NOSTRADAMUS, POISON MUSHROOMS AND THE PERILS OF PLANNING COMPLETION PARTIES

A DAMP day in Glen Affric, a snaking line of bodies pushing upwards through the trees, the bright colours of their waterproofs in sharp contrast to the delicate dripping gold and copper of the late autumn foliage.

More than 30 had turned up for a friend's ascent of Beinn a' Mheadhoin, the final summit in his Grahams round which also meant the completion of his Full House.

The logistics of getting everyone together for this type of mountain celebration are complex so the date had been in the diary for a long time. The chosen hill generally has to fall in the easier bracket to suit all participants, timings have to be considerate for those travelling from far and wide and there are lashings of champers, loaves and fishes (more likely cakes) to order, buy, then carry up to feed the multitude. No such problem if you sneak up on your own.

You don't need to be Nostradamus to foresee that any such forward planning in Scotland is futile when it comes to the weather. And so, as is more often the case, there was precipitation. It had been falling off and on for the previous few days, there was persistent rain and strong winds through the night before the walk and in the morning we were greeted by heavy bursts and waterlogged roads.

It didn't spoil the party. In fact, conditions eased and we escaped with a few light showers and occasional drizzle. There were even patches of blue sky and brief glimpses of the higher snow-dusted hills. Only in this country could that feel like a win.

It was a fine day out in great company and it was a privilege to be part of the celebration, but it highlighted once again why I go the extra mile to avoid having any organised completion parties of my own.

Bad enough having to go out in miserable weather, worse still when you convince friends and family to come along and share that misery. In many cases, out of a sense of loyalty – and naivety – this can be some family member's first experience of hillwalking.

I know that if I dragged my clan up some boggy trudge to a windy and wet mountain top with nothing to see but tears and anger, they would subsequently be writing to that jailed Aussie woman asking for some of her mushroom dish recipes.

Only once have I planned a big finish, and that was because it coincided with a club meet on Mull. We had three days to choose from but for once the weather played ball and we had a sensational extended day on the hill. Even then, it was mostly organised by others in the group. I merely nodded along and enjoyed the cake.

Three times I have completed solo, most times with one or two people, the other exception being my Full House finish on Ben Nevis but even that was attended by a mere half-dozen and again due to a club weekend. And although that one started beautifully on a quiet route up from the top of Glen Nevis, we were soon stumbling around in thick mist on the summit plateau with the rest of the disappointed hordes who had arrived via the tourist path.

As with most of my mountain outings these days, it's usually a last-minute decision and based on the best conditions, the sort of spontaneous shout that suits those who thrive on late cancellations for holidays or dental appointments. Setting a date two years in advance for a completion brings too much time pressure. I often can't figure out what I'm wanting to do the following week never mind gambling on a date slotted in for hundreds of hill climbs and years far in the future.

On the one occasion when I did follow this pathway, I found myself chasing ticks on the worst of days through the winter just to make sure I stayed on target. It felt more like a punishment than a pleasure.

Being a natural pessimist, it all feels far too presumptuous. Any of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse may have a bit to say about any far-reaching plans. Although once again, the Scottish attitude of “ach, it was only light pestilence, we had a good day anyway” would likely prevail.

Well done on your completion Dave, just don't expect me to reciprocate when I next get to the finish line.