Like all of our ambitious plans, we didn't achieve the half of it. But like most of our plans, the results that were achieved were worth it.

The team, which started out with five members, had become three by the time we set off from the East Midlands. Tom and I were ready to go, and after James had finished work in the mid-afternoon, we were aiming to make Fort William by a reasonable closing time for a bunkhouse, and in fact arrived comfortably before 10pm. It was still pitch black the next morning as we headed for Glen Shiel, and our early drive took us through several periods of heavy rain. "Where's this transient high?" we all asked, referring to the promise in the MWIS forecast. In the cloudy, damp blackness of the A87, it was hard to believe that the promised high pressure and clear skies would materialise.

We left the car in a layby in Glen Shiel (just southeast of Malagan Bridge) in the murky half-light of the morning and found a footpath nearby heading in the right direction. After two minutes, though, it became apparent that we would have to scale a high wire fence. James checked his GPS map and we reluctantly retraced our steps back to the road, then found the correct footpath a short distance down the road, rueful smiles all round. Let's hope this is our only navigational problem!

We followed a river away from the main glen, gaining height quite gradually at first in very boggy terrain. As we got higher, we kept turning back to observe the view of the Five Sisters, and began to appreciate that the clouds had indeed dissipated, leaving blue skies and the first hints of sunrise. The footpath led us up to the snowline, and the going got a lot steeper. The higher we climbed, the more beauty seemed to surround us. Sculpted white shoulders of sugary white snow led the eye towards distant peaks. We were in for a real treat.





As we reached the end of this smaller valley, it was not totally clear which way we needed to go to find Bealach Duibhe Leac. Both James and I had downloaded the OS maps to our phones, and this was the first time we had really tested the GPS location system. It was remarkably accurate. The path gradually became lost as the snow got deeper, but we now had a bearing, so headed as close as possible to the top of the contour lines, only deviating when we came across large boulders. The going was fairly tough and the terrain very slippery, with occasional sections of deep drifts masquerading as shallow snow. Presently we could tell that the bealach was up ahead, as the brightness of the sky ahead was much greater. It was one of those rewarding moments when you step onto the brim of another world.





It was now around noon, and we began to review our objectives a little. The plan (an ambitious one) had been to try to cover the entire ridge over two days. It has seven Munros and some are spaced out quite considerably. We would need to find a camping spot along the way, and we had slight concerns about night arriving without us finding a safe location for the tent. We had therefore resolved to cover as much of the ridge as possible before 2pm on the first day, and then devote all our efforts to finding a spot for camping. It now looked unlikely that we would do anywhere near seven Munros, but Tom didn't drop that aspiration just yet, at least not publicly. We put on our crampons and headed for the first Munro, Creag nan Damh, which at 918m is only just a Munro.

Quantity, however, is not the same thing as quality, and this first Munro and its approaching ridge brought many moments of sheer enjoyment as we gained height. The scenery at times felt more Alpine than Scottish. With the powder-blue skies and completely untouched snow, it was simply sublime at times.









After a brief Munro handshake, we looked for a way down from Creag nan Damh. This involved some fairly steep snow slopes, and glissading was the best way down. Fast, fun and efficient!





We could then see ahead a sub-Munro peak, Sgurr Beag (896m), followed by a clear dip in the ridge, and then the steep peak of Sgurr an Lochain (1004m). We were already starting to think about time, and decided to use what appeared to be a bypass path along the southwest slope of the first peak, and then perhaps look at camping spots on the next bealach.





The tent went up reasonably quickly, and we had a plan. In the remaining two hours of daylight, we would leave our bags at the tent, then skip up to the summit of Sgurr an Lochain, meaning that tomorrow's walking would be easier. We believed that we could see another bypass path on the right-hand slope of Sgurr nan Lochain.















The night was uneventful - perhaps a little too uneventful. When there are three of you in a small tent, and the temperatures are close to -10, you really want to just sleep. The problem is the length of a Highlands winter night shortly after the winter solstice. With more than 15 hours of darkness, there's no way you're going to sleep the whole time.

It was also quite cold. We stored our boots in the porches of the tent, with the result that they became so solid by the next morning that it was a very difficult task to get them on at all. Our meagre water supplies, which we kept inside a tent pocket, were also mostly ice by the next morning. It was all worth it, though, to experience the beauty of a mountain summit at sunset in such a virgin wonderland.



Needless to say, we couldn't find a usable bypass path for Sgurr an Lochain, so climbed it again the following morning, this time with our packs. Even Tom was beginning to accept that the whole ridge was now out of the question, so we discussed the most practical way to leave the ridge and return to Glen Shiel. In our reading before the trip, the northeast shoulder of Sgurr an Doire Leathain had been mentioned as a possible escape route, and we had the impression that it was the last easy route into Glen Shiel for quite a while. We therefore decided to do one more Munro and then reluctanctly start heading down towards the valley.





The route downwards was not easy, mainly due to the conditions. Visibility became very limited for a while, and even staying on the centre of the ridge became difficult, with a quite scary moment when we almost stepped off the edge of a cornice as the ridge suddenly narrowed from the right. Later, the clouds parted a little, and the new challenge was the steepness of the descent. The ice-axes were invaluable for this section, and we would never have done it without them and the crampons.



We eventually returned to the valley floor, paddled across the River Shiel, and Tom hitched a lift back to the car with a kindly family of tourists from India, who asked for a photo as they dropped him off. With aching backs and a new appreciation for fresh water supplies, we headed for Fort William and its decadent civilization (mainly Indian meals and hot showers). It was a real privilege to have a sojourn in the mountains, to taste the solitude and feel the peace of the snowy carpet on the peaks. Refreshed by our dose of the wilderness, we returned southwards.