Day 98 - Ben Hope: Journey's end

7 August

My apologies for holding back on this one.

I've been thinking about this day for a long, long time. As you can imagine, it sometimes seemed unbelievably out of reach, the idea of Ben Hope a distant dream. In the last few weeks of the Munro Round, I suddenly realised it was close and I was going to make it. In the last few days, it was of course, just around the corner. Talk about stuff creeping up...

The hills were desolate the morning of Ben Hope, the air drizzly, still, midgy. It was surreal to arrive at the bottom of Ben Hope and find the car park rammed with cars - whoa. It turned out that a fair few folk had turned out despite the fact my chosen last Munro was right at the top of Scotland! Everyone who came, expected and unexpected; I appreciate it much.

It was a sizable crowd who started off up Ben Hope. Rain at first; the midges were everywhere; but it eased and the skies lightened. Exactly what I wanted for my final Munro. We got up the first steep bit, and on the long gradual climb to the top.

Ben Hope was to be one of the easier Munros of my trip and this seemed fitting for my last one. As much as anything it was Munro everyone could do.The experience was a little surreal: I was well aware that I'd thought about this day pretty much every day for the last two years. Now that I was here, that huge passage of time didn't register in my head beyond rational understanding.

Even in the last days of the Round, I didn't have a sense of the aftermath, it just felt like I'd keep walking and walking. I didn't have a sense of disappointment that the end had come, I only felt that things had run their course, the goal had been achieved and it would be good to focus on something else for a while.

The mist came down and a bit of rain started, but it was all harmless stuff. There almost wasn't a breath of wind. Then, the trig point came into view not far ahead; 100m or so. I stood and waited as folk gathered at the top, waiting for those who were behind. I wouldn't want them to miss the moment, having come so far. When everyone was up, I walked over, then jogged up to the trig and gave it a very satisfying smack on top.

282 Munros in 98 days - finally done.

Top of Ben Hope. Me with the silly hat! (See blog post #1)
PHOTO CREDIT: Kev McKeown

Champagne was opened, the mountaineering club guys presented me with freshly cooked margherita - how did they know I like pizza? ;-) Photos were taken, "like a wedding". Its not every day you stand on top of your last Munro of a summer Round.

So the time came to head off, I bounded off down my last hill, wondering where things will go next for me, thinking about how this really is the end of my trip. Then what...? It's a question I'm still mulling over several days later.

We all got back to Altnaharra - I stopped by the B&B then headed off to the Inn to see everyone. Thanks everyone who came up. It was great to see so many folk at the very north of Scotland for a summit which means so much to me.

In the beginning, this trip was naturally a gamble: I had no experience of something this big. I knew I wanted to do it, but didn't know if I really wanted the baggage that went along with that. With everything now complete, I can honestly say I've enjoyed it enough to think about doing something in a similar vein in the future. That isn't just in retrospect, I've had it in my head for a while. This trip was a taste of the long haul, the big push, and I enjoyed it a lot. Without a doubt it was seriously challenging, but I learned to deal with pressing issues, gained control over stray emotion through self-awareness and positive introspection. I greatly enjoyed the focus, which I now realise made mountain climbing easier than it'd otherwise be by taking away the temptation to take the easier option (thus fail). My estimations would say it was a 10% physical, 90% mental challenge by the end.

Naturally, I'm left thinking; "where next?". I've learnt so much about myself that I can place myself doing things that weren't on the radar before; but I couldn't say too much about that now. I have thoughts!

In the next post; some thanks (probably quite a lot), some meaty stats no doubt, and more Munros...

Day 97 - Ben Klibreck

6 August

My day began in Lochinver, and I took my time about getting up and getting ready. I felt the pressure was off: it wasn't an intense day, I'd simply head up the hill when it suited me. So I had an easy breakfast, drank cups of tea, set about some necessary business at the harbour, got stuff from the shop, etc. My body took a long time to really wake up, and it really was sore now. I'd given it a good beating in Monar!

Ben Klibreck is one of a few Munros in the real far north of Scotland. It's all the way up beside Ben Hope, and it was the second-last Munro I hadn't yet done. On the road north of Lairg, the weirdest thing happened... I passed a cyclist and as I drove past, it completely unexpectedly turned out to be Dougie. He'd managed a few days of work! Mental. We threw the bike in the back of the car and headed off to meet Liam and Neil just north of the Crask Inn. The four of us set off for this, my penultimate Munro.

Klibreck's actually a better hill than I remember. When I last did it, nearly four years ago to the day, we went up the huge heathery slope to the west of the summit. This time we followed the actual path, which gives a really nice ascent and aspect on the whole mountain. Being here was like having walked straight into a Lewis-landscape, with mile upon mile of bog and subtle hills rising from moorland like the swell.

The day was still and calm, and we climbed the mountain at a gentle pace, which was really what I needed after the hard days of the previous week. Ben Hope was clear, and right in view. 280 Munros lay behind me. I thought about that a hell of a lot, but it's actually hard to comprehend.

The other nice thing was to see the Orkney Isles appearing out of the haze. It's a place I haven't seen in a while, I should get back one day. We all stood around on top getting cold and getting footage, then headed back the way we came. I took a moment on the top to think about the significance of where I was. Not a lot came. I might take a while to grasp it!

Before the whole mental adventure started back in April, I'd get random butterflies in my stomach at what I was about to do. Now I seem to get giggly at random points when it hits me in wee bursts what I've just done. It's hard not to get excited. The greatest happiness has been to channel so much effort into something that I've always loved so much.

A wee part of me is sad that it'll be over. I had one moment a couple of days ago where I felt I'd be losing so much. In reality, I have a lot of good stuff to go home to. I've gained so, so much from my summer out on the mountains. I've enjoyed it immensely, even when it had moments of stress and difficulty that were hard to swallow.

When I began, I set out with a plan to do them all completely continuously. That plan evolved over weeks, then months, into a nearly-continuous crazy car-based Munro round. It's surprising that a few folk get their pants in a twist about this point, but I'm actually quite easy concerning it. (Ah, but was it 'continuous'?) The trip evolved as I discovered my own core motivations were different to what I'd expected, regarding the continuous travel.

I've stayed in so many bothies, camped out above 3000 feet, crashed in houses, hostels, in the car (always a bad move). I went to a gig during it and even found myself at a couple of parties. With a car, I probably removed some of the stress and a lot of the isolation, which was probably in no small thanks to Facebook.

My mobility during the round allowed me to play a good tactical game: I could swap days out, move things around and give myself the best shot at any range I went to. I always maintained that I wanted to keep the spirit of the journey by moving around Scotland in the same order as I would have in the original schedule. I maintained this to the end, and I've always enjoyed that sense of journey. It was always a very important element. Maybe some day in years to come I'll go back and do that self-propelled thing... I've enjoyed this one enough! But I'm saying nothing right now. ;-)

The mountains have been (nearly!) always inspiring and I see them so differently now. They're all unified into one great mass in a way I could never see through weekend trips. I've given them all their own due time, seen each and every one. I can't say there's a bad one among them. This is what I wanted to get out of the whole thing. I just love climbing the mountains, whatever way: I don't think I could walk (approx!) 2000km on the flat - it's got to be the mountains. I think I've wanted to do this kind of thing for many, many years, and tomorrow Ben Hope awaits to finish it off. There may be no surprise to discover that tomorrow feels like much more than the conclusion to 100 days; more like six years. It's a fitting end. Ben Hope gazes out over the north coast, the mountain at the end of the mountains. It's the last gasp to end the endless waves of peaks that came before it. I've tread every single last one... above 3000 feet.

I'm in Altnaharra at the moment, up a bit too late for my own good. It's been amazing to see all the folk who have come up this evening to share this with me. It's very heart-warming; I couldn't have picked a further-away Munro! I'm looking forward to a good day tomorrow up and down Ben Hope. Then it'll all be behind me. A bit freaky to think from 12 hours from now I'll be done, time to party.

(note for future: finished Klibreck 8:05pm)

Day 96 - Monar 5

5 August

The day that broke the Munro Round's back.

The Monar bunch were the last big day I'd still had to do, and somehow through circumstance I'd missed them out all the way to the end. They seem to have this effect: I know several people who all didn't do these until the very end of their Munro round because Monar had just slipped unnoticed under the radar.

Well, they are really awkward of access. I don't think any other mountains are quite as awkward as this bunch and mention should be made of the two at the very back, Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich and Lurg Mhor, which are nothing short of bloody hard work. Get out to those ones and back in a day, and you're doing well.

I woke up at Glenuaig Lodge, and looked out a bright sunny morning. I opened the door and soon retreated inside; the midges were absolutely horrendous, and they'd all piled around the door no doubt following my escaping carbon dioxide.

I knew I had a big day; 32km it turned out to be, but when I woke up, I knew it would be a slow one today. The legs were sore, the feet were sore, everything was all over the place, and now I had six mountains to do. Well, this was the last push, so go for it. Don't look back. It wouldn't be ideal, but at least I knew I could mess myself up if needed be, because there would be two easy hills in two days to the end. Just get these done!

So I headed up Maoile Lunndaidh, a big flat hill in the back end of nowhere, a secretive hill, seldom-seen form any road. I really like it. I like the area it occupies and the stark loneliness of the area. It was a long haul and I felt pretty rotten, so I kept munching on the bananas; the cairn arrived in good time, even though it had felt like a hard push.

I was knackered, but when I guess I was also pretty bloody fit.

Sgurr a' Chaorachain was next, and the drop toward it felt enormous - down for miles and back up the long grassy slopes to the top. Nonetheless, it's another mountain I'm really fond of; the centrepiece is the fang of Bidean an Eoin Dheirg; a shapely rocky prominence in summer, and absolutely spectacular in winter.

My first trip into this area was with Struan last November. It was most often wet, cold, dark or snowing. The place had this immense vibe of complete desolation. It was powerful, but harsh. It was nice to see the hills again, but in less threatening clothing.

Over Sgurr Choinnich (#3), then I dropped my sleeping kit at the triple bealach. Here I met Fi for a quick chat. The last two Munros of the day were Bidein a' Choire Sheasgaich and Lurg Mhor, those two really inaccessible ones all the way out in the middle of nowhereness. It would be a push to do them, but there was no doubt about it now. My body seemed to have pulled itself into action and now I'd do these hills whatever the cost.

The only thing is, you have to go over an essentially non-optional Corbett (mountain 2500-3000 feet) called Beinn Tharsuinn. But I took this as a nice tick, before getting onto the meat; Bidein. It was good to push hard, get these hills done, over to Lurg Mhor at a pace. I was on top of that one just before 4pm. Just two Munros left and I'll have completed the lot.

The walk out was hard work. To get out from Lurg Mhor, you first have to descend the north slopes of the mountain, down to about 1300 feet. Then you've got to climb back up a trackless glen to the triple bealach at over 2000 feet. I met a guy called Paul up in Monar on a Munros/camping trip. We talked Munros for a bit then I got on my way. Wasted would describe my physical state - I'd never let myself get that bad this summer, but what the heck: this was worth it, and there was only two Munros left. I picked up my camping gear and headed down for the two hour walk-out to the road.

Some hills. Hard work. Despite Slioch being my last Munro of my normal Munros outwith the summer Round, I always felt the gentle pressure of Monar bearing down. Now I'd effectively cleared out Monar, I could relax for the first time in ages. For around 100 days, or more, there's been the upcoming effort to concern myself with. With Monar done, it's all behind me. Ben Klibreck and Ben Hope will be absolutely fine; they're not hard hills. And here for the first time, I'm without pressure. The end is in sight.

I headed back to Lochinver where my parents were staying. The drive was nice, I was cruising it, and arrived just in time to get a curry in before bed. A big day done, it's all cruising form here to the end.

Day 95 - Ben More Assynt + Convial

4 August

The end is definitely in sight. I had breakfast with mum and dad in Lochinver then headed off to Inchnadamph, where there are two Munros; Ben More Assynt and Conival.

The weather was good and I headed off from Inchnadamph alone. It was windy though, which took the edge off the sun. These two feel like a long way in, easven though they really aren't. It's good to feel so near to the end of the Munro Round, yet I carried a discontent feeling all the way across these mountains. When I got down, I'd have to drive two hours to Achnashellach, then walk two hours into Monar. That put a time pressure on my day, thus I was walking, knowing there was still work to be done in the evening. I've felt exactly the same in the past.

After a long walk in, I was glad to get high on Conival, where the wind blew with ferocity and the views were huge over the northern peat moors. Ben Klibreck and Ben Hope were both clearly in sight; right there on the horizon. Sure, I have to go back to Monar and pick up 5 Munros there, but the end really is right there.

Waves of mountain ranges have now receded to the southern horizon, and now I'm standing at the north of Scotland, looking right onto Ben Hope. Wow.

I did the ridge from Conival to Ben More Assynt in brutal winds. It wasn't the most ideal place: the rock is broken into angular blocks that are hard on the feet, and you need to keep good footing. Occasionally gusts pushed me over, sent me onto scree and I'd fall over onto the ground to wait out the gust. All in all, it was quite fun. I've always liked fighting high winds.

Contrary to expectation, the summit of Ben More Assynt was pretty calm. There were some folk about doing the same walk, and I sat on top thinking '7 to go'. Three months ago that thought was a distant dream!

I followed the ridge back to Convial in high winds, then contoured underneath, balancing over boulderfields, where blocks shifted and collapsed under my feet. I'd been here before and this really is one of the more dangerous boulderfields around; it must be the way the rock weathers.

A sunny walk back down the glen brought me to Inchnadamph, where I met mum and dad, to collect the audio recorder which I wanted for my trip into Monar. In the fuss of sorting stuff out, I forgot the audio recorder, and rushed back to mum and dad, who were at Ardvreck Castle.

And so I drove south to Achnashellach, under the most amazing sunset. Sgurr an Fhidhleir was absolutely jaw-dropping. Near Lochluichart, Dink phoned from America, so although I was best  to get going, I sat and had rock climbing chat for 20 minutes. Monar could wait...!

Anyway, I got to Achnashellach, packed a bag and headed off, up the track from Craig, into the gloom of tomorrows mountains. The walk took 1 hour 45 to Glenuaig Lodge where there was a place to sleep. I forced a banana down and got to sleep in the creaky bunkbed, anticipating my last big day of the Munro Round: the five Munros of Monar.

Day 94 - Slioch

3 August

I'd left Slioch for my last Munro of my normal Munro round, and this was finally the day. (I should point out this wasn't the last Munro of my continuous Round, on which there are now 9 left. I've climbed those 9 in the past, thus Slioch became the last one I'd never done.)

The previous day, I made a big push on the Ullapool hills to get those Munros done. Seana Bhraigh was the remote outlier of that group, and there was a hint of relief to have those Munros done so efficiently. I had company coming up for Slioch: Dougie and Craig from the mountaineering club were up, and Pete Swales also joined.

Despite having all my plans in place, the weather didn't play ball and conditions could have been better. As I drove down to Garve from Ullapool, the rain was heavy and horizontal, blasting by with frightening ferocity. I began to feel I'd be glad to just get to the summit of this mountain!

Anyway, I was a bit late to Kinlochewe, so I got my stuff prepared and assumed the guys had gone on ahead of me. So I began walking down the path to Slioch in the wind and (occasional) rain, assuming that the others had gone on ahead. I had strangely never imagined I'd be setting out for my last Munro alone.

After an hour walking in, I caught them up and we all continued together. I met another guy who was up with his dog, climbing Slioch: thanks very much for the donation to my charity! (I've got a JustGiving for anyone so inclined: http://www.justgiving.com/KevinsMunroRound2013)

Slioch was a windy hill, but not as bad as it might have appeared from the road. It was definitely a surreal experience, climbing my last Munro. It was something I've wanted to do for years and years. But with the final mountains of the continuous Round looming, I was caught between feeling a sense of completion and a sense that work still needed to be done.

A steady plod up the track brought us to the summit area, we passed the trig point and continued to the cairn. My final Munro. The guys congratulated me and pulled out the bubbly. I made a hash of opening it. Amazing. Hard to believe it was my last Munro.

A sense of satisfaction accompanied me down the mountain, a sense that some challenges I'd set were coming to a close. No doubt I'll go and do them all again, in time. We got back to the car park and went for a quick drink. Craig and Dougie went home, Pete stayed in Kinlochewe. Guys, thanks for coming up to share my last Munro.

My original plan had been to walk into Monar the same night, but we were to have one more day of low pressure bringing high winds. Monar would be possible but difficult in those conditions, so I swapped things around a bit. I'd drive to Lochinver, stay with my parents, do Ben More Assynt the next day (and easier day), then do Monar the day aftr when things had calmed down a bit with the weather.

I got to Lochinver and met mum and dad at the Caberfeidh. They bought me a drink, I was pissed and giggly in no time. I was pretty damn over the moon. Just a few more days and I'd have done the Munros non-stop, too.

Day 93 - Ullapool Hills

2 August

The tension has dissipated, some extent, and I feel much more relaxed. After all the ups and downs, I had a great day on these mountains.

Yesterday I turned back from them because the weather wasn't looking too good. I was disappointed that I'd effectively wasted a day, but I knew nothing could be done about it. I really should have kept Fionn Bheinn for a day like yesterday. But nevermind, I shot myself in the foot on that one, and now I'm paying the price.

Dad took me up to Loch Glascarnoch, and took some great film of me doing the river crossing. The skies were grey and the wind whipped through the grasses. Almost as soon as I'd started, a chink of blue appeared from behind the colourless cloud. Carried on a brisk wind, the blue patch opened up, until the entire area was bathed among sunshine and warmth.

Walking conditions were almost perfect. The sun was out, the wind blew strong enough to keep cool. Am Faochagach was a great hill, just romping up moorland to it's bulky rounded summit. It doesn't get great press, but the bogs were almost totally dried up. My coming hills were in view, the first time I'd ever really seen this range.

Over the top of Am Faochagach, I headed onward to Cona Mheall, a rocky peak that looks immensely impressive from the road, a winding rocky spine leads to the top of it's summit. But first the outflow of Loch Prille had to be crossed, which wasn't a problem in itself. But the outflow immediately plunged over a waterfall, and the wild winds of the day were sending all that water straight back over the top in great plumes of spray, 10 metres in height, rainbows dancing and shimmering.

By the time I'd crossed, I was completely soaked.

I sat and had my first break here, watching the spray firing into the sky. Cona Mheall was a long rocky plod, and I followed slanting rock shelves up to the summit. It got worryingly steep just below the summit, but all was fine.

The central hub of these mountains are amazing: lots of exposed rock, big cliffs, weird landforms. I met Matt & co. on the summit of Cona Mheall and enjoyed having a chat.

Beinn Dearg, Meall nan Ceapraichean and Eidih nan Clach Geala (3 Munros) were all in this wee central area, and I climbed them all really fast, usually little more than half an hour between each. All day, the views were amazing, the hills that had once been in the far north were now in the far south, and I was looking north to the mountains of the end, an area once so far away I might as well have not given it any thought at all.

It was all here in front now, Ben More Assynt, Ben Klibreck and up in a tangle of hils in the very north; Ben Hope. The end! Sure I have to go back to Monar and get five there, but the end is very much here now.

Seana Bhraigh was the last Munro of my day, and it's a long, long way out. Today it was so much easier to process what was going on with the terrain: it makes such a difference to see where you're going instead of following compass bearings all day. I was glad I hadn't bothered with these mountains in the bad weather yesterday. This was amazing.

I spent about 40-50 minutes walking to the base of Seana Bhraigh. It's really in the middle of nowhere, but you're just surrounded by mountains. I had a strange sensation here; a buzz of being out in the middle of nowhere, with just the colour of the land and sky and the whistle of the wind to accompany me. I vividly remember feeling this on the Campsies six years ago; the colour and light.

Seana Bhraigh opened out as I climbed to it's summit, then the huge Luchd Choire (and Coire Mor) came into view. The coire drops off straight after the summit in crazy steepness. I sat in the cairn, glad to have made it this far. I wouldn't have to come back, though I was very grateful to be here.

I spent a while at the summit, then headed the long way back to the road. It really is a long way back, but even after all these kilometres (the whole day came to 36km), I didn't feel tired. Sore; yes. But fitness is amazing and I found myself able to cope with an intense 10 hours of hard work and still feel absolutely fine. As with many hills in recent days, mum and dad joined me for the last bit to the car. For the first time all way, cloud came over and rain fell. But it didn't matter; that elusive Munro Seana Bhraigh had ben knocked off and I was very glad to see it in all it's immensity in the sun.

What a day. A genuinely fantastic day and one of the highlights of the summer.

Later on, Dougie and Craig arrived at Leckmelm to stay with us. They were up for my last Munro, Slioch, (of the normal Round, not continuous) which would come the following day.

Day 92 - Ullapool Hills... or not

1 August

The first day of my last month, and I've had a strange day. I intended to wake up very early, and head off up the six Munros by Loch Broom. A front was forecast to arrive around lunchtime, so if I could get these hills done cleanly and early, then I'd have taken an enormous chunk out of the remaining Munros.

It didn't quite happen like that. I got up around 5am, naturally, having slept in three hours beyond my alarm time. I got up, got breakfast, then looked out the window. It was pishing down with rain: not the bright, breezy morning I'd expected. After a bleary-eyed cup of tea, my body definitely said get back to bed. So I did.

I got up again at a more conventional time. The rain from the early morning had stopped, and I made sure I was well ready to go.

Then as I was about to leave, there seemed to be rain moving in from the south, heavy and persistent. I decided to go anyway, and dad dropped me at Inverlael car park mid-morning.

I set off for Seana Bhraigh, and headed through the forestry tracks and up onto the stalkers track. I barely stopped. I was so focused I didn't pause for anything but the essentials. The wind was blowing mist across the moors, and I began to feel as if there was something wrong. Something wasn't quite right.

After two hours on the go, I was disappointed to see I was only half way to Seana Bhraigh - sure a remote Munro if there ever was one. I'd phoned dad earlier, who'd said a band of heavy rain was advancing north through Glen Shiel. I knew that I could physically do these hills, even if the legs were burning a little; the tendons tender.

But I just wasn't feeling right, and instead of having a solid plan in my head of what was to come, I was staring onto a blank canvas. I didn't know what was coming up. I'd never been here before and Seana Bhraigh seems a tough one for navigation.

I sat on the moor for a while for a think. It soon turned to 10 minutes, then 15, unsure what to do. I was trying to listen to my gut, since it always knows best. I was sitting on the fence, and felt no compulsion to keep going higher. Like shooting for a target I couldn't see. Moreover, it would take a couple hours yet to get to Seana Bhraigh and by the sounds of it, this rain was the real deal. I've always had problems keeping warm in bad weather and I didn't like to think I'd be stuck out on Seana Bhraigh when the shit hit the fan. The winds were as persistent as they had been for a while, I just didn't have a good feeling about this.

Maybe if it had been any other hills, I would have gone on, but these hills were unknowns. I didn't know what to expect and today just wasn't the day to find out. Even with Seana Braigh completed, there would be so far to go. Not to mention a river crossing right at the end of the 35km day, right beside the road, at the very moment it will have been raining all day.

It was too much. It didn't feel right, even though I felt okay now and was only pre-empting something that may happen. I phoned dad to say I was coming down, and headed back the way I came.

A content decision turned to a burning annoyance. Soon it turned to a brief flash of anger. Then Liam phoned, which was refreshing. It sure brightened my mood.

Back at the Inverlael car park, I took time to talk it over with mum and dad, then felt much better. I hadn't quite worked out what I'd do yet.

I took time to relax in Ullapool, went for a meal. A plan formed. I'd go the Ullapool hills tomorrow, so they didn't come a lasting mental block, then I'd go for Slioch (my final Munro of my 1st Munro round!) and subsequently Monar and the Far North. All crammed into six days. It'll be mental but I'm giving it my best shot.

Anyway, got to get to bed - it's just passed midnight. Oops. Anyway the Ullapool 6 tomorrow. Fingers crossed!

Day 91 - Eastern Fannaichs

31 July

Originally, I was going to climb the 6 Munros of the Ullapool Hills, but I was slow to get going in the morning. After many cups of tea, I decided I better do something shorter for the day, rather than the huge day on Ullapool. I really should have gone for the Ullapool Munros, but I went for the eastern Fannaichs instead, Munros with easy ridges that link them. It shouldn't be too difficult.

Dad dropped me at the Loch Droma dam, and I headed up towards the hills. Like yesterday, I was on mountains I'd never done before. It makes such a difference when you haven't done them before. It's actually really nice to go somewhere new; refreshing. Repeat visits to old hills creates a comfortable familiarity, but 'shock of the new' is also good.

I also put some music on for the first time in a while. That was really refreshing, and gave me something to focus on and enjoy. Some folk seem not to like music in the hills, probably preferring to soak up the silence, but try going without for three months. :-)

Beinn Liath Mhor Fannaich was my first Munro, another Fannaich lump. I had some views, and got a bit of perspective on the area.

High ridges link the Munros to one another, and I continued to Sgurr Mor, the highest of the Fannaichs. Some cloud moved in, the views disappeared, and I sat by the summit cairn in that silent mist you get, a little drizzle falling out the sky. 2 down, 2 to go.

The mist stayed down for the last Munros, Meall Gorm and An Coileachan. They were good hills but they were quite non-descript. Some compass bearings brought me over the winding ridge and on An Coileachan, I could enjoy the fact I'd completed the Fannaichs in two days. Awesome.

The walk out from An Coileachan, back to the road, is known for being a bit of a drag. Strangely, I found this bit enjoyable. I must have got into a rhythm of dodging bogs and managing to avoid getting caught up in the heather. I put some music on for the final km's back to the road, and mum and dad came up to meet me for the final bit.

So a good day, and strangely unremarkable. It was good to get another day done on schedule. But it did mean that I couldn't put the Ullapool ones off any longer

Day 90 - Western Fannaichs

30 July

Off the back of the Fisherfield trip, I found I'd actually become quite tired. My plan for the next three days was to complete two mountain ranges: the Beinn Dearg/Ullapool group, and the Fannaichs.

I began with the western Fannaich's, a loop of low mileage for it's total of five Munros. I'd climbed the western pair before; A' Chailleach and Sgurr Breac. But I'd never done the other three, which nowadays is a novelty, since I've climbed everything except a small group.

After an easy morning, I headed to the Fannaichs around about lunchtime. A' Chailleach felt like a long way in, a feeling I had the first time I did it. The hill encloses it's own lochain, which you traverse above to reach the summit ridge. I saw some lizards and a couple of amazingly tame mountain hares. One stood a mere 10 feet away from me, just watching. He didn't seem too bothered, then dashed away and soon as I thought to get the camera out.

The views from this mountain were stunning: all of the crazy north-west mountains were lined up beneath a sky of piling cumulus. All now climbed, except Slioch. (And Monar, further south.) For now, I was occupied with a group of yellow grassy domes which piled up to the east; the Fannaichs. Sgurr Mor is the most distinctive of the lot: a giant grassy cone, and quite symmetrical in form. The other Fannaich Munros petered away in ever-more gentle waves of grass and scree.

All in all, it was a tired day; but that was to be expected after my big Fisherfield walk the day before. I got over Sgurr Breac, sat in the windbreaker on the saddle below my next hills, and then set off for Sgurr nan Each.

The next three Munros lie in a straight line back to the road, so they hardly took long. I was glad to be over them, and enjoyed looking down long drops to the wild coire of Sgurr nan Clach Geala, Munro #4.

The rain moved in over the last Munro, but it wasn't too heavy, or prolonged. Meall a' Chrasgaidh is a little lump of a Munro, definitely not the most distinct. I motored up this one, called my parents from the top (they were picking me up), then headed down long slopes, back in the direction of the road.

Down at Loch a' Bhraoin, the cloud had piled up into a dark scene, yet the loch itself was lit by a sun of amazing intensity. Up here on the moors between the west and east coasts of Scotland, it doesn't ever really seem to feel like summer. Not when I've been here anyway.

Mum and dad were half way down the access track to Loch a' Bhraoin when I met them. We all walked back to the road together. Although a slow day, I'd done five Munros with minimal fuss and that is always something to be glad of. If anything, the terrain on the Fannaich ridges was easy enough I could have just kept going on and on.