The Cairngorms feel monstrously huge and oddly familiar at the same time. For many walkers – and I suppose my mother and I too, now – they’re a place of firsts. The first high mountains, the first experience of weather that can switch in minutes, the first time on paths that seem to launch you across seemingly limitless horizons into empty space. Even talking to people that know them well, there’s a side to these mountains that remains undefinable, out of reach. For my mum and I, the scale certainly challenged comprehension. We arrived as complete newcomers and didn’t know what to expect, equal parts excited and nervous to head out on our first wild camp trip.
I genuinely wasn’t sure how either of us would cope, but uncertainty is partly what defines adventure, right?! And since my mum’s diagnosis of myeloma, we don’t know how long we have together. There are more memories to be made.
Adventure awaits
The plan was quite simple: a short wild camping trip at the end of summer – just one night out, walking a scenic route that enable lunch at a bothy before continuing towards the slopes of Bynack More. Would we summit? We’d find out!
In practice, it felt anything but simple. The weather was kind, but still, the wind never let us forget where we were. For many regular readers here, wild camping will be second nature, but for those new to it, everything is a world apart. I am quite OCD and don’t often step out of my comfort zone. For many, a distinct lack of café’s, toilets and other conveniences is clearly part of the appeal! For me it was quietly intimidating.
What made this trip more meaningful was who I was walking with. My mum, ‘Pal, is in remission from blood cancer. This wasn’t just a holiday; it was part of her rehabilitation, a way of rebuilding strength and confidence through something she loves. She has always been an adventurous woman, drawn to the outdoors long before illness entered her life. Getting ‘Pal back into the hills felt important, not as a statement of recovery, but as a return to herself.
We have always walked, yet we had never slept in a tent before. Not together, not separately. This wasn’t a gradual progression from campsites to remote places, from short trips to longer ones. This was straight into the hills with everything on our backs and spending a night in the mountains, which, as we started out, played on my mind. How will we get through the night? Will mum be ok?
There was another layer to this journey. As a woman from the South Asian community, I’m acutely aware of who we usually see and don’t see in places like the Cairngorms. And specifically, women of my mum’s generation are rarely if ever represented in wild camping stories… especially not in remote Scottish landscapes. This adventure wasn’t about defying stereotypes, but about quietly occupying space that often feels reserved for others. The Cairngorms don’t care who you are, where you come from, or what you’ve been through. They meet everyone with the same indifference and the same opportunity. Standing at the edge of that landscape for the first time, packs heavy and expectations uncertain, I knew this would be a trip that stayed with us both.
Loads left behind
Looking back, a couple of nights in a B&B gave me the mental and emotional buffer I needed before heading into the hills – time to slow down, to step out of routine, to let go of expectations. Even the sleeper train, which I’d worried about beforehand, turned out to be gentler than expected. Comfortable enough and unremarkable in the best possible way. With each stage of the journey, small anxieties softened. Scotland was easing me in, one quiet reassurance at a time, but it already held a special place in my mum’s heart. She came for her honeymoon with my dad and always said how much she loved the scenery and the people.
We set off from Glenmore, passing by Glenmore Lodge, Scotland’s National Outdoor Centre, heading to Ryvoan Pass and an old cattle raiding spot when this path was a Drover’s road, tasting wood sorrel and sniffing juniper bushes – just some of the gentle joys of walking with a knowledgeable mountain leader! We stopped for lunch at Ryvoan Bothy, recently renovated with a new porch and door. Myrddin and David consulted maps and weather updates and a finessed plan was hatched – we’d camp early to let the forecast winds die down, then attempt Bynack More without our packs.
I’m used to hiking with a light daypack, moving freely and without much thought, but the reality of carrying a full rucksack, loaded with tent, food, water, and essentials had come as a shock to us both! My shoulders ached almost immediately, and my hips hurt. The pack absolutely dwarfed my mum. Myrddin and David took some of our load almost immediately, but knowing we would camp low and leave our loads behind for the summit was real peace of mind!
Mum was a soldier. She didn’t complain, she just carried on walking, smiling along the way. As a carer, I never really get to relax, but seeing how happy she was made the pack on my back feel just a little lighter, too. Rehabilitation, I realised, doesn’t always look like fragility and vulnerability. Sometimes it looks like quiet strength, built patiently and without fuss – and that’s Mum. She is a tough cookie.
Camping concerns
One of my biggest anxieties was water. Trek Scotland had supplied bottles with built-in filters, designed to be filled from streams along the route. Each time we stopped to refill, my thoughts spiralled. Dogs swimming nearby made me uncomfortable. I imagined what might be in the water: bacteria, contamination, things I couldn’t see or control. I knew, rationally, that the filters worked. But fear doesn’t always respond to logic. Every sip carried tension… but I had to drink something.
We made camp after only a couple more kilometres of walking, with Myrddin happy to show us how to pitch the tent, ready the sleeping mats, and then, ever the gentleman, leave us to settle in while he put the stove on! I was uncomfortable, while my mum seemed to cope well. Perhaps I needed this trip more than her!
Evening ascent
Despite my unease at camp, it was a struggle to pull ourselves away, hearing the wind still whistling down Strath Nethy and knowing that at some point it would get dark on our climb. Walking, talking and sharing helped us relax, and as we reached the plateau, the wind dropped to nothing right on cue! The plateau may have been our friend for now, but the ridge ahead looked, steep, rocky and intimidating, especially as dusk approached. I found myself irritated by the fact we needed to put headlamps on, another thing I was totally unused to.
As the route steepened and our pace slowed, Myrddin and ‘Pal made the sensible decision together to turn around and head down. What would David and I do? It was dark, I was scared and acutely aware of not having eaten or drunk enough, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t. ‘I’ll do it for mum’, I thought.
David and I picked our way slowly and calmly through the boulders, sometimes following a path, sometimes not, to the very top, at which point he produced a chocolate bar for which I’ll be forever grateful. The lights of Aviemore made an eerie glow in the sky, but otherwise, there was nothing except the inky dark, windy and very, very wild mountains!
Inbetween my own worries, I fretted about mum – myeloma affects the bones – I dare not think about what a slip or fall would mean. But as we descended carefully, we could see headlamps ahead of us on flatter ground. Reunited, we began the long walk back to camp. Mum was unphased, still navigating steps with ease, walking poles firmly in her hand. Neither of us had used these before, but they really helped. Back at camp, my phone showed 17,000 steps, yet Mum didn’t seem tired at all.
Home from home truths
As we sat nursing a soup and some bread, my mind wandered to my next challenge – toileting outdoors. We’d had a talk about it earlier with Myrddin, but navigating a wee nocturnally?! But there was an upside to all this ‘roughing it outdoors’. We got ourselves cosy with heated pads in our socks, inside the sleeping bags. We lay down in nature, safe, secure and warm. I awoke in the night to a noise at the tent door. Mice?! Other walkers?! No, only my mum, trying to find the zip after spending a penny. Another small, funny memory that will stay with me…
I confess I barely slept. The winds picked up in the night and I was probably still dehydrated. Mum seemed fine and prepped our breakfast of instant Masala Chai and hot cross buns with a smile! We washed – with water from the river Nethy no less – and felt a little more at home with it all. With each step back to Glenmore, I felt gratitude for getting through the night, for my body carrying me this far, for the privilege of being able to walk in this landscape at all, and doing it with my mum, who is my strength.
What’s remained from our first timers adventure is my mum’s humour, her steadiness, her willingness to embrace discomfort without complaint. Watching her move confidently through the landscape, strong, capable, smiling, was pure inspiration. She didn’t look at the trip as a recovery; she didn’t talk about resilience or survival. She simply did the walk. There is something quietly powerful about that, especially for a woman from the Asian community of her age, where wild places like this are often seen as inaccessible or irrelevant. Her presence in the Cairngorms felt like a gentle challenge to expectation. Not loud, not performative, just quietly present. Mum is ready to go again. For longer! I’m not sure I am. The Cairngorms didn’t offer comfort. But they did offer clarity, perspective and gratitude.
From London to Bynack More
Distance: 20.6km, 12.8miles
Ascent: 823m, 2700 feet
Time taken: Can be walked in approx. 7-9 hrs, but with an overnight camp, Minreet and Pal’s journey took around 20 hours.
Travel: Minreet and Pal travelled from London Euston to Aviemore via the Caledonian Sleeper.
Accommodation: They stayed 2 nights at Eriskay B&B. There are guest rooms or glamping pods available, near to shops and restaurants. A twin room in September cost £220 and breakfast was £15.
Guiding: Myrddin from Trek Scotland was Minreet and Pal’ superb guide. Part of Trek Scotland’s offer is to provide complete backpacking and hiking equipment for those new to the experience – packs, tents, mats and sleeping bags, as well as ‘half board’ camp food! Myrddin said: “I still look back at this trek, made in some tough conditions, with a massive sense of achievement.”
Minreet and Pal bought along their own clothing and footwear. They borrowed trekking poles from David at TGO, which they said, ‘proved invaluable on the ups and the downs, especially in the dark!’
