AND SO. Brendan and I finally got around to completing the National Three Peaks. Most people aim to complete this challenge in less than 24 hours. We were ecstatic to be attempting to complete it in less than 12 months. A sodden Scafell Pike was clambered in May 2018. A gloomy Snowdon was topped in August. April 2019 would see T.W.A.T.S. ride north to put old Ben beneath us.
We turned our venture into a little holiday. We had booked a space to pitch a tent at Linnhe Lochside campsite, in a village called Corpach that clings to the edge of Fort William – the traditional resting point for those wishing to climb Ben Nevis. We booked 4 nights – Sunday-Wednesday. This meant we could explore the Highlands, but also gave us room to choose a day to climb Ben. British weather ain’t great, and Scotland doesn’t usually boast the best of it. As luck would have it, the weatherwatchers had forecast our best day for climbing would be the Monday morning – which meant we would have to leave especially early on Sunday so as to get the campsite and actually have a half-decent sleep before the climb!
I arrived in Barnsley with all my gear at around 12:30 on Sunday 7th April. To Scotland, we would be driving in Brendan’s big Ford saloon – the dad car. Two hours later it was absolutely rammed with clothes, hiking gear, food, snacks, drinks, a camping chair, pots, pans, a kettle, airbeds, a tent and two men.
We were barely out of South Yorkshire when the weather turned stereotypically Scottish. The pounding rain did not particularly inspire me. For Ben Nevis, Brendan and I were clear – this is a potentially dangerous mountain. People have died on it this year already. If the weather turns bad, we turn back. I just hoped the weather forecast was right – the bad weather was supposedly missing Scotland. Fin. Gers. Crossed.
The drive was long. I mean really long. Having set off at around 14:40, our ETA in 350 miles was 20:49. Brendan would be obeying the speed limits cos he’s a good boy. We also had to squeeze in a food/toilet break at some point. The weather meanwhile was getting nicer the further north we drove.
Welcome to Scotland. 26 years old, and this was my first ever venture into Scotland. Here’s some things of note that happened on our drive:
- Brendan discovered Bring Me The Horizon’s amo album. He didn’t like it.
- On a full listen, I realised I don’t really like it either.
- We saw a tree formation that looked like a penis.
Anyway, we’d (well Brendan had) been driving for 3 and a half hours. It was time for a break at Abington services, and a chance to try some quintessential Scottish cuisine.
Also, it was time for Brendan to act like a tourist. We’d only been in Scotland for an hour.
It was a handwarmer shaped as a fat Loch Ness Monster in a tartan hat. I mean, it’s play on stereotype is borderline offensive, no?
We spent about an hour in the services which pushed back our ETA to around a quarter to 10pm. I couldn’t wait to put up a tent in utter darkness.
It takes around 4 hours to drive from South Yorkshire to Glasgow. That’s around 240 miles. After Glasgow, it’s just over a hundred miles to Fort William, but the time it takes you is another two hours, courtesy of the single lane roads that skirt around loch and ben alike.
Although the light was fading, I could still appreciate my first viewing of a Scottish Highland peak. They really do make Snowdonian mounts look like molehills. These massive black shadows appearing through the dusk were indeed intimidating. On some, you could see just a glint of pearly snow at the top. And tomorrow, Brendan and I would be climbing the biggest of them all. Lol.
At 21:45 we arrived at the campsite. An hour later, the tent was up, mostly thanks to Darth Clayton.
SLEEP TIME.
Even on a blow mattress, in pyjamas, a sleeping bag, a blanket and my duvet, it was a cold night. I kept waking up cos my exposed face was freezing. In the morning, I eventually I dragged myself from the relative warmth of my nest to get ready.
The morning light finally showed us what our camping spot looked like. It wasn’t bad.
At 9am, we set off for Ben Nevis. The weather was nice and clear. Might T.W.A.T.S. actually see a summit for once?
The mountain towers over Fort William. Obviously, you can’t miss it, and for those of us who have never climbed higher than 1,085 metres, the snow capped peak looming 1,345m above you is menacing. Gulp.
THE CLIMB
We parked at the Ben Nevis Visitor Centre in Glen Nevis. It costs £3 per car and lasts all day. If however you’re stingy and don’t mind walking an extra mile, then Braveheart Car Park up the road is free. The visitor centre however is right at the starting point of the walk, and there are toilets – which is handy if you’re shitting yourself.
The bridge crossing the River Nevis is your starting point. From the visitor centre, the Mountain Path to the top is around 4.9 miles long. The beginning of the trail is fairly steep before you reach a plateau near a loch. This offers you a brief opportunity of a gentle stroll before the steepness resumes with a zig-zaggy climb to the top. The general direction of the hike is eastwards so you are walking into the sun for most of the hike, but at 9:20 in the morning in April, it’s still trying to peek around the mountain.
BTW. The mountain ahead of you is not Ben Nevis. It may look large at first, but the miles will come to show you it is a molehill. This is Meall an t-Suidhe. Try saying that when you’re drunk.
Anyway, you will need sunglasses. Top tip: Choose a Hawkers promoting Instagram influencer as your hiking buddy as I did, and finding a pair of sunglasses won’t be a problem.
For months, friends and online blogs had warned us about the perils of Ben Nevis. We had lots of layers on, big coats on hand, thick gloves, a compass, emergency food and water and woolly hats. I even bought two new walking poles (with yellow highlights to match my new yellow running jacket – Brendan is always in red and Andy is often in green, and even Joel is usually in blue, so I’m making yellow my colour OK?!), but I refused to buy crampons. All I kept hearing was BUY CRAMPONS. I just didn’t want to spend £80, £20 or even a tenner on something I MIGHT only wear once. I am not adhering myself to health and safety readers right now, I know. I was happy to use the Bear Grylls method of putting a pair of socks over your shoes to help with traction on slippery surfaces, and so, a spare pair of socks was in my bag. Also I forgot/couldn’t be bothered to bring a map. Oops. Hope there’s 4G up there!
Your first landmark on the hike comes after around 10 minutes. If that. It’s the Ben Nevis Inn – but we’ll come to that later…
And so began the hard steps. The first part of the trail takes you up and around Meall an t-Suidhe. Brendan and I were reminded of our own fitness levels when a group of similarly aged lads caught and overtook us whilst we failed to pull clear of a group of old southern tourists. As we gained height, we started to lose layers. The skies were blue and it was looking more and more likely that T.W.A.T.S. were actually going to enjoy a sunny, clear hike up a mountain. Our decision to not bring sun cream cos there was definitely no need for it was starting to look really clever.
It was getting quite warm. I had running tights on underneath my trousers cos I reckoned they were thick enough to act as a thermal layer. I did not plan on getting them out – you just don’t see many male hikers in tights. But I bravely decided to buck the trend and, making sure any bulges were not entirely unflattering, I removed my trousers. The breeze was nice. I enjoyed the freedom. I’m not sure Brendan did.
I stashed my spare layers and also one of my walking poles. This was my first hike using two poles and, I don’t know, I just didn’t see the purpose of having two. It felt more of a hindrance. A lot of people use two walking poles, some use one, many use 0. I suppose it’s up to you.
As we reached the flatter section behind Meall an t-Suidhe, we got our first glimpse of Ben Nevis, but the summit was still not in view. What we could see however was snow, and snow was soon to become an issue…
This flatter section takes you within view of Lochan Meall an t-Suidhe, and at around 570m, it’s also colloquially known as Halfway Lake. Even if it isn’t really halfway. Maybe it should be called Nearly Halfway Lake.
The saddle between Meall an t-Suidhe and Ben Nevis doesn’t last long and you are soon turning directly towards Britain’s highest mountain. The ascent is steep, but made less so with the zig-zaggy path. The uneven rocks and scree make you tread carefully, but they are much more preferable to ascend on than the snow, which was starting to appear in the shadowy sections of the path. On every step up, it felt like you slipped back half an inch or so. Shout out to The Proclaimers and the guy who wrote Flower of Scotland for the musical energy boosts.
We came across a waterfall. The hollowed out gorge in the hillside had its very own microclimate – sheltered from the wind, the temperature was noticeably and instantly warmer. It was bizarre, but also really nice!
At one bewildering moment, I looked behind to Brendan and thought I saw myself. That’s what exertion does to you.
Onwards, and the views were only getting better.
The zig-zags begin with two miles to go, and even though it was lovely and warm, the trail was getting more snowy. Now I was thankful for the two walking poles. They were absolutely helping me clamber through. I take back everything I said.
Finally we reached the crest of the zig-zags and were met with two disappointments.
Firstly, the summit was still a way to go, upon yet another mound in the distance. Secondly, the snowy path had turned to just snow, with cairns that marked the way to the top.
From here on, the walking was so slow. And painful. My groin started to hurt, as was my knee. We passed a couple using crampons and I felt vindicated. Not only were they slow going, but they also looked so over prepared. Like when you see a guy in a suit at your local nightclub, or when Theresa May wears a hard hat cos she’s standing near a building site. Also, Brendan was starting to feel the effects of not having on any sun cream as his skin began to burn.
As upset as I was with the snow, I was also incredibly grateful of the good weather. In the final mile, my mind was definitely looking back a year to the rain on Scafell Pike. I really, really, really don’t want to know how we would have coped in snow, rain and fog on Ben Nevis. I doubt we would have. We had been incredibly fortunate with the weather and at 14:15 we arrived at the third and final summit of the National Three Peaks.
So now you know that it takes two rather unfit men in their mid-20s just under five hours to hike up Ben Nevis (when you include a LOT of snack and photo stops). Let’s complete the hat-trick of summit snaps.
As Brendan took a load more photos (as photographers tend to do), I checked out the shelter built upon the ruined observatory tower.
Did you know that this shelter is the highest manmade structure in the UK? It reminded me of a fridge, and not because of the bottles of beer and whisky left behind by celebratory hikers, but because out of the sunlight, it was actually quite cold in here.
I was starting to get the shakes. But my body was feeling sore and I could not be motivated to move. I was soon joined by two Geordies we had made friends with on the ascent. One of them offered me a sandwich. How lovely are the Toon folk? I gave him some flapjack and left to find Brendan.
Brendan was enjoying the views.
Anyway, it was time to head down. The snow that had so hindered us on the way up was now really fun to go down on! The lack of grip made the descent much quicker and thoroughly enjoyable – it was a real shame when the stones returned!
The temperatures were so warm I fancied a dip. Knowing I’d dry out quite quickly, I had a splash around in a melt-water waterfall. Refreshing.
As I’ve said before, I always find the descent worse on the body than the ascent, and my characteristic jelly legs had returned. But with the nice warm, dry weather, it was fine. The thought of a pint and a pie was willing my legs to keep on moving in the direction of the Ben Nevis Inn.
Soon, the actual smell of food was wafting up the trail towards us. It was delicious. The crimson-faced Brendan and I were relieved to discover that the Ben Nevis Inn served “real food” as opposed to illusionary food. I abandoned the pie idea and went with something more local.
Chicken and haggis rumbledethumps (cabbage and cheese mashed potato) in a whisky and peppercorn sauce and I kid you not, as I sit here typing this my belly just rumbled. I would gladly drive all the way to Ben Nevis from Cheshire just to have that for my tea. It. Was. Delicious. I highly, highly recommend. No, I implore. Do it.
And for pudding, I had a traditional Scottish Cranachan. Tbh, they could just claim it’s traditional and I’d never know. Whipped cream, Scotch whisky, oatmeal, honey, raspberries and shortbread. It. Was. DELICIOUS.
Great. Now I’m starving.
And with that Champion’s Meal completed (I very nearly ordered another rumbledethumps), Brendan and I headed back to the campsite, just in time to capture the dusk over Loch Eil. Tomorrow, we would begin our touring of the Highlands.
National Three Peaks? Completed them mate!
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