Angus - Glamping

Once a year my friend Graham and I make one outdoor trip where we stay in a campsite which, compared to wild camping, is our own take on glamping. We use Graham’s car for the trip so we are also able to take a table and chairs. As well as not having to dig a hole to go to the toilet, this is the ultimate in camping luxury. Our glamping trip this year was to a lovely campsite outside of Edzell in Angus.  

After two hours of travelling in the car, we were champing at the bit to get out on the bikes by the time we parked up in Edzell. A lovely farm road whisked us west through undulating fields before turning north to make an incredibly steep climb to the bealach between two hills. These were the White and Brown Caterthuns whose tops are the sites of ancient hill forts. We chained up the bikes and picked our way up the heathery slopes of White Caterthun. A pretty stand of larch trees diverted us so we had our picnic in their dappled shade before continuing to the top. 

As we crested the rise, what remains of the stone walls of the old fort lay in a loose circle around the top of the hill. I was surprised at the size of the place which covered all of the summit. It’s thought that the hill fort on White Caterthun was built by the Picts in the early years AD, while that on Brown Caterthun is older. The view from the top was panoramic as these little hills occupy a fairly isolated position. To the north, the southern Grampians started to muster some height and far to the south, we could see the silvery glimmer of the Firth of Tay. There was not a sound up there that day except the wind rustling the heather. It made it easier to close my eyes and try to imagine the past. After walking the extent of the fort, we returned to the bikes and plummeted down the other side of the hill. Another pleasant back road took us back to Edzell and onto our campsite. 

The campsite was centred around a large duck pond. There were lots of mature trees in the grounds and we set our table up under one of these, an old birch tree. In the evening we watched four bats flying back and forth above our tents, no doubt enjoying the last of the year’s midges. In the morning, it was the turn of the house martins to feast on the bugs and when they’d finished, they gathered on the overhead wires, looking like notes on a music sheet. 

On the middle day of our glamping trip, we made the long cycle from our campsite to the head of Glen Esk. A lovely road meandered into the hills which were a vibrant mix of russet bracken and the lingering hues of purple heather. The woods were still green though and the rowans heavy with postbox-red berries. 

Where the public road ended, we continued cycling along a gravel track that took us to a ruined chapel on the shores of Loch Lee. We wandered around the little cemetery trying to make out the dates on the old gravestones. Some we thought were 14th century. Then the stiff breeze that was throwing up white horses on the surface of the loch, sent us back down the glen with a welcome tailwind. 

Edzell and our lovely campsite sit on the River North Esk at a point where it runs through a beautiful gorge stuffed with lush woodland. This made for a nice afternoon walk into the village for coffee, though the latter part of the east side path became quite adventurous with some scrambling up and down tree roots. A further frisson of excitement was added to our walk when we passed two old gents who said of the bridge that we had to take back across the river “rather you than me”. The beech trees along this walk were stunning with leaves that were as vibrant a green as if they had just emerged in spring. The river was equally lovely. At times it was a thunderous torrent through deep chasms and at other times it was slow and peaceful, forming enticing pools. Graham didn’t agree with me when I said I wished we had brought our swimming wetsuits. 

The nice thing about Angus is that its scenery is really quite varied. So for the last day of our glamping trip, we left the hills behind to head to the coast at Arbroath and enjoy the wonderful cycle path that runs along the links here. It wasn’t a long ride but it was lovely. The North Sea was sapphire blue today and so clear was the view that we could make out the Bell Rock lighthouse, eleven miles offshore. The path was lined by the last of the summer flowers – scabious, clover and yarrow – and ran along a strip of land between the beach and the railway line. 

It deposited us at the old harbour. It was a fine place to linger and watch the world go by before heading home.