It's now a year since some friends and I chose to break the new camping bylaw at Loch Lomond. Recently the Park Authority celebrated the return of camping restrictions (which run from March to September inclusive) with a press release welcoming campers back to the park. This is the same Park to which we are allowed unrestricted access between the months of October and February inclusive.
For those late to the hairy all-hell-let-loose anarchy party, I wrote what happened here, and a few thoughts and motivations here. In retrospect, the first piece generated more light and the second, more heat. Iteration is hard to get right.
I've recently requested the information stored about me by filing a Subject Access Request to the Park Authority, (something any member of the public can do), paid my tenner, and in the interests of full disclosure I am making that information available here.
I don't own a PDF editor, so this is the whole document as I received it. Note my car is a piece of junk and I no longer live in Glasgow, so if you want to troll me I suggest you come in/correct here... rather than on the UKhillwalking forum or in person! Also, a note that the first few pages refer to a previous communication I had with the CEO about the Glen Falloch hydro works (which is later misrepresented - the CEO approached me first.) The bylaw material starts a few pages in. At any rate, by then I was known to the authorities.
Since you can read the gory details for yourself if you're so disposed, I'll restrict myself to a few reflections and be on my way.
What the collected information demonstrates to me is the amount of energy expended on my small act of defiance was completely disproportionate to the airtime it received. Should I be flattered? I'd rather the Park Authority get on with looking after the Park; balancing the various needs of wildlife, nature and the people who live there. It's probably more than enough to deal with. I genuinely feel a bit guilty that they spent so much time and energy on managing their look instead.
It's also clear from the emails documented that many of the details I asked about had not been thought through by the Park before they instituted the bylaw. They were winging it. That doesn't seem a very responsible thing to do to your employees on the ground, never mind to the general public. In that sense, irritants like myself and others 'protesting' about the new restrictions might have actually helped the Park work out what they meant. In PR terms, this became "listening to feedback" later in the year.
I'm not sure whether it was legal for them to take my vehicle details. Obviously useful if you want to track someone on site - in that sense I don't blame the Rangers, it's a really practical thing to do - but is it legal? What if I sold the car (I think I told you about my car, but go with it for a second), and the new owner drove through the Park? The point is not (just) facetious... it's about what happens to those records; to what end are they held?
Finally, the documentation has reminded me that the Park chose to evade some lines of enquiry altogether, despite due diligence on my part - seeking comment and response from both the Park Authority comms team and their media partner. Nick Kempe's piece, here, draws some of that out again... but it's also remarked upon in the closing paragraphs of my original Walk Highlands piece.
To be as clear as I can, my stunt wasn't about me. At the time, I was aware that I was a useful idiot for some and a less than useful idiot for others. Yes, it was my stunt, and was intended to be illustrative and about principle, but the bylaws affected real people, several hundreds of whom have had since their details taken and a few of whom have been prosecuted.
There was a bit of symbolism to it as well, I'll admit; I heard the brilliant interview Mike Small did with Ian Hamilton around that time - if you want to listen to a real prankster, then you can do no better - and was spurred on to do something by that amazing grain in the voice... in my own small way, in my own small niche. But there are easier ways to be a writer, especially one working in the outdoors. My card is marked with the Scottish National Parks. If you want to get ahead in the tourism industry, kids, keep your head down and stay out of politricks.
My final point is about communications and the media more generally. In the last few months I've been approached by a number of people who on the face of it were sizing me up for collaborations. We met and had a good natter over coffee. These are, I think, genuinely well intentioned and like minded folk in the conservation sector, looking to gather teams of people together to offer communications services to organisations that might need them. But while their intentions might be fantastic, there is a hint of empire building mirrored by all this activity - on all sides of the debate about how our wild and/or rural places should be cared for - which concerns me. A healthy media needs to be independent and diverse. If we're all corralled into a few pens, then even with the best will in the world the work will find it harder to be investigative, ask questions, be rigorous. It becomes comms, and what is generated is advertising.
Advertising is fine providing journalism survives. Unfortunately, journalism takes a really long time, can be difficult to fund and can produce difficult outcomes, but change only happens because people flag up sometimes awkward realities.
You could say 'yeah, people bigger and better than you, smartarse' (and many did say that... and you and they are right!) ... but we're all of us witnesses in the outdoor community. Yes - even us little people, with our little, lonely wild camps, our sometimes crappy food and our sometimes smelly sleeping bags.