There are moments in a career transition when several threads begin to come together.
For me, this summer feels like one of them.
Over the last year, I have been moving steadily from a long career in digital consulting toward a more guide-led life in Scotland: outdoors, in cities, on roads I know well, and in places I am still learning to understand properly. Tartan Compass has been sitting at the centre of that shift — not just as a website or a business idea, but as a way of bringing together my love of Scotland, my professional background, my outdoor leadership experience and my growing work as a guide.
The recent pause in formal study has given me a little space to look back at what has been learned and look forward to what comes next.
One recent moment caught that feeling neatly. After a study day at the Scottish Storytelling Centre, I walked back through Princes Street Gardens and stopped near the new lion below the Castle. It was a small pause in the middle of the city, but it said a lot about the kind of day I want to shape for guests: time to notice, room to breathe, and enough context for the place to mean more than a passing view.
I have been spending time with Glasgow, Ayrshire and the west of Scotland; with St Andrews, Angus and Dundee now coming into view; and with the routes that connect the central belt to Perthshire, Stirling and the Highlands. These are not just names on a map. They are places full of layers: industry, architecture, faith, art, trade, sport, landscape, memory and movement.
That is one of the things I keep coming back to.
Scotland is beautiful, of course. But the beauty is only the surface.
There are stories in the hills, the lochs, the ports, the kirks, the castles, the planned towns, the old roads and the working landscapes. There are stories of wealth and work, rebellion and reform, art and industry, land and sea. Some are easy to tell. Some need more care. All deserve better than a quick glance from a coach window.
Alongside my formal guide training and core study, I have been building my own route notes, reading lists, place records and experience ideas. Some of that work is practical: how a day can flow, where a guest can pause, what feels too rushed, what works in poor weather, what needs more time. Some of it is interpretive: what a place helps a visitor understand, and how a story changes when you stand in the landscape itself.
Perthshire and the Highland route north feel especially close to home for me. I went to school in Crieff, spent time in Perth and Dundee, and have travelled the A9 more times than I could count — for family, holidays, football, hillwalking and Munros. My children have climbed hills with me too. Those personal layers matter. They help turn route planning into something more human than a list of stops.
Recently I have also found myself drawn back into Scottish art: the Glasgow Boys, the Glasgow Style, Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh and the Scottish Colourists. Perth’s gallery has become one of those places I know I will keep returning to, not only because of family connections, but because it opens up another way into Scotland’s cultural story.
That is the kind of guiding I want Tartan Compass to offer.
Not everything needs to be grand or dramatic. Sometimes the strongest experience is a well-shaped private day: the right pace, the right place, the right conversation, and enough room for the guest to notice what they might otherwise have missed.
Tartan Compass is now entering a practical summer phase. I am working on the website, shaping the first services and preparing a small number of experience ideas that can help visitors understand what a private day with me might feel like. The first offer will remain simple: private guiding in the city and beyond, on foot or by vehicle, shaped around story, place, pace and the people travelling.
Underneath that, I am building something deeper.
The Compass is my way of organising Scotland into experience ideas that can be discovered, selected, explored and remembered. Some may become private day tours. Some may become part of longer journeys. Some may eventually connect to a piece of writing, a visual memento or a story carried home.
For now, the task is simpler: build carefully, test honestly, and make sure the public offer stays clear.
If you are interested in Scotland, private guiding, thoughtful travel, heritage, walking or the stories that sit just beneath the landscape, I hope this Journal will become a useful place to follow the work as it develops.
Tartan Compass is still taking shape.
But the direction is clear: a place understood, a story shared, and a day shaped around you.