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Going out for a walk is really a process of going into ourselves.

When done alone walking allows us to spend time in our own company away from daily distractions where we re-engage with something essential and vital to who we are. Only the present is ever real, and it is the present that takes shape and finds a focus as we stretch out and commit to an hour’s stroll or an afternoon walk or a full day’s hiking.

Once the day’s weather is reckoned with, we choose a walk to suit a purpose we are not always conscious of. A short testing pull up the side of a hill to burn off some bad feeling.

A quick spin around the local loch to sort out a problem or a long perambulation to somewhere remote and wild where something of the transcendent is sought. We learn after a while what works for us, what we need to do occasionally to sort ourselves out, or to boost our spirits or to just find the solitude we sometimes crave.  

Part of this process is how walking can immerse us in the landscape and take us from ourselves when small events grab our attention to bring surprise and delight.

A heron stands erect at the water’s edge, beak poised ready to pounce. A buzzard hovers overhead, its distinctive call drawing your attention, a quick movement ahead sees a deer and its fawn cross your path and disappear into woodland.  

These distractions are part of the walking experience, often taking us by surprise and shifting our focus to the present and the immediate.  The process of walking itself, the simple effort of one foot before another, finding your own stride creates a rhythm and tempo that both creates and matches our mood.

We find a way to fit with the day and the feeling it brings. Do we create the day, or the day create us? A bit of both I suspect. Whichever it is, there is much more to walking than simply’ going out’.

Deciding which routes to include in a book like this is a process of trial and error.  We relied on OS maps, online searches and other walking guides to help orientate us and to allow us to work out possible routes.

What we quickly learnt however was that there is no substitute for feet on the ground. Trial and error meant just that and numerous attempts to find on the ground what existed on a map, or a website often led to long frustrating days trying to find the right path or to cross a river or working out how to get from one glen to the next.

While the right to roam is embedded in legislation it sits alongside the right to privacy. How this is experienced on the ground can often be frustrating and difficult to comprehend. One such encounter with the ‘law in action’ was attempting to bypass a grand hotel set within its own grounds.

After consulting our OS map and working out where we were, we finally identified a clear path running next to a field that would get past the hotel. It ran through a mixed woodland with views of the hotel opening up as we passed.  Leaving it behind and convinced we had ‘cracked’ the route we came face to face with a barbed-wire fence slung across the path. A private house a good distance away had decided its privacy had been breached by walkers on too many occasions, thus so far but no further.

Undaunted, we retraced our steps to try outflanking the hotel from the other side. Again, good progress was made on a clear path to only again find our way impeded. Stumped, we were all set to scrub the route from our list. As a last resort we contacted the Midlothian Ranger Service who to their credit checked out the route reassuring us that there wasn’t a problem, and the path was open. Now completely bamboozled we shared our frustration with a friend over a beer. What happened next?

Well, after much head scratching, folding and unfolding of maps, checking which path turned where, where did we start from etc it turned out a third path existed further north from our second attempt. Once confirmed and checked we concluded that feet on the ground only get you so far, sometimes local knowledge and only local knowledge will do. Maybe the beer helped also!