1995
The Big Ben
Ben Nevis is the highest mountain in Britain and being in Scotland is therefore the highest of all the Munros. Because Ben Nevis is special I intended to leave it to be my last Munro but during the run up to my thirtieth birthday, June the 27th 1995, I was looking for something memorable to do so decided that Ben Nevis would be the thing. I also wanted to celebrate with Gisella so we agreed to holiday together in Scotland during my birthday week. Gisella and I never spent much holiday together, this was to be only our third holiday in five years, mainly due to differences in interest. Touring around sunny cities was never for me and climbing Scottish mountains was never for Gisella. Whilst we discussed the holiday I was trying to find common ground so that we could both enjoy the week. I said that I was happy to just do the one Munro, Ben Nevis and she said she would be happy to have a crack at it. I was also concerned about money as we were currently in the expensive phase of doing up an old house and it was hard for Gisella to manage on her local government salary and she did not like the thought of me supporting her. Therefore I raised the possibility of camping for a few nights. Gisella gave me one of her quick 'you must be kidding' kind of glances and promptly informed me that her idea of camping was a bed and breakfast without en suite.
In the event we did not tackle Ben Nevis on my birthday as I had contracted the flu, mainly brought on by some swimming that Gisella and I did in a freezing rock pool at the very start of the week. Therefore the few days leading up to my birthday I spent bed ridden in a hotel in Drumnadrochit and it was not until some three days later, Friday June the 30th, that I did Ben Nevis. Gisella started the walk with me but the fear of falling and knee worries meant she had to drop out after an hour. It took me a while to persuade her to turn back; she was hanging on to turf for fear of falling on a slope that I regarded as an easy grade. She was determined to go on but I was very unhappy and I was glad when she conceded defeat and I was able to watch her walk back to her car, still in sight.
We had started near Glen Nevis Youth Hostel, a little after 0730, and I reached the summit at midday following the zigzag stone path all the way in the hot sun. All day the weather was sunny with haze and a little cloud. The views from the top were excellent, the ruined hut and the memorials at the top were very interesting and made it more of a pilgrimage than a mountain climb.
A German couple asked me "is it always this cloudy on top?" I replied "no" and attempted to explain how lucky they were to climb it without much cloud when in fact they were enquiring about whether the few wisps of cloud on view had any right to be there. It was a strange feeling looking northeast from the summit towards Carn Mor Dearg which was Munro number one more than five years previously. I spent the best part of an hour taking in the glorious views from the top before starting the descent back into Glen Nevis. The zigzag path was tough on the feet and knees, the temptation to go fast was only bridled by the discomfort and consequently a more regular pace was achieved.
About an hour and a half into the return trip I met a couple ascending in the heat. He was about seventy, open necked shirt, which would not look out of place in an office, shorts and a white hat. She looked about ten years his junior, slim but out of condition. They might both have just walked off a bowling green.
"Much further to go?" he enquired.
"Err, a fair way," I replied thinking that by the look of them they had at least seven hours ahead of them.
"We only set out at one o'clock, a bit of a late start."
"Got much water?" I asked.
"One bottle." I was beginning to get concerned about them. His face was red and covered in sweat, their footwear was average and the one rucksack was of no size to carry anything close to the right equipment.
"What about food?" I added.
"We had a big lunch, and have a few provisions. How long to the top do you think?" I was beginning to think that they would perish on route. By the look on my face they read my thoughts.
"Perhaps we'll have a wander on for a bit." And that is how we left it, presumably they continued for awhile to save the awkwardness in turning back with me.
I reached Glen Nevis at 1525 and took a further hour walking to Fort William meeting Gisella at the Grand Hotel where we were staying. In total I spent about six and a half hours up and back, the record for running the ascent and descent is about an hour and a half. I have spent much time just trying to make sense of how somebody can be that fit; it defies all belief to me.
August Bank Holiday
David George and I both felt that we had not done enough walking in the Cairngorms in May 1994 and therefore decided to do some walking together for this weekend. As time would be tight we decided to fly up and I drove to his house near Hampton Court on Friday August the 25th where we took his Land Rover to Heathrow for the flight to Inverness.
I did not want to take any spare footwear with me so I sat in the departure lounge wearing heavy leather boots and full gortex gaiters.
"Afraid of flying over water are you?"
I looked up to see the face of a typical self-assured, know it all, lump of a man.
"No," I replied whilst secretly wishing I had the courage to tell him to fuck off.
"You look an idiot in those boots, it's summer now."
"Yes but I don't want to carry spare footwear, so it is easier to wear them. We are camping soon after we land so time is also of the essence."
He sat back, smiled, crossed his arms, looked around at other passengers, trying to jolly them into a communal ridicule of me. I sat there wishing that the world did not produce people so unhappy with their own lives that they can't just leave other people to get on with their own.
On the flight David and I got separated and I ended up sat next to a Tornado pilot, an interesting chat although he was taking full advantage of the free drinks on offer.
We arrived very late at Inverness and there was no chance of getting a train or a bus so we took a taxi down to Aviemore then beyond to just below the ski centre where we gave the taxi driver his well earned £40 and pitched up in David's tent. I found it tough to sleep as the tent was a new experience to me.
We started walking at just after 0800 and thought that we were losing civilisation for a few days however after two hours of getting wet trudging along, with the heavy packs, we reached the cafe at the top of the ski lift area. Amazingly it was open despite the horrible weather, it was too good an opportunity to miss so we delayed the 'getting away from it all' feeling for a short while and stuffed ourselves with drinking chocolate and cake. From the cafe it was an easier one hour of further walking to the summit of Cairn Gorm. From there we continued in the miserable rain and with me struggling with my full backpack we reached Ben Macdui at 1500. My breath intake is about 15% below the average that a person of my age, height, sex and weight should get, and I believe this really tipped the balance when it came to carrying a full pack. Ben Macdui is the highest mountain in the Cairngorm region and overall the second highest Munro. For many years it was thought to be the highest mountain in Scotland and I have heard some story that on discovery of Ben Nevis being taller there were some moves to raise its height, I have no idea if this is true.
We pressed on from Ben Macdui and decided to look for a suitable place to camp. At just after 1700 we strategically erected our tent, to the south east of Loch Etchachan, to maximise the full impact of the gale force winds that were to blow during the night. I only managed to get about three hours sleep due to the violent wind buffeting the tent and causing the material to flap wildly about my head. David and myself both had hooded sleeping bags, at one point I woke up to see a hooded figure sat up in the very dim light - "fuck me it's the grim reaper" I yelled. We had picked the wind tunnel from hell.
In the morning we decided to leave our stuff in the tent and climb Beinn Mheadhoin with as little kit as possible. On route we discussed our options, me struggling with my backpack, the lack of sleep and miserable weather were hampering us. We did have ambitions of walking Beinn Bhreac, North Top and Ben Avon but realised that we would have needed at least one, if not two, extra days to do these. Therefore we decided to just walk Beinn Mheadhoin and leave the other three for a later date. We set off at 0830 and it took us just one and quarter hours to reach the rocky outcrop of a summit through poor weather. High wind rendering a proper rest at the summit impractical we descended a little, to another outcrop, and sat eating the rations we had carried in our pockets. After a few minutes we were joined by two chaps who were making their ascent, we briefly shared our plans and experiences before they set off back down.
"David," I said slowly.
"Yes," he replied sensing the tone of my voice was leading up to something.
"You don't suppose, those chaps just mistook us sitting here for the summit do you?"
Adding to the understatement he offered, "You could just be right Steve, just be right."
"Should we go after them?"
"No," he replied, "they'll never know."
And I suppose they never will, unless they happen on this account and remember that they 'climbed' Beinn Mheadhoin early on Sunday August 27th 1995.
We got back to the tent at 1045 and I was very glad that the weather remained poor as I was able to snuggle deeply into my sleeping bag and listen to the Belgian Grand Prix. At 1330, and lap 28, there was a break in the weather and David wanted to get going. I was reluctant and despite my protests we got going with my radio stuffed inside the hood of my jacket, the wind was very strong but the rain did ease so my clothing dried out to some extent. We pitched the tent alongside the Fords of Avon Refuge Hut - open to those who wished to sleep in it. However it did not look very inviting so we preferred the tent instead. Life was much better at this point and we managed to get some rest.
The morning of Monday August the 28th brought in Beinn a' Chaorainn by walking without kit from the tent. We set off at 0920 and reached the summit an hour and a half later. There was no visibility at the top so it was nice when we dropped out of the cloud and could see the tent from the distance. We could see a chap wandering by, we speculated on the possibilities of him stealing items from it. We watched him for a while but fortunately, after some twenty minutes, he went on his merry way.
We got back to the tent at about midday and rested for about an hour and a half before packing up and setting off for the foot of Bynack More by its northerly access point. This hike took us three hours, by this time David had more than taken pity on me and was carrying the entire tent and stove by himself. At the foot of Bynack More we hid the kit amongst some rocks and free walked this Munro. It was such a relief to not have the pack that it really lifted my spirits. Bynack More is an interesting Munro with the Barns of Bynack situated as a wild isolated outcrop of rocks to the south east. The weather had eased by now and the views to the east were superb and I enthused about them powered on by miserable weather we'd had until now. We reclaimed our kit and carried on the path heading north and camping on high ground above Bynack Stable. The following morning was a relatively short walk via the Glenmore Forest Park and a bus ride back to civilisation in Aviemore where we had a slap up meal in a cafe.
David has always been a good mate but he does have the knack of putting his foot in it from time to time. Whilst queuing for our meal David spoke with an older chap in front of him. The chap was dressed quite smartly, David, overlooking the black tie, enquired, "Going somewhere nice?" The guy gesticulated towards a lady sitting at a table and in hushed tones he replied with "The wife's brothers funeral." David sat opposite me and said, "How was I supposed to know?" as I smiled and shook my head. From Aviemore we took the train to Inverness where we took the bus back to the airport.
Despite the bad weather I did enjoy my first experience of camping in Scotland. I learnt a few lessons, deciding that I will not bother with tins or crisps next time as the weight and size versus worth is not very good. It is worth remembering to camp above the line at which the midge can survive. This trip was pleasing as my knees behaved themselves; the exercises that the Doctor had given me obviously had an effect.
Shortly before this trip I had phoned up my parents. My Mum was out so I was able to have a longer chat with my Dad. I told him of David's and my plans, he roughly knew the area we were going to as we had once been to the Cairngorms on a family holiday. Later in the conversation we got onto one of our usual topics, which is cars. He enquired as to how mine was running and I said fine and that I had just clocked 125,000 miles on it. He then mentioned something that I was vaguely aware of and that was in his first car he had got through three engines and had clocked 100,000 miles in five years. I said, "Hang on a second, you averaged 20,000 miles a year when you actually lived where you worked." He then told me the things he used to get up to in it, apparently it was nothing for him and some fellow young police officers to finish a shift in the early hours and then shoot up to the lakes, in his car, and bag Helvellyn. I never knew that, perhaps the love of mountaineering could be inherited. If it is then it is like malaria, once in the blood it is hard to get rid of. Later in the evening he phoned me back to say, "You know you have done Cairngorm before!"
"Really?" I replied.
"Yes, I've got a photo in my hand with you on top of it."
This was a surprise to me as I had no recollection of this trip, which apparently took place on a family holiday in 1978. I think the chair lift got involved somewhere along the line so I won't claim it as a genuine "bag." Although I could extend the length of time it took me to stand on top of them all by 12 years!
Munro Count: 43 out of 277
