There’s something special about walking into the Cairngorms with everything you need in your big, heavy bag, leaving the noise and stresses of everyday life behind. I don’t get to the Cairngorms often enough. But on this trip, I headed for Red House bothy for a night in the hills, greeted by one of those gorgeous, sunny days that makes me remember exactly why I love the outdoors and why I love the Cairngorms.

The path initially wound through ancient Caledonian pinewoods, where Scots pines stood tall against the blue sky, with their twisted branches and orange trunks. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. After a short while walking the trees disappeared and the glen opened up while I played some music to amble to, Manran. The fiddle and piano suited the walking pace and the views.

I eventually arrived at Red House bothy. Set against a vast expanse of moorland, this remote shelter offers a peaceful escape into the heart of the wilderness.

A shallow, rocky river winds its way across the foreground, its clear waters flowing around scattered stones.

The hills stretch into the distance, while some pine trees add contrast to the autumn colours. With its simple stone walls and distinctive red roof, the bothy feels like a welcome refuge in this wild yet beautiful landscape. The bothy was a recent project undertaken by the Mountain Bothies Association and they’ve done an immense job to create such a fantastic space.

Lunch was soup, as red as the bothy roof, and some buttery cheese rolls. The inside of the bothy looked welcoming as the sunshine reflected off the light pine wall covering.

With plenty of daylight to spare, I walked further south. The ruins of Bynack Lodge offered a glimpse into the area’s past, its crumbling stonework slowly being reclaimed by the landscape.

There were other ruins scattered around the glen too, quiet reminders of lives once lived in this remote corner of the Cairngorms.

I had to ford three rivers, armed with nothing more technical than my crocs to reach Bynack Lodge.

There’s something simple about rolling up your trousers, stepping into the cold water and carefully picking your way across. The cold around my feet was a sharp reminder that it was definitely autumn now.

Passing the bothy again, I continued north to the Chest of Dee, where the river cuts through the landscape in a beautiful display of flowing water and weathered rock.

On the way, I met a group of archaeologists working on the river’s edge, just a couple of hundred metres from the pools, discovering Mesolithic flints. It was fascinating to think that people had been moving through this very landscape thousands of years ago, long before paths, bothies or the idea of a walking weekend. I returned to Red House with clouds looming.

By around seven o’clock, the weather finally turned. Rain began to fall, and the landscape took on a completely different character. Thankfully, Red House bothy was cosy and warm.

Also staying at the bothy was Tom, a gentleman in his seventies, who’d been biking around the many local paths and trails, and we settled in beside the bothy fire. We spent the evening chatting about the outdoors and sharing stories.

It was a fitting end to a day spent exploring, wandering and enjoying the solitude of the hills.

We set off the CO alarm by accident but managed to rescue ourselves. Outside, the rain continued. Inside, the fire crackled.

It had been a “Latha Math”, as Manran had sung to me in the earlier sun and for one night in the Cairngorms, there was nowhere else I needed to be.