Call Of The Wild

Rachel McConachie spends a magical night in Ruberslaw Wild Woods and recommends other quirky stays in this area

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THERE'S something otherworldly about Ruberslaw Wild Woods Campsite in the Scottish Borders. From the moment I arrived, I felt the everyday world slipping away, replaced by a slower and more elemental rhythm.

At the hub – a welcoming space with showers, a kitchen and a little shop – I dropped my bags and watched as they were whisked away by buggy up to the hilltop, then my own journey began on foot.

I crossed a small bridge, scrambled over stiles and followed a farm track lined with sheep on one side and cows on the other. As the fields sloped gently upwards, a dark cluster of trees appeared ahead, beckoning me into their secret world.

By the time I stepped under the canopy, the noise of the farm had faded. The air was cooler, damp with rain, and the ground was soft with needles and leaves.

Through a gap in the woodland, the land opened into a breathtaking view – village rooftops glinting far below, with rolling hills stretching beyond.

Then the path twisted deeper into the trees, drawing me toward my pitch: Minto View.

The clearing was perfect. A circle of earth ringed by tall trunks, with log benches built into place and a firepit waiting to be lit. Wood was stacked nearby, and the “thunderbox” eco-toilet stood discreetly among the trees.

It felt both wild and cared for, like someone had smoothed just enough of the edges for comfort but left the magic intact.

Rain still pattered through the leaves as I pitched my tent, the forest shielding me from the worst of it.