Two years ago, Jessica and I climbed Snowdon, the highest peak in Wales, together. We decided that on this trip, we should conquer the highest peak in Scotland, Ben Nevis. In the UK, there is a popular challenge called the Three Peak Challenge where participants run up the three highest peaks in each of the countries in Great Britain in 24 hours. Jessica and I have no desire to do that, but instead hope to complete the three peak challenge over the course of several years. Snowdon, our first climbing experience was quite a challenge. It was steep, rocky and often a very difficult climb. We were rewarded with beautiful views, most of the way up the three hour climb despite cloud cover at the very top. There were bathrooms half-way up and a cafe at the top where people who cheated and road the train up could also enjoy refreshments.
Today was not like that. The weather forecast today was not great: chilly, drizzle and cloudy. But as travelers, we only had one day where we could climb. We prepared with our waterproof pants, our raincoats, hats, gloves, and waterproof backpack covers and headed to the visitor's center for more information. The kind gentleman at the center showed us a map of our trail complete with photos of landmarks and warnings of the top of the mountain where snow covered the ground, clouds may make visibility near nothing and sheer cliffs on both sides were not far off the path. Sure, seems safe enough.
The beginning part was quite steep, climbing over large rocks that were especially difficult for our shorter legs. We made it to the first landmark, a bridge in about one hour, meaning we were on track to take four hours to the top.
Soon after this landmark, we were faced with even larger rock steps and a quite dramatic drop to the right. Not a sheer cliff, but a large grassy hill where sheep were grazing, making the climb appear very easy. It was here that the clouds set in and our views turned to white. We could see about fifty feet ahead of us, but it was not as light and fluffy as Peter Pan had made it appear. Instead it was a heavy drizzle with gusty winds. The stairs and the heavy drizzle were relentless, but so were we. At one point, it did flatten out a bit, but the rain was blowing sideways and made walking, and visibility, quite difficult.
The climb was not at all crowded, but thankfully there were enough people on the trail to make us feel a bit safer and know that we were on the right track.
Eventually, we made it to the second landmark, the halfway point: a waterfall with precarious rocks for crossing. Nevertheless, making it to the halfway point revived us and gave us a boost of energy knowing we were on track and making good time.
But then, there were no more markers until near the top. And it was cold, and white and windy and drizzly. We stopped at about 2/3 of the way up and hid beside a large rock for some nourishment and to add a layer.
The part after the waterfall was rocky, sometimes small slippery rocks, sometimes larger ones that would wobble if not stepped on properly. Besides the cold fog, the nothingness, lack of greenery, and void of living things reminded me of Mordor as Sam and Frodo climbed the last steps to destroy the ring. No, of course our journey was no where near as long nor as treacherous as theirs, but in the moments when my loss of energy would set in, I felt like those hobbits.
Thankfully though, we passed more and more people coming down the mountain, giving us words of encouragement of, "You're nearly there." Before stepping onto the snow, we saw our first landmark: a column of stone obviously man made. These stone columns act as a lighthouse, a beacon to weary travelers. When Jessica and I went hiking in Arches National Park last July we took a path in the desert that was not the one most traveled. Paths on solid rock are hard to follow as there are no trails and no footprints. After much too long we realized that the little piles of stacking stones were meant to be our guides through the desert heat. Different extreme here, but the same sort of comfort in seeking out the next one.
After just a couple of these such markers we were alternating between walking on snow and over rocks. Then, the clouds were so thick and the next marker so far away that we suddenly felt utterly lost. Our stubborn nature though would not let us halt that close to the top. We decided to separate, one of us staying near the marker we could see, and the other, staying within earshot and view but looking for the next marker. Knowing that the sheer cliffs on either side were only yards away, we made sure to stay in the middle and not venture anywhere near the edges.
Thankfully, I spotted the next marker, and from then on, we could always see the next marker. After climbing over some tricky rocks like coral in the sea, and walking through snow, we finally came upon the summit. We knew it was the summit due to the small crowd and the feeling of elation all around us. We quickly joined in on the celebrations by posing with the final column marking the peak, making snow angels and throwing snowballs with the ten yards thick of snow surrounding us.
Climbing to the peak was truly a challenge, one I'm not sure we were fully prepared for, but the elation in reaching the top, completing such a challenge is truly exhilarating.
With new found energy, we chose to follow the Highlanders down, deciding that any man who made it up the mountain in a kilt probably knew what he was doing. They were much faster than we were, but they did help lead us back to the path that we had somehow diverted from a bit on our way up.
This time, when we came upon the large expanse of snow, unable to see the next marker, the footprints of fellow travelers were easier to find, although the hillside was still slippery in our tennis shoes. How to solve that problem? Of course, sit on your bum and scoot down the hill. Not only was it much easier, but it was much more entertaining as well.
With new found energy and confidence we bounded down the mountainside in brand new, dry socks. About a third of the way down, the skies opened up and we were suddenly able to see all that we had missed on the way up. The stunning views were worth the climb!
It was amazing how different the landscape appeared to be. We had walked hours through clouds and suddenly the world was blue and green again. On our travels up we had passed just a few yards away from a lake that we had no idea was even there. We saw other mountain peaks, the town in the distance, sheep dotting the landscape and the huge expanse of rocky hillside that we were climbing down. We passed a fellow traveler headed up whistling "The Sound of Music," a truly fitting tune for this journey.
Our energy wanned and the climb down became equally as challenging as up, possibly due to our jelly-legs. We expected to be down the mountain in about three hours, but the mountain path seemed to get longer and longer. Struggling to climb down large rocks without slipping made us wonder how we had ever made it up in the first place. Finally, after four hours, the flat path into the car park reappeared and we were able to make it back to the visitor's center minutes before it closed in order to purchase our much deserved, "I Climbed Ben Nevis" t-shirts.
After a couple hours of sitting and some much-needed bathing, we rewarded ourselves to a short walk into town and a delicious dinner at the Grog and Gruel.
Now Jessica and I are back in the sitting room of our adorable B&B, Guisachan House, overlooking the town of Fort William and the loch below, happy as two little larks. Not only are we happy with our accomplishments of the day, but we cat lovers have made a new friend in Sam, the gracious host who kindly allows his guests to pet him and even stroke his belly!
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