Aye she was a bonnie vision

The view hit me like an Eastend slap. A real breath-taker, and judging by the silence of our small walking group, everyone agreed.

Trying to explain the beauty of the panorama laid ahead of us, would be like describing the taste of a strawberry to someone whose never tried one, but I'll give it a go. As far as the eye could see rich green met vivid blue, with copious lashings of lavender purple. Trickles of shimmering streams broke the vista from the top of impressive Mount Ben Arthur, all the way down to Loch Long.

As we'd sat in the cosy tabhairne the night before, huddled around our drams of whiskey trying very hard not to suck our cheeks in after every pull, we discussed the route. Our mixed experience group had conflicting views on the best way to manage the climb, but in the end the Scottish spirit took us all and we decided to let it be, before zig zagging our way back to our rooms.

The Scots may have a reputation for liking the odd drink now and again, but we could only now truly appreciate why. Stood on top of that mountain looking out over the rolling hills with a bracing wind wrapping its way around your bones, all and any fuzzy head niggles evaporated. Like they had never existed. This place was magical.

Don't get me wrong, it was a tough ol' climb. The rain had visited the highlands the night before, and although it had left crystal clear skies in its wake, it left too the hazard of slippery stones underfoot. After two hours of breathless conversations, water stops and arty 'landscape shots', we had reached our summit. As the person in front reached back to help the one behind, our ant formation had made it. And boy was 'it' worth it.

I'd never felt so disconnected from the world, yet in the same moment, so connected to the Earth. An overwhelming emotion to say the least! As people started to emerge from their trance and unpack the celebratory picnics we'd prepared, I stood, transfixed, simply allowing the sights and smells of this wondrous haven to wash over me.

An overwhelming urge took over, and in a proudly convincing Scottish accent the words "but they'll never take our freedom" escaped from my lips, prompting a giggle from our crowd that finally brought me back to reality.

As we sat and wiled away the hours atop 'The Cobbler', we welcomed the feeling of satisfaction of climbing that beautiful beast, and enjoyed the euphoria that seemed to seep into our lungs. On that day we felt like Kings, and who was anyone to argue.