Ben Nevis Inn is a welcome sight

After the long descent down Sgurr a' Mhaim (on the left in the photo above), during which I often considered just laying down and rolling down the rest of the way (what's a few more bruises, considering the bruises and scrapes I had already sustained from my countless falls?), we made it to level ground and prepared for the 6 mile trek back to Achintee Farm along the road.

Naturally, we rather hoped that some passing car would take pity on us and let us hitch a ride.  This is how we made it to the trailhead at the beginning of this hike--an American couple on vacation while on sabbatical in Durham, England picked us up after we had hiked 2 or so miles on the road.  Luckily, after 10 minutes of walking, a van full of sullen teenage boys and two camp leaders pulled over and let us in.

J. and I were on edge once the van started moving because one of the camp leaders who appeared to be in the driver's seat kept looking back at us while we chatted.   All the while the van whipped back and forth along the serpentine road, somehow staying on course, even as he kept looking at us.  We thought he must know the road pretty well to drive the van so carelessly.

Then we realized that we were in the United Kingdom and the driver's seat is on the right side of the van.  Part of what fooled us about the chatty man on the left was his habit of resting his hand on the dashboard.  From our perspective, he truly looked like he had his hand on the wheel.

I drank tea nonstop during our trip

 With this realization, we were able to relax and anticipate, oh joy!, the piles of hot food and stout beers we would have (for nothing is more wonderful to a ravenous hiker than real food in an abysmally empty stomach).  I got potato leek pie, thick slices of bread with butter, large quantities of tea and cream, beer, and sticky toffee pudding. 

Ben Nevis Inn dwarfed by the mountains

At last fully sated, with food and views, we headed back to Achintee Farm where we slept long and deeply.  Thus ends another day.

Carn Mor Dearg Arete

A distant shot of the Carn Mor Dearg Arete, taken from the side of An Gearanach. 

In the picture above, Ben Nevis is the highest point on the left. Follow the arm of the mountain to the right where it dips then rises in a quick succession of two peaks.  That ridge is the Carn Mor Dearg Arete, the route we hiked up Ben Nevis.

Here is a closeup of part of the arete.

This is one of the things I so enjoy about hiking--the simultaneously grand and intimate view of the world one gets just by setting foot out the door.

Ben Nevis: There and back again

The kind owner of Achintee Farm welcomed us to the hostel with open arms, in spite of the fact that we were early and walked in on him fixing the toilet.  He assured us that we could easily make the ascent of Ben Nevis ("Mountain with its head in the clouds" or "Mountain of heaven") if we left soon (it was about 11 AM when we arrived), as there was no guarantee that the fine weather that day would still be so fine for the rest of our stay in Fort William.  The days are so long in that part of Scotland that, even if we got stuck at the top of the mountain in the gloom in the evening, he told us we could just wait a few hours until dawn when it started lightening up again and we could see well enough to pick out our way down.

"You're capable - you can do it.  I trust you,"  he said.  That was quite a compliment, coming from a native who knows the terrain like the back of his hand.  With his rich Scottish brogue, he added, "Aye, and you'll sleep."  We were soon to discover how true his prediction would be after we returned from the hike.

We set off up the trail, which quickly turned into a long and steep climb up stone steps crafted to keep trail erosion at bay.  The land fell steeply away on one side as we settled into the rhythm of climbing. The mind wanders as I climb, the ache of my legs a distant murmur that I can ignore as I imagine that I am a hobbit off on a grand adventure.  Another step, and another, until it all runs together and all I can remember is that I have always been climbing, and my streams of thoughts have coalesced into an ocean on which I am adrift in daydream.  Then, lo and behold, the climbing stops, the ocean disperses, and I look about myself in befuddlement, stray memories clinging like dew to my conscious: how did the top come so fast?

The land abruptly flattened once we reached Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe ("Halfway Lochan").  From there, we turned off the main tourist track, up Allt a' Mhuilinn ("Stream of the Mill") valley, which is bordered on one side by the brooding north face of Ben Nevis, towering 2300 feet above the valley.

The north face of Ben Nevis was immense.  It looked like giants were emerging from the earth.  Clouds shrouded the summit.  We stopped to stare countless times.

We went off trail and beat our way up the steep side of Carn Mor Dearg ("Great Red Peak"), opposite the north face of Ben Nevis.  Going off trail went against every American trail etiquette sensibility that we had, but our host assured us that because so few people go this route, they encourage this approach to spread out any wear and tear we hikers bring to the land. 

The vegetation was different what we were used to.  We would occasionally sink to our knees in spongy vegetation.  This mentality of "two steps forward, one step back" soon became maddening on this incredibly steep slope and I quickly learned to distinguish what type of grass grew on firmer ground.

The red deer had no problems traversing the terrain.

Sometimes we had to clamber over piles of large rocks, which required a delicate sense of balance.  At one point, a boulder I was perched upon began to shift.  I immediately began to step onto the next rock, which also began to move ominously under my weight.  I will never forget the sense of sheer terror that cut through my heart at that split second as I had a vision of the rocks giving way under me and the boulder just above smashing into me.  I managed to lean forward and hug the rocks in front of me (this should give you an idea of just how steep the slope was) while J. coached me on where to place my feet and hands.

I promptly broke out into tears once we made it to the top of the ridge.  And then I was fine and we went on.

Which was just as well because the scarier parts were still ahead: the Carn Mor Dearg Arete.  But I was able to face those parts with equanimity.  The scary bits came when the trail dropped off the ridge-top and hugged the ridge.  During those times, the trail was a thin, pitiful thing that you could just barely make out in the jumble of rocks scattered on the side of the mountain.  It was a matter of thinking only as far ahead as where to make your next step.  We would pause to catch our breath and look back and have no idea how we got to that point.  We were hugging rocks, blindly feeling with our feet for secure footholds.  At one point, the trail petered out and we stood there, leaning against the mountain, looking at the mess of rocks and looking at each other. On one side, the mountain, on the other, a long uninterrupted fall to the valley floor.  Then we spotted a rock jutting out that we thought just might take us to better ground.  Once we made that move, we easily spied a way back up to the ridgetop that we couldn't have seen one step before.

We took a break at the head of the Allt a' Mhuillin valley, absorbing how far we had come.  The north face of Ben Nevis loomed even closer on the left.  On the right was the slope that made me cry.

We finished the rest of the Carn Mor Dearg Arete and made it to the base of the Ben Nevis summit. A boulder field rose up before us, a massive pile of boulders that looked like the aftermath of a battle between giants. We scrambled up the boulders, occasionally crossing paths of scree, loose rock that likes to slide and take you with it. Knowing the cliff edge was to the right, we made sure to keep to the center of the boulder field, always veering left whenever we encountered obstacles.

These rocks were very annoying to walk on.  I was very tired of rocks by this point.

We had no idea we were close to the summit until we climbed a boulder and unexpectedly stepped onto level ground.  The ruins of an observatory and other buildings were scattered about the summit.

There was snow at the summit, even in June.  J. pointed out this cornice of snow, whipped out to a fine edge over Five Finger Gully.  Snow can be deceptive, making you think you are on solid ground, when you might actually be treading on a cornice that may crack and send you free-falling to an unpleasant end.

We walked out of that cloud.

We took our time descending Ben Nevis. Down and down we went over rocks. There were always rocks, even in the midst of such green country.  My ankles were weak, my knees tired.  Down and down we went, all 4400 feet back to Achintee Farm.  It took us 8 hours to climb Ben Nevis via the Carn Mor Dearg Arete path.  It took us 2 hours to descend.

We slept well that night.

We see the mountains of Scotland for the first time

After we descended all 212 steps of the bell tower in Bath Abbey, we headed into London to catch the Caledonian Sleeper train to Fort William, Scotland.

We started laughing when we opened the door to our compartment.  There wasn't standing room for both of us and our luggage.  We managed to situate ourselves and our monstrous bags, and I fell asleep to the lull of the train working its way north through England.

The wild hills of Scotland greeted us when we awoke the next morning.  We sat at the window mesmerized by the landscape.  It was quite a change from the gentle hills of England.

The train conductors don't announce stops.  You're expected to be ready and waiting with your luggage at the doors to alight when the train rolls into your stop.  You have a few minutes to jump off before the train starts rolling again.  Fort William was the end of the line for both us and the train, so there wasn't a rush to get off immediately.  Though who would want to stick around in the closet-sized compartments any longer than they have to is beyond me.

We walked two miles to Achintee Farm, where we would be staying for 4 nights. The Ben Nevis path begins within several hundred yards of the hostel.  I chose this lodging wisely, if I might say so myself.

The mountains are ever-present.  They loom over us all, slumbering giants, ponderous with the weight of time immemorial. Ben Nevis is the greatest peak in the United Kingdom, at over 4000 feet high.  In the picture above, the Ben is the brooding mountain on the left.

Foolhardy or not, we went on to climb all 4000 feet soon after we checked into Achintee Farm.  I'll share my tale of the 10 hour ascent on another day.

Ben Nevis on the mind

The countdown begins in earnest: 10 weeks until our trip to Great Britain!

On my thoughts today: Ben Nevis in the Scottish Highlands.

The range of mountains around Ben Nevis

There will probably be lots of cloud when we're there.

I've started increasing my time on the stairclimber in preparation, though I think climbing Ben Nevis will be easier than the stairclimber, simply because the experience will be so much more enjoyable, owing to the incredible scenery. We will be in the open for most, if not all, of the ascent, and the views alone will be plenty of distraction from the burning in my legs.

I have always found that I tire more easily while hiking up a hill under tree-cover, because the view becomes monotonous: you see one tree, you've seen them all. But if I have a view while climbing, I don't feel so fatigued. Your mental state really does come into play during physical exertion.

East of the sun, west of the moon

J. and I have fallen under the spell of the Scottish Highlands. While browsing some Lonely Planet guides for Scotland, he looked at me and asked, "Are we going to want to move to Scotland?"

The latest addition to our itinerary are the Cairngorms, located southeast of Inverness. The Cairngorms are home to Scotland's only herd of reindeer, which are allowed to range freely. Much of the Cairngorms are considered an arctic wilderness (they're not that far from the Arctic Circle) and contains tundra. J. and I are very excited about seeing tundra.