Ben Nevis

When you are backpacking to many different locations, you have a variety of clothing, and usually make due with what you have in various climates and situations. For my hike up Ben Nevis, i was outfitted in my jeans, long sleeved running shirt, Michael Kors windbreaker, and sneakers meant more for fashion than function. I didn't think this to be much of a big deal, however i had seen many warning signs about the dangers and read the insanely long "Be prepared" cheklist. I decided I should at least get a map and a compass. Then I discovered compasses were expensive! Finally I settled on a compass/thermometer keychain for about four bucks. Perfect.

So there I was at the bottom of Ben Nevis, with my aforementioned supplies (plus a sandwich, candybar, water, and camera), ready to take on the mountain. I glanced around me. Everyone else had waterproof gear, walking sticks, hiking boots, and maps in waterproof packets around their necks. But here was my logic. They run this race every year up Ben Nevis. So I figure if someone can run a race up this thing, I can manage to scramble up it with my keychain compass and knock off ascics trainers.

The beginning of the hike was fantastic. There were tons of people, so i was less worried about the quality of my compass and paid more attention to the views. There were waterfalls rushing down the mountain, and you could hear the rushing water as it poured over the rocky surface. At one point I even had to cross over water in the middle of a waterfall (I watched in envy as those with the hardcore hiking boots just walked on through while I jumped from boulder to boulder to keep the socks and shoes dry).

Then, about an hour and a half into the hike, things began to change. The path was now surrounded and consisting of grey boulders and rocks of varying shapes and sizes, unchanging as far as the eye could see. As I looked up I could no longer see what my destination might be. All that was there was the cloud that shrouded the top of the mountain. As I climbed, soon I could not see below me either. Whatever view the peak of Ben Nevis might hold, I would not be seeing it today. As I climbed, the wind picked up. And as the wind blew, the heavy fog around me blew as well. For, even though it did not once rain, I was drenched from head to toe before reaching the peak. Water slid down my nose and clung to my hair. Finally, the terrain leveled out, and I could see nothing but gray. Gray stones, gray fog, and the only trail markers were gray stacks of rocks. At times I was completely alone in the dense fog, then I'd hear a crunching sound. But I'd see nothing. There might be a grunt or so, then a gray shape would slowly form in front of me, as a hiker, redfaced and soaked, passed by wordlessly in the opposite direction. I continued on.

For half an hour it felt as if the peak should be reached, but still all I could see was the next stack of rocks against the grey background. To my left was the edge of mountain, with a sudden and complete drop. In one of the crevices I saw snow. I fiddled for my camera, but my fingers would not obey. I could barely feel them. Alas, but here was some use for my keychain! I checked the temperature. It was below 40 degrees and the wind was howling. I pressed on. Then I saw it. The structures that marked the peak of the hike. A old ruined stone building, a war memorial, and platform one could climb, the highest point. I forced my body to move as I walked over to get the necessary photo that said, yes, I made it to the top. The wind howled around me, and at that point I had only one mission, to get the hell off this mountain.

It was a fantastically euphoric feeling on the way down. Maybe the suffering from both the coldness and the fatigue added to the experience. Like a cross country race that forces you to push yourself to the limits. It sucks and it's hard, but it is so rewarding at the end of the day. As I descended I noticed that the clouds had lowered considereably, and it actually took me several hours to get out from their heavy wetness. When I finally escaped, it felt like I could breath, and I hadn't even known before that I couldn't.

6 hours after i first started the journey, i reached the bottom. My body felt in agony (which was nothing compared to the hell i faced this morning when i tried to move), but the fatigue was fantastic at the same time. It was an accomplishment, and the drastic change from the sunny day to the creepiness of the grey fog at the top made it a unique and amazing experience. I'll never forget how it felt up there, dripping and shaking with cold, but accomplished, and so very alive.