
Today is my stop on the I Don’t Do Mountains! blog tour and I am delighted that Barbara Henderson has written her thoughts about mountain mythology for today’s post.
I Don’t Do Mountains is a cracking wee adventure story set in the mountains of Scotland. Quiet bookworm Kenzie is horrified to discover that her class is going to be taken on a three-day hillwalking expedition for their P7 residential trip and, not only that, they will be in put into groups with children from other schools!
As Kenzie and her group find themselves alone in the wilderness, they are forced to confront their fears which allows them to discover strengths they never knew they had.
I Don’t Do Mountains is full of adventure set against a wonderful backdrop. It is about challenging ourselves and realising we are often capable of much more than we can ever imagine. It is the ideal book for a P7 class reaching the end of their time at primary school and, perhaps, feeling lots of different emotions as they approach their own new adventure as they move onto secondary school. There are so many avenues to explore if reading it in class, from art, health & wellbeing, stimulus for writing, geography and much more. An ideal final term class text for Primary 7!
Please have a read of author, Barbara Henderson’s guest post where she discusses mountain mythology.
Mountain Mythology in I Don’t Do Mountains

For as long as anyone can remember, the world’s mountains have been associated with myths and magic – what better place for the supernatural to dwell than the inaccessible pinnacles of our highest peaks? These places are ‘other’, as if designed for encounters with another realm. Think the delivery of the ten commandments on Mount Sinai, and the mythology of Mount Olympus. Yetis in the Himalayas and the Bigfoot of North America, plus countless European tales of dragons and dwarves making their hidden homes in high places.
But what of Scotland?
Scotland is a country rich in stories – perhaps the weather lends itself to storytelling around the hearth. Ballads and songs about Scotland’s landscape, its heroes and battles abound, but so do stories about the supernatural: ghosts, monsters and magical creatures. References to these can often be found in the naming of features in the landscape – look out for hills with the word Sìdh in them, which are places where the fairy folk were said to have dwelt. The Munro Schiehallion (an English derivation of Sìdh Chailleann, Fairy Hill of the Caledonians), is perhaps one of the most well-known examples of this. Similarly, Glenshee may be best known for its skiing, but its place name declares it the domain of the supernatural: ‘fairy glen’.
Of course, the term Sìdh refers to a wide range of supernatural creatures, even shape shifters.
In my book I Don’t Do Mountains, mountain leader Bairdy takes the opportunity to tell these ancient mountain stories to the young walkers in his care:
‘Now, young mountaineers, hot chocolate calls for stories, and stories call for proper attention. Look around you! See those peaks? That’s the way of the Lairig Ghru – the Gloomy Pass which cuts right through the Cairngorm mountains. It’s a world of desolate heights up there: Cairn Toul, Braeriach, Ben MacDui and Cairn Gorm, as well as The Devil’s Point.’ I see Mariam shudder, but Bairdy continues, dropping his voice to barely above a whisper. ‘The old Gaelic stories tell us that the Sìdh dwell up there.’
He pronounces it shee and I find myself mouthing the word after him under my breath.
‘It means the “good people”, but they are unpredictable and sometimes dangerous – that is the real reason why folk call them “good”. Best not to upset the Sìdh, see? Sìdh can take on the forms of all sorts of creatures; they are shapeshifters.’
‘Like what creatures?’ The question is out of my mouth before I even realise.
Bairdy raises his eyebrows. ‘As I said, all sorts. The giantess Maggy Moulach who appears waving her long hairy arms as a warning that danger is near. The Cù-Sìth, a
spectral hound haunting the hills. Or the Cat Sìth, a black cat the size of a dog with a white spot on its chest and eyes that glow in the dark, a stealer of souls.’
I shiver. Drookit does not love the idea of dog-sized cats either. He creeps up beside me and starts licking my hand.
‘But the creature I am going to tell you about right now is my favourite! Have any of you heard the story of Am Fear Liath Mòr?’
Am Fear Liath Mòr, of course, refers the Grey Man of Ben MacDui, a creature believed to haunt the highest mountain of the Cairngorms range, second in the British Isles only to Ben Nevis. He is a relatively recent addition to Cairngorm folklore, with the earliest reported sightings recorded in the 1920s. In my book, the stories of the Grey Man prey on my characters’ minds in the dead of night, especially when they find themselves cut off from any adult help.
Accounts of encounters with the Grey Man of Nen MacDui vary – he is said to be a giant of over 10 feet tall, and characterised by his thin shape and long, dangling arms. More often than not, the fog on the hill hides the Grey Man so that only a vague shape can be seen, if anything at all. However, some climbers have reported the loud crunching of gravel as the creature follows them, invisible. Many more simply report feeling uneasy on the mountain.
Is the mountain air simply playing tricks on us? Or is there some foundation to these tales, ancient and modern, all of them steeped in mountain magic? These tales are rich harvest grounds for people like me.
I’m a storyteller.
My job is not to say: ‘there is’ or ‘there isn’t’.
My job is to ask:
‘What if?’
Barbara Henderson is the award-winning author of a dozen books. Her historical and eco-fiction for children is widely studied in schools, and she has won two Young Quills Awards from the Historical Association. She was the inaugural Forth Bridge Writer-in-Residence. Barbara is based in the Scottish Highlands where she still teaches Drama – but she loves to travel and spread the story-love in schools. When she gets the chance, she likes to head to a coffee shop, a museum, a ruin or to the nearby hills. Her latest novel for children, contemporary mountain adventure I Don’t Do Mountains, is out now from Scottish Mountaineering Press.










