10pm on a Wednesday night, standing on the summit of a Glen Affric mountain: this is how I want my life to be. Running up an easy path from Loch Affric, we gained the flat roof of Tom a’Choinich before dropping down the mountain’s east ridge to the small col between it and Toll Creagach.

Over a minor top and soon we were on top of Toll Creagach, the world around us obscured by mist. Following a bearing to the south, we plunged downhill, across sodden, grassy slopes that were kind to aching knees. It was a glorious, breakneck, risk-taking descent. In my head, I was singing, over and over again, that Biffy Clyro song: “I am a mountain, I am the sea, you can’t take that away from me.”