…and say terribly sorry about the lack of contact. I’ve been heavily berated for being so incommunicative, so I’m just here to feed you a quick update before I pop off again. Not that I’m antisocial or anything, you understand – just very busy. Which, as they say, is a good complaint…
I think last time I signed off with the seed of a plan to yomp up Ben Nevis – well, that happened, and it was tough. It was quite a blow to discover that I’m nowhere near as fit as I’d hoped, and as I coughed and wheezed my way to the peak, I cursed the lardy inclinations that were responsible for the toughness of the climb. A lesson to be learned, you might say, but when have I ever learned from my mistakes???!
Pete & I started with a bimble up the motorway to Edinburgh, to check out the Fringe Festival – it was my first trip north of the border, and I was suitably impressed. Edinburgh in particular is a gorgeous city, and with the Festival in full swing, it was very much alive. Street performers abounded, trying to drown out neighbouring acts by exhorting their crowds of observers to clap and hoot at prescribed intervals. Very funny – and often they were well worth applauding. We saw Ed Byrne in a side-splitting stand-up show, a stage rendition of Get Carter (which was riveting!), and a show called “The Eggman”, which was a great laugh too. An excellent city, an excellent festival – very much recommended. Oh – and I found out what tartan I should be wearing, should the mood take me – apparently Irish tartan is based on the county of your birth, and the Westmeath tartan is quite presentable. We live, we learn…
Onward into the highlands, and spectacular countryside – in places almost otherworldly. We arrived in Fort William too late to do our 14-mile hike along the West Highland Way, but we got a good eight-and-a-half miles in before setting up the tent in the Glen Nevis campsite and going in search of food. The campsite was very civilised indeed, with showers, laundry, a shop and a burger van. I even managed to sleep OK in the tent, despite being woken up in the early hours of the morning by activity in the campsite – I suspect they were ‘Three Peak’ merchants off for an early start…
So to the following day, and the climb. I was quite surprised at the sheer number of people making the climb, and I can understand to some extent the complaints people have of the hike being too “touristy” – but then I’m a tourist too, and it’s there to be climbed after all. There were people from all over the world on that mountain: we were passed by a bunch of fit-and-feisty Aussies at one point on the way up (and on their way down, as we were still ascending!); there were a couple of German blokes in all-black Spanish traditional getup, Sombreros and all (I think they were on a stag weekend or something!); even a fell-runner passed us running up the trail – then running back down again! I think Pete & I agreed that we didn’t want to be *that* fit…
As I said, I found the going *tough*. Pete, by contrast, toddled up and down the mountain unflinchingly – and, I must say, a trifle smugly. For my part, I got to the peak with my old left-knee injury making its presence felt, so I strapped it up with the knee support I brought along (with remarkably atypical foresight, I must say!). A few photos to commemorate the event, a cup of tea and a sarnie (!), and we were off again. I discovered there was a cairn at the top, with memorials all over it – I wish I’d known about that beforehand, so I could have brought along my own tribute. At the time, I said “next time”, but that was before the descent…
Anyone who’s gone up and down hills to any great extent will tell you what I never realised when I first injured my knee in Nepal: the downhill stuff is harder. And is it ever – climbing down slippery boulders and rocks with a stiff left leg is no fun – and it resulted in a knackered right leg by the end. But ultimately, the trip was worth it, and I’ve now been to the highest peak in the British Isles. Just Scafell Pike to do now, and I’ve done the Three Peaks – but not the Three Peaks Challenge, which involves doing Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in 24 hours! Hmmmm – maybe not…
It was well worth it, though – the views are absolutely stunning from the slopes of Nevis on the way up and down, before and after the cloud-bound peak shrouds everything to a few metres’ visibility. And I’m definitely glad I did it, although I wish I’d put knee braces – on BOTH knees – *before* starting the climb. After a run on Saturday, where my knees gave up on me, I’m going to see a physio this week to see if there’s anything can be done. “Lose weight, get some exercise” is the standard prescription – as I’m doing both already, I’m hoping they have something else to add….
Well, that’s it for now – I’ve already rambled enough. Photos will make their way to the gallery when I remember to do it, so don’t go too far now…