7 great reasons to take your family bothying

It's been a long time coming but following the girls' foray into bikepacking, we broke new ground at the weekend with a trip to a bothy in Mid-Wales with our girls Ruth (4) and Rhoda (2). What an experience! It's something we want to share.

What's a bothy?

The term originates in Gaelic and these days a bothy is generally taken to refer to a shelter (often in the way of old crofters' cottages or estate huts) in a wild place, which is available for the use of passing travellers. The vast majority are in Scotland but there are a few in Northern England and in Wales, lots of which are cared for by the Mountain Bothy Association. We visited one of two belonging to the Elan Valley Trust.

A bothy isn't likely to impress Lenny Henry. You're going to have to bring your own sleeping gear. And cooking gear. And lighting. And make a fire. Oh, and you'll probably need to take water with you, and a trip to the toilet may involve a spade and a bit of a walk...

Hold on, though, - that's wild camping with the benefit of four walls, a roof and guaranteed permission! Here's why we think any adventure-loving family should give 'bothying' a shot:

1. It's free!

So many opportunities to do things in the wilds actually come at a cost. Even campsite prices seem to be rising steadily, often calculated in such a way as to penalise families travelling light and bright, who aren't turning up with a Chelsea tractor, a tent the size of Belgium, more Christmas lights than Oxford Street and a shrunk down, folding and ultimately dismal version of every appliance and item of furniture found in their home. 

You've got to get to your chosen bothy, but that goes for any outing. You've got to eat and keep warm, but you'd have to do that at home. Fundamentally, using a bothy needn't cost you anything. How many forms of under cover accommodation can claim that?

2. They're always open

Not only are bothies free to use, they're a reliable place to stay the night - particularly at a time of year when campsites are closed and the weather even less dependable than normal. Just be prepared to share with whoever has had the same idea as you! We had the bothy to ourselves on a Saturday night, and judging by entries in the 'bothy book' it looked like most visitors had enjoyed a similar stay, but we reckon you could have slept twenty in the bothy we visited, without trouble. Of course, you might find a bothy equally welcoming and useful as a lunch stop during a day in the wild.

3. The adventure begins at home

I've always reckoned that the best adventures begin with map sheets spread across the lounge floor, or multiple browser tabs open on the computer, at least one of which is Google maps telling you the distance from your home to somewhere exciting.

A very distinct part of bothying is that the onus is on you to find them, not only when you go, but beforehand! Locations used to be protected by almost masonic-like secrecy, but no longer! Nevertheless there's still a school of thought that says that these wonderful places should be kept for those who will cherish them. If you want to try this bothying lark badly enough, and take the trouble to do some basic research online, you'll find all the information you need for a wonderful adventure. Then, you just need to decide how you're going to get there! For a first trip, we would recommend choosing somewhere relatively low-risk - some bothies are surprisingly close to public roads - and be sure before you set out that you have the tools and skills to navigate to your destination.

4. There's less to pack - and you already have the gear

It's always great to discover a new activity for which you (not to mention the children) don't need to go out and buy a load of stuff up front. The great news is, if you camp as a family, you already have what you need - you just leave the tent at home and throw in a few candles instead. Boom. For us, that's a significant weight saving on our bikes. Ruth and Rhoda took the opportunity to test out their new Alpkit 'Cloud Covers' which reduced the bulk still further. There are a few consumables to consider, but the equipment you'll want, you are sure to already own and be familiar with if you camp as a family, with or without bikes.

With a bit of research you can get an idea as to whether you will want to take fuel with you for heat. Some bothies have a ready supply of wood nearby, but by no means all. We chose a bothy which we could get relatively close to with the car, so took in a 10kg bag of coal as insurance. It turned out we didn't need it and as a result, subsequent visitors will get a pleasant surprise and a warm night, too!

5. The weather doesn't matter (so much!)

We can't promise that the bothy you visit won't be draughty. We won't tell you that the night won't be a cold one, and getting there will be an adventure in itself, and subject to the great outdoors, but four walls and a roof is a major game-changer when the weather is marginal - or downright awful.  We went all-out to test this theory by going to Wales in February, in the back end of the mighty storm 'Doris', with a forecast for it to blow a hoolie and persist with rain. Camping would have been miserable. Anything else would have been too urban and too expensive. The bothy was brilliant.

6. Peace and quiet - remember that?

Mrs Large (the elephant) should have visited a bothy - although the book might well have ended up being called 'We're going on a bothy hunt'. If you want solitude, you will find it in the back end of nowhere, especially at times when others are dissuaded from going there. One of the main rewards for the schlep to a remote bothy is getting away from it all. To step outside your front door at a time when the world is still busy, and to see - and hear - absolutely nothing artificial, is priceless to us.  We put the girls to bed and sat with a roaring fire on, totally undisturbed, before retiring for the night without having to lock up.

7. Have a unique adventure

How often do you stay somewhere that is a destination in itself? Every bothy is different, not just in setting and geographical location, but the structures themselves, the rudimentary facilities they offer, and indeed the fellow travellers you may meet there. There is a bothy to suit every taste - some are little more than a hut, a few have toilets and running water. Some are many miles from the nearest road, set in rugged mountains or on desolate moorland; others enjoy their own beach and view of the coast, and a good few are accessible to adventurous families.

Where to find your first bothy, then? Well, that's easier than it used to be. The Mountain Bothy Association decided not so long ago to start publishing the locations of their bothies, and some super books have emerged in recent times. We really like "The Scottish Bothy Bible" by Geoff Allan (review coming up!), and an enchanting film from Alastair Humphreys which our children have loved for some time.

We're already looking for an opportunity to go bothying again, with our bikes and Ruth's new bikepacking setup. We've been tipped off about one or two interesting options in Scotland. Be sure to bookmark our blog and follow us on social media to find out more, and if you've got a question, or you've got a bothying story to share, please do so in the comments below!

Inspiration for the infants

We had a super night out in London last week, to hear the mighty Anna McNuff speak at Dave Cornthwaite's 'YesStories' event. Taking the little two into town on the train is a #Microadventure in its own right!

Ruth and Rhoda are by far the youngest ever attendees to this event - and it's always something of a lottery when you take children to something they might not necessarily be expected at! Luckily, they received a wonderful welcome and acquitted themselves pretty well, despite an inopportune event with the reappearance of a half-chewed dried apricot during the main event. We really enjoyed Anna's new talk, 'Let me tell you about a time when...', and she coped wonderfully with both the live regurgitation and periodic heckling from her young fans. We are very grateful to her for her kindness and interest, and for blazing a trail for little girls like ours to follow.

In Mr Cornthwaite's 'Just say yes' spirit, and with the car's bike carrier finally fixed, I didn't have much choice, then, but to take the girls for a bike ride (Thomas Ivor is away this week) the following day, so we went to finish off the Brampton Valley Way, which I will write a separate review about shortly. We've been gradually crossing off different parts of it for a little while now.

Over two days, Ruth has done 20 miles on the trailerbike, Rhoda a lap of a car park, and the 'Bike+Trailerbike+Trailer' combination has been well and truly tested pending Katie's annual leave. By taking the double Croozer we can use it as a 'broom van' to sweep Ruth up if her little legs decide enough is enough; we can't speak highly enough of the Islabikes trailerbike (very sadly no longer made and still commanding decent money second hand). It confers a significant weight saving over the Trek Mountain Train we used in the Hebrides in 2014 and much improved stability thanks to the rack mount system, and whilst a little on the long side (a couple of feet longer overall than the double WeeHoo, we reckon) it is a remarkably nimble and manoeuvrable outfit.

As ever, assuming we get that far this summer, we're developing another touring setup, with Thomas Ivor on his Islabikes Luath 24, now morphing into a 'bikepacking' setup thanks to our friends at Alpkit, who have made him a beautiful bespoke frame bag. Our replacement bikes seem to be doing the business, although I am reserving judgement on the strength of the wheels.

All things being equal, Ruth is off to cycling club tonight for a first ride in her own right, so for now, here's a video of our outing in the Brampton Valley, which we will talk about a little more, soon...

Donkeys, parking, 'splash and crash'

We slept well at the campsite, until the usual problem emerged, and it's always worse when the girls haven't been in the tent for a little while - they wake at daybreak! Fine for them, because they can sleep it off in the trailer, but not so handy for the other three of us. Being on a working farm, and having picked up some eggs the night before, the rooster that sealed the deal and made sure we were all well and truly awake shouldn't have come as much of a surprise!

Within half an hour, we'd all nodded off again, and so by the time we surfaced, we weren't as washed out as we ought to have been after our exertions the previous evening.

We were really shocked to find that such a beautiful spot, and a site with plenty of pitches, was empty but for our tent, during the school holidays and decent weather, but it was wonderful to be able to let the children roam, and before we knew it, they had made friends with a pair of rescued miniature ponies, 'Tosh' and 'Tug'. 

Porridge and donkey rides contributed to a leisurely departure, but we knew that only 20 miles lay ahead of us if we left the Humber Bridge to start day three. There was no hurry, and after a mile or so's riding we paused at a bakery for a second breakfast.

We pottered along, hurriedly crossing the A15 on foot (if you're slow getting rolling, sometimes it's just easier to cross the big ones perpendicular to the traffic, and run!), perhaps not contemplating enough what we might do for lunch; by the time we reached Brigg we hadn't seen anywhere that looked like it was serving food and suitable for our outfit.

Sometimes, you reach a town and everything seems to be on hand; other places you reach and you just get an inkling before you even get in, that it's going to spit you out before you've had chance to think about it. I have no doubt that Brigg has all sorts of lovely facilities, but the main road through town offered us Tesco as the best opportunity for lunch.

I have all sorts of issues with Tesco - but right at that moment, a quick stop in their cafe seemed like the best chance of getting fed, stocking up for the night, and getting rolling once more. The trouble was, the cycle parking was a total joke - you could not stand a bike up in the rack, such as it was, because it had been put hard up against the wall rather than allowing room for wheels to protrude. In the end, we improvised and a very cycle-savvy and slightly embarrassed chap, who was otherwise looking after the trollies, looked after our bikes personally. The store turned out to be tired, poorly stocked and had no cafe at all, so we got out of there with some sandwiches, rode out of town and found a bus shelter on the edge of a housing estate for lunch.

A word about cycle lanes. Coming out of Brigg on a fairly busy road, I saw what looked like a generously proportioned cycle lane set away from the road, which in the first instance meant Thomas Ivor, whose wheel I was on, could avoid a busy roundabout. I persevered with it for all of a mile before Katie and I stopped and agreed that riding on a split path (pedestrians and cyclists notionally separated, but on a path not wide enough to pass freely on) where you had to give way at every single junction to the left, was far more risky for Thomas Ivor and stressful for us 'sergeant-majoring' him, than just holding a sensible line on the main road. On reflection, we shouldn't have been surprised that the little guy agreed - riding the road was less complicated for him, and he didn't mind the traffic.

Any suggestion that Lincolnshire is flat as a pancake is not strictly true. A bit like Norfolk, whose Northern coast is anything but flat, Lincolnshire has a few 'lumps' just to keep you on your toes. As we homed in on the Humber Bridge, one sharp rise, which we'd seen coming for a while, strung us out. The traffic was light but fast, and the twisting of the road as it rose meant that as I flogged up on foot, taking my turn with the trailer, I had to be careful to move quickly when I couldn't be seen well, and rest as and when the verge had space for me. There's no point killing yourself trying to ride up with a heavy loaded bike, when walking is quicker and more efficient - that's something you lose your hang-ups about quite quickly when you're towing. What tends then to happen is that the girls either decide to start cheering you on, or, more often than not, implore Daddy to 'go faster'! By the top of the hill, on foot, I'd dropped Thomas Ivor and Katie, who were 'riding and resting' - and a tired Ruth was becoming irritable with Rhoda trying to tickle her under the chin. The wind was getting up, the rain was closing in, but from the top of the hill, we could see the Humber estuary. If only the campsite we wanted would answer the telephone, we might get pitched before we got wet!

Peeling away from the side of the main A15, the old Brigg Road drops down into Barton-upon-Humber, depositing one in what feels like the heart of town. Faced with the prospect of riding on into the now steadily falling rain, for more miles, away from the bridge, that might be fruitless and force us to retrace, I looked dead ahead as I waited at the junction for Katie to catch up, and something told me the hotel I was facing was worth an enquiry.

It is rare that we stay overnight in a hotel, and even rarer that it isn't a hurriedly booked Premier Inn. Part of that is down to the homogenous nature of the latter, when you are a sizeable tribe with peculiar needs. I stood in the rain, holding two bikes, trying to distract Thomas Ivor and taking muttered abuse from pedestrians, wondering what, if anything, might be on offer.

The George Inn turned out to be a wonderful place to stay, a characterful place accredited for both 'Families Welcome' and 'Cyclists Welcome' under the respective Visit England schemes. We had a really great time, enjoying superb food and really attentive care from the staff. We will write a separate review in due course. From contemplating a bowl of pasta on a rainy campsite, we sat down to steak and chips. Sometimes, that's just the right thing to do.

Tomorrow starts with a crossing of the Humber Bridge, hopefully without too much wind!