I may make a nice page setting out the challenge rules in more detail, but for now, here’s the account of the adventure.

The idea had been bubbling away in my head for a few years now, but weather and availability had never coincided. I wanted to see these mountains in good weather, which is hard to come by in NW Scotland! This year, I booked out several windows through May, June and July, where I could be off work and Jane would cover family commitments. I lined up some prospective supporters with a rather vague “it might be sometime between X and Y, who’s free”. This was an improvement on previous years where I hadn’t discussed this with any running friends and would have been reliant on buses (some are timetabled, but not every day) or taxis (transfers from Inverness are reasonably available, transport between two remote points in the mountains less so). As it turned out, Jen was available for the what looked like a decent weather window, and I decided to gamble on some possible drizzle staying away, as the logn range forecast didn’t suggest anything better coming along.

Some details. The route was 92km, with around 8,600m elevation. It covers the Munro summits between Dundonnell and Torridon, including An Teallach, the Fisherfield Munros, Slioch, Beinn Eighe, Liathach, and Beinn Alligin. Any of those mountain groups would be an epic day out, and some of them always make a list of the best mountains in Scotland. There are exposed scrambling ridges, and some of the most remote and scenic areas in the country. In total, it took me a little over 32 hours, which included an overnight break. The running time (excluding that break) was 24:22. Without the break I’m sure it would have taken longer, particularly the second half, so I wouldn’t set this as a 24 hours challenge. No doubt it’d be possible for stronger runners than me, but in the hope other people might share this adventure, I think it’d be a mistake to set it too hard. I wasn’t especially slacking – my second leg was very similar to Bob Graham leg 3, except with worse terrain (!), and took me 5.45. These are mountains to enjoy, so I’d suggest a target time of 36 hours, giving the option of a break at Kinlochewe, a little over half way.

There are some other rounds that have been done in this area. The Martin Moran Round, based on Torridon, covers a mix of Munro and Corbett peaks in that remote and beautiful corner of the Highlands, and has had a few successful completions. Mountain legend John Fleetwood has of course been active in the area, creating various rounds of different lengths in (separately) Torridon and Fisherfield. My idea was to do something a bit different. I do like a linear run, and the sense of a journey rather than a loop. It had also occurred to me that it was possible to link the incredible peaks of An Teallach and Liathach in particular into a single route. It just so happened that the route between them would include numerous other spectacular mountains, allowing you to cover all the Munros that are in a line (kind of) between Loch Broom and Loch Torridon. There were some route choices to make, and some options for anyone who does fancy taking this on: more of that later!

Preparation, approach, and torchgate

I should start the tale by thanking Jen Parker for her awesome support on this challenge. Jen only got into running 2 years ago, and progressed quickly (and correctly) via the Manchester Marathon towards ultra trail and mountain running. Over the duration of the challenge, she covered about 70km and 4,500m elevation, as well as carrying supplies, driving, and cooking veggie chilli. (The chilli could have fed a small army, perhaps there was a hint of over-catering when our shopping trolley at Inverness Tesco included 3 tins of beans, fresh vegetables, a jar of pickled peppers, and a tin of tomatoes. It was good though.) Thanks also to the wider group who weren’t available on the dates, but would have been on other dates! It was a big ask for people to make space for a flexible 4 day trip around other commitments, but on different dates I could have been joined by some combination of Simon Burrow, Lisa Capes, Dave Wills, Ben McGovern, Phil Burns, Iain Dickinson, and Phil Hutchinson. Special mention also to Phil H, who I work with as well as running with, who ended up covering my role as host of a corporate away day. Although he couldn’t be in the mountains, I honour his sacrifice and perhaps this provided some extra motivation towards the end. (Shall I just not bother with Beinn Alligin? No, do it for Phil.)

I found some accommodation at short notice – Kinlochewe Mountain Lodges. The chalets were clean and comfortable, almost exactly on the route, and somewhat on the retro side (WiFi: no; VCR player: yes.) There were a few other options in the village which looked more expensive or less good (in some cases, both), and I didn’t fancy the budget option of camping in midsummer near the west coast (midges!) An alternative I’d considered was finding a rental somewhere on the way (near Garve), which would have shortened the drive up, but meant the Kinlochewe support point was just the car. There was an intriguing option of “the Garve flats” which got a 1/10 rating on Booking.com and looked terrible in their own photos. As it turned out, accommodation on route was a great asset, and I’d really recommend this to others. Even if a runner wanted to push through continuously, it’d be much better for a support team.

We had a planning session on the Saturday evening with maps and organising supplies. I’d worked out options for between 0 and 3 supporters, and Jen was keen to run as much as possible. It emerged I didn’t have my main torch – this looked like an unusual lapse on my part, but it later turned out my daughter had borrowed it as she couldn’t find the hand-torch we’d bought for her! The weather was a little uncertain, with a chance of light showers on both Sunday and Monday mornings. I decided to not aim for 24 hours, and give myself an overnight break, chiefly to avoid the chance of being out in the Monday drizzle on the rocky mountains. It would also mean that I wouldn’t find myself on the scrambling ridge of Liathach in a sleep-deprived state, which seemed a sensible call!

Leg 1 – An Teallach – 13km, 1,420m elevation. Time taken: 3:40.

This was one of the few sections I already knew. I had climbed the mountain twice: a fabulous winter traverse in perfect conditions, and a previous “winter” traverse in drizzle and clag, but still somehow with some ice on the difficult step on the ridge. For this challenge, I’d chosen to start in Dundonnell. This would mean missing out the difficult section of the ridge traverse which would have to be done in descent; that felt in keeping with this being a run (jog? walk?) rather than a mountaineering venture, as it meant there was no need for a rope. The ascent via the Allt a Mhuilinn was nice and steady, although it’s a full 1,000m up to Bidean a Ghlass Thuill! The path was obvious except for the very start where it involves pushing through a gap in the gorse and crossing a little stream. (Jen would.probably want me to point out that she spotted the start of this path and I dismissively walked past it.)

Jen joined me for this leg, and carried my leg 2 supplies on the way. For the first 10 minutes or so, a dog also followed us, desperate for someone to play fetch with a stone it kept dropping in front of me and staring at intently. Eventually, it went back to its owners who were walking up behind us.

Near the first summit, you get a brief peep at Sgurr Fiona, and then the amazing view of the ridge opens up properly at the top. The name An Teallach means “the forge”, and you can see why, with the battlements of the peaks crowding over the huge drop to Loch Toll an Lochain. This is one of the finest mountains in Scotland (there will be another on this route!) and deservedly so. The going over the two Munros at the beginning of the ridge is steep and rough but easy (relatively), and it’s after Sgurr Fiona that the fun begins. We scrambled easily up to the summits of Lord Berkeley’s Seat and Corrage Bhuidhe, before reversing to find the bypass path on the SW flank of the mountain. Continuing to the end of the ridge involves a short step of graded rock-climbing in descent. I’d taken some information from Steven Fallon’s excellent website to decide what was sensible for this section, and decided an abseil or tricky downclimb wasn’t it.

The ridge ends with the Munro tops of Cadha Gobhlach and Sail Liath (for the unfamiliar, a “Munro top” is a summit over 3,000 feet, but without the gap in prominence or distance from its parent mountain to be a Munro in its own right). The descent starts fine, but turns into an awkward boulderfield and becomes difficult to follow. Below that, it becomes a scrappy but distinct path, through that awkward mix of peat bog and rock which is common in these parts, and starts to veer towards Corrie Hallie. When we got close to the track heading towards Shenavall bothy, Jen and I parted ways. The previous night we’d calculated it’d take her approximately 4.5 hours to get back to Dundonnell, drive back to KInlochewe, and then come to meet me at the end of leg 2. So far, so good! All that remained was for me to cover the remaining 2.5km to Shenavall, on what I had hoped would be a decent track, having previously used the track coming from Corrie Hallie. Not so: it was rocky and boggy, thus setting the tone for many of the paths on this route.

Leg 2 – Fisherfield Munros – 25km, 2,200m elevation. Time taken: 5:50.

This one posed a bit of a riddle for route planning. The group of mountains commonly (ok, perhaps commonly amongst Munro afficionados) referred to as the “Fisherfield Six” are perfectly suited to a horseshoe approached from the north. Of the six, there are five Munros (mountains over 3,000 feet listed by the Scottish Mountaineering Club), and one Corbett (mountains over 2,500 feet but less than 3,000 feet, with a prominence – i.e. a required height gain when approached from any angle – of 500 feet). Fun fact: there is no explicit prominence requirement for a Munro. You could totally nerd out looking into this stuff about mountain classification in the UK. Anyway, the Corbett is Beinn a Chlaidheimh, the furthest north of the group, which has been demoted from Munro status when the Ordnance Survey re-surveyed and discovered it was 44cm too short. I saw two main options: including Beinn a Chlaidheimh would mean tackling all of this group in the usual direction but then at the end, having to descend rough and rarely-trodden ground to the western end of Lochan Fada, and ascend Slioch (leg 3) the steepest way. Or, omit the Corbett, and probably have an easier time route-finding.

I went with the latter option, which meant I would first tackle the westernmost pair of Munros, Ruadh Stac Mor, and A Mhaighdean. After leaving Shenavall, with a couple of river crossings there was a flat mile or so (of marsh with a vague line across it) to the building of Larachantivore. From there, a remarkably good path appeared, which meant some gentle running, even when it went slightly uphill! Not for long though, the path steepened, and inevitably I had to leave it eventually to follow a vague trod up to Lochan a Bhragdad and then the summit slopes of Ruad Stac Mor. A rough descent on scree then reaches the saddle, and a decent path leads up to A Mhaighdean, which boasts one of the best views in Scotland, over numerous upland lochans and out to sea and the Hebrides. It was one of several places on the route where I felt really privileged to be up here.

There followed almost a whole kilometre of runnable, dry grass in descent, before the path petered out in steeper, marshier, rockier ground. The bealach is disappointing low, at 525m, giving quite a climb up to the next peak: Beinn Tarsuinn. Steep heather and grass lead up to a fairly strange feature, a level rocky ridge with some mild scrambling before the last pull to the summit. There was a solo hiker setting up camp with her dogs in a spectacular setting: while these hills weren’t busy, the few people I’d seen were all having a great time. As promised in the forecast, the clouds had dispersed and it was becoming a blue sky evening.

Next was one of the fiddly bits of navigation. I’d spotted from the map it looked feasible to traverse beneath Mullach Choire Mhic Fearchair to reach Sgurr Ban, and then return over the former to complete the leg. I had been eyeing up options for how exactly to do that, as the slopes were (obviously) steep and rocky. On the approach, it looked as though a vague trod skirted below the cliffs and would get me to the bealach. I changed from my original plan which had been to go lower, and after desdending part way into the corrie, made a rising traverse in the hope of finding this trod. It turned out it was very vague, but it was there, often just a few scuff marks across the slope, but it made progress easier.

From the bealach, it was easy to get to Sgurr Ban, before returning and tackling the steep scree of Mullach Coire Mhic Fearchair. This mountain looks like a steep cone of boulders from both sides. The zigzag path uphill was better than expected, but the descent on the far side felt exactly like a steep cone of boulders.

The it was a fairly simple job of taking the path below Meal Odhar, and trending down towards Lochan Fada. The lochan was an especially beautiful place and there were some more wild campers getting ready for the night. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the path beside the shore wasn’t especially easy, with ups, downs, bogs and boulders.

Leg 3: Slioch, 15.5km, 900m elevation. Time taken: 3:30

If anything, this was the easy leg. I met Jen just after the stepping stones where Lochan Fada flows out towards Gleann Bianasdail. She had brought some extra food and my poles as I’d fancied a bit of a change, and this would be a steep climb. Jen had also checked out the possible ascent from the glen alongside Allt Coire na Sleaghaich, concluding it looked steep and horrible. I had considered this as the online reccy had discovered some traffic that way, but as I’d been descending from leg 2, I had also seen that a direct ascent of the mountain looked perfectly fine. It’d be shorter and less steep, and the terrain looked ok. So, we ascended until the path crossed the Allt Leacach, and then followed that stream uphill. Once in Coire an Tuill Bhain, we struck out for the left-bounding ridge and then made our way up steep but easy ground to the top of Sgurr an Tuill Bhainn.

The next section, in the evening sunshine working around the edge of the high plateau of Slioch, was a delight. A short section of fairly level, easy ground, with fabulous views in every direction: another place to feel lucky to be present. The descent, too, was mostly pleasant, at least down to and through Coire na Sleaghaich, Thereafter, the diagonal line southwards into Gleann Bianasdail was that uncomfortable mix of wet rocks and black mud, but only for about a mile or so before reaching the valley floor and the end of Loch Maree. An easy flat path led from there up the Kinlochewe valley, and 5km later, to minor roads at Incheril, and then Kinlochewe itself.

Leg 4: Beinn Eighe – 17km, 1,600m elevation – time taken: 4:30

I had a proper stop at Kinlochewe to sit out some forecast drizzle, overcome the lack of a good headtorch, and freshen up my legs. It had taken just under 13 hours to reach Kinlochewe, which in theory was just about in time to make the traverse in 24 hours. But, I definitely needed to take on some proper food, and was having such a nice time it seemed a shame to rush these mountains. It was also on my mind that scrambling the pinnacles of Liathach, in a very tired state, might not be my best ever idea. So, I ate another portion of chilli, watched some World Cup football (Cape Verde’s draw with Uruguay), showered and went to bed.

The phenomenon of “day 2 legs” is a familiar one to me, after lots of 2-day mountain marathons and other multi-day events. True to the formular, they felt dreadful for the first 10 minutes, and then a lot better once warmed up. The route started easy, past the campsite and then up a well-made path towards the Allt a’ Chuirn. It was even feasible to run uphill. This lasted until a fork in the burn, where the path crosses and then immediately scrambles up a loose quartz bank, followed by a much rougher path. The short-lived valley section around Kinlochewe was nice but was never going to last!

The first peak on this leg is Creag Dhubh. The better path curved around rightwards but I (mild mistake) took it on directly, which involved breaking through a rocky barrier on loose scree. Once above this barrier, I could see the rightward option looked better, a bit less steep and not as loose. The ridge above was more pleasant, and the top came quickly. This leg was relatively unusual in that it would have a long section of continuous ridge – elsewhere on this challenge we had short spectacular ridges, or the more isolated summits of Fisherfield. This eastern end even had some grade 1 scrambling along the Black Carls ridge on Sgurr nan Fhir Duibhe.

The rock up here was notably sharp – I picked up a few cuts from the loose blocks, including a paper-cut style incision on my finger which bled a surprising amount. It was also especially slow going on unconsolidated scree, over the Munro top of Sgurr Ban before reaching the first Munro: Spidean Coire nan Clach.

At this point, a major path arrived from the south, the ground became more trodden and sandstone began replacing quartz, making everything a lot easier. The highest point of the mountain, Ruadh-Stac Mor was still 3km away, reached via a curving ridge, a traverse below Coinneach Mhor, and an uncharacteristically easy final ascent.

From there, I again used advice from Steven Fallon’s website to descend directly on grass (mostly) into the coire, rather than a longer route on an eroded scree-path. The descent was very steep but felt efficient into Coire Mhic Fearchair, where a short section over knotty, boulders ground led to the path and stunning views of the ‘Triple Buttress’.

(You may have noticed a lot.of similar place names cropping up. There’s a Coire Mhic Fearchair here, and a leg 2 summit was Mullach Coire Mhic Fearchair. The highest point of Beinn Eighe is Ruadh-stac Mhor, not to be confused with Ruadh Stac Mhor on leg 2. Let’s just say that while many Scottish place names are highly evocative, many also are just descriptions on the landscape, and some places have the same basic descriptors. Perhaps the best example is the four summits closest to Ben Nevis, which are Carn Dearg, Carn Dearg, Carn Mor Dearg and Carn Beag Dearg. (Red hill, red hill, big red hill, little red hill.))

The good path out of the corrie was one of the more runnable sections on the route, curving around towards Liathach. I joined the main path encircling that mountain, heading south-east to the stepping stones which was the rendezvous point with Jen. We sorted out some food before continuing gently down on the path, keeping eyes peeled for a good route up the steep prow of Stuc an Coire Dubh Beag. This is the end of the “upturned keel of a boat” shape of the mountain, and there’s a band of dank sandstone crags that has to be turned. I’d been looking for possible ways up the north flank – nothing looked very promising, but possibly it might offer a quicker route. Not many people ascend this peak direct, instead using the main path up Toll an Meithach, and then diverting along the crest. But a couple of reports suggested a faint path up this way.

Initially, we didn’t see the path, and opted for easy-angled sandstone slabs, which gave a remarkably good way towards the steeper ground. Up ahead, it looked like there was a faint line through steep heather, but we couldn’t see it up close and ended up ascending steep pathless ground, on either boulder-fields or heather banks. As we got higher, it became apparent we needed to trend rightwards towards the ridge line, and in doing so discovered the faintest of trods making its way up. With more elevation, heather turned to grass, and the ridge was more amenable than the flanks. There were a couple of sandstone barriers to break through with some easy scrambling steps, and then eventually the summit came, opening up the famous views along the crest of Liathach.

The mountain gets its shape from the mix of sandstone topped with quartz, and the eastern summits look rather like joined pyramids with a path along the tops. They are steep and it is rough going, the highest point, Spidean a Coire Leith, being a castle of boulders. Beyond that lies the pinnacled section of Am Fasirinen, which I had been a little worried about doing tired, but actually seemed entirely problem-free. Photos taken from distance make it look more imposing, and while there was a fair amount of scrambling, it never felt like there were difficult moves above a serious drop. I would say it felt less intimidating than Crib Goch in Wales, even though Liathach is given Grade 2 in scrambling guides.

It is worth noting that bypass paths skirt below all of the pinnacles. The first two pinnacles feel more deviations off the obvious line, and the path is straightforward. The third and highest pinnacle is the obvious way to go (and researched suggested the bypass path is eroded and traverses worrying steep ground). Done this way, the route felt easy and logical.

On the other side of the pinnacles, the mountain feels less dramatic, even though there are still huge drops to the north side, and the northern pinnacles of Meall Dearg. It’s a much easier climb to Mullach an Rathain, it’s less rocky, and you’re getting close to the sea of Loch Torridon. The only bad news is that Beinn Alligin from here looks steep and enormous. (It had crossed my mind that a descent down the main path to Torridon itself might be the logical end point of this challenge, but that would leave two Munros, and another fabulous ridge, unaddressed.)

The descent begins with a trace of a path along the broadening western ridge, and then becomes totally pathless as you head north-west down fairly steep grass-and-heather slopes towards the river. It felt like slow going, with slippery wet steps, hidden rocks, and very uneven ground. But at least it was over fairly quickly, leading to a river crossing and then the well-made path along the north bank. At the junction with the Beinn Alligin path, Jen returned towards the car, having bashed her ankle on rocks during the last leg. I took on a few more food items and then prepared myself for a final big climb.

The path junction was one of the lowest points between mountains, only about 150m above sea level. So it’s a big old climb up to Na Rathanan – the Horns of Alligin. The way starts steady enough, but then takes on a steep sandstone nose with plenty of easy rock steps along the way. Most walkers take this route in descent, but it seemed a really good way up; the use of hands on rock was certainly a distraction from the 700m climb. There are then several “horns” with more grade 1 scrambling – possibly the trickiest section being a downclimb on slabs after the first horn. There are bypass paths, but it would be a shame to miss out this last scrambling section. It’s then another steep pull up to the first Munro on the ridge: Sgurr Mor.

The summit is a really beautiful place, with fine views in all directions. The route onwards is also a lot easier than almost anything that has come before, with a descent that would be entirely runnable but for the 50 miles and 8,000+m in my legs. The ridge is beautiful but short, leading to the final summit of Tom na Gruigach.

The final descent towards the sea is somehow fitting, dropping 900m in about 3km. Most of the early steep section is a slabbed path, easy enough but at this point it was a light scamper rather than a run. There’s an easier-angled section in the middle, and then it steepens again, but this time with a significantly less-good path, with rocky steps and muddy little trenches. Jen had hiked up the last section, to take my bag, which made the last bit quite a lot easier. After some really awkward ground, the car park came as quite a relief!

All in all, an incredible adventure across the Scottish mountains, every single summit having character and wild beauty, and some of the best ridges in the UK. Several times I encountered people saying they were on the best walk they’d ever done, I was lucky to link together six in under 36 hours.