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Producer Jeremy Evans compared forecasts of wind direction and speed, squinted up at the mist and consulted maps he had laminated. I was impressed by the lamination. If we were blown off an exposed ridge or tumbled over a cliff in fog no one would be able to say we were not well prepared.

We carried whistles, survival bags, head torches, food and first aid kits: Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike, Snowdon (Yr Wyddfa) and Slieve Donard are all very well-known and well-walked peaks, but they are also mighty, untameable and wuthered by roaring winds. I had researched their natural and human histories for weeks but these mountains are reborn from one moment to the next, according to weather, season, the light and the instant. They defy preconception.

"Well done!" "Sorry!" "’Scuse me!" "Keep going – you’re nearly there!" The hills were alive with the sound of politeness, kindness, encouragement and good humour. Our appearance, me wearing a headset and carrying another microphone, and Andy with his sound-scooping set-up, caused much amusement.

People began wishing us "Happy Christmas!" when they learned what we were up to. We met entire nations on the four mountains: people of every creed, colour, accent and background.

The solidarity among us all was inspirational. Despite the rain on Scafell (it was vile – I wished Jeremy had laminated me), the mist on Slieve Donard, the crowds on Ben Nevis and the blasts of weather on Snowdon, the mood on each mountain was happy. Despite blisters, sore legs and fatigue, people’s spirits were palpably light.

Each peak held gifts of surprise and amazement.

On Ben Nevis the cloud cleared when we reached the summit, so that we broke through to a new world in the sky.

On Scafell Pike we crossed ghylls, ravines which plunge savagely down, as migrating geese called to one another, invisible to us in the cloud above.

Slieve Donard rises straight from Dundrum Bay, County Down; travelling there on a ferry from Scotland revealed an archipelago of hills and coasts which reflect and mirror each other.

Harmonious, complimentary and beautiful, Snowdonia, the Lakes, the hills of Galloway and the Mountains of Mourne salute each other across the sea.

Snowdon, the most visited, proved the most evasive. We postponed twice, once for lightning, once for cloud, and started at the foot in darkness, hoping we would meet more than mist.

As it grew light and we climbed higher, the mountains around looked like dark jumbled clouds and the sky above brightened and shoaled in brief waves of colour. At the top we crossed the arête of Bwlch Main, where two back-to-back glaciers have left a stipple of rocks like a bridge across the sky. It was dizzying and tremendous.

We were so struck by the drops and views on either side that we had no idea, until afterwards, if we had captured such majesty and beauty on tape. But if you listen, you can hear the height, the space and, we hope, the perspective of the high peaks.

Search for Four Peaks Sound Walk on ´óÏó´«Ã½ Sounds.