Last Saturday I hired a car and travelled north with the plan of going for a nice walk in Assynt during Sunday's weather window. The original plan was to walk up to the summit of Canisp and then go across to Suilven. However, while driving up the A9 the thought struck me that, since I seem to be exorcising the ghosts of past failures on the hills this year, I should stop south of Ullapool and tackle An Teallach (The Forge).

I've tried to climb this mountain 3 times in the past and been thwarted by the weather every time. With an almost guaranteed rain-free, low-wind day in prospect I couldn't just drive past could I? An Teallach is regarded as one of the very best mountains Scotland has to offer. Lots of airy scrambling, sheer drops and imposing buttresses along with fine ocean views on clear days.

Standing on the banks of Little Loch Broom on Saturday night around 11:30pm I looked up and was awestruck at the sheer number of stars in the clear sky. City folk never see this spectacle due to the ever present sodium haze from street lighting.

At 7:45am the next morning I was on my way up the path from the Corrie Hallie south into Fisherfield in broken sunshine. By 9am I was standing at the foot of Sail Liath (The Grey Heel) which lies to the south east of An Teallach proper. It's a steep ascent on frost-shattered torridonian sandstone to reach the crest of Sail Liath but upon reaching this level the views open up dramatically. The hills of Assynt to the north, Ben More Coigach, Cul Mor, Suilven and Canisp seem much closer than a glance at a road map would suggest. You can easily pick out Foinaven, Ben More Assynt, Ben Hope, Ben Wyvis and the peaks of The Fannichs. The views over the Fisherfield Forest and the west coast are fantastic.

The first picture here was taken from the summit of Sail Liath looking north and shows the famous pinnacles of An Teallach (the Corrag Bhuidhe) including Lord Berkeley's Seat and the first of the two munros, Sgurr Fiona. It's at this point that you realise you are on a serious mountain. I knew the pinnacles would be dramatic and a difficult climb but these are way beyond my abilities as a solo scrambler. At the start of the Corrag Bhuidhe, having just watched the two climbers in front of me rope up and don their climbing helmets, I took the fairly eroded and still very airy path which traverses this section of the hill on the south west. Any illusions that this would be an easy option were very quickly put aside. The path is rather faint and is on very steep ground. The hill drops away below you for many hundreds of metres. To make matters worse some snow still clung to the hillside and covered the path on some sections for up to five metres at a time. With nothing to cling onto on these sections the feeling is ever present that any slip would result in a very serious situation indeed.

While gingerly coming round a buttress on the traverse I took hold of what I suspected to be firm rock and was very surprised when a 3 foot section of the mountain came away in my hand. The huge boulder slid off the shoulder high shelf and crashed, point first, into the path and missed my standing foot by about an inch. It then rolled impressively down the mountainside giving a good idea of how a human body might act should one fall from this precarious perch. Had that block struck me on the foot it would certainly have shattered bone and left me in a dreadful position. Not long after this, due to the copious amount of adrenaline now flowing around my body, cramp of a very debilitating kind set into my legs. Neither leg would bend without cramping up painfully and I had to sit down and rest for ten minutes before continuing. This happened again and again on the way round and made for slow progress.

I was certainly relieved when the traverse came to an end and I could rest for a while before tackling the steep climb up to Sgurr Fiona (1060m). If you were of a mind to do so you could reverse the ridge here to take in Lord Berkeley's Seat, the last of the pinnacles, but I'd had more than enough of this section of the hill. 45 minutes later I'd made the descent and the re-ascent required to reach the second munro, Bidean a'Glas Thuill (1062m) - see OS map. The final two photos accompanying this post were shot from the summit cairn here. The first looks back towards Sgurr Fiona while the second looks over Glas Mheall Liath towards Ben Wyvis.

It's a long walk back to the Corrie Hallie from here over Glas Mheall Mor on rock slabs, peat bog and grass. I had a long time to reflect on the events of the day and I realised that in ten years of visiting the Scottish hills this was the first time I'd been only a whisker away from being in real trouble. There are some impressive waterfalls on the river flowing off the mountain on the way back to Dundonnell and I was sorely tempted to plunge in. If I'd been a little less worn out by my adventure on the hill I'd have done so.

If my previous post on Ben Ledi spoke of that hill being an ideal candidate for those who may be new to walking in the hills, An Teallach presents the walker with a completely different prospect. It is a fearsome torridonian sandstone monster of a hill which has teeth and a complete south to north traverse of the mountain should not be undertaken lightly. I would imagine that in winter conditions or during poor weather this hill would be a no go area for all but the most experienced of climbers.

Another monkey off my back in terms of past failures rectified and I do feel a sense of achievement having succeeded on such a serious hill.

On the evening of the 16th February I drove up the Braemar road from Perth on the way to the car park at the end of the public road in remote Glen Muick. The journey was to enable a hike up the majestic Deeside munro Lochnagar the next day. I bedded down for a cold night in the car, waking the following morning to frosted windows and a cloudless sky. The car park now has a £2 charge for parking but I hadn't thought to bring any cash with me and the thought of driving a 16 mile round trip to Ballater to use a cash machine before finding somewhere open at 7am on a Sunday morning to give me some change was unappealing to say the least. I chose not to pay and to begin the walk regardless. A small transgression perhaps, not one I'm proud of but given the state of much of the world in which we live, not one I'm going to lose too much sleep over.

I'd managed to get down through the Spittal of Glen Muick, across the glen to Allt-na-giubhsaich and up the land rover track to a height of around 650 metres by 10am. The weather was perfect. Near total silence. Only the trickle of slowly melting snow and ice in the morning sunshine. This climb was another of those I'd attempted in the past but not completed. I was now just past the point I'd turned back on that previous occasion. It had been the strength of the wind that had forced a retreat last time and that was not going to be a problem today. Only the very lightest of breezes stirred the air, even at this height. Cutting south west from the land rover track I headed for the col between Lochnagar and Meikle Pap and shot the picture you can see here of the great amphitheatre of the corrie wall of Lochnagar. After a coffee and a pork pie I ascended "the ladder" and finally skirted the rim of the corrie to reach Cac Carn Mor (1150m) and then Cac Carn Beag (1155m). I was sitting on the summit at midday and spent a happy 30 minutes in peaceful contemplation marvelling at the stunning views.

I decided on taking the "scenic" route back and walked south west from the summit to reach Carn A' Choire Bhoidheach (1110m) and The Stuic (1093m) before tackling Carn an t-Sagairt Beag (1044m) and Carn an t-Sagairt Mor (1047m). The ascent of the latter was a little tricky as the north west facing steep slope of the hill was covered in very hard icy snow. I'd not brought the crampons with me and managed to get to the top using some old wind-worn snow steps someone had made when the snow was clearly much younger and softer. Near the summit I found the wing of an RAF English Electric Canberra jet which crashed here in January 1956. The rest of the plane is up here too and some searching would reveal other large pieces of engines and fuselage.

If reaching the summit had been tricky then descending would best be described as exhilarating. I used one edge of my boot sole as a brake and one hand on the ice for stability and slid increasingly quickly into the glen to the south east of the hill. Great fun. The walk out from here is rather long but the beautiful weather, solid frozen Dubh Loch and peaceful tree lined Loch Muick made for a very pleasant afternoon.

On the 20th of January I managed to summon the enthusiasm to drive north and tackle Ben Ledi in Stirlingshire. Having attempted this climb before, back in 1999, I knew it was a steep and unremitting ascent.

I'm not at all sure why I bailed out of the climb back then. A youthful lack of fortitude perhaps. I do remember it being a good deal warmer when I tried before, it was June or July for a start. That was the first real foray I'd had into the Scottish Hills and I intended to excise that particular ghost of failure from my memory and push to the top this time around.

Taking the path on the southeast of the hill you are rewarded with fine views over Stirlingshire and the Forth Valley all the way to Edinburgh and beyond. On a clear day you'll be able to pick out Edinburgh Castle and Arthur's Seat. I sat down after breaking the back of the climb at around 600 metres to have lunch and a breather. The absolute silence combined with the sweeping view reminded me why I have grown to love these trips to the hills. I look forward to them all the more now that the responsibilities that go hand in hand with having a young family impacts on my free (me) time. When my children are old enough, I'll bring one or both of them back to Ben Ledi as one of their first real climbs. Actually being able to see where you've just driven up from gives a great sense of geography and the scale of the country. Views over the other side of the country from the summit include the Nevis range, the Arrocher "Alps" and the Crianlarich hills.

At around 750 metres I hit the cloud base and the temperature suddenly dropped away. The picture accompanying this post entry gives you some idea of the conditions up at the top. The cross that can be made out in the picture is not at the summit, but is very close to it, and is a memorial for Police Sgt. Harry Lawrie who was killed while working for Killin Mountain Rescue in February 1987 on Ben More.

No views from the summit to speak of as the clouds rushed by. There were fleeting glimpses down to Loch Katrine and Ben A'an in the Trossachs. It was of no matter because the ghost of my previous surrender had now been successfully given the boot.

One self satisfied sigh later and I took the circular route back down the hill through Glen Stank, passing around 25 or 30 rather elderly walkers battling through a stiff breeze to the summit. More power to them.

Ben Ledi is a great introductory hill for those flirting with the notion of hillwalking. Bit steep to start with but if you can push through that you'll be amply rewarded.