We left Fort William in overcast conditions and drove up to Glenfinnan, where the midges pounced as we pulled our boots on. Great swathes of cloud lumbered around the tops, backed by a higher strata which blotted out the entire sky. As we walked up Glen Finnan, we watched expectantly but in vain for the fulfilment of the forecasters promise of bright weather. A few chinks of blue appeared briefly, and occasionally the sun glowed feebly, but there was no great improvement.

The vaunted railway viaduct looked rather tatty. Certainly it was a graceful feature viewed from a distance, but at close quarters its concrete pillars were shabby and discoloured. The glen itself was heavily forested and lacked any real distinction. We passed Corryhully bothy, from which three walkers were emerging. They passed us a little later on the track through the glen; we had come to a halt with the realisation that we had missed the path branching off up the ridge to Sgurr a' Choire Riabhaich.

Despite the lack of sun, it was close and very warm. Perspiration flowed into my eyes until I remembered that I had a sweat band in the rucksack. A stalkers path led us up towards the ridge; where this gave out, the boots of walkers had battered out a continuation which went right up to the summit. There were a few frogs and a lizard. From the outset, I struggled on the often steep climb, frequently pausing to gasp for breath. Each time I paused, I was savaged by clegs. When we reached Sgurr a' Choire Riabhaich, the cloud at last showed signs of breaking up; the tops on the horseshoe were still shrouded, but the intervening ridge was clear. Ravens croaked in the mist.

There was a short section of very simple scrambling before we reached the final slope beneath the summit. A man went past, descending; two ladies were sitting on an outcrop. These ladies told us that there were midges around the summit, forcing them down here to take their lunch. They had proposed to walk the horseshoe, but were now giving up what they felt would be a strenuous walk on account of the heat. We explained that the horseshoe was our objective.

When we reached the summit of Sgurr nan Coireachan, we found it clear of cloud. Many of the peaks of Moidart, and Knoydart beyond, remained obscured. There was saxifrage growing within the windbreak surrounding the trig point. The ladies had been right about the midges, which descended on us as we settled down to eat. Ali decided that they had also been right about the continuation of the walk. Having gone to so much trouble to reach this point, I was more keen to continue. After some discussion, we decided to separate: Ali would catch up with the Ladies of the Outcrop, and I would continue the walk.

I found that there was more saxifrage on the summit as I turned eastward down the ridge. The descent from the first summit was quite gentle, apart from a few steep steps requiring more elementary scrambling. A few walkers passed, doing the circuit anti-clockwise. The cloud continued to break up gradually, and the heat became quite fierce. There was a rise of a little over a hundred feet to the first hummock on the ridge, Meall an Tarmachain. I struggled a little, but eventually reached the cairn. The hills to the north were most prominent in the view; I thought perhaps I recognised Ladhar Bheinn, but was unsure. I asked a few of those who passed, but nobody else knew any of these remote hills.

There were lots of small pools all along the ridge. The water was warm and gave little relief from the heat, but helped to wash off the sweat. The next hummock on the ridge, Beinn Gharbh, required an ascent of about three hundred feet. Now I began to struggle in earnest, frequently brought to a standstill, gasping for breath.

The trio from the bothy had descended from Sgurr Thuilm to the ridge as I began to ascend. They must have been going more slowly than me, but were carrying overnight gear. My own rate of progress now dropped to ridiculous proportions: in the three hundred feet of relatively gentle ascent between Beinn Gharbh and the western top of Sgurr Thuilm, I staggered to a stop at least twelve times. Sometimes I could have spat further than the distance I had travelled since the previous stop.

The sun was beating down. The thermometer on my altimeter showed a temperature of 29C (This was a genuine reading: the watch was hanging from my belt, not strapped to my wrist). I tried to improvise some protection for my already sunburnt neck from paper handkerchiefs, with minimal success. One final climb, again a little in excess of three hundred feet, separated me from Sgurr Thuilm. I made another faltering ascent over the stony ground, with a similarly inordinate number of stops and eventually stood by the cairn. The walk from the other Munro, Sgurr nan Coireachan, about three miles with 1300 feet of ascent, had taken me about three hours.

The croaking of ravens echoed from the cliffs. There were midges up here, too, but even had there not been, I would not have had long to enjoy the view down to the head of Loch Arkaig, for I was by now well behind schedule for meeting up with Ali in Glenfinnan.

I descended southwards, with fine views across to Streap. There was only a minor rise to the south ridge of Sgurr Thuilm but as I could avoid even this by contouring across the slope, I did so, joining the crest lower down where it turned southwest. The ridge dropped steeply towards Glen Finnan. Walkers had trodden a well-defined but often wet path. The descent seemed a long one. I refilled my water bottle at a small burn and promptly half emptied it again. At last I reached the floor of the glen; first the rough track and then the surfaced road led me back to our starting point, very tired.

I arrived there at precisely the same time as Ali. She, though, had already had the gates unlocked, allowing her to drive up to Corryhully to look for me. Failing to locate me, she had gone back to the digs and showered and was now making her second attempt. It was now almost eight o’clock, and a Chinese carry-out had to suffice for tea. We tried to eat it outside, but midges forced us into the car to finish our meal.

The next day’s plans were abandoned in favour of a ride on the steam train from Fort William to Mallaig.