to the shores of Loch Druim Suardalain so as to maximise our chances of getting somewhere to park. The views from the Lochside were divine with scotch pine and birch trees rising from the heather backdrop and golden lengths of grass rising from the dark waters. In the distance, undulating rocky mounds dominated the scene and certainly didn’t reveal any obvious approach. From this perspective the bulbous dome of Caisteal Liath stole the show and teased us menacingly with its intimidating north-facing cliffs. This incredible wilderness is composed of two 44,000-acre hunting estates which were bought in 2005 by the local community and forms part of the Assynt foundation. The buyout also included the mountains of Cùl Mòr, Cùl Beag and Canisp and the aim was to protect the landscape and wildlife and retain employment in the region. At the far end of the loch is the idyllically positioned Glen-canisp lodge which can be rented out by groups for overnight stays. Priority is given to artists and conservation groups working in the local area and on the land. On the day of our adventure, we awoke yet again to frazzling temperatures. Water wasn’t going to be an issue as the route is decorated with lochans and numerous rivers and streams. After passing the lodge the path was kind and the views out to crystal clear Loch an Àirigh Fhraoich were exceptional. A warm breeze offered some relief and just about kept away the flies and gigantic clegs that we seemed to be attracting in the masses. The landscape soon became pretty rugged and we were greeted by our first views of the cone shaped mountain of Canisp to our left. Always dominating the view though was Suilven with its ever-changing appearance and distinct lack of any easy summit path. The enticing river was never far away and diving in for a dip was always on our minds. This guided us towards Loch an Alltain Duibh where a path led off left to the clandestine Suileag bothy. My mind jumped back to the BBC drama film called “Edie” where a determined lady in her 80s decided to embark on a solo mission to climb Suilven. On the first night of her trip, I distinctly remember her sheltering in a bothy during a storm after rowing across Fionn Loch. This may well be the case but the bothy is no-where near this loch. The loch in question is in fact encountered if one approaches via a completely different route from the south! A bit of filming trickery me thinks. I remember a friend telling me he had met a lady earlier in


summit. I had kind of vowed to myself to make my first visit an over-night camping one as putting in all that effort on the long approach only to miss out on the chance of a dramatic sunset and sunset would be too tough to handle as a photographer. As a result, I was always waiting for those perfect conditions that promised a temperature inversion or perhaps even a dusting of snow. Fast forward a few years and I found myself and my partner


Claire up in the far north-west in the middle of a blazing heat wave. We were keen to camp out on a few summits and decided Suilven might just be high enough to capture a breath of wind and remote enough for peaceful night under the stars. The nearby fishing village of Lochinver glistened in the summer sun as Suilven beckoned in the distance. We had opted to embark on our little adventure from the north side of the mountain and spent a glorious evening close


the year who had cunningly used the bothy as a base to climb both mountains from. As the weight of photography kit in my pack was starting to forge furrows across my shoulders, I did consider how that might have been a more attractive option. We kept reminding ourselves it would all be worthwhile when we set up camp on the summit. Eventually we reached Lochan Buidha and promptly collapsed into a pile of sweat and slaked our thirst with the delicious stream that fills it. After crossing a footbridge, the increase in angle signalled this was going to be no pushover. Despite walking for some time, we hadn’t actually gained any substantial height and I began thinking the finale would be some hideous slog up the bog. Then, as if by magic, our prayers were answered as a flagged path veered off to the right in the direction of our goal. It turns out erosion was becoming a problem and the John Muir trust had a done a tremendous job laying a path. The sandy Loch na Barrack and Loch a' Choire Dubh were the last sources of water so we filled our boots with its sustenance and resisted the severe temptation to jump in and cool our aching legs. Looming above was the much-talked about Bealach Mor, which forms a gap between Caisteal Liath and the middle peak of Meadhonach. Thankfully, although


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