“They’re called devil’s matchsticks,” says Iain Murray. He’s describing a cluster of chalky-green stems, an inch or two high, with a bright-red tip.

“There are fairy cups there too,” he adds, and tells us about other tiny scraps of life clinging to the summit of Spidean a' Choire Leith, the first Munro on the Liathach ridge. I’ve seen these things before in the mountains but never looked that hard, or known the names. Now I canlook them up.

Murray is our guide for three days Munro-bagging in the dramatic mountains of Torridon, in Wester Ross, and we start the morning’s climb in still, warm, hazy weather. The notorious Torridon midges are at fever pitch at the chance to dine on human flesh, so we keep moving up the steep path from the road to outrun them.

The weather as forecast changes and on the ridge we’re in cloud with a chilly wind, but Murray still takes time to point out the flora, and explain how the grey quartzite cap of the summit sits on the flat beds of Torridonian sandstone, the “newer” rock 500 million years old atop the 800 million-year-old stuff.

Knowing about the rocks and flora is something perhaps expected of a guide, but it’s not just book-learned – the depth of Murray’s experience, the dozens of times he has been over these hills, informs him. He points to a curious purple stained lichen he keeps noticing only in this area. “It’s obviously come combination of lichens making that colour – I’ll have to find out why,” he says.

Three of the other members of the group have, like myself, long experience of hillwalking, so booking a guided trip to such hills might seem unnecessary. But as Murray shares his knowledge it becomes apparent what the benefits of the guided set up can be.

He’s also taken charge of navigation on a hill he knows well, so the party has more time to enjoy views of dramatic landscape that rear out of the clouds, share experiences, and take photos.

We climb along the ridge to Liathach’s Fasarinen Pinnacles, spires and towers of convoluted sandstone. The wind is cold, the ground is tricky and some of the group are less confident so Murray takes the wise decision to avoid the steepest towers by a sidling path. There are still some dramatic moments but we’re moving at a comfortable pace to stay warm.

The least experienced is a young guy who’s never been on a hill before, but plans to head for the Alps to walk then head into the high mountains for a guided climb. Murray explains the basics of map-reading to him and keeps an eye on him as he bounds ahead.

At the same time he can chat to another of the party who is himself an experienced hill guide about dealing with clients, and to me about our shared enthusiasm for winter climbing and mountaineering.

It’s a big part of being a good outdoor professional –awareness of how to pitch things to people of different ages and experience.

As we move along the ridge to easier ground there are more glimpses of the landscape below, the sandstone gleaming in silvery sunlight, stacked up in layers to form the mountains around us. We top the other Munro on the ridge, Mullach an Rathain, and take the steep path into the coire below to the road, beating a fresh burst of rain to the cars.

We’re staying at the Torridon hostel run by the Scottish Youth Hostel Association (SYHA) as part of a package organised by SYHA, our guide provided by Nineonesix-guiding based in Sheildaig, just up the road. The group is in a shared room and there’s a bit of snoring and padding to the loo at night but we’re all tired enough to get a good night’s sleep, and most of us have used hostels, bunkhouses and bothies before as economical ways to spend time in the mountains. The deal includes a substantial continental breakfast and an even more substantial packed lunch.

It’s not the Hilton, but an advantage of hostels is a well-equipped kitchen where an evening meal can be cooked for a fraction of the price of eating out. And a hotel doesn’t have a roomy tiled porch where you can strip off dirty boots and pack your rucksack, or the great hostelling facility of a large hot drying room to get rain-sodden boots, socks and anything else dry overnight.

Hostels are also naturally sociable: you chat over the cooker, over a shared drink in the lounge, and around the maps on the walls as you trace out routes. I’m impressed after talking to a man aged 81 who had cycled from Edinburgh.

Our trip starts with a marvellous day over Beinn Alligin, the lowest and most westerly of these Torridonian giants, at 3234ft.

To reach this peak we walk in brilliant sunshine up a long valley on a good path, then cross the burn and head for a lovely ladder of sandstone steps into the sky – the start of the famous Horns of Alligin, a series of towers feared by some walkers. In reality they involve nothing more than a bit of steep scrambling with no great exposure, and some airy ridge walking.

Nineonesix insists on helmets being worn on scrambling ground. It’s a precaution no hillwalker I know would take, but it makes sense for a professional guiding organisation, and Murray is diplomatic enough to get us to don helmets without fuss.

The views come and go with flashes of bare rock, tottering cliffs and shining lochs, as the mist whirls in and out of the high buttresses of the hills. We’re relieved at the car park that there’s sunshine and wind to keep the hideous insects at bay.

The Alligin day, like that on Liathach, takes about seven hours, leaving plenty of time to rest, feed, get cleaned up and drink tea.

I take a plunge in Loch Torridon – not as cold as it looks after a day’s warm sunshine, and a great way to get refreshed – then we go for a quiet pint in the Torridon Inn.

The final day of the trip dawns windy and grey with a forecast of rain so we agree with Murray that instead of tackling the high-level walk over both Munros on Beinn Eighe we’ll just go for the higher one, Ruadh-Stac Mor, via the beautiful and dramatic Coire Mhic Fhearchair, with the soaring Triple Buttress and acres of bare rock.

The rain fails to materialise but there is a blasting wind on the high ridge, rising on the summit to around 50mph, about as strong as you ever really want to have to put up with, and enough to make walking quite a serious proposition. A long ridge walk between Munros would have been no fun. As we descend back through the coire we get great views into the wild land to the north full of stark hills and lochans.

It’s a pleasing end to an action-packed few days which has helped me appreciate the value of guided walking. I’ll be back to investigate some of Murray’s mountaineering suggestions – and I’ll impress my friends by knowing what devil’s matchsticks are.

Richard Baynes stayed at Torridon Youth Hostel, See www.syha.org.uk

It’s a four-and-a-half hour drive from the central belt; there are buses that link up with Strathcarron railway station.

His trip was one of the SYHA’s activity holidays. See www.syha.org.uk

Others include photography, sea-kayaking, tai-chi and winter walking

Guiding was by nineonesix-guiding nineonesix.co.uk