Here’s where it gets nerdy. Charles is obsessed with peat bogs—those soggy, brown landscapes you thought were just for midges. Turns out, peat stores more carbon than all the world’s forests combined. He’s funding massive peatland restoration projects in the Highlands, draining ditches and blocking drains. Yes, you read that right: The king is basically a peat hugger. He wants to sell “highland carbon credits” to corporations, turning bog restoration into a global money-making scheme for nature. Billionaires buying peat? That’s a headline I’d pay to see.
King Charles to visit Highlands highest village Tomintoul in Cairngorms
But here’s the kicker: Charles isn’t just planting trees and talking to wolves. He’s using his global network to push this vision into boardrooms and government halls. He’s got CEOs of oil companies (yes, oil companies!) funding wildflower meadows in the Highlands. Is it greenwashing? Maybe. But when you hear him speak, it’s infectious—like a TED Talk by a monarch with a dirt under his nails.
The real question: Is this just a hobby?
You might be thinking: “He’s a king, not an ecologist.” True, but Charles has been shouting about climate change since the 1970s, long before it was trendy. His Highland vision is decades in the making, from organic farming at Highgrove to championing ancient woodlands. Critics call it a vanity project; supporters call it visionary. I call it a glorious mess of ambition, tradition, and, honestly, a bit of royal stubbornness.
Walking through those hills—muddy, wild, and buzzing with rare birds—I can’t help but feel he’s onto something. Maybe we need a king to remind us that saving the planet starts with a bog. Or maybe he’s just an old dude who really, really likes beavers. Either way, it’s a story you won’t find in the history books. Yet.
