Into the heart of Torridon

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d be climbing mountains in Scotland like I did today. They were just as impressive as the Himalaya and the High Atlas, and there were lochs into the bargain, and nobody around. Tony was my leader as we walked into a corrie with the perfectly still corrie loch Mhic Fhearchair and forbidding peaks all round: Sàil Mhor, Beinn Dearg, Beinn Aillegan, Beinn Eòin, Rhuadh-stac Mór, with Triple Buttress at the head of the loch. All the peaks were covered in snow and we walked up one of them, a munro called Coinneach Mhor on Beinn Eighe, using ice-axes to keep our grip up the steep slope of snow that was actually a waterfall beneath. The sun was burning hot going up, but at the top it snowed soft, hail-like stones like polystyrene balls, which they call nevee. What a thrilling ascent through the snow to the top of my second munro (282 to go!), but I hadn’t anticipated the descent, which was a near vertical slope of snow and scree. Proper concentration on the 75-degree snow traverse became a fast, exhilarating bum-slide and finally a scary skid down the scree slope. That was like being on a conveyer-belt of moving rock, which I was pleased to be a surfer for, but worried that I’d cause an avalanche down on Tony who was below me. Epic and awesome this day was. Seven hours on the trot. I think we’ll bring the Sabbath forward and take a rest day tomorrow.