Rob Gale

Mini Bio

It’s a long way from a hill farm in Somerset to the north west Highlands of Scotland but it was that journey that brought me to the life I now lead.

As a teenager growing up on a small hill farm, being active in the countryside was important to me. Early involvement with an outdoor activities club in the local tech college built a love of hillwalking (albeit on Dartmoor and the Brecon Beacons), caving in the Mendips and rock-climbing on every crag then known in the south west Peninsula. Still, when a minibus full of us was taken to the Summer Isles for a 2-week trip, my horizons were opened – and how! Achiltibuie, Suilven, Ben Mor Coigach, Stac Pollaidh and other such names to conjure with, they worked their magic on me and left an everlasting impression on how I feel for Scotland or indeed all other wild places.

I have spent time not only living in Glasgow and Edinburgh but also working all over Scotland and the UK with every type of group, frequently returning to get my ‘fix’ of Scotland. Being active in the outdoors as a leader, instructor or educator I see the natural environment as more than just a venue or facility but as a vital thing that needs our care and attention so that we can hand it on to those that follow.

I now split my time living between the Yorkshire Dales and Chamonix – working, playing and sharing my love of all the places that offer that special magic that has kept me engaged since that first trip into the magical north west of Scotland.

Favourite Place to Play

Hard to pick just one. The Trossachs, Glen Shiel, Applecross Peninsula, Torridon. The Lake District, Yorkshire Dales, North Pennines. Or further afield—the Mont Blanc Massif, the Dolomites, the Vercors. Each one has something special.

Not a lot of People Know This

As part of my assessment for a Dance & Movement module in a post-graduate course, I performed in a charity dance production with members of a ballet school. Graceful I am not, but nor were several others from my course who were also ‘convinced’ to strut their terpsichorean stuff clad in highly revealing leotards. Think rugby, hockey and football students moving with the eloquence of a tired and nearly defeated team in the last quarter of a gruelling match in deep mud, and you’ll get the picture.

I am so grateful that video cameras and the internet were a long way from being deployed or invented and that any visual record of this is held only in the memories of a few of the shattered survivors.