Daffodils were in full bloom at Struy and lapwings cavorted on the riverbanks of the Beauly. After several days of rain I needed cheering up and despite a pretty awful weather forecast there was a real sense that spring was in the air.

I love this approach up the Beauly towards Glen Affric and Glen Cannich – past the wonderfully named Crask of Aigas and on beside the winding river towards Cannich village where I turned right on the road that leads to the Mullardoch Dam. I was heading for a wee hill called Sgorr na Diollaid, a rocky-topped Corbett that I had wanted to climb last autumn until I met a stalking party with similar intentions. Being a responsible hillwalker I backed off, on the basis that the hill would still be there after the stalking season.

This time I had it all to myself – the whole area was as empty as a Yorkshireman’s back pocket, and I parked the car near the bridge at Muchrachd and set off up the steep hillside. Sgorr na Diollaid, (try skoor na jeel-at) or the peak of the saddle, is well named for its summit is dominated by two rocky tors with an obvious saddle in between.

The hill is essentially a rocky outcrop on a long and winding ridge that runs west towards the big hills that rise from the shores of Loch Mullardoch – Carn nan Gobhar, Sgurr na Lapaich, An Riabhachan and An Socach. When we couldn’t climb Sgorr na Diollaid last autumn we climbed part of this undulating ridge instead, from Carn an Gobhar east to Creag Dubh and Mullach Tarsuinn. Today, since the ascent of the Corbett alone is only a two to three hour jaunt, I wanted to follow the ridge west, high above steep slopes that dropped to the north into one of my favourite glens in the highlands, Glen Strathfarrar, the only place I know that is named as both a glen and a strath!

Below my feet the ground was saturated after all the recent snow melt, but thankfully it was dry overhead and the tops were quickly clearing of morning cloud. As I climbed higher the views to the west began to open up – the snow streaked humpbacks of Toll Creagach and Tom a’ Choinich looked impressive, their corrie-bitten slopes rising steeply from the southern shores of Loch Mullardoch. Beyond them hills of Affric lay in a jumble, choking the far end of Loch Mullardoch.

I had taken a pretty straight line from where I had parked the car and soon the grass and heather slopes began to turn more and more rocky. Soon I found myself zig-zagging through rocky slabs, all in an east-bearing thrust, before a short descent brought me to a boggy col and the steep summit slopes.

I wasn’t too sure which of the two tops was the highest, so reckoned the best thing to do was climb them both. The last time I had been here it was so misty that you couldn’t see one top from the other but even with clear conditions it was impossible to tell which was the higher. If I were forced to decide I’d say it was the easternmost top, but that’s only a hunch. I think I’d prefer it to be the highest because its ascent, from the saddle in between the two tops, involves a little rock scramble, although you can walk up it easily enough from the east.

It felt unusually mild and I sat and enjoyed my sandwhiches looking down on Loch Beannacharan of Glen Strathfarrar. Beyond it steep slopes and open corries rose to snow fringed ridge that connects Sgurr na Ruaidhe, Sgurr a’ Choire Ghlais and Sguee Fhuar-thuill, three of the Munros that make up the Strathfarrar ridge, one of the area’s best hillwalking expeditions.

After the very short daylight hours of recent weeks it felt like a luxury to wander slowly over the ridge above Coire na Feithe Seilich and on towards An Soutar which I sat for a while and watched a massive herd of red deer hinds. Golden plover were singing their mournful songs up here and it was good to simply have the time to sit and listen. Eventually I made a move, down the grassy slopes of An Soutar’s south-west facing corrie to the keeper’s house at Loch Carrie and a couple of kilometres on the road back to my car.

Here’s one for the diary. On May 2nd I’ll be leading a walk to help celebrate the Speyside Whisky Festival. What better cause? Along with keen Munro-bagger Alan Winchester, Distilling Manager for Malt and Grain Whisky at Chivas Brothers, I’ll be following in the footsteps of Robbie MacPherson, one of the most notorious whisky smugglers.

From The Glenlivet Distillery we’ll pass the 16th century Blairfindy Castle, climb to the summit of Cairn Daimh [570m] and continue to the site of George Smith’s original distillery in Upper Drumin. Something of a pilgrimage really!

We’ll return close to Josie’s Well, the natural spring which bubbles hourly 3,500 gallons of pure, ice cold water for making the whisky. Smugglers like the legendary Robbie MacPherson hid their stills from the prying eyes of those excise men courageous enough to venture into the lonely glen. The smugglers moved their illegal cargo out of Glenlivet along secret paths that were often impassable because of snow or floods. 

More info on the walk is available from the festival organisers  

Ben Tee, the fairy hill, is seen to best advantage from Glen Garry where its conical shape makes a picturesque backdrop to the woods and the loch. At 901-metres it just falls short of Munro height so it’s relatively unfrequented. Despite that the hill’s position, in the cleft formed by Glen Garry and the Great Glen, makes it a superb viewpoint with the hills of Knoydart and Glen Shiel laid out before you and the whole trench of the Great Glen, leading to Fort Augustus and Loch Ness, stretching away to the east.

I had last climbed Ben Tee about 8 years ago and on that occasion I climbed the hill from the south, via the glorious Kilfinnan Falls. This time I wanted to tackle it from the north, from Glen Garry, following a network of forestry tracks that emanate from the little farming community at Greenfield. Following a couple of weeks in which more snow had fallen on Scotland than in the previous ten years put together I loaded the car with boots, ice axe and crampons, snowshoes and touring skis, equipped for any eventuality.

I had a dreamy notion of Nordic ski-ing along the forest tracks until I reached the footpath that runs up to the high pass of the Bealach Easain between Ben Hee and the sharp nose of Meall a’Choire Ghlais. At that point I would exchange the skis for snowshoes and plod up the deep snow to the summit, but I hadn’t realised how much damage an overnight thaw can do.

An old Scots folk song suggests: “The snaws they melt the soonest when the wind begins to sing…” Especially if those winds come from the south-west. Instead of snow covered forestry tracks the route from the bridge over the narrows of Loch Garry was covered in a kind of glazed slush and the mountain itself had been largely stripped of snow, with only a few white streaks standing out clearly against the dark of the heather. I decided to lighten my load and just carry trekking poles with an ice axe strapped to my pack. I doubted if I’d have to use it.

Forestry tracks tend to offer good approaches to the hills but unfortunately my ancient OS map didn’t show the complete network of forest tracks that exist now in this part of Glen Garry. At the first junction of tracks I took what I thought was the most obvious route only to discover it petered out about a mile later. Fortunately I had a GPS with me and a quick check gave me a grid reference that showed if I continued for a couple of hundred metres I’d come across the Allt Ladaidh. A footpath, on the river’s west bank, would take me the path I should have been on. It was a mistake worth making. The footpath climbed up through the woods alongside a river that was roaring and cascading with brown, peaty snow melt. Great icicles, like organ pipes, hung from the river’s banks and I followed the pawprints of a fox all the way to the track I should have been on.

From this point a broader track continued up the east bank of the Alt Ladaidh to the ruins of some shielings and a junction of right of ways. One went off to west and then south to Clunes on Loch Lochy-side while the other route headed immediately south over the Bealach Easain to Kilfinnan.

From this vantage point Ben Tee rises on uncompromisingly steep slopes to its conical summit and as soon as I could I left the very faint bealach path and took to the heather, making slow progress on slushy snow. By linking up some of the longer snow patches, the surface of which was firm enough to allow me to kick steps, I managed to move a bit faster, with shifting mists swirling in the bealach below and in Coire Ghlas opposite.

It was early afternoon by the time I reached Ben Tee’s big summit cairn and across the great gulf of the Bealach Easain below me the sharp nose of Meall a’ Choire Ghlais was fringed with snow, looking for all the world like a classic alpine ridge. The last time I was here I had climbed it, before striding round the big horseshoe ridge that encloses Choire Ghlais, taking in the Munro of Sron a’ Choire Ghlais, 935m a summit that’s usually linked with its close neighbour Meall na Teanga. Today I simply slid and slithered back down Ben Tee’s slopes to the old shielings and slid and slithered my way back along increasingly slushy forestry tracks to the car.

Richard Else and I will be speaking at the Fort William Mountain Festival tomorrow evening (Sunday). The whole evening has been set aside to celebrate the working environment that many of our mountains represent. Someone from British Alcan will be talking about the role of Ben Nevis in the production of aluminium, one of the major industry’s of the area, Richard and I will follow that with a presentation about the Sutherland Trail, in which I speak to crofters, fishermen and shepherds about their lifestyle in the hills. Ostensibly it’s a talk about the making of ‘Sutherland - The Empty Lands?’ which was broadcast last Christmas on BBC Scotland, so there will be loads of information about the trail as well as the making of the film/

The Fort William Festival is one of the best mountain festivals in the country. It last for 9 days and there really is something for everyone. If you can get away we’d love to see you there. We’re on at the Nevis Centre tomorrow evening - full details on the homepage.