Dave and I arrived at the small, frost-edged parking space at the head of the glen, the sun bright and low, for our annual new year bothy trip. The cold hit instantly as we left the van warmth, sharp at minus two. Boots crunched, packs were shouldered and the silence felt wide and welcoming. We were prepared for temperatures of down to -8C so we pulled a trolley packed high with wood for the bothy fire.

The walk in followed the Megget Water. Breath hung in the air as the glen opened up, revealing hills coloured with bright oranges and browns. Despite the cold, the sunshine made our views clear and wide.

Greensykes bothy appeared suddenly to the right, squat and solid against the ground. Smoke from a previous fire lingered faintly, we had smelt it as we drew close. We pushed open the door and stepped into stone walls, wooden platforms, and that unmistakable bothy smell of ash, damp, and stories absorbed over decades. There were two other visitors already in situ who had come up for the day and more stories were shared for a while until the other visitors left.

We unpacked, lit the stove, and waited for warmth to creep back into our hands. Tea came first, mugs cupped like treasures. Outside, the sun blazed while the cold refused to soften.

After an hours exploring the local area, more people arrived throughout the afternoon, faces glowing with cold and effort. Introductions were easy and quick. Soon new names like Tom, Ed and Johnny blurred into laughter and the bothy filled with overlapping conversations, games of Cards Against Humanity and the shared joy of our simple shelter.

As evening fell, the temperature dropped even further, stars snapping into focus outside. Inside, we ate well. Stories circled the room about favourite bothy meals, mistakes made, places loved. Laughter bounced off stone walls, louder than the wind ever could. We’ll definitely be taking steak and champagne to our next bothy, inspired by a story from our new chums.

Night in the bothy was deep and quiet between bursts of snoring and shifting. Frost crept across the inside of the windows despite our roaring fire. James and Broichan the doggy arrived late in the bright moonlight. No headlamp needed despite the darkness and hour.

Morning arrived bright, sunlight pouring in but warmth less easy to be found. More fire and tea solved everything. The day was spent wandered outside, crunching across iron-hard ground, admiring the glen transformed into a frozen white sculpture garden under blue skies.

The second night passed even faster, as if time respected our enjoyment and chose not to linger. More stories, more new visitors, more tea, more laughter. By morning, goodbyes felt strangely emotional for people met only hours earlier, bound together briefly by cold, stone walls, and shared warmth.

Morning came with temperatures of -8C. Even Broichan noticed the ice on the windows.

We cleaned out our little house, ready for its next guests.

We packed up and stepped outside for the final walk out, the ground frozen solid, almost permafrost underfoot. Each step rang sharp and hollow. The sun shone relentlessly as we left Greensykes behind, carrying full bellies, tired legs, and memories that would stay warm forever. But not all that wood thank goodness. 😃