The Ben
Ben Nevis, the highest peak in the British Isles is just outside the small town of Fort William. In the Gaelic, Ben means mountain. It's unclear where Nevis comes from, although some have speculated that it comes from the Gaelic for venomous. At 1344m, this is not a particularly high mountain in global standards, but it is the highest ascent up a mountain that I have ever undertaken. The one other statistic that is interesting about the Ben is that it has on average 355 days of cloud cover each year.
I started out last Friday, by skipping my last summer school session and heading to the nearest train station to get to Glasgow. My scheduled train was supposed to arrive in Fort William at 10:05pm, but since I had no where to stay I was a little worried about arriving in the dark. At the last minute I noticed that there was a but leaving from Glasgow that arrived at 9pm. I figured that this would give me at least half an hour of light when I got there to find somewhere to sleep.
Well, the bus was the exact same as Canadian buses. Cramped and hard to sleep on. But, it did get me there at 9:05, which includes about 20 minutes waiting at a section of the highway that was closed down to one lane. The only remaining bus of the day that went from Fort William into Glen Nevis and the campground left at 10:05 (seemingly to meet the train), which I sure wasn't going to wait for. The internet had said that it was 2 or 3 miles to the campground, so I started walking.
After about 5 minutes of walking, I saw a sign that said "campground 2 1/2 miles", which disheartened me, since I know that that should take about 35 minutes of walking (without a backpack full of stuff) and it was already raining and getting dark. Well, I started motoring up the road. I considered hitching, but it was late at night and no one was in sight. Luckily, I got to the campground with a little light left and they weren't full for the night. I didn't know what I was going to do if they were full, maybe sleep in a ditch or find an office to sleep in or something (I'm not sure which is worse).
The next morning I set off for the mountain. I had read that it was 14km in horizontal distance and that it should take 6-8 hours. I think it is very difficult for the human brain to comprehend how far up 1344 meters is. When I came down the Grouse Grind, I was only coming down 800 meters, but half way down I just assumed that I was nearly at the bottom. Some wierd psychology goes on. Maybe it has something to do with TV. Nothing can ever take more than an hour or so.
Part way up the Ben, it started to rain. Then, it stopped. Then the fog set in. Now, I'm not an expert on fog, but this fog seemed ridiculously thick. I couldn't see more than 20 meters in front of me or behind me. Very soon after the fog set in, I discovered that they were doing some trail repair (a sign told me). I thought, there must be some rugged people with some shovels and tents, since I had already climbed about 500 meters through somewhat difficult trail conditions. Then, I heard the engines. Somehow, they had gotten a front end loader and a bulldozer up here. There was also a mobile home style building that looked like the foreman's office. I have no idea how they got all that crap up there, since the path was narrow and perched on the side of a very steep hill (steep enough for switchbacks). These things gave me both a sense of relief (if they can get machines up this high, I can't be in danger) and a sense of foreboding (if they can get machines up this high, I have a lot farther to go).
Then, it started to pour. Luckily, I had my rain proof paints and my rain jacket. Still, it was getting cold and it was really windy and now I was wet (on the outside at least). It felt like I was in hell, and I had only been hiking for about 1 1/2 hours. However, I read that more than 100,000 people climb the Ben each year and if they could do it, then I could do it.
It only rained for about 10 minutes, or at least after 10 minutes I walked out of the rain. It was then that I saw the first person that I had seen in about half an hour. I asked him if it got much worse, and he said "just windier and colder". Soon the grass turned to lichen and pretty soon the lichen dissappeared. After about an hour of climbing beyond the lichen line, I reached the summit. It was completely covered in fog. I couldn't see anything. And it was cold and windy and I was a little wet. Still, it was an enormous relief to be on top of the U.K. Also, I knew that the whole way back was downhill.
All the way down I dreamed about taking off my hiking boots, having a warm shower and drinking a cold pint. At some point on the way down, the sun came out and I got some nice views of the valley with the campground and the surrounding mountains. At about this point some guys, who looked like they were having a rough time, asked if they were halfway up the switchbacks (they called them zigzags), as if they were nearly at the top. I said I wasn't sure, but that I figured that they we were probably more than halfway up (since I had been coming down for about 45 minutes). They kinda looked at me like I was crazy, and one of them said, "Oh, we're way more than half way up". I thought this was odd, since I obviously knew how far I had come down and they didn't, but whatever. Later, I looked it up on the map and I think we were at about 750meters in elevation, which was just more than the halfway point. Well, good luck to them.
Ultimately, I would not do this trip again in the fog, although on the train out of town, I got a picture of the summit (the first time I had seen it throughout the whole weekend, except when I was standing on it). I would like to do the other route, and I would like to see it in the sunshine sometime, but since I made it to the top, I have to say that the trip was a success.
I started out last Friday, by skipping my last summer school session and heading to the nearest train station to get to Glasgow. My scheduled train was supposed to arrive in Fort William at 10:05pm, but since I had no where to stay I was a little worried about arriving in the dark. At the last minute I noticed that there was a but leaving from Glasgow that arrived at 9pm. I figured that this would give me at least half an hour of light when I got there to find somewhere to sleep.
Well, the bus was the exact same as Canadian buses. Cramped and hard to sleep on. But, it did get me there at 9:05, which includes about 20 minutes waiting at a section of the highway that was closed down to one lane. The only remaining bus of the day that went from Fort William into Glen Nevis and the campground left at 10:05 (seemingly to meet the train), which I sure wasn't going to wait for. The internet had said that it was 2 or 3 miles to the campground, so I started walking.
After about 5 minutes of walking, I saw a sign that said "campground 2 1/2 miles", which disheartened me, since I know that that should take about 35 minutes of walking (without a backpack full of stuff) and it was already raining and getting dark. Well, I started motoring up the road. I considered hitching, but it was late at night and no one was in sight. Luckily, I got to the campground with a little light left and they weren't full for the night. I didn't know what I was going to do if they were full, maybe sleep in a ditch or find an office to sleep in or something (I'm not sure which is worse).
The next morning I set off for the mountain. I had read that it was 14km in horizontal distance and that it should take 6-8 hours. I think it is very difficult for the human brain to comprehend how far up 1344 meters is. When I came down the Grouse Grind, I was only coming down 800 meters, but half way down I just assumed that I was nearly at the bottom. Some wierd psychology goes on. Maybe it has something to do with TV. Nothing can ever take more than an hour or so.
Part way up the Ben, it started to rain. Then, it stopped. Then the fog set in. Now, I'm not an expert on fog, but this fog seemed ridiculously thick. I couldn't see more than 20 meters in front of me or behind me. Very soon after the fog set in, I discovered that they were doing some trail repair (a sign told me). I thought, there must be some rugged people with some shovels and tents, since I had already climbed about 500 meters through somewhat difficult trail conditions. Then, I heard the engines. Somehow, they had gotten a front end loader and a bulldozer up here. There was also a mobile home style building that looked like the foreman's office. I have no idea how they got all that crap up there, since the path was narrow and perched on the side of a very steep hill (steep enough for switchbacks). These things gave me both a sense of relief (if they can get machines up this high, I can't be in danger) and a sense of foreboding (if they can get machines up this high, I have a lot farther to go).
Then, it started to pour. Luckily, I had my rain proof paints and my rain jacket. Still, it was getting cold and it was really windy and now I was wet (on the outside at least). It felt like I was in hell, and I had only been hiking for about 1 1/2 hours. However, I read that more than 100,000 people climb the Ben each year and if they could do it, then I could do it.
It only rained for about 10 minutes, or at least after 10 minutes I walked out of the rain. It was then that I saw the first person that I had seen in about half an hour. I asked him if it got much worse, and he said "just windier and colder". Soon the grass turned to lichen and pretty soon the lichen dissappeared. After about an hour of climbing beyond the lichen line, I reached the summit. It was completely covered in fog. I couldn't see anything. And it was cold and windy and I was a little wet. Still, it was an enormous relief to be on top of the U.K. Also, I knew that the whole way back was downhill.
All the way down I dreamed about taking off my hiking boots, having a warm shower and drinking a cold pint. At some point on the way down, the sun came out and I got some nice views of the valley with the campground and the surrounding mountains. At about this point some guys, who looked like they were having a rough time, asked if they were halfway up the switchbacks (they called them zigzags), as if they were nearly at the top. I said I wasn't sure, but that I figured that they we were probably more than halfway up (since I had been coming down for about 45 minutes). They kinda looked at me like I was crazy, and one of them said, "Oh, we're way more than half way up". I thought this was odd, since I obviously knew how far I had come down and they didn't, but whatever. Later, I looked it up on the map and I think we were at about 750meters in elevation, which was just more than the halfway point. Well, good luck to them.
Ultimately, I would not do this trip again in the fog, although on the train out of town, I got a picture of the summit (the first time I had seen it throughout the whole weekend, except when I was standing on it). I would like to do the other route, and I would like to see it in the sunshine sometime, but since I made it to the top, I have to say that the trip was a success.
posted by Timothy Fowler at 8/19/2005 04:44:00 AM
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