Arriving from Edinburgh, Keith had gone off to camp at Larachantivore, two kilometers south of Shenavall in the Fisherfield wilderness. In the late afternoon, we followed him for two hours over the hills and down to Shenavall, and then another 45 minutes wading across two rivers (there are no bridges in Fisherfield) and level strath to camp by the water between the mountains towering up on every side.

From York there were Phil and Virginie, Mark, Steve, Barry, Simon and Andrew; and after dark Lesley and Gethin arrived to make a great gang of 10.

"North of Slioch and Loch Maree there is a wild and uninhabited tract of mountainous country with no road access, containing six Munros which are the remotest in Scotland" (SMC)

I had gazed into this wilderness nearly 10 years before, from the heights of An Teallach, but with so many other opportunities and adventures, that most remote mountain of A'Mhaighdean (The Maiden) remained unvisited - eventually taking on an almost dreamlike quality. The Maiden is so coy that she cannot be seen from any road;  there is no possibility to cast an appraising glance at her shape.

But finally, Maiden, comes time to get it on!.

The original plan had been for a two-day trek around the Fisherfield "Big 6"; but with an abrupt change in the weather on the cards, Keith suggested we leave the camp and go for it all early on Saturday.

For speed, we took a good stalker's path even deeper south-west into the empty glens, eventually turning back on ourselves to come from the west side into the high bealach between Ruadh Stac Mor and A'Mhaighdean. The summit of Ruadh is reached by a steep loose scramble (and CAREFULLY down the same way!) but no time to linger as a threatening edge of cloud already shrouded the Atlantic. And then at last, from the bealach and up again, we were able to achieve The Maiden. The view from this fabulous summit includes Lochan Fada and Slioch to the south, and plunges down into Fionn Loch and Carnmore westwards, and then out to Poolewe and the ocean.

Eastwards now to Beinn Tarsuinn, down down down and then up up up to a short entertaining rocky scramble before the summit. High cloud obscured the sun, the wind picking up from the south-west. By mid-afternoon, after crossing Beinn Tarsuinn, Mark, Keith, and Steve were ready to work their way down into the Glen and back north along the riverside. The remaining seven braced ourselves for a parallel northward route over two more Munros. These proved the toughest of the day - steep stony heaps, difficult and tedious to cross. On Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair at 3.30 the wind was beginning to push us about and getting pretty cold. By 4.30 we were making a wearyingly slow descent from Sgurr Ban over acres of stones, hoping to find a way down the steep ground to the high Loch a'Bhrisidh and then to the valley. Meanwhile the predicted weather front lumbered threatening into position like a besieging army.

Finally we got back to camp at 7.30 PM after an awesome and deeply satisfying 11½ hour day.

Although Simon lit a nice fire with a pine log specially collected, rain stopped play and drove us into our tents as darkness fell.

It was an unquiet night, with wind whipping at the tents and rain drumming heavily all night long. Clearly this was a lot more than the forecast "showers". But also, with the ground bone dry after several rainless weeks, the rain would not soak in but was going to run quickly off the surface and flood the rivers.

As we had two of these rivers to wade before getting back to Shenavall, it was "raus!, schnell!" on Sunday morning to get away and cross the rising waters whilst we still could.

Beyond Shenavall the water was pouring off the moor in foaming white torrents. With heads down we settled into our two-hour tramp back to the car-park, as the weather got even worse. The scant consolation was that 45 mph winds and torrential rain were at our backs, as things all got very wet indeed. Finally we reached the cars and by lunchtime the bar of the Dundonnell Hotel, from where we could watch a motorbike being blown over and the gutter being blown off the petrol station.

But still, our tour was not concluded even though the Maiden had yielded herself. Drying out was the first priority and the York contingent were glad to go to the hospitable and welcoming Ledgowan Hotel at Achnasheen. Based in their little bunkhouse, you can still relax in the grandeur of the Hotel's victorian lounges. So we did. -- ANDREW E.