A Lift, a Tent, and Two Munros: The Power of Kindness to Strangers
- aarondowds
- 2 minutes ago
- 4 min read
On Sunday 26th April, driving home from Dundee with my family, we noticed a man walking along the side of a busy road. It wasn’t the sort of place you’d expect to see someone on foot. My wife suggested we offer him a lift. We pulled over.
That small decision to show kindness to strangers set in motion something far bigger than we could have imagined.
His name was Abdulaziz—a firefighter from Saudi Arabia, visiting Scotland for a two-week holiday. He was warm, friendly, and instantly easy to talk to. As we drove, I discovered he loved hiking. I mentioned that I was heading camping in Glencoe the following night, and—almost without thinking—said he’d be welcome to join me.
To my delight, he accepted.
The Journey North
On Monday, I packed enough camping and hiking gear for two and picked Abdulaziz up at 4:30pm. See post on preparing for a wild camp. Before hitting the road, we stopped in Kelty for a 12" grill box—easily enough food for four people, but we made a serious dent in it. Fuel for the adventure ahead.
The drive to Glencoe was one of those journeys that never gets old. We talked the entire way—about life, culture, faith, traditions. I was fascinated to learn that at just 25, Abdulaziz had already visited 40 countries. His stories were endless.
As we approached Glencoe, the landscape began to rise and close in around us. We pulled over to take in the iconic Three Sisters—towering, dramatic, and catching the last light of the day.
Camping in the Heart of Glencoe - Kindness to Strangers in Action
We arrived at the campsite around 8:10pm, just as the sun was setting. Nestled among towering peaks, the setting was both wild and welcoming. The gentle sound of a nearby river created a constant backdrop—nature’s white noise.
The campsite was well equipped, with clean toilets, hot showers, and picnic benches that made it easy to slow down and take it all in.
There was a stillness about the place. A kind of peace that only comes when you’re surrounded by mountains.
We pitched our tents, settled in, and by 9:30pm were tucked away for the night.
It was a chilly April evening in Glencoe, with temperatures dropping to around 3–5°C overnight. The cold air was crisp and refreshing.
At 4:30am, we woke to birdsong echoing through the glen.
A Sunrise Worth Stopping For
We packed up, made porridge and coffee using the Jetboil, and set off early.
On the way to the car park, we stopped at a viewpoint overlooking Loch Leven. The mountains were glowing orange from the rising sun, perfectly reflected in the still water below.
It was one of those moments that stops you in your tracks.
The Climb: Beinn a’ Bheithir
We arrived at the start around 6am. It was a perfect day for hiking—clear blue skies, calm conditions, and temperatures around 6–8°C.
We were tackling Beinn a’ Bheithir, a classic route featuring two Munros: Sgòrr Dhearg (1,024m) and Sgòrr Dhònuill (1,001m).
The route begins through woodland, following a clear path alongside a stream. The early section feels peaceful—lush greenery, birdsong, and glimpses of the mountains ahead.
As we climbed higher, the terrain opened up. The path steepened and became rockier, requiring steady footing and occasional use of hands for balance. There were sections of light scrambling—enough to add excitement without being technical.
Reaching the ridge revealed breathtaking views in every direction. Loch Leven stretched out below, framed by the dramatic peaks of the Highlands.
Standing on the summit of Sgòrr Dhearg was unforgettable. The vastness of the landscape, the stillness, the sense of perspective—it all hits you at once.
Seeing Abdulaziz reach his first Scottish Munro was a highlight. He was smiling the entire way, clearly in awe of the scenery around him.
We continued along the ridge to Sgòrr Dhònuill. By this stage, our legs were tired, but the sense of achievement carried us forward.
At the summit, Abdulaziz lifted and carried a large rock to add to the cairn—a small but meaningful gesture, leaving a mark on the mountain.
Remarkably, we passed only five other people all day. It felt like we had the mountains to ourselves.
The Descent and the Return
The descent took us back through forest trails and along the loch. The light filtered softly through the trees, and the sound of water followed us much of the way.
It was a quieter part of the journey—reflective, peaceful, and deeply satisfying.
We reached the car park tired but full—physically and emotionally—and treated ourselves to ice cream and cold drinks.
A simple reward that tasted far better than it should have.
More Than Just a Hike
Driving home, I found myself reflecting on the experience.
Abdulaziz was one of the kindest, most fun, and genuinely interesting people I’ve ever hiked with. What began as a simple lift on a roadside turned into a shared adventure I’ll never forget.
It reminded me of the power of small acts of kindness.
Offering a lift. Extending an invitation. Saying yes to a moment.
These simple actions open doors—not just for others, but for ourselves.
When we welcome strangers, we don’t just give—we receive. We gain new perspectives, new stories, and meaningful connections that stay with us.
In a world that can often feel divided, moments like this quietly challenge that narrative.
Different countries. Different cultures. Different backgrounds.
Yet on a mountainside in Glencoe, none of that divided us—it enriched the experience.
I’m certain of this: I’m better for having met him.
And I’ll be all the richer for staying in touch in the years to come.
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