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The Mamores

Wild camping in the Highlands

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat. - Theodore Roosevelt

Climbing from the alpine splendour of Glen Nevis up steep slopes into glorious sunshine. Behind us the great Ben himself, regally attended by His subject peaks, The Aonachs.

Mullach nan Coirean: "Hill of the Corries"

Ahead lay the tangled ribbon of The Mamores, our playground for the coming days.

Our home in the Highlands

As front door views go, it wasn't bad

Overnight, the weather turned and our small shelters were battered by the elements. Hearing the wind roaring as it tore its way through the col was an insomnia-inducing experience.

Next day, with high wind and drifting cloud, The Devils Ridge proved memorable and nervy in equal measure.

With the wind gaining strength we fought to the top of Am Bodach and clung to the summit cairn with the mountain to ourselves. The trip back to the tents involved lurching steps like drunkards and occasional crawling as we laughed like lunatics. To say it was 'bracing' would be an understatement

Returning to camp our little tents seemed so insignificant and yet so important to us. Food, coffee and tall tales whilst the elements raged all around. Tomorrow we would head for home.

With twisted trees looming out of the mist, and the sounds of unseen waterfalls crashing down the mountainside we descended back to the Glen.

End نهاية Fin

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