There is a particular kind of freedom in walking across open access land in Britain. Since the Countryside and Rights of Way Act came into force in England and Wales in 2000 — and with Scotland's own access legislation predating it — large swathes of mountain, moor, heath and down have been opened up for public enjoyment. You no longer need to stick rigidly to a right of way to feel the heather under your boots or the wind on a summit plateau. But that freedom comes with responsibility, and the codes that govern it are not bureaucratic noise. They are what keep access land open, keep livestock safe, and keep the landscape in a condition worth returning to.

Know Where You Are and What Applies

Access land is marked on Ordnance Survey mapping with a pale orange or beige wash, and it is worth understanding its limits before you plan a route. It covers most open country, but there are sensible exclusions: cultivated fields, gardens, buildings, and land used for military training. Some areas are closed for a few days each year or during sensitive seasons, and local restrictions are published by the relevant national park authority or access body.

In Scotland the situation is broader still — the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003 grants responsible access to most land and inland water — but the principles remain identical. Wherever you walk, the old maxim applies: know before you go. Check the map, check for temporary closures, and check the weather. Access rights do not extend to wild camping everywhere, lighting fires, or straying into areas signed as private.

Close Every Gate, and Leave It as You Found It

If there is one instruction that hillwalkers repeat to each other more than any other, it is this: leave gates as you find them. A gate open across a track is usually open for a reason — stock are being moved, or a tractor is due through. A gate closed is closed because sheep, cattle or ponies need to stay put. Getting this wrong can cost a farmer a day of rounding up, or worse, put animals onto a road.

• Lift the latch fully, walk through, and let the gate swing shut behind you under its own weight.
• Never climb over a gate that can be opened — hinges and rails break, and the repair falls to someone else.
• If you use a stile, kissing gate or bridleway gate, leave it clear and passable for the next person.
• On moorland with self-closing gates, check the mechanism has actually caught before you walk away.
• If you find a gate wedged or tied open and you are unsure, leave it exactly as it was and mention it to a local or report it.

This is not pedantry. In upland Britain, a single open gate in a sheep-fenced enclosure can mean a flock scattered across a hillside, and a farmer on a quad bike at dusk trying to fix it.

Take Everything Home, Including the Small Things

Litter on a city street is a nuisance. Litter on a remote summit is an insult, and it lasts. Upland environments — blanket bog, montane heath, limestone pavement — are slow to recover and are often hundreds of metres from the nearest bin. There is no bin on Bowfell, and there never will be. Whatever you carry up, you carry down.

• Banana skins, apple cores and orange peel can take two years or more to break down in cold upland conditions and attract scavengers.
• Tissues, wet wipes and tea bags are not biodegradable in any meaningful sense — bag them.
• Dog waste must be picked up and carried off the hill, not flicked into the heather or hung from a branch.
• Microtrash counts: cable ties, foil wrappers, energy gel tops and the small plastic ring from a flask lid.
• If you find litter that predates you, there is no shame in carrying it out. Many hillwalkers do.

A useful habit is a dedicated rubbish bag in the top of your pack, alongside a separate one for wet kit. It makes the decision easy when your hands are cold and you just want to get moving again.

Keep to Paths Where Erosion Is a Problem

Footpath erosion is the visible cost of millions of boots on fragile ground. On popular routes — the eroded gullies of the Lake District, the braided scars of the Cairngorms, the widening trods of Snowdonia — the damage is plain to see. A path that has lost its vegetation becomes a channel for rainwater, cutting deeper with every storm. Repair work is expensive and slow, often done by hand with stone pitching and helicopter lifts.

Where a clear path exists, use it. Where a path is badly eroded, resist the temptation to walk alongside it on the verge — that simply widens the scar. On genuinely pathless terrain, spread out rather than following the person in front boot-for-boot, especially on bog, sand or alpine-style ground. On steep grassy slopes, avoid cutting switchbacks; a shortcut looks harmless but starts a new gully.

Mountain bothies, summit cairns and waymark posts are part of the landscape's fabric. Leave them standing and leave any shelter as you would wish to find it: clean, dry wood, and no rubbish left behind.

Dogs, Livestock and the Ground Nesting Season

Between March and July, ground-nesting birds — curlew, lapwing, golden plover, skylark — are sitting on eggs or chicks that are almost invisible against the vegetation. A dog off the lead can clear a whole hillside of birds without its owner noticing. On access land, the guidance is straightforward: keep dogs on a short lead, or under close control, on open country between these months.

• Always keep dogs on a lead around livestock, and give cattle a wide berth, especially where calves are present.
• On National Trust and many upland estates, dogs must be on leads near sheep at all times.
• Never let a dog chase wildlife, and remember that sheep worrying is an offence that can result in the destruction of the dog.
• Close gates behind dogs, and check them for ticks after a day on the hill.

The Countryside Code is, in the end, a short document. Its spirit fits on the back of a postcard: enjoy the outdoors, respect other people, protect the natural environment. Follow it, and the access land that so many campaigned for will still be there — open, wild, and welcoming — for the walkers who come after you.