Using my perks as a Hostelling Scotland employee, I visited my nearest hostelling neighbours and the jewel of the Northwest Highlands: A place called Torridon.

Arriving late on 19 April, five days after my wintery expedition of Beinn Eighe, I immersed myself in the culture of a hostelling enthusiast rather than a seasonal employee.

To me, Hostelling is a place for inquisitive conversations full of life stories, travelling experiences over a meal and intellectual conversations on whether trail running shoes are actually sensible footwear for scaling Scottish Munros… My vote is on the Salomon Speedcross 6, if you have a dry day. Treated leather boots if wet.

It may not seem like it at first, but there is much to do in the sleepy settlement of Torridon. 

Just take a walk, you’ll see. Soon you’ll pass a cafe for cake, a local shop – for cake and a little way out on the shores of Loch Torridon, you can have your cake and eat it!

The wildlife here is abundant. 

The screeching chatter of the Oyster Catchers followed me along the shore as I wandered through the evening hum. Bumping into fellow colleagues on the beach who were taking it all in – I told them of the Merlin Bird iD app where they can pick up the sounds of the birds they were hearing with just a click of a button. I swear by this and I use it every time I am out in nature. Little use to these guys though… smartphones haven’t made it that far up here in the North West Highlands apparently.

But with a burning desire to climb some hills tomorrow, I was set for an early night. Dinner, beer, bed. Ruined by an unfortunate mountain weather report. “Rubbish,” I thought. 5% chance of a cloud free munro, rain rain rain. The day after looks good though, we’ll go find that cake and stick to a lowland trail tomorrow morning, I suppose.

Visiting the Wee Whistle Stop Cafe, just a short walk from the Hostel in the morning, I got speaking to a fellow who sailed up here last weekend from Hastings, a town in my home county of Sussex. We shared snippets of our life journeys, things to do and what to look out for amongst the humbling hills of this little but formidable settlement.

It’s surprising how easy people slip into comfortable conversation when discussing the great outdoors, the barriers are lifted and the life stories flow…

Cramming much into a short period of time, cheers Brian for the hour-long chat. I won’t forget the smile on the Cafe workers face either, watching two strangers connect.. That’s how you find community out here in the Highlands. Good tribes breed good vibes. And I set off for a rainy walk to Benn Dàmh. 

Sticking to the only road that leads to Shieldaig and the infamous Applecross, I turned into a Caledonian pine forest and off the road toward civilization.

Ahh to be free, this is where I feel most like myself. Fresh air, silence and nothing to keep me occupied except my own thoughts. But I soon learned. – Wellies aren’t for hiking. Why did I ever think they were?

I thoroughly enjoyed myself though.

Following a trail around the base of Beinn Dàmh, I found a place to sit beneath it and began thinking about people I no longer know and the relationships that don’t feel like they ever existed. It’s a funny feeling; I had hoped to find community in Scotland, but more often than not, I find myself shaking things off from my past.

But one thing I was not about to shake off was this incoming rain cloud…

A sudden realisation fell upon me, why did I think to walk so far? Isn’t tomorrow supposed to be the hill day?

A decision needed to be made, to either return back and head into the rain, or get chased by it round the mountain. 

Which reminds me.

Do you recall that nursery Rhyme? She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes?

Well, the rain certainly was coming and if I wanted to avoid an outright soaking, I had to put the mountain between me and it, which might just keep me dry.

Thankfully, it did.

Stumbling across two beautiful cabins that were quaintly nestled in the middle of nowhere, I took a long walk along Loch Dàmh, which was teeming with wildlife. The questionable spawning locations for tadpoles upon the trail were worthy of a mention. You had to watch out for the poor little critters as you waded through the flooded path. I do hope they all made it to the frog stage before the path dried out.

Eventually, every path has to lead somewhere and today it led me back to the road.

There’s something freeing about walking a wide open road in a land unknown. Cars seem to rarely pass, but it has this distinct feeling of reassurance; you know you’re alone, but you know where you’re going and that’s not lonely.

I like that.

So with my thoughts and with each step back to Torridon, I regretted wearing wellies. By this point – 20 miles, hot legs, sore feet and tomorrow’s hill day hung in the balance. Will I deem myself fit for another full day out? 

Energy was drained.

It would seem that the thought of a Hill day was a foolish one.

That was until I was welcomed back by the enthusiastic team at Torridon Youth Hostel. All keen and eager to hear what I got up to and whether my waterproofs did the job? “that rain chased me, but it couldn’t catch me”. I won that one for a change. 

Freshly spurred on by friendly faces and conversations about the wind’s keenness for tomorrow, the question was asked: Liathach or Alligin? What range are you tackling tomorrow, Rhys?

Right now? Neither. 

A shower beer and 3 more to follow – late start tomorrow whatever I choose to do. My feet are spent.

I lied. 

A cloud-free Munro day and only one real issue remained; the wind. Liathach was off the menu.

The Jewelled Hill it was.

Beinn Alligin awaited.

Part Two to follow…