A wild welcome to Torridon

Torridon: a name that for me conjures images of airy ridges, quartz summits and pine woods that fall to wild sea lochs. My first memories of the hills are these: Alligin, Beinn Eighe, Beinn Damh and Liathach - long days for little legs. I have returned many times since: to climb, walk and paddle - the mountains are no less spectacular now than then.
But the dour morning on which we walked up into Coire Mhic Nobuil bore little resemblance to the soft summer evenings I remembered from years past - dropping through the pines, the scent of heather and the sea loch beyond - instead, snow squalls shrouded the summits; sleet driven before the south-westerly sliced into the corrie and the river ran wild, roaring through the sandstone gorge. Not a good day for the tops and in fact, simply crossing the river became the objective of the day and such was its height, only once above Loch Grobaig could we do so safely. A wild welcome to Torridon.

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