When Hillwalking became Munro Bagging

When I stand on the summit of my final Munro this week, I am expecting a familiar blast of wind and rain in my face obscuring any views, before taking a quick selfie and getting ready to head back down through waterlogged peat bogs. The Munro summits haven't all been like that of course, but in these days of Instagram-ready photo opportunities, I feel that it is important from the get-go to be honest that a lot of the time this is exactly what you can expect. 

In Scotland we have the right to responsible access to all of the land, a right people campaigned hard for many years ago. Taking advantage of that to the full has led to me zig-zagging across the country climbing Scotland's highest peaks. I have loved every minute of it.

An inquisitive deer, in Glenfinnan

What are the Munros?

The Munros are a list of the Scottish mountains higher than 3000 feet in altitude, a list first drawn up in 1891 by Sir Hugh Munro. The list has been redrafted a few times as heights have been more accurately measured, and the interpretation of these being the highest peaks, separate and apart from any immediately adjacent summits changes with time. This means that the current list, maintained by the Scottish Mountaineering Club, currently stands at 282 summits. For the obsessives and pedants the complete list of summits over 3000 feet includes the 282 Munro summits plus a further 227 "Munro Tops", subsidiary peaks close to a higher Munro. Someone who has reached all 282 Munro summits is called a Munroist, or a Compleater. The archaic spelling is used, as found in e.g. the 1653 book The Compleat Angler. 

Finishing all 282 of Scotland's Munros is an achievement that will test your endurance and resolve, and it will absolutely test the patience of your friends and family. Even when not away on a walk, your time will be filled poring over various weather forecasts or route suggestions, planning the next trip. From Ben Hope in the north, Ladhar Bheinn the most westerly Munro on the mainland, in Knoydart, Ben Lomond to the south, and Mount Keen in the east, it is a great way to see all corners of Scotland north of the central belt. And then of course there are the islands, with 12 Munros on the Isle of Skye, and Ben Hope on the Isle of Mull. 

1980s hillwalking gear, in the Kilpatrick Hills

I have been hill-walking for 40 years, ever since some school friends and myself used to hitch-hike up Great Western Road on weekends and summer holidays, seeing where we could get to. Like many people in Glasgow we started off in the Kilpatrick Hills and the Campsie Fells just outside the city, before graduating to Ben Lomond and the Arrochar Alps, the steep, rocky mountains at the head of Loch Fyne such as Ben Ime, Ben Vorlich and the Cobbler. We walked the West Highland Way a few times in the days when you could camp anywhere along the route, and this introduced us to the mountains in Glen Coe, and to Ben Nevis near to the end point of the West Highland Way in Fort William. In those pre-internet days we were researching planned trips from books, and borrowing OS Maps from the library. The West Highland Way book at that time came with a good map that had enough hills on either side of the route to let you use it for further trips along that strip. This meant that some of the routes that we devised were a bit unconventional, joining up peaks along easier looking contour lines on the maps, but it was how we learnt to navigate. When I was 17 years old I got my first car, and Glen Etive and Glen Coe were our usual targets in those days.

Glen Etive and my pal's lovely classic Vango tent

Hillwalking with Diabetes

One challenge that I have had when hill-walking is that when I was 17 years old I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. In the 1980s this meant drawing up and mixing insulins for twice daily injections. Living in Scotland cool bags were never going to be necessary on our camping trips to keep the insulin fresh, but the early blood glucose testing strips were pretty tiresome. After two minutes you had to compare the coloured strip with the side of the bottle, to get a rather vague idea of what your sugar levels were doing. The large drop of blood these strips required is easy enough to extract in a warm room, but harder to get out of cold fingers on a Scottish mountaintop. My friends always knew how to deal with me, and what the signs were of my likely hypoglycaemia if I hadn't noticed it yet. On our first walk up Britain's highest summit, Ben Nevis, I was unfortunately ignoring their advice, obstreperously refusing to take the Mars bar they were trying to force upon me because "I can't eat those fucking things, I'M DIABETIC!". 

First time up Ben Nevis

We did make it to the top, and thankfully the technology for managing diabetes has advanced in leaps and bounds. Electronic glucometers have come along requiring less time and less blood to work, then we now have continuous glucose monitors, that I have stuck into my arm nowadays, that send a continuous message to my mobile phone to let me follow my blood glucose. Syringes and insulin vials were replaced by pre-filled injection pens, and I now use an insulin pump that is permanently stuck onto me, communicating with my glucose monitor to make dose adjustments. No longer do I have to unwrap layers of clothing to expose a bit of flesh for an injection in the middle of a gale, I can dial up the dose on an app to deliver the insulin that way before I take my sandwiches.

Exercise affects different people with diabetes in different ways. With me, prolonged steady exertion makes my insulin have a much bigger effect on my blood glucose, meaning that I have learned to start those days with a blood glucose level a bit higher than I normally would - either a larger than usual breakfast, or a lower insulin dose with that meal. There is also evidence that starting exercise within two hours of an insulin bolus increases the risk of low blood sugars, so again that is something that it is better to avoid. Then when I am walking I will need to keep an eye on my blood glucose levels and snack regularly through the day. For me that means about three Jelly Babies (15g carbohydrate) every couple of miles. Alternatively I have found it helpful to have a high carbohydrate snack once I reach a summit, such as a slice of fruitcake with a cup of coffee. 

Lots of other things can affect your blood sugar, so I always overdo it with regards to how much food I carry with me, and a high carbohydrate lunch is essential on a long day, made up of things like sandwiches, biscuits, dried fruit or flapjacks. Also lots of sugary snacks for emergencies. Kendal mint cake is a compact sugar kick, and macaroon bars, the nearest Scottish version (basically potatoes and sugar covered in desiccated coconut) are always handy to carry. Those do taste better than I am making them sound.

If I am camping for a few days, the food packing becomes like planning a military operation. I find a lot of the expensive, lightweight, freeze-dried camping foods focus more on their protein rather than carbohydrate content, and usually have an unpleasant sludgy consistency. When camping I tend to carry rye bread, which is compact and less easily crushed than white bread, and has a lower glycaemic index meaning a steadier increase in blood sugar levels. A tube of Primula cheese spread or Princes meat paste, and that's your lunches sorted. The small plastic pots of Creamed Rice Pudding are handy, and I find the pouches of lentils and grains available cheaply in any supermarket (eg by Merchant Gourmet, and Lidl do good ones too) easy to carry and quick to heat up on a camping stove. 

Everybody with diabetes will react differently to exercise and to different foods. I only include these details here as ideas for other people to consider, but an element of individual trial and error is involved. 

The other thing with diabetes is that you need to look after your feet, due to the higher risk of foot ulcers and infection. So no blisters allowed. For that reason I spend a bit of time and effort seeking out well-fitting boots. Personally I always find it easier to maintain a good pair of leather boots, and keep them waterproof. 

The type of place where getting a drop of blood
from your finger can prove challenging

Becoming a Munro Bagger

About 3 years ago I morphed from being a hillwalker into a Munro bagger. I didn't ever plan to catch them all, but I kind of fell into it after being released from Covid lockdown. At that time I started looking for more remote mountains to walk in, still feeling a need to keep my distance from other people as I work in the health service where we were still being exposed to the virus. Like a potential plague carrier I was trying to keep away from the more popular mountain routes. 

When I had a short break with my family up in Achiltibuie in early 2022, as is often the case, I deserted them one day and walked up the nearby Stac Pollaidh on that trip. Although at 1600 feet this beautiful peak is not a Munro, while I was there my daughter bought me a wee Munro log book in the bookshop in Ullapool. Looking through this book, ticking off the mountains within it which I had already climbed I was surprised that I had actually climbed less than I thought, about 40 of them. These were all generally within 90 minutes drive of Glasgow, and I had been up and down the same mountains several times. In winter and in summer, in rain, snow and occasionally in sunshine, in proper gear, and (in earlier days) in denims and trainers. I had my favourites, such as Buachaille Etive Mòr and Ben Lomond. I had some, such as Schiehallion, that I climbed 5 times before I ever did it on a day when the clouds cleared and I was actually able to enjoy a view. There were also some areas that I had never done any hillwalking at all, such as in the Cairngorms. 

Buachaille Etive Mòr

I still did not think that I was planning to do them all, but once I had been handed a list I inevitably enjoyed ticking them off. In the high Cairngorms plateaux you can manage a round of four or five peaks without much ascending and descending. The Ring of Steall in the Mamores traverses four Munro summits in one 10 mile walk. Then a day spent walking along the glorious South Glen Shiel Ridge means that you have reached seven Munro summits in a single day. Quite quickly the numbers rise and it begins to look achievable. Once your friends and family notice you may be gifted a few mountaineering books and a scratch-off map of Munro summits (I got two). You then have another visual list to work through. You start to see the points on your map within the excellent Walkhighlands website turning from red to blue, the small rewards that feed your addiction start to kick in. So instead of having walked 40 Munros, I quickly reached 100 Munros. Then 150 became achievable. Once I reached 182, there was "only" 100 left to go.

I knew that I had some challenges ahead. I tend to go walking alone. For me it is a fabulous way to unwind and think about where you are putting your next footstep, rather than fretting about the day to day worries of life. Usually walking alone meant that I wanted to be better prepared for some of the exposed ridges ahead. I booked myself onto a scrambling course at Glenmore Lodge at Aviemore, and then the next weekend took myself off along the Schoolhouse Ridge at Ballachulish to tackle Sgòrr Dhearg and Sgòrr Dhòuill.

Sgòrr Dhòuill, above Ballachulish

This opened up a list of some of the more challenging Munros I had been avoiding, but there were still the 12 Munros on the Isle of Skye, particularly the 11 on the Black Cuillin Ridge that definitely required a bit of climbing. You can't complete a round of the Munros without facing this. I took a week off work in May this year, and with fingers crossed that the weather gods would smile upon me I booked a guide to help me traverse the Cuillins. (Many guides are available but I used Abacus Mountain Guides, as they are involved in training other guides, and I would highly recommend them.)

 

The Cuillin Ridge, viewed from Elgol on the Isle of Skye

In amongst the Cuillin summits

In preparation I started attending an indoor climbing wall, and took a two session beginners course in roped climbing at The Climbing Academy's Prop Store in Maryhill. This meant that when I came to the Cuillins I was confidently able to tie myself on to a rope and had a basic understanding of what was required. With four nights booked at the Glenbrittle Campsite I knocked it off with the weather. Unbroken sunshine, blue skies, and next to no wind meant plenty of midges at the campsite, but dry rock and glorious views across the sea to the islands lying below us once we were up on the gabbro rock of the Black Cuillins. Climbing the resplendently named Inaccessible Pinnacle (the "In Pinn") had been something I had imagined as completely impossible ever since I was about 14 years old and we used to joke about doing it when we started hillwalking. It was an absolute joy to actually manage it, and to then have my first go at abseiling to descend from it. 

The Inaccessible Pinnacle on Skye

Abseiling off the In Pinn

Once I had overcome all the most difficult mountains it was the practical aspects of getting to the remaining mountains that became a challenge. A few days in Gairloch with my wife was meant to give me the chance to tackle the Torridon mountains, but absolutely miserable weather meant we instead enjoyed being tourists again in a part of Scotland we had not visited together since we were students. 

Ben Hope in Sutherland is nearly 6 hours drive from where I live in Glasgow, and once I had got there I was not for coming back another day. So it was attacked in gale force winds and horizontal rain. Weather forecasting websites became my most visited sites. I find the Mountain Weather Information Service useful for planning ahead and its "chance of cloud free Munros" a helpful indicator. The Met Office mountain forecasts tend to be best for predicting summit conditions as these, such as wind speeds, can often be very different from nearby sea level conditions. The Norwegian weather site is helpful in providing actual numbers for expected rainfall or snowfall, which I find more helpful than just one, two or three raindrops shown under an image of a cloud on other websites, although its summit wind speeds are always wildly inaccurate.

There is also some logistics required in reaching for example the three Munros in Knoydart. Without any road access it either involves a long walk in, or the more enjoyable ferry in from Mallaig. I had this all lined up for a relaxed long weekend at the start of August, but as Storm Floris approached I had to get around these mountains in a forced march to catch the ferry back to Mallaig a day earlier than planned. Thankfully I made it as there were no ferries the following day and staying another night in a tent as I had intended would have been foolhardy.

Camping on Knoydart, before the storm

The final summit

There comes a point where you have to decide what is going to be your final Munro. Most people will aim at a single peak which is quite isolated, and Ben More on the Isle of Mull has been a popular choice. Taken by the easiest route it presents no particular difficulties, but unless you live on Mull, it is going to involve an overnight stay for most people. This makes it a good choice to celebrate completing (or is it compleating?) your round. In the last few months I have got through the remaining mountains quicker than I had expected, and impatiently unwilling to leave it until the surer weather of next springtime I arranged a few days off work in November to get over there. The other reason that I wanted to have Ben More as my final summit is that I have been staring at a print of Samuel Peploe's painting "Ben More from Iona" on my wall for the past 25 years. I bought it in Kirkcaldy Art Gallery's gift shop after seeing the original there: they have a very fine collection of paintings by the Scottish Colourists. It has been in every house I have lived in since, in an over the top gold frame that used to hold a postcard with Rembrandt in it.

Samuel Peploe's Ben More from Iona

So this weekend we came to Mull to tackle Ben More. CalMac tried to thwart us by cancelling our ferry, but we made it. Despite the low cloud and high winds meaning views from the top were not going to be happening it was with a sense of relief rather than excitement that I completed my Munro round. A curry in The Spice of Mull, and a night in The Mishnish lie ahead.

A beach on the Isle of Mull

A toast from my grandad's hip flask
at the top of Ben More

What comes next?

Having completed all of the Munros I am looking forward to not following a list. I have already gone back to visit a few that stood out on my first time around. Last week I enjoyed going back to The Mamores above Kinlochleven, re-visiting two summits that were a bit of a trial last time. I had twisted my knee on the second day of a three day trip and limped over the final summits of that trip growling and grimacing. There are also a few mountains that I have already planned to approach in the new year on a different route from last time, and a few that I would like to see in better weather. 

I have absolutely loved the way it has cajoled me into visiting parts of the country that I would probably not have seen otherwise. It has pushed me to learn new skills, as well as been a great incentive to maintain my fitness. When not hillwalking I regularly go running to maintain my stamina, and I will keep that going as well, with applications in for a couple of hill races in the coming months. I have already reached 72 of the 227 Munro Tops in reaching the Munros, but have no great urge to visit the remainder. Of course there are the Corbetts, the 222 mountains in Scotland between 2500 feet and 3000 feet. This is a mixed bag of rocky mountains and grassy hillocks and I think I would enjoy picking and choosing from this list rather than feeling an obligation to tackle them all. I have already been up Clisham, the Corbett in the Outer Hebrides earlier this year, and Askival and Ainshval on Rum would be an excuse to visit an island that I have not been to before. 

You can also register your name with the "Clerk of the List" maintained on behalf of the Scottish Mountaineering Club, a record of Munro Compleatists. With the Reverend A.E,Robertson in 1901 being the first, the official list now contains 8190 names. Will I bother to do that? Of course I bloody will, although I am not sure that I would ever wear the official pin badge of tie that I can purchase. 

The main thing I would take away from this is that we should all take advantage of the right to roam that we have in Scotland. To quote Woodie Guthrie, this land was made for you and me. So go and explore it. 

When you're going hillwalking in the morning, and you've got a Bryan Adams gig to go to in the afternoon. Circa 1990