The missus had been compaining that we hadn't scalped any Munros for a while. (I've been doing some ML Assessment prep, yomping about pathless hills with my compass, which she has little interest in).

'I want to scalp some new ones!' she said. And so it was we found ourselves pitching a tent in the Midge infested grass behind the Cluanie Inn. We enjoyed a mediocre meal with michelin star prices, and a couple of beers, and settled in for the night. As usual, the combination of too much beer, sleeping in a wee tent, and an old man's bladder meant braving the bitey wee critters at about 4am. It was apocalyptic. My legs still have marks from them a couple of days later. Running about a highland glen in your pants should be classified as an extreme sport.

A couple hours more kip and it was up up up and away. We wound up the gradually ascending approach road, taking in some great views down Loch Cluanie, and soon we were zig-zagging our way up the side of Creag a'Mhaim. Fresh legs meant that the biggest climb of the day was dispatched fairly quickly, and we actually popped out onto the summit a bit unexpectedly. Sadly, on this ascent, we had gone up into the clouds, where we were to remain for the rest of the day...

From here, it seemed like only a few moments until we had reached the second munro of the day, and were posing for summit pics of Druim Shonnach. The third was harder-won. A bit of scrambling, and the clouds briefly opened up just long enough to make us giddy with exposure. My partner isn't the biggest lover of scrambling, so when the clouds parted, showing her the ground falling away steeply on either side, it was a sit-down moment. She had soon composed herself again however, and we were off to the summit of Aonach air Chrith. A bit of a scramble back down the other side, and then they were flying past. First was Maol Chin-dearg (The Red Bald Man), and I enjoyed scaling the hill that was named for me. Then Sgurr an Doire Leathain, and Sgurr an Lochain after that. We began to meet people coming along the other direction, and both felt they must have started much later than us given how time was getting on. We bypassed Sgurr Beag. By this stage, there wasn't much left in the tank, and the legs were feeling a bit sorry for themselves, so we took the 'lame duck' path and countoured around the hill to reach the ridge once more. Soon we were attacking the final big climb of the day. Whether it was tiredness or just the brutality of these hills, this felt like the steepest part of the day. It was made all the more interesting by the scrambly sections though, and soon we were posing for our final photos.

Imagine our surprise when we left the summit only to find a pretty gnarly climb up a big lump of rock. The best scramble of the day! Soon though, we were descending off the ridge, battering my toes and looking at the road in the distance. Lots of boggy bits, a couple of burns to cross, and we were soon hitching back up the road to the start, and some dry socks.