I had no desire to prove the MWIS forecast correct. Despite all our foolish optimism, it was, obviously. High winds, poor visibility and zero per cent chance of cloud-free Munros, plus a weather warning for heavy rain from the Met Office.
So, it was with some scepticism that Graham and I began running along the track to Loch a’Bhraoin, en route to Allt Breabraig, the access point for a clutch of Fannichs.
After slopping along sodden paths for 40 minutes, we began up a steep slope, which we believed would take us to the bealach between Meall a’Chrasgaidh and Sgurr nan Clach Geala. Alas, we had been deceived by the mist-smothered mountains – we were two miles south of where we thought we were.
It wasn’t until we reached the summit of the latter Munro and our highest objective of the day that we realised our mistake, although as mistakes go it wasn’t a bad one. We retraced our steps in the snow to the col, before easily gaining the most southerly Munro on this ridge, Sgurr nan Each.
Keen to bag the third Munro, but also escape the worst of the wind, we traversed around the broad flank of Sgurr nan Clach Geala until we reached the pass that had been our original objective an hour earlier. By now, the wind had picked up a notch, making walking – let alone running – a monumental effort. The Scottish call it dreech: howling winds and blasting rain, a filthy day. My hands were already wet and numb and I could feel my chin and feet freezing.
We touched the summit and plunged gladly downhill, and within five minutes we had escaped into a mist-free world. Two hours later, we were sitting, warm and dry, in Jimmy Chung’s Chinese buffet restaurant in Inverness. What more could you want?