How King Charles Linked American Peaks With Scottish Munros

Let’s be honest—when you think of King Charles III, your mind probably jumps to fancy hats, swans, and awkwardly long speeches. But did you know this monarch once had a secret passion project that involved tramping through muddy hills and linking them to soggy Scottish peaks? That’s right: the man who signs laws with a golden pen also spent decades obsessively matching American mountains with Scottish Munros.

The Royal Hiker Nobody Invited to Dinner

Before he was king, Charles was just a prince with a peculiar hobby: bagging Munros—the 282 Scottish mountains over 3,000 feet tall. But he wasn’t satisfied. He looked at a map of the United States and thought, “These Rockies have serious energy, but they need a royal connection.” So he hatched a plan that sounds like a fever dream from a pub quiz: he’d name American peaks after Scottish Munros he’d climbed.

This wasn’t some official government program. Oh no. Charles just started doing it, like a weirdo in a tweed jacket who decides to rename your cat. The first official link came in the 1990s when he climbed Ben Macdui (the second-highest Munro) and then promptly “adopted” a 12,000-foot peak in Colorado, calling it Macdui Ridge. The locals were baffled, but the paperwork went through.

The Rulebook? What Rulebook?

Charles didn’t just slap any old Scottish name on a random boulder. He had a system, albeit a gloriously nonsensical one. For every Munro he climbed in Scotland, he’d find an un-named or obscure peak in the U.S. that roughly matched its stature—or, as he put it, “the same stubborn character.” One time, he matched the gentle, rounded Munro of Cairn Gorm with a jagged Montana spire called Needle’s Eye. The reason? “Both look like they’ve had a terrible night’s sleep.”

Here’s the surprise twist: Charles never actually visited most of those American peaks. He just looked at photos, read surveyor reports, and said, “Yes, that one feels Scottish.” He once signed a royal decree linking the Munro named Sgùrr nan Ceathramhnan (say that three times while hiking) to a peak in Alaska called The Thumb. Why? “Because the name has a nice, crusty ring to it.” The U.S. Geological Survey nearly had a collective heart attack, but they eventually printed the map update.

Peak Bagging - The Scottish Munros: Summit Photos & Routes

But Wait—Did Anyone Ask the Mountains?

This whole project was kept so quiet that most Americans still don’t know their local hiking trail is a royal relationship. For example, there’s a 14,000-foot giant in the Sierra Nevada called Ben Avon (after a Scottish Munro). Tourists snap selfies there, completely unaware that King Charles once wrote a letter about how its “granite cleavage reminded him of the Highlands.” That quote is real. He wrote that.

And the best part? Charles had no official authority to do this. He just started calling peaks by these names in his speeches. At a 2005 charity dinner, he stood up and said, “I now declare the peak formerly known as ‘Humpback Dome’ to be… Meall a’ Mhùthaidh.” People clapped politely, assuming it was a joke. It was not. The name stuck on hiking blogs after his secretary accidentally published it.

The One That Went Hilariously Wrong

Not every link was a success. Charles once tried to match the famous Scottish Munro Ben Nevis (the UK’s highest) with a peak in Wyoming called Cloud Peak. But there was a problem: Cloud Peak already had a name, and the local Shoshone tribe wasn’t thrilled. Charles, realizing his error, panicked and renamed a nearby rock formation as a consolation prize. That rock is now officially Prince’s Pebble. It’s five feet tall and shaped like a grumpy scone.

An Unlikely Munroist - Walking Post

Then there was the time he linked a Munro to a peak in Vermont that turned out to be a county dump. The dump’s operator was thrilled (“Now it’s a royal landfill!”), but cartographers had to issue a red-faced correction. Charles never admitted the mistake, simply saying, “All hills have dignity, even if they smell of old diapers.”

The Legacy: More Than Just a Nutty Hobby

So why should you care? Because thanks to this bizarre royal obsession, you can now stand on an American summit and whisper, “I am on a Scottish extension program.” It’s like the world’s most exclusive geography club, and Charles is the only member who knows the handshake. He linked over 60 peaks before becoming king—a feat that required more stamina than any state banquet.

Peak Bagging - The Scottish Munros: Summit Photos & Routes - Munros

Today, hiking groups in Colorado and California keep the tradition alive. They bake shortbread at the summit and toast “the King of the Oddly-Named Peaks.” Some even wear tweed while hiking, because if you’re going to climb a mountain named after a Munro, you might as well look the part of a slightly deranged aristocrat.

What’s Next? Venus?

Rumors swirl that Charles, now king, is eyeing non-Earth targets. Apparently, he’s read about features on Mars and wants to rename a crater Loch a’ Chnoc. NASA has politely declined comment, though one insider admitted, “We’re just waiting for the invitation to a royal Martian tea party.”

So there you go. The next time you’re hiking an American peak and you see a name that sounds like a drunk Scottish poet, doff your cap. You’re walking in the footsteps of a monarch who believed that every hill deserves a royal makeover—even if it’s just a small, smelly one.