We packed light rucksacks and set off down the glen, with the intention of taking a look at the Buchaille Etive Mor (gaelic for the Big Shepherd of Etive). The first two miles were probably the most life-threatening as we walked along the main road, facing the lorries, motorbikes, caravans and campervans hurtling at us from the opposite direction. But it was a beautiful sunny morning.

We passed the climbers' cottage at Lagangarbh and, shortly afterwards, left the road and followed the River Coupall between the big Buchaille and the little Buchaille up a valley that led eventually over a pass towards Glen Etive. However, after a mile or two we cut off left to follow a stream that flowed down from the high ridge of the Buchaille Etive Mor. The route at first was straightforward, but there was some good scrambling higher up before we eventually reached the summit ridge.

Here the wind was blowing and superb views opened out in a 360° panorama. In one direction we could see Ben Nevis. In another Glen Etive. In the distance, Ben Cruachan. And to the east, the wild expanse of Rannoch Moor stretched for miles with Schiehallion rising in the distance. The view was spectacular.

We then headed down by the same route we had taken on the ascent, stopping for a snack by a waterfall where dad took about 30 pictures of the gushing water and pure transparent pools.

Then we trudged down the glen, trying to dodge the peat bogs, though Peter was amused when one of dad's feet went right in. By now we felt relaxed in the sunshine and the beautiful countryside around us, the scent of bog myrtle everywhere, bilberries ripe on their low-lying bushes, the heather turning purple - and the light radiant everywhere on the water. Thirty metres before reaching the road, Peter fell in a bog much to dad's amusement, then we struck a lay-by where about fifty foreign tourists had got off a coach for a few minutes to take photos and look at us with mystification as we emerged from the bogs, Peter splattered in mud.