Stefan Durkacz

The makings of a feast in Glen Feshie Food is fuel and is thus a big deal on a long distance walk, but get the balance right in your food bag and it's not something you need to worry about too much. I did a lot of research on food and nutrition before the Tay watershed walk, reading outdoors blogs and loitering around the supermarket aisles looking for likely items, reading calories and ingredients. As part of the planning and preparation it was time well spent as I ate well with little hassle throughout the walk. I didn't buy a single item of fancy, costly freeze-dried expedition food, and thrived on what was available in your average small-to-medium sized grocery shop in your average Scottish village. I hit on several things I liked and stuck with them, so kept it simple with just enough variety to avoid boredom. For me, there were seven main considerations when working out my diet for the trip: Do I like it? Peanut butter got the heave-ho after a few days. I'd packed it...

Walking and camping: the yin and yang of backpacking. I've written quite a bit about the walking, so here's the story of the campsites. I remembered to take a picture of all except one. Camping in a big puddle in the pouring rain at the back of the Kingshouse Hotel, I wasn't in the mood. The morning of the first day, making porridge and tea at the Tayview caravan park in Monifieth. It's mostly static caravans, right on the seafront, with a little lawn for tents. I arrived by train in Dundee the afternoon before, stomach in knots as what I was about to do sank in, far too late. I bussed out of town. Do you know Monifieth, asked the smiling conductor. She made sure I got off at the right stop. The caravan park has a little cafe and I ate omelette and chips and listened to the aftermath of St Johnstone's Scottish Cup victory over Tayside rivals Dundee United. Synchronicity? The cafe owner came over to chat and dispensed a promising long range forecast when I said I was...

Easy walking in easy weather: the walk ended pretty much as it began five weeks ago in Angus. Bar one slightly wet morning, there was no rain and hardly any wind for the final week. I stayed at the campsite in Strathyre for a couple of nights. I pitched by the river and lay around a lot in the sun watching the large gang of resident ducks patrolling the grass. My sister pitched up next to me for a night and we had a few beers and watched football in the Strathyre Inn. The fine weather held. From Balquhidder Station I negotiated forestry brash then boggy moorland over to the head of Glen Ample. Beinn Each and Stuc a'Chroin followed as I walked long into the evening to a wonderful high camp by Lochan a'Chroin. The Stuc was the final big mountain of the trip. Familiar landmarks were spread out below: Dumyat, Longannet power station, the Forth estuary, the Campsies. On this last day in the mountains the wildlife continued to thrill: a ring ouzel, and fox cubs amongst a jumble of bo...

The hardest part is over. It's downhill all the way now, give or take a few large intervening bumps. So I was thinking as I left Tyndrum after a few days of rest and time with my family. In fact I had two of the hardest days of the walk during this stage, long days in foul weather over Ben Lui, Beinn Oss and Beinn Dubhchraig, and two days later over Stob Binnein and the Braes of Balquhidder. Yet the stage finished in a heatwave as I crossed Meall an t-Seallaidh and sweated my way into Strathyre. Ben Lui added midges to the misery of a very wet camp. The inside of the tarp was black with them, and I was wracked with coughs as I inhaled midges. There were dozens of orchids and a lovely burn though. A nice spot nonetheless. The previous day was a relatively easy one, out of Tyndrum by the scars of lead mining, over Meall Odhar and Beinn Chuirn. Next day it rained and rained as I slogged over the Ben Lui group. After Beinn Dubhchraig a missing footbridge meant wading a swollen river, t...

I awoke to the sound of rain drumming on the tarp. Opening my eyes I could see the midges massing on the mesh of the bivvy bag's face panel. I was camping at Ben Alder Bay on Loch Ericht. The previous day I'd fought my way over Bheinn Bheoil face first into driving rain and mist. Cold and wet and wary of lightning I'd retreated from Ben Alder to camp by the loch. Eventually hunger and a full bladder forced me to unzip the bivvy bag and emerge to let the midges have their fill. This was the stage of the walk where I began to run up hard against limitations, most notably the weather, time, terrain, and my fitness and stamina. The close brush with lightning had also affected me more than I realised. On the hill I was constantly on edge. It was threatening to spoil my enjoyment. It quickly became clear that I wouldn't be able to walk every step of the watershed as I'd hoped. Instead I tried to thread together a route that was challenging but achievable within those li...

Stumbling and sliding down a track off the plateau, sunburned and parched, I cringed under massive pylons to reach the A9 and the world of noise and speed. After seven tough, unforgettable days I had made it to Dalwhinnie. Seven days of no cars, roads or buildings, the only sounds those of wildlife and weather. I'd been forced to cut corners on the watershed route - therein lies a tale that I'll get to - but I got there all the way on foot via several major summits, and I'm happy enough with that. I left Braemar a day early to tidy up Glas Maol, but mainly to escape the snoring, farting hell of the youth hostel dormitory. I hitched a lift up Glen Clunie and climbed up to the plateau to rejoin it where I'd left in a hurry two days before. After Glas Maol I dropped to the A93. I paused before the steep climb to the Cairnwell: no roads or houses now until Drumochter. The first camp by Loch Vrotachan was a peach. I arrived as two anglers were leaving. They'd only caug...

What began as a sunny stroll through glorious Angus countryside ended fighting wind chill and freezing rain on the Mounth and bailing out on the slopes of Glas Maol. Inbetween I've camped deep in the woods under huge ancient beeches, crawled under an electric fence, got sunburned, climbed infinite gates and fences, waded through a marsh through reed beds over head height, and pulled out a tick or two. Perhaps what has surprised me most is just how much I enjoyed walking through lowland Angus. Not just the wildlife, lush woods, and many wild corners, but the people too. Even in the deepest countryside I frequently met people on the road or in the woods, dog walkers, farmers, people who don't drive and get from A to B the old-fashioned way. Reaching the solitude and bareness of the Mounth was almost an anticlimax, though my first hill camp a few miles north of Cat Law was a cracker, as darkness fell, moorland birds called and a mantle of mist settled over the round hills. Later ...