It was a Saturday night in October and I’d been checking the weather forecast for the coming week up in Scotland. It looked epic, so once I was all up to date with work, around 9 p.m. and with no plan beyond a longing for wildness, I threw a few essentials into my little red van and headed for the Highlands. On the way I messaged my friend Graham in Kinlochleven asking if he might be free to join me for a mountain day tomorrow, not expecting him to say yes but to my surprise he did. For the first time since I can remember I wouldn’t be walking a Munro alone!

I was filled with excitement and the journey went well except for one diversion where the M6 was closed for the night. The road approaching Glencoe was empty but for the many deer that would appear suddenly at the verges. Their sudden appearance was a little unnerving but wonderful at the same time and with the road shrouded in mist it was very atmospheric.

I pulled into the all too familiar lay-by beneath the dark outline of Buachaille Etive Mòr, turned the engine off, and tucked myself under the covers in the back of the van. Outside, stags roared through the night.. Inside, I felt a mix of tiredness from the journey and excited anticipation of six unplanned days in the hills stretching ahead of me. Just me, the mountains, and whatever each day decided to bring.

Day 1 - Binnean Mòr & Na Gruagaichean
I woke to a misty valley and the sun rising, casting a warm golden glow on the landscape. The glen was still quiet but for the distant roar of stags and the odd vehicle passing on the A82. I boiled up some water on my little camping stove and savoured a slow coffee before setting off to Kinlochleven where I'd be meeting up with Graham. A quick text to Graham to say I was on my way, followed by the mandatory stop at the Three Sisters lay-by for a photo, the kind of stop you never really tire of no matter how many times you pass through Glencoe.

There are several Munros above the village of Kinlochleven, none of which I’d climbed before, so we chose the two closest: Binnean Mòr and Na Gruagaichean. The sky was blue by now, with cloud free summits above us and the day promised to be a great one!
As we climbed up higher, the more the views opened up. Nala trotted ahead, tail wagging, she never strays far, always checking back, always waiting. My loyal mountain shadow. The stags were ever-present with their roaring sending goosebumps up my arms.
Walking with Graham felt both familiar and surreal. We’ve known each other since we were small children making dens and exploring woodlands near home, and now, five decades later, here we were on a little adventure of a different kind, climbing mountains under a blue Highland sky.

Midway up, the cloud drifted in and for a brief while the world closed around us, the views disappearing. But it lifted again, leaving us with semi-inversion conditions. Ben Nevis and the Ring of Steall stood not far away and countless more Munros - most of them still waiting for me to explore.
On the second summit, Graham pulled from his pack a Marmite and cheese toastie he’d made earlier, knowing my chaotic last minute dash to Scotland meant I hadn’t packed much food for the walk, and he was right. Marmite is one of those things people either love or loathe, and I firmly sit with the lovers.
It’s always a bit sad to leave a summit on a day like that, but eventually we headed down, picking our way carefully over the steep, stony ground. Two couples joined us, unsure of the way, and together we descended while the stags continued to roar in the glens. Graham kept stopping to point them out, but with my terrible eyesight and my binoculars left behind in the van, I couldn’t spot a single one!
Back in Kinlochleven, after a quick shower, I drove around the loch to one of my favourite park-ups for the night and settled down for the evening, I heated up the homemade ratatouille I’d grabbed from the freezer at home and ate with the side doors open, listening to a chorus of wildlife outside, Stags still calling and geese chattering loudly on the loch.

Across the loch, the Pap of Glencoe rose, looking inviting. I’d always longed to go up there, it’s such an iconic looking peak.

I toyed with the idea of climbing it the next day. Maybe, I thought. I’d decide in the mornIng.