There is a particular kind of joy that only a bothy can deliver. You've been walking for hours through some of Scotland's emptiest country, rain hammering your jacket, wind turning your cheeks a raw shade of pink, and the light is fading faster than you'd like. Then you round a bend in the glen and there it is — a low stone building with a corrugated roof, tucked against the hillside like it grew there. You push open the door, step inside, and the wind stops. Someone before you has left a neat pile of dry wood beside the fireplace. There's a candle stub on the mantelpiece. The floor is swept. It isn't much, but right now it feels like a five-star hotel.
Scotland's bothy network is one of the great unsung treasures of the hillwalking world. These simple, unlocked shelters are scattered across the Highlands and Islands, many of them in the perfect positions for reaching Munros that would otherwise require punishingly long day walks or wild camps in uncertain weather. For the Munro bagger, learning to use bothies opens up a whole new dimension of the hills — the remote corners, the multi-day rounds, the mountains that most people never get to because they're just too far from the nearest road.
What Exactly Is a Bothy?
A bothy, in the Scottish hillwalking sense, is a simple shelter — usually a former shepherd's cottage, estate building, or stalker's lodge — that has been maintained as a free, open refuge for walkers, climbers, and other outdoor folk. They are unlocked, unheated (unless you light the fire), and unmanned. There is no booking system, no key, no warden. You simply walk in, use the shelter, and leave it as you found it — or better.
The vast majority of Scotland's bothies are maintained by the Mountain Bothies Association (MBA), a charity staffed almost entirely by volunteers who give up their weekends to repair roofs, replace windows, clear drains, and haul building materials into some of the most remote locations in Britain. The MBA doesn't own the buildings — they're maintained by agreement with the landowners — and the whole system depends on goodwill from both sides. The landowner allows public use; the MBA keeps the building standing; and the walkers who use them treat them with respect. When that compact works, it works beautifully. When someone abuses it — by leaving rubbish, burning furniture, or treating a bothy like a festival campsite — the whole arrangement is threatened.
Bothy Etiquette: The Rules That Keep the Doors Open
Bothy etiquette isn't complicated, but it matters enormously. These buildings survive because people look after them. Here are the principles every bothy user should follow:
Leave it cleaner than you found it
This is the golden rule. If someone before you has left a mess, clean it up. If the floor is grubby, sweep it. Carry out any rubbish you find, not just your own. It takes very little effort to leave a bothy spotless, and the next person through that door will be grateful — possibly more grateful than you can imagine, if they arrive cold and exhausted in the dark.
Don't burn the furniture
It sounds obvious, but it happens more often than you'd think. The sleeping platforms, benches, and shelves in bothies are there for everyone's use. If you need fuel for the fire, use dead wood gathered from outside. Some bothies have a supply of coal or logs left by the MBA or the estate — use it sparingly. Never strip wood from the building itself.
Respect other users
Bothies operate on a first-come, first-served basis, but they're shared spaces. If you arrive and there's already a group inside, you're welcome to stay — just be considerate about noise and space. If the bothy is full, you may need to pitch your tent nearby. Nobody has a greater right to the space than anyone else, regardless of when they arrived or how far they've walked.
Keep groups small
The MBA asks that groups of more than six don't use bothies, and large groups should contact the MBA in advance. A bothy that comfortably sleeps four or five becomes deeply unpleasant when twelve people try to squeeze in. If you're organising a club trip, wild camp instead and use the bothy as a communal shelter for cooking and socialising.
Carry out everything you carry in
All food packaging, bottles, cans, and other waste must come out with you. There is no bin collection service in the middle of the Cairngorms. Human waste should be buried well away from the bothy and any water source — at least 30 metres from streams and 50 metres from the building.
Don't leave food behind
It seems generous to leave spare food for the next visitor, but in practice it attracts mice and rats, which then cause damage to the building. The exception is sealed, non-perishable items like tea bags or a small gas canister — these are often left and gratefully received, but use your judgement.
The Bothies: Where to Stay for the Best Munros
Scotland has well over 100 MBA-maintained bothies, but some are far more useful to Munro baggers than others. Here are seven of the best, each of them a gateway to mountains that would be a serious undertaking as day walks.
Corrour Bothy (Cairngorms)
Corrour sits in the Lairig Ghru, the great pass that cleaves the Cairngorm massif in two. It's roughly three hours' walk from either the Linn of Dee car park to the south or the ski centre car park to the north, making it an ideal base for some of the biggest mountains in Scotland. From Corrour you can tackle the Devil's Point, Cairn Toul, and Braeriach — a round that takes in some of the highest and most Arctic-feeling ground in Britain. The bothy is well-maintained with two rooms and a fireplace, and the setting in the jaws of the Lairig Ghru is unforgettable.
Shenavall (Fisherfield)
Shenavall is one of the most dramatically situated bothies in Scotland, perched on the shore of an unnamed loch at the foot of An Teallach's vast southern cliffs. The approach from Corrie Hallie is about 10km, much of it pathless and involving a river crossing that can be problematic in spate conditions. But the reward is access to some of Scotland's remotest Munros — the Fisherfield hills, including A' Mhaighdean, the most remote Munro from any public road. Shenavall is a proper adventure bothy: atmospheric, wild, and utterly magnificent in good weather. The view of An Teallach from the door is one of the great sights of the Scottish Highlands.
Culra (Ben Alder)
The Ben Alder group sits in a vast roadless area between Loch Ericht and Loch Laggan, and Culra bothy is the key to unlocking it. The walk in from Dalwhinnie follows a good estate track for about 12km along Loch Pattack — long but straightforward. From Culra, Ben Alder itself and Beinn Bheoil are the obvious targets, but Lancet Edge — Ben Alder's dramatic northeast ridge — is one of the finest scrambles attached to any Munro. Culra is a spacious, well-maintained bothy with a large communal area, and it's popular enough that you'll often have company on summer weekends.
Sourlies (Knoydart)
Sourlies sits at the head of Loch Nevis, in the heart of Knoydart — often called Britain's last true wilderness. The approach is a serious walk of 17km from Strathan at the head of Loch Arkaig, crossing the Mam na Cloich Airde pass. The setting is extraordinary: mountains rising directly from the sea loch, with not a road or building in sight except the bothy itself. From Sourlies you can tackle Sgurr na Ciche and other Knoydart Munros, or simply sit on the shore and absorb one of the most beautiful locations in Scotland. This is a bothy for those who don't mind earning their shelter.
Hutchison Memorial Hut (Cairngorms)
Perched at around 800 metres in the Coire Etchachan basin, the Hutchison Memorial Hut is the highest-altitude bothy in Scotland and one of the most useful for Cairngorm Munro bagging. The approach from the Linn of Dee via Derry Lodge takes about three hours. From the hut, you're perfectly placed for Ben Macdui, Derry Cairngorm, and Beinn Mheadhoin — three Munros that are long days from any road but become manageable with a night at the Hutchison. The hut is small and basic, perched on a rocky knoll above Loch Etchachan, and the exposed setting means it can feel like sleeping on the moon in winter. But the sunrise over the loch makes up for any discomfort.
Bob Scott's (Cairngorms)
Tucked into the forest at the foot of the Lairig an Laoigh pass, Bob Scott's bothy is a cosy wee place that serves as a useful base for the eastern Cairngorm Munros. The walk in from the Linn of Dee takes about two hours through pleasant pine forest. From here, Beinn a' Bhuird and Ben Avon — two of the most sprawling and remote of the Cairngorm Munros — become achievable day walks rather than exhausting marathons. The bothy has a fireplace and is well-sheltered by the surrounding trees, making it one of the more comfortable stays in the Cairngorms.
Coire Fionnaraich (Torridon)
This small bothy sits in the glen between Liathach and Beinn Eighe, two of the most formidable mountains in Scotland. The approach from the road in Glen Torridon is short — barely 3km — making it one of the most accessible bothies on this list. But what it lacks in remoteness it makes up for in setting and utility. From Coire Fionnaraich you can tackle Liathach's terrifying pinnacle ridge or Beinn Eighe's quartzite-capped summits with a comfortable base to return to. For those planning to traverse Liathach's full ridge, having a bothy at one end transforms the logistics considerably.
What to Bring to a Bothy
Bothies provide shelter and nothing else. You need to be entirely self-sufficient. Here's what to pack:
- Sleeping bag and mat: There's no bedding. Sleeping platforms are bare wood. A good mat makes the difference between a reasonable night and a miserable one.
- Stove and fuel: Don't rely on the bothy fireplace for cooking. Bring a lightweight stove and gas canister. You'll want hot food and drinks regardless of whether you can get a fire going.
- Candles or a lantern: Bothies have no electricity. A couple of candles create a surprisingly warm atmosphere, and a head torch handles the practical needs. Some folk bring a small lantern — it's a luxury that weighs almost nothing.
- Water treatment: Most bothies are near a stream, but treat or filter the water before drinking. Cattle, deer, and sheep share these watersheds.
- A bin bag: For carrying out all your rubbish — and any left by less considerate visitors.
- Firelighters and matches: If the bothy has a fireplace and there's dry wood available, a fire transforms the experience. Bring reliable firelighters — damp kindling in a remote glen at 9pm is no time to discover your fire-lighting skills are lacking.
- A small broom or dustpan: Some bothies have these, many don't. Sweeping the floor before you settle in makes the whole stay more pleasant.
The Culture of the Bothy
There's something about a bothy evening that no hotel, hostel, or campsite can replicate. Perhaps it's the simplicity — four walls, a fire, a candle, a cup of tea. Perhaps it's the company, because bothy nights produce some of the best conversations you'll ever have. Strangers thrown together by weather and geography, sharing stories of the hills they've climbed and the ones they're planning. There's no phone signal, no television, no distraction. Just firelight, good talk, and the sound of rain on the roof.
The bothy book is a tradition worth maintaining. Most bothies have a notebook where visitors record their stays — dates, weather, routes, observations. These books are historical documents in the making, a running record of who came, what they saw, and how the mountains treated them. Write something. It doesn't have to be literary. Even a simple entry — "12 March, arrived from Dalwhinnie, rain all day, fire going well, heading for Ben Alder tomorrow" — adds to the story of the place.
If you'd like to give something back, consider joining the Mountain Bothies Association. Membership costs very little, and the work parties — weekends spent repairing and maintaining these buildings — are enormously satisfying. You'll learn practical skills, meet good people, and develop a deeper connection with the places you're helping to preserve. The bothies exist because volunteers maintain them. Be one of those volunteers, and the whole network becomes something you're personally invested in.
The mountains that bothies unlock — the Fisherfield wilderness, the Ben Alder massif, the high Cairngorm plateau, the wild peninsula of Knoydart — are among the finest in Scotland. They're the Munros that don't appear on Instagram, the ones that require commitment and planning and a willingness to carry a heavy pack into empty country. A bothy makes that commitment just a little easier, and the reward is access to a Scotland that most people never see. Pack your sleeping bag, fill your flask, and push the door open. The hills are waiting.
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