Okay, so somedays are just not your days…and I think it’s a genuine skill in life to be able to accept this universal truth. There are days where you’ll struggle up a Munro more than you would on another day, even if you’re the same level of fitness when climbing both. It can be mental, it can be physical, it can simply be because you’re on your period….these are factors that impact your hike and being aware of these shifting auras that influence your feelings is fundamental in understanding your body and its capacity to climb.

The day we climbed Loch Lochy Munros (Sròn a Choire Ghaibh and Meall na Teanga) I was not in a good mood. The bad mood began the previous night when we set off from Inverness on a week long holiday. The plan was to weave our way to Skye where we had booked a shepherd’s hut for a couple of nights, but on our journey to our destination we hoped to bag a few Munros along the way. Despite the weather looking a little disheartening, we’d planned to camp for two nights, climb the Loch Lochy Munros and then progress on to The Three Brothers, ending the night in the luxurious Cluanie Inn Hotel.

The plan seemed flawless and well thought out for me (who never really plans anything) so we set off on Sunday, gloriously basking in the winter air. Regrettably we forgot that this crisp cold air meant that the late nights kicked in around three o’clock in the afternoon, and by four o’clock it was almost pitch black. Having taken our time parking and having stopped off for a lovely lunch at The Bothy in Fort Augustus, time was not on our side. I was desperate to find a place to camp and set up whilst there was still light to be had. 

Conveniently, just down from the Loch Lochy Munros there lay an open field that looked relatively flat. With only a farm up the road as a neighbour, this seemed like the perfect spot with the added bonus that it was only a couple of metres from where we were to begin our hike up the Munros the following morning. A little desperate as the light was dimming, we decided to set camp here, the presence of sheep only slightly off putting when we realised the field was full of turds. 

We set camp for the night, G resentfully pitching his new MSR tent in the pooey field. We had come prepared with a fire bucket and our instruments. As the sun set and the fire burned, we jammed with G on guitar and me on the fiddle, the sheep our only listeners. The night was young and a few beers in we were feeling high spirited as if were the only two people in the world. However, suddenly out of the pitch black a voice was heard and a man emerged from the rushes. I stifled a scream, taken aback by the presence of this hooded figure standing directly behind us coming to the only sane conclusion that the man was here to murder us. In my defence, it was about 11 o’clock at night so not entirely social hours. 

The man proceeded to introduce himself as the farmer who lived across the road. I thought he might take issue with us camping in his field or perhaps our fire bucket that was burning brightly. I silently prayed to the camping Gods that he would not move us from our camping spot at this hour. However, the farmer took neither of the above for concern, instead charging us £5 each for camping in his field. Luckily G had a tenner in his car, handing the money tentatively but unquestioningly over. As if in a dream, the man slipped back into darkness and was ne’er seen again. 

Was he really a farmer? Had we been scammed? Are you actually allowed to charge people for camping on public land? Sadly, these were all questions that came after we had parted ways with our ten pound note, but the old man’s presence had shaken us, reminding us that we weren’t so alone in the wilderness and ending the night early, we headed to bed listening for creepy footsteps in the night.

We woke relatively late the next day, which was the first thing that put me in a bad mood. I was also getting phone calls from work ON MY DAY Off so I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Secondly, I had forgotten my coffee cafetiere so no caffeine meant I was well on my way to having a temper tantrum. In addition to this, I was not looking forward to putting on my winter hiking boots which had a tendency to rub and leave massive blisters. 

We packed up the tent that now had a vague stench of shit about it and proceeded to the route. Very quickly it became evident that my shoes would be rubbing for the entire hike and I swiftly slipped into solipsism. I was incredibly slow from the pain and poor G had the patience of a saint being my walking companion, tolerating my groans and anger at the world. 

You’ll know, if you’ve climbed the Loch Lochy Munros, that they take on an almost V shape. You head up the valley at a steady climb, pop up to the east one, come back down to the middle of the V, and then climb up the west one. They seem simple, but the vertical climbs are steep and I was not in the best of moods. Half way through our hike, I think for his own sanity, G forced us to stop and we replenished on Maoms giving me a burst of energy. We made it to the top of the first Munro with beautiful views of Glen Garry in sight. 

The accomplishment of making it to the first Munro gave me strength for the second and we climbed that too. My feet weren’t so sore climbing up this final one and at the top the sky broke gifting us incredible views of Loch Lochy and the Munro we had just climbed. G Facetimed his mum at the cairn who wasn’t altogether that impressed by our hiking. We descended quicker than we had come up, my happy demeanour picking up the speed. It had been a successful day in spite of my bad mood. 

It just goes to show that if you start a walk in one mood, you don’t always finish it feeling the same way. I also think your body tells you when you’re not coping. I was discontent with work, overworked and that definitely affected my headspace and my climb. It took me a couple of days to destress from work, but hill walking definitely helped providing a great way to parse out thoughts and ground yourself in the world and nature. I highly recommend hiking for your own sanity! 

That night we camped near Loch Cluaine – a cleaner spot much to G’s happiness. The next day we tackled The Brothers of Kintail….which was an adventure in itself.

Upwards and onwards!

Róise