Luibeilt Lodge and other haunted bothy tales.

On this week’s Uncanny podcast (found on BBC sounds) they have a tale about a haunted experience at Luibeilt Lodge.

It was a great story and got me thinking if anyone else had a tale to tell of staying at a haunted bothy or campsite? Maybe even a tale of staying at Luibeilt Lodge? Even though it’s a ruin now and looks like it has been uninhabitable since the 80’s.

So please tell us your spooky bothy and camping tales…..

That story is a belter!

And here’s me thinking what a load of tosh it was.

Had creepy noises in melgarve.

How ever good **** luck to the “paranormal” in stopping me sleeping.

The luibeilt story is pretty mad though….

Ben Alder cottage!

Kept awake by irregular, loud scraping or grinding noises. Definitely not related to rodent activity or Windows/doors blowing in the wind.

Only logical explanation was spectres dragging their chains across the floor, nothing else could explain it

I was at Luibelt in the 80s. Stayed the night at Meanach but had a poke around Luibelt. Still watertight then. Someone had done a nice bit of 6ft graffiti of a large cat with a safety pin through it’s nose. The punk panther.

Friend of mine alone at Ben Alder. Heard some arrive noisily at 2am and go into the other room. Popped his head round the door in the morning to find the room empty.

Incidentally back in 1980 I was late for my work on Monday night after a bank holiday weekend at Ben Alder. Long story involving almost running out of fuel when the nearest open petrol station was Stirling. I made my excuses. Turned out my boss was related to the last guy to live at Ben Alder.

And here’s me thinking what a load of tosh it was.

You do understand the use of ‘story’ in this context, right?. 😃

Spent many nights alone in bothies including Ben Alder. Nope, no ghosts. You lot are susceptible and soft headed.

The element of buy in by those above suggests its not me who is confused what a story is. And if Uncanny is outed as fiction it is powerless. It’s the old ‘based on a true story’ horror film lie.

Spent many nights alone in bothies including Ben Alder. Nope, no ghosts. You lot are susceptible and soft headed.

Oh well, that was briefly a fun thread 🙄

What a fun guy!

It was probably just the silly old Owlman

Completely misread the title and was confused not to find a Picolax thread.

Thanks for that, that was ace. Can anybody link to the reasons for Alders ghost? It is mean to be the most haunted. Sronphadruig has the creepiest abandoned room I have ever seen mind.

A good article covering it from the SMC Journal.

My former boss confirmed that his relative, McCook died in his bed. As per the article. There stories at one time that he had hung himself in the bothy.

https://www.smc.org.uk/downloads/archives/journal/prize/wh-murray-prize-2011a.pdf

An impressive 11 hour walk through the snow for a doctor’s house call to Ben Alder cottage.

“Joseph McCook, deer forester (stalker) lived and
worked here 1880-1919 with wife and family, till retirement
to Newtonmore where he died 1933. His younger
daughter Elizabeth became mother to Donnie Wilson,
previous owner of Blaragie Farm, Laggan who died 2011.
It was Elizabeth who, in the winter of 1910, walked to
Rannoch to alert Dr Donald MacDonald, Creag Bhile, the
Laggan doctor, on the illness of her father Joseph. Dr
MacDonald, after 11 hours of battling thro’ severe winter
weather at considerable risk to himself, attended and
treated the pneumonia; Joseph survived. Dr MacDonald
subsequently received the Carnegie Heroes’ Fund Medal.
The original Laggan Hall was built in 1929 to his memory”

https://www.laggan.com/userfiles/file/Newsletter/Previous_Editions/LAGGAN-MATTERS-2-DEC-2020.pdf

I had a weird one in Ben Alder as well, had arrived very late and very cold. Place was empty so quickly got warmed up. Dozed off and woke up as someone went out the door. Except there had been nobody else in the both. I properly shat myself.

Duinish at the head of Loch Garry certainly gave me the most lasting sense of foreboding, just generally run down and the skeletonised remains of a Swallow on the windowsill looked like some sort of miniature angel of death…

More like it!

Sadly I’ve never really had any such goings on in a bothy!

I’ve honestly never felt anything like it – there was definitely nobody in there and nobody could come in as my bike and bag were jammed behind the door (not on purpose), it was warmish and when I woke and heard the door it was like an icy blast and I felt very weird. I’d only had a bit of whisky as well 😂

Sadly I’ve never really had any such goings on in a bothy!

The closest I’ve come to Ghouls in a Bothy is arriving to find it occupied by the Boozer brigade.

Tbh I avoid bothy nights, as I worry that relying on space in there is risky, so take my tent, then when I get there, end up sleeping in the tent anyway. 😆

Can anybody link to the reasons for Alders ghost?

I might be mixing up bothies and stories but did W.H. Murray not write about how the Alder haunting was a story put around by poachers to keep people away?

Duinish at the head of Loch Garry certainly gave me the most lasting sense of foreboding, just generally run down

It is quite literally a sh!t hole now, the sheep have got in to the left hand room and its full of crap.

A mate of mine took an excellent photo in there before it fell into disrepair, I’ll see if I can find it.

The graffiti in Duinish is quite entertaining, especially if you suspend your disbelief about some of the dates inscribed on the walls 😁

Was at the bothy(not a bothy ) half way up loch Lee in 28th of December 2007

Rode out from Arbroath

Had a few Tins of food (literally tins) no money , my stove and minimal ability to light a fire……

Lit a shit fire in the **** fire place.

Heated my tinned food….had a nip from my hipper went to sleep.

As I went to bed late late and this wasn’t really a bothy (not the shelling of mark) I thought I’d be alone for the night and brought my bike in and put it against the door….

Bit later commotion outside doors being tried my bikes stopping them I’m half asleep thinking the worst.

Ewan off of here his brother and their old man were coming in for the night. Great night. Introduced me to the poet Robert Service.

That’s a shite ghost story Terry 😆

Suckered yalll :):) as I said before I live in the real world. It’s not gonna be the paranormal keeps me awake it’s gonna be real things……

Ewan off of here his brother and their old man were coming in for the night. Great night. Introduced me to the poet Robert Service.

Were there strange things done?

Was no midnight sun that night.

Grim out foggy and low.cloud along with particulate matter from my shit fire.

Nobeerinthefridge
Free Member
That’s a shite ghost story Terry 😆

Goes with the shite doss he was in. It had a wee bit of charm until they cut the trees down it was hidden in during the 90’s but an earth floor and a blocked chimney do not a good night make.

A few years ago I got chatting to a woman in Ruigh Aiteachain. Conversation turned to odd events in bothies and she told me of a night of strange noises in a bothy (can’t remember which). She described it as things being moved and thrown around in the other room but of course there was no one else there. I asked her if she was scared and she told me she was not scared at all. I then asked her if that was because she had worked out the rational explanation. ‘Oh no’, she said sounding quite surprised, ‘I knew from the word go it was supernatural but I’m not at all afraid of the supernatural.’

Now I don’t believe in the supernatural as such but I would have absolutely shat myself in that situation. It had never occurred to me that believing in such things would mean you no longer feared them. It certainly would have worked better in that regard than the rationality I take so much pride in. Which one of us was susceptible and soft headed? 😉

She was an interesting character all round. She reminded me of the old mother in 100 Years of Solitude or some of the old highland wifies you read about who lived with the supernatural in a very matter of fact and practical way.

Not a bothy but a spooky tale from a NZ tramping (hiking) hut:
tramping hut ghost story

@spin

Highland wifies? My mum was born in Lewis in the 1920s and spoke Gaelic as her first language. There was no TV and nobody in her village spoke English until they learned it at school. After moving to Glasgow as a child she was evacuated back to Lewis in WW2 and lived with her two aunts for the next 6 years before going to college. Naturally she became very close to them.

In the mid 1950s, now married, and living in a rural cottage in Stirlingshire she woke one night crying and told my dad she had just dreamed her Aunt Margeret was on the other side of a deep chasm reach her arms out towards her. She had tried to reach out to her but couldn’t make it. The following morning they saw my grandad walking over the field to the cottage from the main farmhouse. He was bringing the telegram that Aunt Margeret had died.

I can’t explain it. I’m sure it happened as described. Even if her aunt had been ill for a few days or weeks she only had the dream that night and this was in the days before everyone had phones and you got daily updates on the progress of anyone that was seriously ill.

The second part of this podcast came out over the Christmas. Would I stay there? Maybe. 😬

I’d been following the whole series. As a sceptic I found some of the earlier episodes quite intriguing, but I’m afraid the Luibelt one just struck me as the result of suggestability, poor mental health, environmental factors and obsession. I bet Barry off the Parapod was loving it, though.

If anywhere is haunted then Nant Syddion must be;

In 1856 the Hughes family, Isaac and his wife Margaret, their 5 year old son Hugh and 3 year old daughter Hannah were living at Nant Syddion. On February 17th there must have been great joy when Margaret gave birth to quadruplets Margaret, Elizabeth, Catherine and Isaac; it is reported that they were the first recorded quads born in Wales.

But the joy was not to last, Margaret and Catherine died on the day they were born, Elizabeth died on the 21st and Isaac died on the 22nd. If that was not tragic enough on March 1st their 5 year old son Hugh died, on the 6th the father Isaac died and then on the 10th 3 year old Hannah the last child died. Their graves can be found at St John’s Church, Ysbytty Cynfyn, just under 1½ miles to the west. The cause of their death is not recorded but it has been suggested it was due to a smallpox epidemic.

Margaret does not have a grave at St John’s, so we must assume that she survived and moved away.

I’m sure I read at one point that the mother, Margaret, committed suicide at Nant Syddion after all of this, although I can’t find that written anywhere now.

I listened to the first and then second part of the Luibeilt Lodge episodes of Uncanny.

The bit of the climber’s story I thought needed more pedant assessment was his re-visit. Having been terrified on his first winter visit, he goes back in the summer with a mate. They plan their trip of what, 3-4 hours walk and ‘arrive at Luibeilt Lodge at midnight’. I mean, really?? That was the plan? Why would you do that?!😆

They plan their trip of what, 3-4 hours walk and ‘arrive at Luibeilt Lodge at midnight’. I mean, really?? That was the plan? Why would you do that?

Joking aside, that’s probably perfect timing to leave work in Glasgow or Edinburgh, grab 6:30 train, disembark at Corrour and hike to Luibeilt. Just don’t try and find nearby Meananach in the dark in a flat expanse of bog with a dying headtorch…

Arriving a midnight is perfectly feasible. I was at Ben Alder Cottage once when friends arrived at 2am after getting off the train at Corrour. Quite feasible these days with led touches.

The only time I’ve been involuntarily benighted was as it happens after staying at Meanach. Ran out of light on the Mamore ridges heading for The Fort. The torch I had was an Ever Ready 2X D Cell bike lamp which went flat in an hour or less meaning a cold damp night in the rain in one of those large orange plastic bags as the sleeping bag down gradually got soaked from condensation

Got lucky last visit there – was able to ride to the door from Luibeilt on a lovely frozen bog.

As so often happens there, later met a group who had a bit of an epic walking in from the Nevis road end. They arrived around 23:00.

When I was a student, night walkins were a thing. Bus rocks up at the road end around midnight and away we went. First meet I went on was at Steall Hut – fell in puddles and struggled with 1970s headtorch. I got roasted in the club journal for that – pretty mean stuff which had a long lasting effect on my confidence. Meeting the bridge at 1am without spoilers was interesting.
IIRC some went on to spend the next night in Luibeilt.