- Mar 3
- 4 min read
Welcome to Mountain Memories. These are stories from the last 12 years working as a summer and winter Mountain Leader in the UK, alongside personal adventures that have shaped how I move — and, to some extent, who I am — while exploring Scotland’s awe-inspiring hills. Some funny, some emotional, and some a bit wild.
To kick things off, I want to share my first time walking the Fisherfield Munros. These days they’re often referred to as the Fisherfield 5, but I like to keep it old-school and call them the Fisherfield 6 — the full round taking in five Munros and one Corbett. Beinn a’ Chlaidheimh (The Sword) was demoted in 2012, but in my opinion it still earns its place, offering some of the best views of the entire journey.
What Are the Fisherfield Munros?
The Fisherfields are often described as the most remote mountain area in the UK, and with A’Mhaighdean (The Maiden) officially the furthest summit from a road, if you're looking to give this round a go, it certainly requires some good planning, and a bit of luck on the weather front.
The Fisherfield Munros sit way out in the north-west of Scotland and have a reputation for being wild, committing, and properly remote. There are no quick escape routes, the walk-ins are long, and once you’re out there, you’re very much on your own.
That remoteness is exactly what makes them special.
My First Time Walking the Fisherfield Munros
It was October, and I was out with a good mate. The aim was to get him ready for his Mountain Leader assessment the following spring. The forecast looked great, and this was an area we’d both been dreaming about exploring for years.
A Big Walk-In and High Spirits
Day one was incredible. It’s a big walk-in before you even think about heading uphill, but we had the best time just chatting away. About two hours in, we’d somehow invented a fictional podcast–storybook hybrid. The storyline was wild and made absolutely no sense — perfect Fisherfield entertainment.
If you don’t know the area, river crossings in the Fisherfields are part of the deal, along with the infamous “bog of all bogs”. At this point, everything was manageable. We crossed the first major river at knee height, summited the Corbett (still one of my favourite summits anywhere), and caught the second top as the sun was going down.
A Sunset Worth Remembering (For Better and Worse)
I’ll never forget that sunset. Partly because it was stunning. Mostly because of what came next.
When the Weather Turns in the Fisherfields
We dropped into a sheltered saddle between Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair and Meall Garbh and pitched camp. Unfortunately, the weather hadn’t read the forecast. The wind swung round, strengthened, and the rain started.
I was under a tarp, while my mate was tucked up in his cosy one-man tent. My favourite moment was him poking his head out at about 3am to check I hadn’t blown away. I was still there — tarp wrapped round me, bivvy bag on, and somehow still dry.
By morning, the saddle had turned into a swamp. Absolute carnage.
Navigation, Rain, and Rising Rivers
The rain didn’t stop for the next two days. Thick cloud, steep ground, big river crossings, and the bog of doom still to come meant things got intense.
We spent around 8 hours navigating carefully along Beinn Tarsuinn, across the first bog of destiny and up towards A'Mhaighdean through atrocious conditions — honestly much better preparation for a summer Mountain Leader assessment than any blue-sky day could ever offer. Finding the route up to our final munro, Ruadh Stac Mor, in minimal visibility felt like a real achievement.
Then came the rivers.
After all that rain, the 'bog of all bogs' between the two crossings had instead become one big moving body of water. There was no good crossing point. So it was trousers up as high as they’d go, which was pointless, because the water was close to our waste. Arms linked, and carefully we ventured across.
First river crossed. Then the bog (also a river). Then the second river.
There is no such thing as being wetter than that level of wet. Gore-Tex, eat your heart out.
Please note: crossing rivers at this height is incredibly high-risk. We had spent a good bit of time working out alternatives, and decided that our best option would be to reach Shenevall bothy on the other side of the rivers. We gave a serious amount of thought to find the lowest-risk crossing, establish the safest way to carry gear and to ensure we were both clued up on the best technique.
Shenavall Bothy: Salvation in the Storm
The absolute Godsend was Shenavall bothy. That place will always have a special place in my heart.
We stripped off, wrung litres of water out of our clothes, and hung everything around the world’s saddest little fire. Whisky, flames, and spicy chorizo. Perfect.
Finishing on An Teallach
To finish the trip, we headed up An Teallach, one of my all-time favourite mountains. It’s outstanding. We were treated to some slightly better weather and a nice bit of wind that attempted to dry us out.
We were utterly broken by the time we got back to the car. Exactly as it should be.
Lessons from the Fisherfield Munros
Be willing to change plans
Bring Crocs
The forecast isn’t always right
Don’t forget whisky
Rain is wet
Our Route Around the Fisherfield Munros
You can check out the route that we took to complete the Fisherfield Munros, Beinn A'Chlaidheimh and An Teallach on an os map below.
A Final Thought
I have been privileged to get the opportunity to lead many groups around the Fisherfield Munros since, and you will be glad to hear that I have never had weather anywhere near as bad as this *touch wood that continues.
This also means that I have tried and tested quite a few different wild camping spots on the round. Some more comfortable than others. If you want a bit more insight into the Fisherfield Munro round, feel free to get in touch below. I am always happy to help.
It’s an incredible area — and I highly recommend you experience it for yourself.
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