I can't say mountaineering has traditionally been a common past-time of mine.... but when the Scottish highlands are as beautiful as they are, and two of my most visited friends are mountaineering tragics, it's difficult to avoid. It wasn't ice climbing this time, but the longest rock climb up the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom - Tower Ridge on Ben Nevis.

The touring party included good friend Peter "you can always sleep when you die" MacKenzie, his brother John "just give me a mountain and I'll climb it" MacKenzie, and John's friend Nicky "I'd prefer a rope thanks".

We had to get up early and were running on about 4 hours sleep following one of Peter's infamous parties the previous night. The anticipation of such a challenge overwhelmed any thoughts of tiredness. My level of preparation was typified by the fact that I forgot to bring a shirt... and shorts. Fortunately, the MacKenzie boys were far more prepared, and I now know the versatility of a white business shirt!

The journey itself was mostly a scramble up loose rock, squeezing between a steep crevasse or two, tip-toing along ledges, with the occasional steep and exposed climb to really test us novices. Mum, you'll be pleased to know that we used ropes in the two most dangerous bits, so I was never at serious risk of falling (at least not in the really tough spots)...

We began in fairly clear skies, but about halfway through the climb the clouds closed in on the mountain, and light rain made the rocks slippery and climbing became a little more tricky. There was one particular spot where there was a sheer drop on either side of a ridge about one metre wide, known as Tower Gap. Spectacular if you like that sort of thing, but I was fairly anxious, particularly since the rain had started to settle in by this stage. You can see Tower Gap in the photo alongside.

At one spot, we stopped for lunch, surrounded by thick cloud. As we started eating, the outline of the cliff faces slowly emerged out of the mist, like a faintly forming silhouette. Two minutes later, the clouds had lifted to the extent that we could see the entire valley stretched out below us. It was a beautiful, albeit brief, moment of clarity. For the rest of the climb we was shrouded in a thickly damp haze.

In the end, following a tricky little climb after Tower Gap, the summit arrived more quickly than expected. We were greeted by masses of tourists who had walked up the far more leisurely tourist route. There were people of almost all ages, some had taken their dogs, one girl was wearing beach sandels... We however, felt far more satisfied, having conquered the peak on our hands and knees up a "difficult" (the official classification of this particular ridge) mountain climb. I was both proud and relieved, thankful that I was accompanied by Nicky who was humble enough to ask for ropes in those nerve-wracking spots. A great first encounter with Ben Nevis.

This adventure certainly didn't dim my enthusiasm for more wild trips, so on a Tuesday night, five of us (including our fearless church minister DM) camped the night on a tiny island in Loch Lomond. Tarbet Island is only 100m off the western shore and is essentially a rocky outcrop the size of two tennis courts. We drove up after work, inflated our two boats, and paddled out just before sunset. DM had conjured up a fire by the time the rest of us arrived, and the two rainbow trout we'd been offered by a couple of guys on shore were soon cooking over the fire.

For Peter and Richard, it didn't take long before they were scaling trees and drumming up support for a late night swim in the still, murky waters. Charlie and I were eventually persuaded, but none of lasted too long in the chilly waters when we knew that a fire awaited our return. After a damp night, we were up at 6am and back at work by 9:00, which was a mildly disorienting experience. About mid morning, Peter and I began to feel the effects of the slightly uncooked fish of the previous night, although I didn't regret one mouthful. Freshly cooked fish, even if it is a bit raw, is a rare delight.

On one final note, The Edinburgh (International/Fringe/Book/Politics) Festival of the last few weeks has also been a highlight. I managed to get to a couple of comedies and "The Screwtape Letters" by CS Lewis performed as a play. Each of them was high class, and the number of other cultural events and social activities was immense. I'm amazed they can fit so much into such a compact city, but I guess it's why the place is totally transformed during August.