A Crazy Heather Adventure
It was around this same time last year, in mid-July, when I took a summer trip to the Isle of Arran, not far from Glasgow. While exploring the island, I visited both distilleries operated by the Isle of Arran Distillers group - the old one opened in 1995 in the north at Lochranza (commonly known as “Arran”), and the newer Lagg Distillery in the south. But the highlight, or perhaps most harrowing part of the trip, was my hike up Goatfell, the island’s highest peak at 874 metres. What was supposed to be a scenic trek turned into an unforgettable and slightly terrifying journey - a true “Heather Adventure.”
Bell heather on goat fell arran
Whenever we talk about Scottish heather, the most romanticised plant in Scottish culture, and in whisky tasting notes, “Heather” is a term that appears again and again in the whisky world. But is it really that common? At least from my perspective, living in the urban environment of Glasgow, heather isn’t something I see often. Even in nearby villages or walking trails, its presence is rather sparse.
One reason may be that Heather is quite unassuming. In the wild, it’s usually only about 20 to 50 cm tall, and the flowers are tiny—just a few millimetres to a centimetre across. The soft purple colour is also similar to other plants, like creeping thyme, a tough little species that often grows side-by-side with heather and can be easily confused with it.
As the highest peak on Arran, Goatfell offers a variety of hiking routes. Since we had set aside the whole day for this, we chose a circular route nearly 18 km long, estimated to take about 6 hours. It would take us over both the southern and northern summits of Goatfell, looping back through the Glen Rosa valley. If all went smoothly, it promised sweeping views of the entire island.
But, the weather had other plans…
We started from Arran Brewery, quickly passing the outer grounds of Brodick Castle, then followed a path north into the woodland. The terrain here was flat and moist, so the soil was rich and full of wildflowers, mosses, berries, ferns, and towering trees. In such competitive growing conditions, the delicate heather was nowhere to be seen.
But as we gained altitude and the soil changed, smaller plants began to appear. Around 150 metres, we started spotting patches of heather. As we climbed further and the wind picked up, the hardy heather became more abundant. At around 250 metres, it became noticeably denser. By the time we reached 300 - 400 metres, the slope had steepened, rocks littered the ground, and finally, I saw my first true field of heather - a vast and beautiful sight.
Between 400–500 metres, it was a true heather paradise. Unfortunately, the weather on Goatfell that day was harsh. The wind picked up, the fog rolled in, and the trail became steeper and rockier; the heather began to thin out. At around 600 metres, it had nearly disappeared, replaced by its lookalike, creeping thyme, growing only in the cracks between stones.
Climbing higher, the wind and fog worsened. Past 650 metres, vegetation vanished almost completely - only small tufts of grass and bare rock remained. I pressed on, finally reaching the southern summit, we were surrounded by dense fog—visibility was less than a metre. The famed island views? Non-existent. Still, despite the weather, we wanted to continue toward the northern peak, to complete the full route.
That’s when the real craziness began.
After a short rest and we set out again, but within minutes, we seemed to lose the trail. This isn’t uncommon on Scottish mountains, but this time, the fog was impenetrable, the wind was ferocious, and we were unfamiliar with the terrain. It became nearly impossible to move forward safely. We considered turning back, but my friend insisted on pushing ahead, even with the path unclear.
Later, we found out the distance between the southern and northern summits is only about 1 km, but it felt much longer. The elevation changes were extreme, and some sections required us to climb over massive boulders, narrow ridges with cliffs on both sides, visibility near zero, while strong wind and mist slammed into us like a storm. In conditions like that, even the toughest heather couldn’t survive - there was only bare rock.
That 1 km we spent over an hour to complete.
We moved by instinct and sheer determination. There was no vegetation, no grip—just wet stone and the roar of wind and fog. It felt like nature itself was testing us, exhausted, crawling and soaked, we emerged below the fog line. Finally, as we reached about 600 metres, the fog began to lift, and tiny purple heather flowers reappeared along the path - a sign we had made it back down safely.
On the way back, I took a closer look at the heather around Goatfell. Its scientific name is Erica cinerea L., also known as Bell Heather or Scotch Heather. In the UK, it’s also one of the main sources of honey. The name “Bell Heather” likely comes from the flower’s resemblance to a bell. The plant typically grows 20–50 cm tall, with bright pink or purple flowers around 5 mm in size. Its scent is subtle - if I had to describe it, I’d say it’s like a gentle blend of white chrysanthemum and jasmine, but more delicate and refined.
This wasn’t just a hike. It was a reminder that even the smallest things, like the tiny wild heather, can ground us in the wild, unpredictable beauty of Scotland.
