Winter Hiking Adventures in Scotland – part 1

I’ve always enjoyed trips ‘up north,’ especially the city of Edinburgh. What started as a visit for a birthday party last month turned into a wintry hiking adventure. I love it when that happens—nothing planned, free time, and a sense of adventure. If you count -8°C, snow, mountains, and sleeping in your car for nine nights as ‘a sense of adventure.’

There’s a lot to fit into one post, so I’ll share it over two or three. Enjoy!

‘Auld Reekie’ itself is a lovely city to visit. It has a historic, fairytale feel, and nature is easily accessible. It gets busy in August, but for good reason—the Festival Fringe. I’m in two minds about whether the gloomy vibes are my thing when it’s dark, wet, and a little sullen, but it definitely falls under the bracket of ‘atmospheric charm.’ This time, though, it was the winter conditions that drew me in.

An unseasonal cold spell hit the north of the UK and, instead of autumn drizzle, there was snow on the hills. I stretched my legs first on the Pentland Hills (45 minutes south of the city), and it looked fantastic—really beautiful. After five hours of hiking, I met only one other person. She was so friendly and so passionate about hiking in Scotland that she convinced me to stay and explore.

My car was free-camp ready (by that I mean a single-burner stove, a mini trek pot, a pillow, and an inflatable roll mat!). I picked up a thicker three-season sleeping bag from GoOutdoors, did some research on winter hiking conditions, and drove closer to Glasgow on the west coast of Scotland. There’s easier access to a variety of hills and mountains there, and I’d not visited the city for 15 years. It’s the perfect alternative on wet and windy days, and I was keen to see how it had changed.

The first hike was Ben Lomond, one of the most popular Munros, with rewarding views along the length of Loch Lomond in the Trossachs National Park. The path is well made and accessible, but the snow and ice added a wild element. Six hours up and down, and I saw eight other people. That’s all.

At the top, I was completely on my own beneath clear blue skies. For Ben Lomond, that’s a real rarity—both the lack of people and the weather. Apparently, the temperature dropped to -15°C with the wind chill. Such a contrast between the wild, windswept summit and the calm forest at the start of the route.

The next day was Ben Ledi—not as high as Ben Lomond and classified as a Corbett rather than a Munro, but still part of the Trossachs. Free camping nearby had been straightforward but cold, and I was keen to get moving and warm up. My car thermometer read -3°C at 8am and, at the start of the climb, water cascading down the normally helpful stone steps had frozen into a waterfall. Tricky without crampons, but manageable with care.

I saw four people on the way up—two turned back, and two had already been to the summit an hour earlier to catch the sunrise. Hardcore.

As with Ben Lomond, there was no one at the top. It was bitterly cold. I took my gloves off briefly for photos, and the chill gave me an instant warning of potential chilblains. The circular route wasn’t well marked, but my downloaded maps were easy to follow across a narrow ridge, over frozen streams, and back down through forest.

It was such a good day in nature. I returned to the car tired but elated—two days of cold weather, solitude, and just the right level of challenge.

After two days of hiking, I needed something more restful. Following an easy wander along the tranquil shores of Loch Lomond, I drove to Helensburgh for a taste of civilisation, with its Victorian villas and well-planned streets. I also took the chance to explore Hill House, designed in 1902 by the famous Glasgow architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh.

What became clear was how easily you can jump from wild mountains to developed towns in such a short drive. On that note, I headed into Glasgow, excited for what lay ahead…