Though it was sunny in Spean Bridge, low cloud covered the Invergarry region.

We parked at the end of the lane on the south side of the River Garry and took a forest road westwards. We missed the track climbing up south towards the hill, and failed to notice our error even when we came to a junction of forest roads, continuing for a few more minutes until we realised we were heading in the wrong direction.

Back-tracking, we found our route at the second attempt. It climbed moderately through a clear-felled area before levelling off and entering the conifer plantation. The track undulated gently and had many boggy areas, requiring frequent diversions. Dragonflies patrolled. As we emerged from the trees, the cloud was burning off Ben Tee, which was visible ahead. It looked a fine, conical hill.

We soon felt the heat of the sun. The track dipped to cross Allt na Cailliche, then meandered across boggy moorland towards the south ridge of the hill, petering out as it gained a little height. It seemed that midges had been enjoying the overcast conditions and not yet taken refuge from the sun; they descended upon us, and made the traverse of that moorland and the ascent on to the ridge pretty miserable.

All our midge defences had been left in the car. Driven on by their onslaught, we made for the nearest high ground without too much consideration of the best route. In fact, we ascended quite steeply, necessitating pauses to catch our breath and offering the midges opportunities for a feast. We came to a broad gully, where Ali crossed whereas I climbed up and over it. I passed a small toad and gained a little satisfaction at the thought of the toll he would be taking on the midges.

There was a slight breeze on the ridge and, of course, the ground was much drier - the intensity of the midge attack diminished. Nevertheless, there were frogs in the wetter areas up here; we saw a couple of lizards, too.

The grassy ridge became stonier near the top. There were grand views from the summit, from Creag Meagaidh around to Ben Nevis and the neighbouring Meall na Teanga, then a sweep of western peaks of which I recognised only a few. The breeze up here was strong enough to deter all midges, and we enjoyed a break. The heat chased away all appetite and food had to be forced down.

We heard others ascending a long time before we met them on our way down. We held to the ridge rather than descend the way we had come up. There was nothing gained from this, though: we still had to bash through trackless heather and boggy, coarse grass, sometimes steeply.

The midges were less active in the bright sunshine as we traversed the moor, but a couple of cleg bites left my wrists bleeding. We went back through the forest, flung everything into the back of the car and were off, in a car that felt more like an oven, before the midges could mount an attack. It was only at home, several hours later, that I discovered all the sheep tics on my legs.