Know what is actually allowed

The first rule of wild camping is also the least glamorous: find out where you really stand before you set off. The legal position is different north and south of the border, and confusing one for the other is a quick way to earn the hills a reputation they do not deserve.

In Scotland, the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003 gives a right of responsible access that includes lightweight, wild camping on most unenclosed land. That right is genuinely generous, but it is not unlimited. Byelaws and management rules apply to parts of Loch Lomond and the Trossachs at busy times, and some estates, reservoirs and nature reserves sit outside the arrangement. Read the local signs; they are not there to spoil your weekend.

In England and Wales the picture is simpler and less welcome. Open access land gives you a right to walk, not to pitch a tent. Camping without permission is trespass — a civil matter, not a criminal one, but still something a landowner can ask you to stop. Dartmoor operates its own permissive arrangement, but the rules there have shifted in recent years, so check the current position rather than assuming an old trip's approach still holds.

Where the law is grey, the ethic becomes practical: ask where asking is possible, and where it is not, camp late, camp high, camp discreetly, and stay one night only. That has been the quiet tradition in the British hills for decades, and it survives only because people keep to it.

Choosing a pitch that leaves no mark

Pitch choice matters more than almost anything else. A good wild camp is invisible twenty minutes after you leave it.

• Go above the intake wall, onto rough grazing or bare fell ground, rather than into enclosed pasture where livestock are grazing or lambing.
• Keep at least 50 metres, and preferably more, from paths, tarns, streams and summit shelters. Nobody wants to round a corner at dusk and find a tent in their view.
• Avoid Scheduled Monuments, sensitive SSSI ground, and patches of rare alpine vegetation. Some of it takes decades to recover from a single night.
• Look for ground that is already bare, flat and well drained — hard-worn grass, gravel, or established pitches. Never flatten vegetation to make a bed.
• Check what is above and around you. Rockfall, crag edges, dead trees and flash-flood lines are all poor neighbours.

Leave no trace is specific, not a slogan

Most hill users would say they leave no trace. Far fewer carry a trowel. Here is what it actually means in practice.

• Human waste: carry a trowel and go at least 30 metres from water, 15 centimetres deep. Where there is no soil — high scree, summit plateau, snow — bag it and carry it out. Toilet paper goes in the bag every time.
• Fires: open fires are banned or strongly discouraged across most of the Lake District, Snowdonia and the Peak. Use a stove. Where fires are tolerated, keep them tiny and use only dead, fallen wood.
• Food and rubbish: orange peel, apple cores and tea bags all get carried out. They are litter, however biodegradable they feel.
• Waste water: strain food particles out and bag them, then scatter the water well away from streams.
• Water: take from flowing water above your pitch, and filter or treat it. Camping near a tarn and drinking from it is a poor combination.

Behaviour that keeps access open

Wild camping on the popular fells sits on a knife edge of tolerance, and behaviour, not paperwork, is what holds it there. Arrive at dusk, leave shortly after dawn. Keep groups to two or three tents at most, and keep voices low — sound carries absurdly far across a still valley, and a laughing group at midnight travels further than you would believe.

Avoid torches sweeping across the fell, do not block gates, stiles, tracks or passing places, and never camp in the middle of a right of way. If a farmer, ranger or estate worker asks you to move, move, politely and without argument. They know the ground and the season better than you do, and a calm conversation protects the pitch for everyone who comes after you.

Pressure points on the honeypot fells

The places everyone loves are the places that suffer most. The head of Wasdale, the approaches to Helvellyn and Scafell, the shores of Buttermere and the flanks of Yr Wyddfa all see far more overnight use than the ground can absorb. Erosion, litter, and unburied waste in these areas have a direct line to tougher rules and permit schemes. Loch Lomond's summer restrictions exist for exactly this reason.

If you want to camp on a famous fell, consider the quieter shoulder or the neighbouring valley instead. You will get a better night's sleep, a better sunrise, and you will not be part of the problem that closes the door on the next generation.

A habit the hills can live with

Wild camping is a privilege dressed as a right, and the two are easy to confuse. Plan with the letter of the law in mind, and the spirit of it, too. Carry out more than you brought in. Spend money in the village on the way home. Report damage or fly-tipping where you see it, and give a hand to path repair teams if you can.

Do that, and a small tent high on a quiet fell remains one of the finest things Britain offers: no charge, no booking, no queue — just you, the weather, and a responsibility to leave the place exactly as you found it.