Despite it feeling like a little bit of a busman's holiday, Tracey, Frankie, Meikle the Border terrier and me decided to zip North at the weekend for a quick 650 mile blip in the motor-home.

We went up the West coast initially, heading for Sandwood Bay, and discovered all manner of wee gems and points of interest along the way. Then across the Northern coast, to the most northerly point on the UK mainland, and finally for the compulsory ice cream and photo at John O'Groats before heading home.

Motor-homes/campers (mine is only 5.5m long, so kind of falls between the two) may not be everyone's cup of tea, but what a great way to see the country. I love the fact that despite how far and often I have travelled in the UK, there is always something new to uncover. We had to finally discipline ourselves with 'we can't stop at every view/beach/brown sign', otherwise we would have never gotten home!

After the last few trips guiding folk in awful weather, I was rather more than a little relieved to see the improving forecasts for Monday and Tuesday. Paul was coming up, and wanted to do the Aonach Eagach and the round of Coire Gaothach, which is the main coire on Ben Lui.

We had the AE to ourselves on Monday, and after a cloudy, breezy and cool start, the clouds eventually lifted and we enjoyed a calm dry traverse. We even took the time to linger on the flank of the mountain as we descended steeply back to Achtriochtan and catch up on Paul's work commitments! It's ironic you get a better reception there in Glencoe than at my house!

Tuesday was an even better forecast, and apart from the fact the stillness let loose the midges, it was a great day to be on the hills. We did the clockwise round of Ben Lui's main coire, up one ridge and down the other. The scrambling is easy if a little loose and vegetated, but very atmospheric. We had both wanted to do this route for a good while, so even the tedious trudge out to Dalrigh along the track couldn't wipe the smile off our faces. Mountain bikes next time though!

I was quite excited about this weekend's work for Steven Fallon Mountain Guides - We were in Kintail, and firstly were going to do the two munros  A'Ghlas bheinn and Beinn Fhada, returning by the 'bobbly' Sgurr a'Choire Ghairbh ridge, and then on Sunday the ever-popular Forcan Ridge of the Saddle followed by Sgurr na Sgine.

The literal dampener was again the weather. It was due to be (relatively) warmer and less windy granted, but with persistent hill fog over 300m, and drizzle on and off all day, this unseasonal June continues to resolutely refuse to get summery.

I met Victoria, Christina, Frank, Isi, Hayley and Steve at the car park at Morvich, along with a couple of hundred other folk and the Kintail MR team! It was the start of the Highland Cross event, and our routes started from the same place. It was with some relief that we headed North East whilst they swarmed down Gleann Lichd. We struck a blistering pace, lead by Isi, and apart from pausing to put our waterproofs on and off, there was little slowing us until the burn crossing where we had a bite to eat. It was then head down into the clag for the undulating ascent to A'Ghlas beinn. On the way we had some practice wet scrambling on a small steep step. We retraced our steps to the bealach, where I swithered on whether to make the steep grassy ascent or take the easier stalker's path, after initially having to lose some height. The poor visibility was making route finding difficult, but once we found the feint path around to the left, we went for it, and forged our way sweatily to the summit of Meall a'Bhealaich.

From then it was 100% compass work to get to the summit of Beinn Fhada, (yet again this year it seems!), where we took our group photo. Whilst we were taking it, lo and behold, the clouds parted. The huge residual cornices were striking against the green hillside, and felt very out of place this late in the year. The time was getting on, and with the wet weather and continued cloud (it came in again), we decided that the path was the better option for the descent rather than more route finding and wet scrambling, and we were down for 18:30, damp but happy to have bagged the munros in such thick weather.

Sunday's forecast was similar as we met on the A87 for the ascent of the Forcan Ridge of the Saddle and Sgurr na Sgine. Frank had left, but the Moffat family, Susan, Steve and Charlotte had joined us, as had guide Richard Kermode. We made approximately 300m from the cars before needing our jackets on, and the waterproofs on-waterproofs off game commenced again for the rest of the day.

It was most of the group's first scramble, or at least no-one was very experienced, except maybe Victoria, so much coaching and assistance was given by myself and Richard. The first shallow slabby chimney that is the usual way had some large loose flakes on, forcing us to make a small flanking manoeuvre, and everyone had to find their scrambling mojo rapidly. That overcome, it was then just a case of working our way up the ridge.

The route is characterised by options, where you can bypass the more exposed scrambling if required, and the wet claggy conditions meant this was usually the more prudent option. There was one place where the path had eroded away, and an exposed traverse was called for on some slippy grass, much to Hayley's consternation. The air was blue, but not as blue as when I asked her to pose for a photo when she was mid-scramble!

We arrived finally at the 'bad step', where there is a tricky greasy down climb at around Grade II standard, or a bypass down a gully. Some of the group were keen to test their skills, so I set up a belay and protected them down on a rope. In the conditions, they did very well, encouraged and supported by Richard below. The rest took the chance to take a break and have a bite to eat.

It was then just a little more scrambling, as well negotiating a small snow patch before the summit, and then on to the trig point for a proper break. The descent was in mist, and again needed some route finding by Richard over snow patches and greasy rock. It was slow, tricky going. By the time we got to the bealach, it was clear that most people did not have the next summit in them, especially given the greasy wet rock, so we opted to come down along the wall path, (which is surprisingly awkward!).

Given the almost persistent rain and drizzle, the low cloud and the unseasonable low temperatures, we managed to bag three of the four summits, and had a great scramble along an iconic route. The clouds lifted enough each day for us to see what gems Kintail has to offer, and tantalise us for our next visit. Let's hope it'll be on a proper summer's day!

I have spent the last two days with my friend Joe, who wanted some 'exposed scrambling'. The weather couldn't have been better for such a remit, with persistent rain, persisting snow fields, 2c on the summits and forecasted 35-70mph West or SW wind! I have said it before on here I am afraid, and at the risk of becoming a bore, when will summer arrive in Scotland?!

We chose Ledge Route on the Ben as our first objective, hoping we would get some shelter from the prevailing wind. This proved to be right, and as we chatted to the morose group of guys we met outside the CIC hut, the wind was bearable. The rain did not relent though, and I suspect this did not help the mood of the large group, as they trudged off up the unforgiving slope onto the Carn Mor Dearg. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in the pub when they got down!

We made our way over (yes, over, not into or through) No.5 Gully's entrance, where the snow must be 5m deep at least, and on up onto the slimy ramp that gets you onto the Ledge Route proper. Due to the sliminess and loose nature of the slab, I protected Joe's progress up this, and we made our way this way and that until the nice arete, which we roped again as it was so wet. It was then blocky scrambling until the flattening, where we were greeted with a positively Alpine snow arete, rather than the usual boulder strewn ridge. It was an absolute joy, and we topped out over a final steepening  that could have been March, not June. The exposure would have been enhanced markedly by this, had we been able to see at all!

The day finished with a walk across to the Zigzags in very poor visibility, and a rapid descent past the lochan and the new path to the North Face car park. One good route in the bag, and hardly anyone else on the mountain, apart from an oriental family on the Tourist Path wrapped in a bin-bag cum poncho, who wanted to know how far they were from the top. The mind boggles....

Our second route the next day was to be Curved Ridge on the Buachaille Etive Mor, again chosen due to its sheltered aspect, and the fact it goes well in the wet. We arrived at the lay-by, where there were precisely NO other cars, or in the pull-in at Lagangarbh. None. Zilch. When was the last time you would be setting off for the Buachaille at 9am on a summer's day with no-one else there!? Speaks volumes about this run of weather eh?

Locating the start of the ridge is famously tricky, and I must say I was shocked by the amount of new erosion on the loose area after the water-slab, and this won't make it any easier for folks. We donned helmets at the slimy traverse, and off we went. As I say, I believe due to the lack of down-climbing involved on Curved Ridge, and the excellent quality of the rock (on the whole), it is an ideal choice in the wet. As long as you take your time, choose your footholds and handholds precisely and carefully, progress is steep but speedy. Always exhilarating, never too technical.

The giant Rannoch Wall was foreboding in the mist, and unsurprisingly, devoid of climbers! We finally arrived at the slabby move near the top third of the ridge, and I decided to protect that. Joe was climbing in Sportiva Nepals to break them in for the Alps, and  whilst they are great for most of the route, the slightly smeary moves needed on this section meant they may compromise him. In reality, they allowed a jamming move, and he swanned up it, once the first move was made. After that, it was just more excellent scrambling to the top of the ridge.

Then came the grotty gullies that lead to the summit, initially made trickier by old snow patches. We decided we had had enough excitement for the day, and left Crowberry Tower for next time. It was quickly over the summit, and once exposed to the wind and rain again, we high-tailed it back to the car as quickly as possible. Joe had to catch a flight later that afternoon, so after he had an excellent shower at the Green Welly for only a couple of quid, I left him at Glasgow airport.

It would have been so easy to have cancelled this trip, but with some judicious route choice, we had a great time despite the weather. Yes it added frisson, and certainly meant you had to concentrate on your footwork, but two cracking iconic routes  in such conditions are all the sweeter.....but I reeeaalllyy would like a few dry days.....please.....pretty please......

This weekend I was working for Steven Fallon Mountain Guides. When sitting planning trips, you always have a vision in your mind's eye of what it will look like. A midsummer back-packing trip taking in 4 munros, some wild Cairngorm terrain, an idyllic camp spot next to the highest body of water of its size in the UK, (Loch Etchacan at 927m), a midnight night-nav to a summit etc, all done in long hours of daylight under wide blue skies and just enough breeze to keep the midges off. Hmmm.

Victoria, Valerie, Daniel and I set off from the road end at Glenmore having left a car at the ski centre for our return. Despite the forebodingly wintery forecast for Saturday, we were buoyed by the promise of clear skies overnight and into Sunday. The walk along the fine track towards Ryvoan was brisk given our weighty packs, and after a wee pause to coo at the Green Lochan, (An Lochan Uaine),  we cheerily greeted the sodden groups of teenagers on their DofE's as they filed past us after their expedition, en route to a hot bath and a meal. We were already in our waterproofs, and the promised showers of light rain merged into a persistent drizzle as we ascended the slopes of Bynack More. The new path now goes pretty much all the way, and though not favoured by some, makes for easy going in the mist.

The summit of Bynack More was where we said goodbye to any other people, as the one chap and another couple whom we had seen en route turned tail for the comforts of Aviemore. We struck out South West into the clag. At least it wasn't windy though, just proper dreich. Passing the Barns of Bynack, (the granite tors so ubiquitous on the hills in this part of the Cairngorms), we made our way by compass over A'Choinneach to the Saddle, and down for lunch on the beach at the Eastern end of Loch A'an. Poor Daniel on his first Scottish hill trip could only take our word for it what the views would have been like, although the cloud did lift just enough to give an idea of the glacial splendour of the Loch area.

After an impromptu swim from the beach inspired by the clear water and golden sand (not really!), we realised we were really going to have to paddle to cross the outflow. The burn was in spate due to the rain, and we surmised the safest place to cross was at the stiller but deeper outflow. I went first to assess the depth, with my crocs on and trousers rolled up. I nearly got them wet, so decided to strip to my pants to assist the team across. My word it was cold! The air temperature was 4c, and the melt-water that was making up the loch can only just have been above freezing. The team took it in their stride, but by my fourth crossing, I was shivering hard. Even my soaking wet boots were a relief to get back on after that.

Thankfully, we had a steep pull up onto our next munro, Beinn Mheadhoin, with more granite tors, and this warmed us up quickly. We scrambled carefully up the wet but grippy granite of the tor to the true summit at 1182m, and had a group high-five. Sadly there are no pictures due to rain. It was then just a matter of more compass work down to the idyllic setting of Loch Etchacan to make camp.

There are few things more dispiriting than pitching a tent in the rain, except maybe pitching in the rain and 2c, and the group showed their mettle by their cheerfulness as they set about the task. The blessing was that there was only light wind. Organising our wet gear, and trying to get some warm food into us, we settled down to await the clearing promised. The plan was to get a few hours rest in our warm, dry sacks, before rising at 23:00 for a nav session up to Derry Cairngorm.

The ordained hour came, and I dreaded donning my wet clothes, especially if the guys decided against the excursion. Consequently to keep my dry clothes dry, I leapt out in my boxers to rouse the team, braving the freezing drizzle for a while. In the claggy, drizzly half-light, the sleepy faces from the tents said it all, and we wisely decided to stay warm, and await the clearing. It will come, won't it? Won't it?

What did come was the unmistakable zuzzing sound of snowfall on the tents around 3am. Snow and low temperatures are one thing, but added to 10 hours of a drenching, it is pretty unpleasant and unwelcome, especially on June 14th! There was a few centimetres of cover over 1000m, and all our tents were frozen as the temperature dropped below freezing. At least with our judicious decision the evening before, we had dry clothes for this morning, and thankfully the rain stopped around 5am as we rose.

We packed away as quickly as you can with numb fingers and wet gear, and was on the way towards Ben Macdui  by 06:30. By now it was full winter conditions, old snow under foot, with a dusting of new above, and heavy hill fog. We were developing a coating of hoar frost as we ascended, our wet gear freezing solid, and yet again on the compass. Our spirits were high though, and everyone was enjoying the warmth generated by the walk. Suddenly, we were rewarded by a clearing! What a gift just a glimpse of sun and blue sky is after so many hours of clag and wet.

We took our photo on the summit of the second highest summit in the UK in what looked like mid-winter, not mid-summer, and shared a few snacks before our descent. As we chatted, the clearings became more frequent, and by the time we were at the two lochans, we had views all around. What a change. The promised improvement finally, if only 8hrs late. The warmth of the sun and the excellent views up and down the Lairig Ghru made all the wet travails worthwhile, and we rested and soaked it all up just above Coire Lochain.

There was certain smugness in our replies as we greeted the strings of folks ascending the path to Macdui - Yes, we really had been out all night. Yes, it was cold. Yes, we really were on our way down already. Yes we really had braved yesterday's weather. No, we really weren't mad b's! An hour or so later as we sipped coffee in the Active Cafe, the warm feeling of having experienced something challenging swept over us all. Yes it had been very wet indeed, (more than forecast), yes it had been cold, and yes it had been murkier than we had hoped, but the dry walk off, the final views and the sense of achievement united us with that odd sense of masochism that we hill-goers share!

But I still wouldn't  mind some summer if the Big Man is reading this.......

After some serious munro bagging over a week or so, and particularly their long, wet and arduous round of the Fisherfield 6, (yes I know there are only 5 munros now SMC, but why not leave the list alone eh!?),  father and son team of Fergus and George  and I were hoping for at least a dry day for our traverse of the Grey One, the mighty Liathach. We weren't disappointed, with 17c in the valley, and cool clear air on the summits. Hoorah!

We met at 9am, and after some car shuffling to avoid a tedious road walk at the end of the day, we set off up the excellent path towards the bealach before Stuc a'Choire Dhuidh Bhig. The cloud lifted as we ascended, along with our spirits. At the bealach we were treated to views of Beinn Eighe to the east, Beinn Dearg to the north, and of course Baosbheinn to the north-north east, (which I have still to climb, NB!).

Turning west, we made short work of the airy ridge and undulations before our first munro, only pausing to remove layers and to let a gentleman fell-runner of rather distinguished age whizz by, (he was 'the talk of the steamie' in the Torridon Inn that evening  I can tell you, where much younger  running folk were mightily impressed ).  At the summit of Bidean a'Choire Leith we paused as the cloud cleared, revealing our main course of the day, the Am Fasarinen pinnacles, resplendent in the strengthening sunshine. We also had 360 degree views of the Coulin hills, An Teallach in the distance, the Fannichs, the Monar hills and many more.

After the bouldery and awkward quartzite descent of Bidean, we were pleased to arrive at the first sandstone narrowing on the ridge. The bypass path headed off to our left lower down, but that wasn't for us today. George and Fergus dispatched the exposed neck of rock with aplomb, and the scene was set for some great scrambling. Pinnacle after pinnacle came and went, some taken direct, some ascended or descended using shallow gullies or chimneys depending on steepness. The rock is grippy, being Torridonian sandstone 4 billion years old, eroded by wind and water into so many giant rocky stacks of pancakes.

When we got to the final descent, we were so enjoying ourselves we went back up a steeper corner feature for good measure. It wasn't a day for hurrying.

All too soon the scrambling was over, and after another pause to take in the views, we walked onwards and upwards to the final munro, Mullach an Rathain. From here you can look back over the pinnacles, and westwards to Beinn Alligin and the sea. By now it was calm and warm, and we soaked up the atmosphere fully before getting out the poles again for the descent. The erosion in the scree -filled coire that is the descent route is slowly being improved by the NTS, and the lower reaches are on a good path now. That doesn't detract from its steepness however, and it is always a tough one on the knees!

It is always a shame to plan a day on such a great mountain, only to be forced into taking the bypass paths by wind, rain, snow or all three. Today we were treated to a Red Letter day of perfect weather, and even the midges were having a lazy day. It makes all the dreich days worthwhile, as 'you've got to be in it to win it'! Thanks to George and Fergus for great company on a cracking day. 

Paul visited Olympus a few years ago, but he and his team were thwarted by poor visibility and late season snow, just a few metres short of the easiest summit, Skala, 2866m. We went back with him last weekend, but unfortunately had similar conditions, on the summit day at least.

Paul, Eamon, Gary and I flew into Thessaloniki, then drove down to Leptokatya, a small seaside resort resolutely stuck in the 80's, catering mainly for Serbs and Poles. We had a lovely hotel however, and the welcome from all was exceptional. As Brits we were made to feel very special, possibly a reflection on the economic situation, and everything was very cheap.

We set off at a relaxed time on Saturday, and drove up to the end of the road at Pironia, where we had a nice meal and filled our water bottles. It was 29c in the valley, but soon dropped to an amenable 18c as we walked up the well maintained E4 path towards the Refuge Stelios Agapitos, named after the original owner and manager. The path is typically Alpine in nature, winding its way delightfully up to the refuge at 2100m, and there is a real sense of history as you imagine the ancient's feet that must have walked here before. The mountain stayed stubbornly in cloud until we had checked in, but we then got a glimpse of the rocky crenellated summit before the rain moved in in earnest.

We had a cracking dorm to ourselves in the newer block, with a dehumidifier that ensured all our kit was dry. The food was typically wholesome at a refuge, and the guardian Marie and her team are flexible enough to allow you to eat at your leisure. We washed it down with some wine, and turned in just after lights out at 10pm, with the rain beating down.

The promised dry start did arrive, and we rose at 05:45, and were away for 07:15. There was only ourselves and two other parties on the hill, which said something for the forecast. We hit the clag at 2500m, and the rain started not long afterwards. The temperature dropped to 1.5c, and it hailed on and off too. Despite the clear way-marking and many signposts, I still found the mist disorientating, and trying to use the unfamiliar Greek map, I was happy for Paul's prior knowledge as we hit the ridge line.
We got to Skala summit, where the steep down-climb led off to the scrambling route to the highest summit, Mytikas at 2917m. I really did not fancy it, exposed to the wind, very poor visibility, loose limestone with downward angled slabs.

We opted to go on to Skolio summit, at 2905m, the second highest, and 'see what we feel like' on the return. As we did this, two lightly-equipped young Germans set off down the gully, making us feel a little insipid. I still maintained it was unjustifiable. We made our way to Skolio (led by one of the refuge dogs, who had accompanied us the whole way!), and then turned to descend the same way we had come. Out of the mist came the Germans - They had quite rightly turned back. It's funny how such things make you feel better about your decision, well, that along with the worsening sleet! We were soon down to the refuge again, to a welcome cup of hot chocolate, before the clammy walk back to the valley, once again accompanied by the other refuge dog - They must just use us as 'walkies'!

The feeling of disappointment dissipated quickly, as the realisation that there would always be another time sinks in, along with the beautiful E4 path, gorgeous whether wet or not. It was well and truly put to bed by the hospitality of the good people of Leptokatya as we enjoyed the rest of our stay with Ouzo, Zipoura and copious amounts of Greek food.

We will be back, and hopefully Zeus will be kind with the weather.

The forecast for today was not good, especially for the 1st June. 35mph SW, increasing to 60-70, with gusts over 80mph, rain, hail and snow showers, 'merging', 2c on the summits, cloud base 700m but variable. I met Andrew at the Creag Meagaidh car park at 7am, in an attempt to beat the worsening weather, and after a discussion about our sanity, we decided the lure of his 'First Fifty' munros was stronger than our desire for warmth and comfort, and off we went, leaving one vehicle there, but driving one to Roughburn.

After faffing about in the wood, and realising water doesn't run up hill, (a nav error leaving the car park, moi?), we were soon tracking up the East bank of the Allt a'Chaorainn looking for somewhere to cross, as it was in spate. We knew that we only had this one burn to cross all day thankfully, as others would have been impossible as the day progressed. This done, it was the long, boggy and increasingly snowy pull up to the first summit of Beinn Teallach. We got some surprisingly good views of the Easains, Grey Corries and Loch Treig, but that wasn't to last. By the time we descended to the bealach and started up Beinn a'Chaorainn, the clag was down, and it was a case of battening down the Goretex and deriving that perverse pleasure us hill-goers get from a tussle with the elements.

We got the compass out as we neared the summit ridge, as this hill is famous for its cornices, and the scene of a good few accidents, but made the summit fine. Up here it was mid-January, not June! We descended carefully on the compass, (and Andrew's GPS, which whilst giving me the comfort of knowing where we were, puts a leader under a certain amount of pressure to perform meticulously!), and onwards towards the summit of Creag Meagaidh. I felt like I was on my WML assessment again, and it was a full-on proper whiteout over 900m.

I was relieved to come to the cairn spot on, but now we had the double-corniced narrowing before getting onto the plateau, and there was zero visibility. I don't mind admitting I was very focussed indeed as we paced carefully along the ridge, myself in lead, walking into the 'white room'. There was a large snow bank which was impossible to tell from a cornice, and at one point I fell down it in the whiteout, and although I was convinced I was not near the edge, I had a wee fright! We progressed onto the plateau, Andrew just confirming I was 100% correct on my pacing, timing and bearings, and the cloud broke as we neared the Window, the bealach between Creag Meagaidh and Stob Poite Coire Adair.

From then on, we knew the long ambitious route(for the conditions) was in the bag. Our tired legs pulled us up onto the undulating ridge, and it was just a long, hard battle against the gusting wind, bits of cornice that were breaking off and flying upwards through the air, sleet and hail and the bouldery terrain. We triumphantly high-fived on Andrew's 50th munro at Carn Liath, and scuttled off down as quickly as our weary limbs would allow. 29k, 1950m of ascent and descent, all done in guidebook time despitethe challenging weather meant it will be one he remembers I suspect....as will I!