FINDING PERFECT SERENITY ON A NON-MOUNTAIN DAY

THE intention was to climb Beinn Fhionnlaidh but I knew within the first half-hour it wasn't going to happen.

The heat was intense, stifling, not the merest breath of wind to ease the 28C beating we were taking on the way up from the Glen Etive road.

There were other factors – lack of sleep, the early start, the long drive – but these were minor complaints compared to the heat. The trees which previously provided some cover on either side had been cleared a few years back leaving the track exposed to the full power of the sun. By the time we reached the start of the hill path, my race – or more accurately, trudge – was run. My walking partner, younger, faster, fitter, was on a Munros mission and I was aware I was only going to hold him back. This was a new tick for him, it would be my fifth time on this summit. His need was greater than mine – I could leave it for another day. Besides, we had a packed week ahead so it seemed sensible not to crash and burn at this juncture.

I lay down in the shade and insisted he charge on. I told him I would try to resume the ascent after a while and would likely meet him on his way down. That gave me some three hours to play with.

After about 15 minutes resting and with the sun now exposing my shady spot, I set off again, plodding uphill on the steps in the grass, my friend already beyond the immediate horizon and well out of sight. I wondered about the futility of my efforts. Was there any point in trying to carry on, moving at a snail's pace and over-heating to not climb a mountain? Equally, returning to wait in the car in this searing heat for a couple of hours didn't seem a good option. The answer to this dilemma lay in the stream I had crossed about ten minutes ago. I returned to the water and scrambled down from the little bridge and across into the middle of the flow to find a spot which could be handily adjusted to form a rocky deckchair.

It had a good seat and a sloping back rest which meant I could stretch out in a natural sunbathing position and with cap and sunglasses and sunscreen applied, I was ready for a siesta on Costa del Etive.

Lazy sunny afternoon, had no time to worry, close my eyes and drift away.

I had expected to be able to last for around 30 minutes max under the relentless sun, and was wary of falling asleep then wakening up hours later burned to a crisp. The rocks were hot to the touch but the lively flow and cooling spray the water generated meant the temperature in the middle of the stream felt a good few degrees cooler.

The effect may have been psychological, but it seemed to do the trick. The beating sun was now pleasant rather than oppressive, the consistent rhythm of the water the only sound breaching the silence, a lullaby to soothe and calm the mind. No midges either, the weather proving too hot for them to handle.

My world was reduced to tunnel vision: the surrounding ground had vanished. I could only see a sky of brilliant blue, interspersed with featherlight clouds that playfully changed shape by the second and occasional contrails. It amused me to think that hundreds were jetting off to resorts in other parts of the world while I had found a personal piece of heaven miles below them. Dragonflies occupied the airspace at this level, blue and yellow flashes hovering then darting here and there, fascinating, hypnotic. Birds were streaking past, flitting from branch to branch of the rowans which tipped and bent over the banks. Time passed slowly, yet it passed quickly. I suddenly realised I had spent almost two hours lazing around in this tranquil setting. It was time to go. They're no sign of my walking buddy yet so I took my time walking back down the track. He soon caught up. His day had been a success, and I felt mine had been too. Sometimes a non-mountain day can feel like a failure but this one was every bit as fulfilling as an ascent, an exercise in serenity and taking time out to appreciate the oft-missed minutiae of my surrounds. And it proved the perfect launch pad for four big days to follow.