|
How hard could that be for two reasonably fit men
in the prime of their lives? Or rather for two men just past 40 who fancied a
walk and some whisky.
Leaving Exeter for Glasgow on Sunday 24th June
the Met Office were forecasting high winds and rain for the week but with the
slim possibility that Tuesday, our window of opportunity, would be slightly
better. Having done some reading on the planned route I was worried that in
bad weather we’d have to abandon CMD and stick to the Pony Track, the
super-highway to the top that the vast majority of summiteers use and is
often described as soulless, boring, depressing and a bit of a slog.
After driving to Fort William on Monday morning
and finding our comfortable room for the next few nights, Martin suggested
that a short walk to get warmed up for Tuesday was in order. A suitable hill
with a good view of The Ben was found on the map so off we went, up the
slopes of Stob Ban. Comfortably a Munroe at 999 metres high. Sure enough we
had excellent views of The Ben, shrouded in cloud.
 |
| On the way up Stob Ban |
 |
| On top of Stob Ban |
An early start on
Tuesday saw both of us studying the grainy TV picture waiting for the local
news and weather forecast to confirm what we could see from the window; it
was a beautiful day with light winds and broken cloud. It also promised to be
comfortably warm. A quick check of our kit (waterproofs, survival bag, food,
water, spare clothing, more food, whisky) and we were off.
The car park was
virtually empty but as soon as we got to the bottom of the Pony Track there
were people everywhere, large groups taking on the 3 peaks challenge, racing
up the mountain.
 |
| Martin on the main track |
Striding manfully (of course!) past them we quickly found
ourselves at the “halfway lochan”, this is where the Pony Track turns right
and continues to zig-zag up the mountain. We went left, around the base of
the north face of the mountain to the CIC mountain rescue hut. Not one person
followed us and soon we found ourselves in a completely silent valley,
looking up at a sheer wall of broken and fractured rock on our right and an
enormous scree slope on our left. Wow!
 |
| At the halfway lochan |
Lunch was at the CIC hut, refuelling before
heading up to CMD. From the bottom this looks easy enough, a reasonably steep
scree slope with large grassy patches. However once heading up it suddenly
got a lot steeper!
 |
| CIC hut |
There is no track but occasionally as you climb you’ll
find evidence that someone has been there before, a footprint here and there
or the sign that someone slipped on the scree. We climbed at our own pace,
stopping frequently just to take in the changing view and to try to spot any
track above. Soon the only man made reference point, the CIC hut, was a dot
below, easy to spot because of all the gas bottles stored there for the
winter, a shrinking patch of orange validating our height gain.
 |
| CIC hut (orange blob in the middle) and Martin |
After about 90 mins the slope got more
comfortable, I was at the top of CMD, Scotland’s ninth highest peak, with a
very uncomfortable drop on the other side. Time for a brave pill and a long
moment of reflection as I looked across at the next part of our route, the
CMD arête. Frankly it looked anything but comfortable to me as I sat by the
cairn sheltering from the breeze pulling on another layer. Martin was
unfazed, his boots off tucking into some food (as usual).
 |
| Martin making the top of the ridge |
 |
| North face of Ben Nevis |
Big drops are really not my thing, not so bad
when there is something to hold on to but sections of this path were right on
top of the arête and the drop to the right was up to 2,000 feet, not strictly
vertical but if you slipped and fell you wouldn’t stop until you got to the
very bottom, not a thought I wanted to entertain. The drop to the left was a
mere 1,000 or so feet, nothing by comparison.
 |
| Me heading off on the ridge |
To be honest the arête was much
better than I thought, the breeze vanished, the sun shone and Martin waited
for me as we picked our way through rock fields where the only markers for us
were the scars on the rocks from winter visitors wearing crampons.
 |
| On the ridge |
Occasionally the track dropped to one side or the other of the ridge allowing me to collect my thoughts, oddly even with a steep drop to one side I found that the ability to cling, limpet like, to a rock made everything better, even when I opened my eyes! By half way I was even enjoying myself as my endorphin / adrenaline / fear levels peaked.
 |
| Taking a break on the ridge |
We had to stop occasionally, where there was a
suitable vantage point, just to look at the view. Stunning is an over-used
word in any mountainous area but it really was breathtaking and it was all
ours. There wasn’t another soul in sight and we had the North Face of Ben
Nevis and the valley below it to ourselves.
Eventually the ridge started to flatten out and
the breeze picked up again, this was the start of the boulder field that
makes up the southern flank of the mountain.
 |
| Snow Bunting on Ben Nevis |
We were back on Ben Nevis but a
completely different sort of Ben Nevis to the lush green slope we’d left 3
hours earlier. Huge random monotone rocks to clamber up then gradually the
line of a roof, the emergency shelter in the ruins of the observatory at the
top coming into view.
 |
| Ben Nevis Summit |
Another person, wrapped up in all the clothing he had,
perched on a rock wondering out loud where I’d come from. I was stupidly
proud to point and say “Over there, with him” then see his expression of
disbelief as he looked at the thin ribbon of ridge stretching away around the
valley.
 |
| Looking back at the arete |
6 hours after starting off, and probably hours after the groups we’d
seen at the bottom of the mountain had got back to their mini-bus and started
off for Scafell Pike, we were there, briefly the highest people on the ground
in the UK.
Time for a cheesy photo taken at the trig point
before the next people in the queue did exactly the same. A wee dram given to
the peace memorial and a toast to our health with the best single malt I’ve
ever had, then away from
the crowds to find a quiet spot to eat and contemplate where we were. And
take our boots off without causing offence to anyone. Personally I was
surprised at the number of people there, although I didn’t spot anyone in
flip-flops (can you have a mountain-top urban myth?).
 |
| What I do best. |
 |
| June snow |
All too soon it was time to go but this time we
were taking the easy way down, yes the Pony Track. In descent this was great,
loose rocks that in places allowed you to almost ski down enjoying the great
views of the valley below, I just had to smirk when I turned back though, a
featureless, barren landscape of broken rock as far as you could see covered
with a ribbon of people heading up and down like ants.
 |
| Main track to the bottom |
It couldn’t have been
more different to our ascent. It was fast though, without trying we were
passing people. I’m sure this was more to do with good boots and walking
poles rather than gravity. 100 minutes later we found ourselves outside the
Ben Nevis Inn enjoying a pint under an increasingly overcast sky, grinning
like idiots.
 |
| Beer! |
Admittedly Ben Nevis isn’t a hard climb. Our
16.5km route taking in the CMD arête, with 1504 metres of ascent, isn’t a
hard scramble if you’re a fit and competent walker. Of course in winter or
bad weather it will test the most accomplished walkers and climbers. On
Tuesday 26th of June 2007 it was perfect. Trouble is I’ll need to go back…
|
