk back to the van at Auchallater went faster. Whereas the first day had taken us 9 hours to cover 15km, we made the return journey in less than 8 - and that included a stop for lunch and a swim. You guessed it - my bath mat came out for a final appearance. It was ideal. 

In the last 5km, a couple passed us, and recognising Espen from his YouTube channel, stopped for a brief chat. I always love when Espen gets “spotted.” It is so nice to talk with people, strangers on the street (or on the path), who follow his work.

He’s internet famous, right?

And then, just like that, with me counting down literally every metre of the last 2km, we were back at the van. 

We rejoiced. We napped. We panic-ate the rest of our food in relief. 

And then we went home. 

We still have the hammocks, but rest assured, we will not be using them for the Cataran Trail. They will either be sold, or relegated to the back of the cupboard and only used for fun, when it is warm. So that is to say, probably not in Scotland, probably not anytime soon. 

And as for the Cataran Trail, I learned that there is a steep step up going from 2 x 25km hikes in one weekend, to 2 x 15km hikes with an overnight camp and carrying everything you need for those 48 hours. Having learned a lesson about our tolerances and our limits, I want to plan a few longer hikes and camps before I step it up to 4 nights of camping and 5 days hiking. 

But that is the story of Jock’s Road and our training expedition. We did it. It was a road and it was worth it. It is a historical landmark and I love everything about it. Would I do it again? Yes, but with a lighter pack - and maybe a nice comfy bed to stay in at either end. 

The end.