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The fog had descended like a guillotine. Its cloak fell as swiftly and as cleanly as a theatre curtain, sweeping the mountains and cliffs from view before plunging into the valley shrouding it from sight. Within a matter of minutes it was as if there existed only myself and the ground beneath my feet. I called out but the density of the fog merely threw my words back at me until I was surrounded by nothing but the echo of my own voice. In a matter of seconds I realised that I had become separated from my companions and now stood, totally isolated on the exposed face of the mountain.

Had I known that such a thick fog would have descended with such speed and intensity I would never have let them go on ahead or allow the distance between us to become so great. My casual pace had seen me fall behind my walking companions as I had paused at regular intervals to take in the magnificence of the Highland scenery, although I had never allowed myself to lose sight of them. Now, however, the impenetrable blanket that had fallen had given the distance between us greater significance, making it seem much further than it probably was. But that was of little comfort – a hundred metres might just have been a hundred kilometres – as I reflected on the sense of isolation that had enveloped me.

By now it had become impossible to gain any sense of my precise location, any recognisable landmarks having become hidden as if they had never existed, and I realised that, far from any intention, I had become lost. I knew, however, that we had set out on a recognised trek, and, gathering my wits about me, I tried to focus on how far we had actually walked. I was glad for the time that I, more than either of my companions, had spent pouring over maps of the area that we had set out to traverse. I was glad too of my ability to consign to memory a mental image of the mountainside and the wilderness that we had entered. Of course I was not able to recall every detail of where I was, but at least I had an idea of the direction in which the path that I was on was leading, and the lie of the terrain.

The dampness brought by the fog had soon developed into thick, heavy rain which was falling now with an intensity which showed no signs of letting up  and I knew that I needed to find some shelter as soon as possible. I thought back to the map, trying to fix a point on the nearest bothy. I knew that one was close and also that we had not passed it, so, steeling my body against the driving rain, I forced myself on. Footstep by footstep I made my way carefully along the track until the rising rocks which I had kept close to my right hand side began to give out to flatter ground. Despite the density of the fog, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief as I began to make out the dark silhouette of a building just a few metres from where I was.

The inside of the  bothy was little warmer than it had been on the outside, but at least it offered me shelter from the weather which, by now, and quite unexpectedly, had become atrocious. The ‘slight chance of fog and rain’ which had been promised us before we had set off had clearly not been in the script of whoever was in charge. At least the room contained a stack of both kindling and wood, so at least hypothermia was out of the question.

With a fire now blazing in the hearth I removed my waterproofs and draped them over one of the four chairs which I had found randomly placed around the room. I sat on another, a little further back from the heat of the fire, and took a small plastic box from my rucksack. I opened it and unwrapped the sandwiches that remained from the lunch that we had shared a few hours earlier. The coffee in my flask was still warm and I felt each mouthful warm my bones as I swallowed it. Using my hunting knife I sliced an apple into four pieces and savoured the tartness of each one as it released its juices into my mouth. The food finished I moved over to the window. The rain was still pounding down relentlessly, more intensely, it seemed, than it had done previously. I had no option, I thought, than to stay the night, hoping that my companions had also managed to find some shelter from the conditions. For a moment I thought that they too, perhaps remembering the location of the bothy, might appear at any second at the doorway, grateful not only of the shelter but also of finding me. But, of course, they had been ahead of me and, for them, perhaps the more sensible option would have been to move forwards to find shelter and not double back on themselves in the hope of discovering either the bothy or me.

I took my clothes from the back of the chair. Whilst not completely dry I knew that, by hanging them on the hooks on the wall, that they would be once again fit for use by the morning. Besides, the last thing that I wanted to do was set light to my refuge. Then, settling myself on the bed, and pulling the rough blanket close over me, I closed my eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

When I awoke the following morning, stirred by the brightness of the sun as it bounced off the walls and onto my face, the rain had stopped. From the window the scene looked as breath-taking and glorious as I had always pictured it to be, and I marvelled at the magnificence of the isolation in which I was. I thought of the events of the previous day and hoped that my companions had themselves found sanctuary. It was early and I was certain that I would soon be able to catch up with them and that, together, we would be able to continue our exploration of the countryside that had captured all of our hearts, but mine, perhaps, most of all.

I doused the fire and checked to make sure that enough firewood remained for the bothy’s next guests. Gathering up what little litter I had created I pulled on my coat and, not noticing the blood stained shirt that lay in the corner of the room, walked out of the door and onto the moor.