SO…if any of you are looking to bag a couple of Munros in one go, and when I say a couple I mean SEVEN then look no further than The Glen Shiel Ridge. Roughly an hour and a half away from Inverness on the road to Skye, you’ll pass through the beautiful Shiel valley in the heart of Kintail (I’ve heard it’s Sam Heughan’s favourite location). Surrounding both sides of this glen are large mountains including The Brother’s Ridge and The Five Sisters of Kintail, with beautiful Loch Cluaine forming the centrepiece. The only form of civilisation in this valley comes in the form of The Cluanie Inn – a cosy little hotel lying snug in the valley. I believe it used to be an independent Hotel, but it’s now been bought over by a larger company called the Black Sheep Hotels who own many hotels across the Highlands.

Looking over Loch Cluanie and The Cluanie Inn from the Western side are daunting mountains joined together by a beautiful ridge line which forms The South Glen Shiel Ridge. The independent mountains within this group are: Creag a’ Mhaim, Druim Shionnach, Aonach Air Chrith, Maol Chinn-dearg, Sgúrr an Doire Leathain, Sgúrr an Lochain, Creag nan Dáimh. There are seven in total but if you’re really mad (and insanely fit) I believe you could fit in an 8th one called Sgúr na Sgíne . I may be mad, but I was not insanely fit so the 8th munro was left unconquered.

Our friends A and K were keen to bag these seven Munros and it was within G and I’s interest to tackle these hills with other people as the hike is so long it demands a car be left at either end to ensure you get back to your starting point. G and I eagerly said yes! It was a beautiful sunny weekend in September when we set off and we thought, what better time would there be to complete these mountainous beasts. I’d highly recommend the use of two cars as by the time you complete all seven munros, you are roughly 10 miles away from your original starting point resulting in a LONG walk back. People have asked if it’s doable without a car and the simple answer is…not really. I do know someone who climbed all seven and then cycled back to their car but a) the road is very dangerous as cars always speed on the way to Skye and b) you’d have to be insanely fit to do that. We opted for the two car method.

We didn’t set off too early and G and I, as per usual, were running slightly late. I believe we arrived at the car park a little after half ten. We were greeted by A,K, and their friend GR who had come all the way from Aberdeen to conquer this ridge. K & G went off to park the cars at the other end of the walk and returned almost half an hour later, a little shocked by how long the walk was to be. However, we were all in high spirits and eager to get the first few Munros bagged so we set off at a ripe old pace. Such a ‘ripe’ ol’ pace that I did struggle at times, but we summited the first Munro within an hour making impressive timing. I was sweating at the top due to the tough grind, but the beautiful views were striking, and reassuringly we could see the next couple of summits beyond and they didn’t look too far. I breathed, sighing with contentment at the view, and taking a long, deep, swig of my water. 

Oh dear…I had only brought one bottle of water (this was back in the days when I was highly unprepared, not that I’m totally prepared now). I panicked a little, but convinced myself a stream would eventually come, also remembering I had packed a refreshing bottle of Lucozade sport to act as a last resort. I took a breath, swallowed ignoring my now dry throat, and we progressed onwards to the next summit. 

The next two and three Murnos seemed easy enough. There were no major drops, the descents were small and it really was the beautiful ridge walk that everyone cracked it up to be. At Munro number four we were slightly flagging, so we sat down and had our lunch. Now…if you think I was underprepared with my lack of water, A’s flatmate had under prepared with his lunch. He had brought nothing, except a six pack of butteries and if you’re wondering what a buttery is, just be grateful you don’t know! They’re notorious in the North East of Scotland as croissants that are fattier and saltier – the epitome of the word that describes them. Anyway, half way into his third buttery he was feeling quite ill and cramps began shooting up his calves – I am no dietician but I do expect the butteries had something to do with it… but apart form this mild mishap, all was going well as we progressed on to the fifth munro. 

I say all was well, but I was now out of water and I had downed my lucozade sport – a true nectar of the God’s – during my lunch and was now beginning to feel parched. G had taken a little pity on me, offering me a swig of his bottle, but he too was running short. While K and A drank from their beautiful Osprey hydration packs, I could feel my throat closing in. 

As we summited the 6th Munro I think we were all flagging. The hike had become less fun and suddenly the 7th Munro seemed mammoth where the others hadn’t. Thankfully we discovered a tiny dirty stream between the 6th and the 7th Munros and G and I filled our bottles, gulping the slightly peaty water down. Having actual liquid coursing through my veins gave me the power to skip like a nanny goat to the final cairn.

You would think that we would have all celebrated at the top, but to be honest we were delirious from the long day of heights, climbing, and dehydration (for myself) that we headed straight down. A had an ingenious plan that instead of following the WalkHighlands map – as I would suggest you do – that we would cut down directly as the crow flies to where we had parked the second car. This plan seemed flawless and as we bounded down the side of the mountain, a new spring in our step, we patted each other’s backs at our smartness. 

A little too soon it would seem as the path quickly disappeared and we were stuck on a sheer rock edge with a five metre drop below. You would not have died if you’d have fallen, but it would definitely have hurt. Not wanting to turn back, we took it in turns, spread eagle, shimmying across this sheer rock face. We made it, but not without a few shaky legs and panic attacks along the way. 

After this near death experience we wanted nothing more than just to be off the mountain. We took it at a fair pace, despite having just climbed seven and there were never happier faces than when we saw K’s little fiat car. We all cramped in, getting up close and personal with hours of sweat and pain. By this stage it was growing dark and it seemed the last of the summer light was fading. Driving back past the 7 hills we had just climbed reaffirmed how far we had come. As we turned the corner, the beautiful Cluaine Inn appeared in the distance, it’s fairy lights sparking enticing us in for a well deserved dinner.

A few pints and a large bowl of stovies later, we were able to look back on the day with fondness. A big success and and with seven munros in the bag, no one could complain…but it’s safe to say that none of us will ever eat butterys up a mountain again!

Onwards and upwards!